Chapter Text
The stars above blurred into little white lines as two figures stumbled through a dense forest, wooden stakes rattling behind frantic footsteps. The pale man being chased was quick on his feet, clearly more familiar with the terrain than the burly man pursuing him, who was carelessly throwing himself through brambles and thorns in the process. He carried a satchel full of wooden stakes, along with some other miscellaneous vampire hunting equipment. The vampire in question leaped over logs and weaved his way around trees, eyes glossed over in fear.
The hunter’s boots slammed through the thick layer of snow with each step, crushing the wet leaves caked underneath. He kept his bloodshot eyes fixed on the pale figure ahead, whose blur of long curly hair glimmered in the moonlight, nearly indistinguishable from the snow. Without warning, the vampire was flung off balance, his foot catching on an exposed tree root. He flipped on his side and hit the ground hard, knocking the wind out of him.
He hardly had the chance to pick himself up before the hunter tackled him back onto the ground, stake swiftly raised for a killing blow to the heart. The vampire twisted his body away, and in an adrenaline-induced moment of unnatural strength, he shoved the hunter off of him, sending the burly man stumbling through the snow. The man clumsily swung his stake back towards his opponent and managed to stab the vampire’s abdomen, completely puncturing through the flesh and meat there. A strained cry rang out through the woods upon impact, then silence.
The vampire, panting, crawled back towards the hunter, fueled by rage. Snow kicked up from under his hands as he shakily rose back up onto his feet. Blood splattered on the snow underneath him, red in stark contrast to the shimmering white.
He tackled the hunter with nearly all the strength he had left, and tried desperately to hold him down. The man’s satchel broke off his shoulder from the impact, and he was left defenseless. The hunter shouted curses at the vampire, trying to throw him off, but to no avail. The vampire leaned up to the man’s neck, lining up his canines to the carotid artery. He bit down hard. The man violently thrashed around underneath him, snow and dirt flying out from under his kicking feet. Warm blood pooled into the vampire’s mouth, dribbling down his chin. The struggle didn’t last long. The hunter’s feet slowly stopped kicking, the yelling was over with, and the vampire was fed. He unclamped his jaw and shakily sat back up to look at the dead man. His eyes were still faintly shimmering, his mouth wide open. The vampire grabbed the man’s satchel and clambered back into the forest, his head spinning. It was impossible to tell whether the dizziness came from running for his life, or if it was because he was still continuously bleeding out, his life source dripping into the snow.
He kept running, desperately trying to stay conscious in the process. He could deal with the body later. Right now he was focused on the satchel, which had giant engravings on the side:
“J.H.” in bold font. The vampire’s body felt weak, like his bones could snap at any given moment. His body was giving out. It reached a point where he couldn’t keep running. He simply collapsed. The snow hardly provided any cushioning as his head clashed straight into the floor beneath him. The last thing the vampire could sense was the quiet ringing in his ears before he fell unconscious, blood still spilling from his wound, staining the snow.
❦
The sound of an alarm clock jolted Eustace awake. The man groaned and lightly shut off the alarm before he crawled out of his empty bed, wearing a plain black t-shirt and fuzzy pajama pants. He sighed, staring at the new bottle of pills on his nightstand. He started taking the medication to help with his anxiety, but so far the only noticeable difference has been some crazily vivid dreams, which is apparently a common side effect. Still, Eustace has been having trouble waking up in the morning. Last night, he dreamed his house was being robbed by tiny purple aliens, as if there’s much for them to rob anyway. He glanced back at the wall beside his bed, at the crosses and religious portraits hung there. A big portrait of the Virgin Mary stared back, unblinking. Her gaze was reassuring, a reminder that everything will be okay.
Eustace turned away and got dressed, putting on the same cassock he wears nearly every day, struggling to put on his clerical collar as usual, slipping on his jacket, and doing his morning prayers before getting in his car.
Eustace parked his car in the hospital parking lot, and took a deep breath before opening the car door. He dreaded walking into work every day, dealing with accusing stares from the rest of the hospital chaplains, all because of his “profane” political views. It was silly, shunning someone just for using common sense. Still sulking in the driver’s seat, he rested his head on the wheel, clutching it with both hands. He took another deep breath and solemnly made his way to the hospital entrance.
The inside of the hospital had dreary lighting, and the staff there seemed lifeless. The flowers on the front desk were wilted, the clock in the waiting room had been stuck at 6:00 for months, and a cockroach was laying flat on its back next to the trash can. It wasn’t exactly the place Eustace was expecting to work, but the bishop told him that staff was low, and Eustace wasn’t fit to take on any ambitious roles, especially since he’s technically only been a priest for three years.
