Not kidding, this is the fourth update today. Might want to start at 'Unspoiled Forever' before reading, eh?

I'm in such a strange state of mind. I feel like I could finish this whole story today! Let's see how far I can get in a day?

Thanks for reading, everyone! Your time and help means a lot. :D

(SPOILER! This is a warning for squeamish people. I get a bit graphic towards the end.)

The Ugly Truth

The sun cast long shadows along the late, spring afternoon. The dirt road was empty save for the lone fisherman carrying his pole and what appeared to be a tackle box. Upon closer inspection, one would see that it was a suitcase.

Toby Hallward turned and looked fondly up at the old house on the hill. He felt he could cry, but no tears came to his eyes. He took a deep breath of the fresh air laced with the light scent of flowers and tree pollen. The tall grass swayed in the breeze. Everything felt like the day he first saw it. It was a picture he was determined never to forget.

Turning back on his heel, Toby looked to the sky. "Goodbye, dear. We'll meet again someday…"

Lugging his suitcase towards town, he gave the ticket for the ferry in his pocket a pat. He had just enough time for a last visit.

Hamilton finished off his plate and let out a merry peal of laughter. "Nothing quite like a good supper, eh, son?"

Gill hadn't touched his food. He reclined back in his chair, propping his feet up on another. He didn't answer his father.

Taking it in stride, Hamilton picked up another roll and buttered it generously. His dementia had not been helped by Gill's agelessness. He was still stuck in the days of Gill's boyhood. And the 'big day' that was always coming.

"It's going to be a big day tomorrow," Hamilton said, as if on cue. He bit the bread and waited until after he swallowed to speak again. "I assume you're all prepared?"

"Yes, of course…" Gill replied, having had this conversation countless times. "As prepared as I can ever be."

"Well, then look it, Gill! You should be much more excited!" Hamilton bounced up and collected the plates.

Gill let out a heavy sigh and sat up. "I'm sorry… Just… it's surreal…"

Though the act was heartbroken and pathetically unrealistic, Hamilton smiled knowingly. "Yes, but everything is going to be set right again!"

There was a ring at the door.

Curiously, Hamilton turned from the dirty dishes in the sink and looked to the door. Though they could have easily afforded hired help, Hamilton had always refused. He was stubborn and still under the illusion he had a wife. "Now, who could that be?"

Gill wordlessly smoothed his vest and opened the front door. "Toby," he said shortly, some surprise in his voice.

"Hello, Gill," Toby forced a quick smile. He picked his suitcase up off the stoop. "Do you have a moment for an old friend?"

Gill looked to the suitcase and stared. He silently backed up and allowed the fisherman entrance.

"Thank you."

"Gill, who is it?" Hamilton called from the kitchen.

"An old friend, Father," Gill answered. "It's on business."

"Oh, very well. Don't be up too late – it's a big day tomorrow!" Hamilton scratched his bulbous nose and went back to work. Gill found out years ago that the magic word 'business' immediately ceased all questions and interest. So Gill used it often.

Toby followed Gill into his study. The door closed behind them. Gill continued to stare at the suitcase in Toby's hand.

"It's been awhile since we last spoke face to face, I admit," Toby Hallward started awkwardly.

"A few months," Gill said offhandedly, moving around the room. "You're leaving? Vacation?"

"No, no… Perhaps. In a way," he answered vaguely. He set his suitcase on the floor and propped his fishing rod on one of the stuffed armchairs. "A fishing trip, actually. Though I have no intentions of returning to Castanet… the place that robbed me of all that I loved."

Gill Gray didn't bother asking. He figured it had to do with his wife and his love of fishing. The latter had been extinguished by art. It seemed Toby was trying to rekindle it elsewhere in the world… Gill found it very hard to imagine his friend actually disappearing for good. Toby Hallward had been a constant. A sensitive and oftentimes strange companion but always a constant.

They were quiet long enough to hear an oldies record playing through the wall. Gill cleared his throat. "You've come to say goodbye?"

"Yes," Toby smiled but it was thin. "And… I'm concerned. Do you know, Gill? Really? What they say about you?"

He crossed his arms and paced to the window, staring out at the world doused in the last bits of a sunset. The street lamps were already lit. "Does it matter?"

"I just want to believe they're not true. If you say they are lies, I will believe you. And have peace of mind…" Toby looked away. His eyes found the screen propped up behind Gill's desk and his heart hurt.

Gill was silent for a long time. Finally, he let out an unexpected chuckle. "What things, Toby?"

