Camilla Ch. 102


Camilla went upstairs to speak to her son Eros, who was just finishing his homework.

"Hi, baby," she said, walking into his room and kissing him on the forehead.

"Hi, Mom," he said, looking up at her and grinning fondly.

Camilla looked at one of his notebooks. Where his name was, it said 'Eros Neville M' (as in Mennon), instead of 'Eros Fox'. "Why didn't you write your real name on your notebook, sweetie?" she asked with a slight frown.

"But Mom, this is my real name," he said. "Cameron isn't my dad. I don't have a dad. Don't you remember when you explained it all to me? That you created me inside your womb without any man helping you. It was so beautiful to know I came out of your divine body all perfect."

"You sure did, so strong, and handsome, and talented, and smart," she said, hugging the unusually large boy. "Though you sure came out huge. What a giant you are: my great big little boy!" She kissed him on the forehead again. "Still, Cameron is your step-father, and I wish you could accept him. We've been living together now for six years. I've told you how insecure he is; he needs love. He's a good man. Why won't you give him a chance?"

"I've tried, but it's hard." As they were talking, Eros--keeping his mother distracted by the conversation--was ever so subtly removing her psychic barrier and allowing Cameron, little by little, to know that she'd been with another man. Eros was undoing her mental barrier so slowly, so gradually, that she didn't at all know he was doing it.

"Well, I'll leave you to finish your homework, then you go right to bed, OK?"

"Yes, Mom," he said.

She left his bedroom and went into hers.

Cameron by now was feeling her lust-energy with Alain all over her. He staggered out of the living room and went into the bathroom to shit. He sat on the toilet, brooding as he crapped.

I knew it, he thought. I knew I'd never be enough of a man to satisfy Camilla. She's been screwing around, on and off, for several years now. I can't blame her; I'm a lousy husband. Her son hates me, and I hate myself, as usual. I don't know how much longer I can hang on. He began softly sobbing, while psychically blocking Camilla, for he didn't want her to know that he knew what she'd done.

Eros finished his homework with a smile, and went to bed. Work, my poison, work, he thought as he lay on his back in bed. It'll only be a matter of time before Cameron either divorces Mom, or kills himself. The Nigrovum in his blood will only hasten his despair. Good: then I'll have Mom all to myself.


37-year-old Camilla relived this vision all horrified. Now that she had more psychic access to everything that had really been happening over those years, she was learning things she wished she could unlearn. But she had to know the truth, in her desperate hope to find a way to thwart the masked men.

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