Eustace waved at the lady at the front desk. She didn’t wave back. He made his way down the hall to greet his first patient.
Several hours later, at around 4:30 PM, Eustace was finally able to speak to his last patient of the day, Josephine Veritas. After dealing with crazed old dementia patients since 9 AM, seeing Josephine at the end of his shift was definitely the most fulfilling part of Eustace’s day. She wasn’t just a source of entertainment, she was also Eustace’s only source of news in this town. When he approached the door to Josephine’s room, he heard muffled voices of women whispering to each other… The most prominent voice was Sister Araceli, of course. She was always in here, gossiping her head off. Curious, Eustace opened the door. Four nuns were all gathered around Josephine’s hospital bed, Sister Araceli being one of them. They all turned their heads at the creak of the hospital door. An awkward silence filled the air, and the nuns briefly glanced at each other before awkwardly shuffling out of the room, closing the door behind them.
Eustace smiled, walking up to Josephine’s hospital bed, giddy to hear all the newest gossip.
“Good afternoon, Jo,” Eustace said, wiping some crumbs off of the bible on the table next to her. “Are you finally eating?”
“Yeah, Sister Araceli dropped off some cookies,” Josephine said, giving Eustace a weak smile. Eustace sat down in the chair next to her, and scooted forward. He glanced at the closed door in front of him, the one the nuns just fled through.
“What were they complaining about this time?” Eustace asked, grinning.
“Ugh, God… Just some new dumb conspiracy. You gotta see this,” Jo said, reaching for a newspaper beside her bed. She flipped a few pages before handing it to Eustace, smirking. It was the town’s newspaper, of course Sister Araceli spent her hard earned money on reading the news, so typical.
In bold font, the newspaper read, “Local Police Suspecting a Vampire in the Woods”. The text under it went into weirdly horrifying detail about multiple dead bodies found in the forest by the church, and how they discovered that the victims had nearly all of their blood drained from their bodies before death. Eustace winced at the thought. According to the newspaper, they’re supposed to be sending someone to investigate “later tonight”, in search of an alleged vampire. Eustace handed back the paper.
“It’s so stupid, right? There’s no way people actually believe this,” Jo announced.
“It sounds pretty serious,” Eustace said, looking concerned.
Jo scoffed, “It’s just another dumb rumor going around, there’s plenty of other ways their blood could’ve been drained like that. There better be some solid evidence of a ‘vampire’ if they’re putting it on paper like this. This town always jumps to otherworldly conclusions, everyone here is just so blinded by religion…” She looked back over at Eustace. “Um, no offense.”
“None taken.” Eustace wasn’t fully invested anymore, his mind was clouded, his heart rate accelerated. Finding an actual vampire could be just the thing to gain some respect in this town, it could change his role in the church… It could change everything.
The rest of the conversation with Jo was a blur. Once he was done with his shift, Eustace was speed walking out of the hospital to his car. It was already pitch black outside, and the stars seemed brighter than usual, glimmering in Eustace’s peripherals, telling him he’s going the right way. He swung his car door open, quickly buckled his seat belt, and crammed his car keys into the ignition before he sped off to the church.
It didn’t take him long to reach his destination, swerving through snowy grass and mud to park his car. Maybe he would run into the person sent by the police, maybe he would find the vampire himself… Maybe he could get a promotion, maybe he wouldn’t have to work at the hospital ever again... He hurriedly unwound the cross necklace from his rear view, launched himself out of the driver’s seat, and sprinted towards the forest. He had a strange feeling that everything would work out, that this decision really could change his life in some way. He excitedly entered the forest, disappearing into the trees and snow.
❦
After wandering aimlessly around the woods for God knows how long, Eustace sat down at the base of a tree, cold and exhausted. Maybe there isn’t a vampire, maybe this town is dumb and has a reputation of making big deals out of nothing, maybe the rest of the clergy would hate him forever… is what Eustace was thinking before he noticed footprints in the snow up ahead. He sat up and walked closer, jittery with anticipation. The foot print was slightly bigger than his, and it looked like more of a pointed boot shape compared to the round-toe dress shoes Eustace was wearing. Eustace’s eyes followed the path of the blood trail up ahead. His eyes widened when he saw what looked like someone laying face down in the snow, a small pool of blood accompanying them. His heart skipped a beat at the sight.