"Why…" Toby didn't know where to begin. "I mean… the bankruptcies, the underlings, the dark corners, the scandal! All of it! Say it's not true, Gill!"

Gill remained quiet.

Toby, who had refuted the rumors for years, was being disproved by the man he had been protecting. He had been lying for him. "Gill, you can't be… They can't all be true… What about the rumors? That scandal with – what was the name? Luna. She was a duchess of some sort, wasn't she? And now she's disinherited with a fatherless child?! …Gill, say something!"

Embers were burning somewhere deep inside Gill's brain. Of all the men to question him – it would be Toby Hallward? The man who praised Gill's beauty, idolized it, painted it! Toby was the reason there was a portrait. Toby had been the path to Julius and all his… ideas and influence. If Toby hadn't existed, Gill wouldn't have a decaying portrait in the attic of his house and mind. And here he was… preaching to him.

"Do you know what that would do to a person? That life?" Toby was saying as Gill tuned back in. The man was pacing back and forth in a frenzy, hugging his shoulders with a shudder. "Sins written all over his face! How scarring both mentally and physically…! I cannot imagine such a horror."

Gill wished desperately to impart his secret; make Toby understand. But would he understand? Would he be able to see it, too? What if it was something only he could see…? What if the portrait was all in Gill's mind? Toby could be his cure…

"It doesn't have to be in one's face…" Gill began, his voice shaking.

Toby stopped his pacing and listened. There was darkness but also a bright, desperate hope in Gill's features.

"What if… What if there was something hidden away? In…" Gill couldn't form the words he held silent so long.

Watching him struggle, Toby felt he knew. He always knew… His shoulders slumped. "In a portrait?"

Gill's eyes widened and his lips parted in shock.

Before he could collect himself, Toby went on. "I'm so sorry, Gill. I never meant for you to see it, too. It was never meant to happen… I shouldn't have painted you, but allow me to explain—"

For the first time in years, Gill didn't feel alone. Someone understood! Toby knew! "But… how do you fix it? How did you do it?! T-To make it change?"

Toby stood straighter. A wrinkle on his forehead appeared as he stared back at Gill. "Change? I… I don't know what you're talking about, Gill, but I thought that… Look, sit down, won't you? You're making me nervous."

Once they were both sat in the armchairs, Toby let out a sigh. He closed his eyes and faced the ceiling as he spoke. "You never knew my wife, did you, Gill?"

"No," Gill shook his head. He didn't know where this was going, but he was losing hope fast.

"I loved her. Very much," the older man said. Since he had met Gill, new wrinkles had formed around his eyes through the years. He was getting laugh lines. His hair was losing its bluish tint, becoming whiter with every day. "But she is gone. She's been gone for so many years… And I'm afraid I projected her onto you."

Gill stared.

"I was afraid that you could see in the portrait… my obsession to move on. My obsession… with you," he finally admitted, looking Gill in the eye for the first time in possibly his entire life knowing him. "When she died, I lost everything. You gave me a new outlet – a new purpose. To paint… But I can't do it anymore. I was consumed with your youth and promise and I… I wanted that, too. To feel new… So when I met you, I had that, and I felt that I would be okay again…"

Gill leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees and catching his head in his hands.

Toby was worried he had frightened Gill like he always thought he would. But Gill sat up and shook his head. "No… No, Toby, there is so much you do not see… But perhaps you can't. And I hope to God that is the truth…"

Now it was Toby's turn to be lost. Gill suddenly stood and opened the door. The hall was dark. "Quick – this way."

Without question and only curiosity leading him, Toby left his things and followed Gill. They stole through the quiet house. The record was turned off and all the lights were out. Only the streetlamps from outside lit their way to a lone door. Gill pushed it open to reveal a wooden, decrepit staircase.

Gill lifted the hatch and pushed it away. His skin prickled as it always did to be in the same room as the portrait – to be near it. Toby soon appeared at the top of the stairs, squinting and looking around him at the cobwebs and old furniture with confusion in his every feature.

"Gill? What is all of this?" He whispered. "An attic?"

Gill Gray placed himself next to the portrait. He looked cryptic standing next to the white sheet, moonlight coming down from the only narrow window onto him. "You remember the day you gave this to me."

It wasn't a question. Toby's eyes lit up with recognition at the square outline. "My painting! Of course! But what is it doing up here…?"

"You remember the day," Gill repeated. "What was said."

Toby shook his head. "What was said? Hardly…! After all of these years?"

