So… that was quite a twist! I hoped to surprise the people who have read the book. Are you surprised? :D ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED? 'Kay, sorry. xD

Everything's brand spanking new here on out. And my, have I been so excited to get to this point! Thanks for reading and reviewing and all that jazz. It always helps!

Nowhere to Hide

The front door slammed shut behind Gill, and he leaned heavily against it - as if he was bracing for an impact. But the house was silent and so was the street outside. He let out the breath he had been holding.

"Gill? Is that you?" A quiet voice came from the hall.

Gill looked up, eyes wild with fright. He quickly composed himself when he recognized his father peaking out of his room. Hamilton was in his pajamas, rubbing his eyes from sleep like a small child. "Yes, Father. Sorry to wake you…"

"My, what time is it? Have you been out all night?" Hamilton looked at his wrist, but his watch was missing from it.

Gill frantically attempted to come up with an excuse. "Er—yes. Of course, I was just—"

Hamilton shook his head. "A friend of yours was here earlier, though you must have missed him. That fisherman fellow?"

"Oh?" Gill asked. He was almost as shocked that his father had remembered something as he was to be reminded of Toby. His stomach clenched painfully.

"Well, he'll just have to return in the morning!" Hamilton shrugged. He took the knob of his door and closed it behind him, calling over his shoulder: "Big day tomorrow!"

Sick that 'Julius' had been right about his father (and a good many other things), Gill ran to his study and quickly shut the door. He happened to see his hands and a wave of nausea passed over him. The iron scent of blood was still there. Dried, like a nasty stain upon his skin.

Gill made his way to the bathroom and viciously scrubbed his hands. Grumbling, he rolled up his sleeves that were now wet from the sink. The water around the basin glowed crimson as the blood left his hands. Its hue turned pink as the last of it went down the drain. When the water ran clear, Gill stopped the faucet. He placed both hands on either side of the sink, staring down.

The nausea of it all took a moment to pass. All Gill could see were Toby's eyes, and Julius' wide grin in the moonlight. All that talk of souls and evil things… It couldn't have been Julius. How long had he been that way? A day? A year? Since Gill had met him? Perhaps Gill had never met the real Julius… Just his empty shell… Could he be locked in a portrait of his own somewhere…?

No. Gill shook his head. He couldn't allow himself to think like that. Of such preposterous things. It was all a nightmare. He would wake up at any moment…

Gill looked up at the mirror hanging over the sink. He ran a wet hand through his tousles of blond hair and found grittiness. Dirt. Upon closer inspection, Gill found traces of blood as well.

Frustrated, Gill turned the water back on. He cupped his hands under the stream and splashed his face and head, attempting an out of bath shower. Seeing his ridiculous reflection, he only grew even angrier. In a frenzy, Gill dunked his entire head under the faucet. He sputtered and resurfaced, shaking his head like a dog. The squeak of the handle turned the water off once more.

Gill stared into the basin again, this time dripping with water down his nose and strands of hair. He dared a look at his reflection in the mirror. Water droplets speckled his haggard image. But even though he was drenched and petrified, the young face looking back at him mocked the evening. Young. Gill shouldn't have been so young. How old was he? Thirty? This was the face of a twenty-year old. Completely untouched by the world…

"Wake up…" Gill muttered. He slapped his face, shook his head, and pinched himself. "Wake up…! Wake up, wake up, wake up!"

No matter how much he pulled and rubbed at his face, the reflection didn't change. Perhaps grew a bit red from the prodding, but it always faded back to normal. 'Normal.'

Gill stared into the perfectly symmetrical face he once praised. The healthy hair. The firm jaw line. The icy eyes. But these things spooked him now. They weren't beautiful like they were supposed to be. They were stale and cursed. It left a bitter taste in the mouth.

Lip trembling, Gill watched as his face broke. He began to desperately cry, his body shaking painfully as he stood hunched over the sink before the mirror. A ghost of a snarl appeared like fog in the glass or a transparent mask over his face. Eyes shining, teeth yellowing, and hair askew. The horrible face of the portrait reflected in the mirror over Gill's face, but instead of the deep frown, it smiled a wide, wicked smile. It was laughing at him.