"Julius was there," he filled in for him. Gill could see this like it was yesterday. "Beauty fades… And so I told you I was envious of the man you painted. I wished to switch places with him because—"

"He wouldn't change with time…" Toby remembered enough to finish the thought. "But what has this to do with—?"

"Because my wish was granted!" Gill said triumphantly. He tore the sheet off of the portrait, watching Toby's face as the fabric fluttered to the ground. "Stare into the face of the one you painted!"

Toby Hallward recoiled in horror, shattering Gill's hopes that it was all in his head. The portrait was very real. Every ugly detail. Every truth it revealed. A gut-wrenching hopelessness washed over him as he watched Toby inspect his work.

"Gill…" was all Toby could say as he stepped forward in awe. He reached out and touched the smooth canvas, recognizing his own brushstrokes. "This is mine, yet… it's so malicious and cruel… What have you done…?"

Gill's eyes still lingered on the fisherman. Hate in his eyes. "I?"

Toby looked to Gill and then back at the portrait in comparison, disbelief written in his face.

"I told you – my wish was granted! Have you not seen me age over these long years? Because I can't! This portrait – this painting of yours – has enslaved my very soul! Open your eyes, Toby! There is more corruption than you dreamt!"

Toby shook his head, falling backward. "But… No! It's impossible… No…"

Hot tears stung Gill's eyes as he finally looked away from his friend. He couldn't bear it. Gill looked at the portrait.

The face. The man was completely unrecognizable. This man in the picture had wrinkles from smoking, yellowed teeth, eyes, and skin. He had cruel lines hardening his features into pure contempt. His hair was thin and disheveled, his vest was tattered. The very background seemed to want to ooze away. But worst of all was the hideous snarl - almost animal in its ferocity. In the eyes, a fire burned.

This was what Gill was supposed to be. This was who he was. He felt his knees collapsing as he cried and sobbed before his portrait, falling to the floor. He threw a hand against the wall to support himself though he was blinded with despair.

"Oh, Gill… I…" Toby couldn't find words as he witnessed the breakdown of his old friend, of his muse.

Gill whirled around, full of such a hate and malice as the portrait bore. The tool box on the floor still had the hammer, but a knife glowed underneath it in the moonlight. Gill grabbed it and wildly dived at Toby with an agonized cry.

Toby's green eyes widened and his mouth hung limp and dumb. He staggered as Gill fell back from him, his attacker's expression quickly changing to one of regret. Toby's fingers wrapped around the knife in his chest. Shaking and bloodied, he pulled. The small silver knife slipped out and clattered to the floor.

Gill shook his head, tears streaming down as he stared in disbelief at what he had done to keep his secret. He was the young boy again. "No…! No! Toby, I'm sorry! Toby!"

The fisherman fell to his knees. He stared at his blood covered hands as he stared to inhumanly wheeze from the puncture to his lung. His breathing gurgled as his wound filled his lung with his own blood.

Gill was on his knees before him, holding him up. "Toby, don't! Please, Toby – God, no! Toby, p-please! Please…!"

Toby Hallward's eyes glazed over as they tried to search Gill's terrified face. He pitched forward, exhaling his last breath over Gill Gray's shoulder.

Tears spilled anew as Gill held up his friend. "Toby? Toby?! Oh, Lord God… No… No… Nononono!"

He tried to stand Toby back on his knees, but he slipped from him and fell backwards to the floor. Eyes wide and mouth open in shock; Toby's dead body was strewn before the portrait. His blood pooling slowly along the floor boards.

Gill brought himself to his feet in a fog. He looked at the blood on his hands from supporting Toby. And stabbing him. Toby's blood. Toby. He had killed him.

Gill Gray turned and looked up at the portrait of himself, feeling it was growing in size to overpower him. The scowl was now an evil leer, smiling down at the scene like one possessed. There was blood on his hands.

Breaking, Gill yelled and ran for the stairs. The blood on his hands was sticky as it started to dry. He passed the attic door and closed it behind him, still sane enough not to touch it and leave handprints everywhere. His mind only controlled his feet as he passed out the front door and broke into a run.

His feet pounded against the cobblestones. Buildings disappeared behind him. He couldn't believe it. The murder wouldn't sink in. Gill wanted to scream, cry, run forever. Toby couldn't be dead. He couldn't have killed him. Selena. Toby. Nonononononono.

The moon lit his blurred path. The town disappeared, and Gill's shoes met dirt. As the air finally started to reach his head, Gill ran straight into someone on the crossroads in the dark. The shadow made Gill reel backwards and fall to the ground. He looked up in horror at the silhouette staring back down at him.