He was overcome with mad fury. Gill grabbed an empty vase and hurled it at the mirror. The vase and mirror shattered upon impact with one another. Though he half hoped, none of the shards injured him as they spilled into the sink and onto the floor. The resounding crash of glass still resounded in his ears, echoing off the walls of the bathroom in the silence.

Gill wasn't careful where he stepped as he stumbled out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He looked around his study, not able to see anything. His eyes rested on Toby's suitcase and fishing pole. Glaring evidence. It couldn't be true… None of it. Not a word!

His feet carried him out to the hall. Before he knew where he was going, Gill's hand was wrapped around the door knob. He pulled the attic door open and slowly ascended the stairs in a stupor. Cobwebs threatened to latch onto his wet hair, but he didn't notice them. He was about to reach for the floor hatch, but it was already gone. He had never replaced it.

The thick odor of blood filled his nostrils as he scaled the last step and stood motionless at the top. Toby Hallward hadn't moved. The small silver knife was lying discarded at his feet. The portrait was looking freely out at the room, dark red blood on the hands resting lazily along the armchair and a horrible smile on his face. The face that had just haunted Gill's mirror. Or was it his mind?

Gill got to work quickly. Though he didn't know what he was going to do, his body was taking matters into its own hands. His brain was still logical enough to know a dead body was never a good thing. His first order of business was to throw the sheet across the portrait. He couldn't have it watching him any longer.

Gingerly, Gill lifted Toby. The body hadn't the time to stiffen in death, and Gill nearly hoped he could be saved. But his face. Toby's face was disgustingly pale, almost purple. A line of blood dried out of his mouth and all down his chin. His eyes stared out vacantly, glassy and strange. Wet blood matted his shirt front and the sides and lining of his coat.

"I'm so sorry…" Gill repeated, spotting the ferry ticket sticking out of Toby's pocket. It was pointless. No one would hear his selfish apologies.

Gill was impressively silent as he made his way down the stairs with Toby in his arms. He seemed unnaturally light and easy to carry. Gill passed his father's room and entered into the darkness of the house. To be safe, Gill chose the back window in the kitchen.

It wasn't long before Gill was stealing through the forest. The weight of the body finally started to tax him as they went uphill. Though it wasn't a plan or even an idea, Gill found himself walking into the church plaza. The street lamps there kept shadows out of reach, and it was easy to see that the place was empty. Even as Gill brought Toby forward, not a soul entered the church grounds that night.

Gill sat Toby on a bench underneath a cherry tree. The blossoms were in full bloom, scattering their pink petals in the crisp breeze over their heads. Gill made sure Toby wasn't slouching and that his hat was pulled low over his face. He slowly buttoned up his coat to hide the stains inside.

He made one more trip to deliver Toby's forgotten things. Gill placed the suitcase at his feet and the fishing pole against the bench. He hid Toby's bloody hands in his oversized sleeves.

Standing, Gill looked over his work. If he was anybody else – unsuspicious as everyone in Harmonica Town – he would think the man was sleeping. "Just sleeping… dear friend."

Gill found himself running back home. There was no question now. The knife would be found. There was blood on the floor. Things that could not be easily disposed of or cleaned away. He could throw the knife in the ocean or bleach the floor boards, but Gill couldn't hide the answers written plainly in his face. Toby would be found. And the only people Toby Hallward ever spoke to were the Lord Julius Wotton and the infamous Gill Gray.

This was a fight he could not win. So his own suitcase was flung open upon his desk as he ran through the room, collecting possessions he would need to start again. Clothes, papers, notebooks, shoes were all crammed into the leather case.

Gill stopped.

He was a man on the run now. He couldn't carry all of these things. Things that pointed out who he was. What kind of man he was. From his reading material to the clothes on his back, Gill Gray would be seen a mile away.

No, Gill could not take these things. He couldn't take anything.

Gill slowly stepped back from the suitcase, feeling a new sense of loneliness. He needed to get out of Harmonica Town. Away from Castanet. And there was just one thing he couldn't leave behind…