Eustace hastily approached the body, and kneeled down beside it. He looked over at the broken leather satchel laying beside the body, several stakes appeared to be spilling from it. This must belong to this guy, he thought. He turned back towards the body and gently pushed their pearlescent white hair away from their neck, then firmly pressed his middle and index finger up to the artery there. Eustace let out a sigh of relief when he felt a pulse, and muttered a quick prayer before making an awkward attempt to flip the unconscious man over. Once flipped, Eustace jumped at the sight of a stake through the man’s abdomen.
“Jesus Christ!” Eustace exclaimed before fumbling around the wound, panicking.
His state of panic settled a little when he glanced back at the victim’s face. He looked rather calm despite his situation, which was probably typical of someone who’s unconscious, but it was a strange sight nonetheless.
Eustace leaned closer to the man’s face. His features were so captivating… Something about his uncanny appearance and his gentle expression, it was oddly compelling. It gave Eustace a strange unknown feeling in his stomach. His eyes darted back to the man’s gruesome wound. Shit, focus! Eustace cursed himself for getting distracted, then quickly heaved the man’s unconscious body up into his arms, carrying the satchel along with him. His wet dress shoes slushed through the dense snow on the way out.
Panting, Eustace finally carried the man all the way back to his car. He was ridiculously out of shape, his hot breath hit the cold air, clouds of vapor swirling out from his mouth with every exhale. Eustace hauled the man into the backseat.
“Stay put,” He whispered.
The unconscious man slouched over in response. Eustace buckled the man in his seat, closed the car door, and ran back to the driver’s seat, starting the car as fast as he could, clumsily buckling himself in. Then he hit the road.
It only took about eight minutes before the bumps on the gravel road shook the man awake. His eyes fluttered open, and he quietly groaned upon hearing music from the radio.
The man grumbled from the backseat, “What the hell…?”
Eustace jumped at the sound of the man’s voice, surprised that he was suddenly conscious considering the state of him.
“I’m driving you to the hospital right now, sir. Just hang tight and stay calm, alright? Try your best to keep that thing stabilized–”
“Pull over,” The man said urgently, tossing his unnaturally pristine white hair out of his face.
“What?”
“Pull over!”
Eustace swerved the car to the side of the road and parked there, causing everyone in the car to jerk forward from braking so fast.
“You can’t take me to the hospital,” The man exclaimed, somehow looking paler than he had before. His hair was stuck to his face again.
“You’re gonna bleed out! I can’t just not take you to the hospital!” Eustace shouted gravely, fully twisting his body around to look at the injured man. The man’s eyes wandered down to Eustace’s clerical collar.
“Whatever, just drop me back off in the forest, please. You seriously cannot take me to the hospital.”
“Why not?”
The man ran his fingers through his hair and stammered, “I… don’t have insurance.”
Eustace let out a frustrated sigh. This whole scenario was so stressful, and it didn’t help that this guy was being annoyingly calmer than he was. The same guy who’s currently bleeding out all over Eustace’s leather seats.
“Fine, I won’t take you to the hospital, but I’m not just gonna leave you in the forest to die of a hemorrhage. I’ll fix you up for free, okay?” He sighed. “I’m seriously not qualified for this, but if it keeps you from dying I’ll try and help you.” Eustace said, trying his best to stay calm and collected. He reluctantly put his car back in drive and made a U-turn back towards his house.
“How long have you been out there? You must be freezing,” Eustace said while trying to give the man a concerned look in the rear view mirror. Frustratingly enough, Eustace couldn’t see the man in his rear view, it probably wasn’t adjusted right.
“I’m fine,” The man replied.
Eustace turned to look at him for a brief moment. “You sure? You look pretty pale.”
He didn’t respond. Awkward silence… Eustace’s car smelled like cologne and freshly printed paper.
“…So you’re a priest, right? You banish demons and shit?” The man said, breaking the silence to talk about someone other than himself.
“I am a priest, yes. You can call me Father Eustace. Uh, major exorcisms aren’t really my thing, I bless people at most... I just work as a hospital chaplain.” Eustace awkwardly cleared his throat. “...What’s your name?”
“Lance,” The man answered, then after a small moment of contemplation, “Are you sure you wanna let a stranger in your house?”
“I can’t just leave you out there to die, Lance.”
Lance nodded shakily, clutching his abdomen. Eustace turned up the radio.
❦
Eventually the two men had finally arrived at Eustace’s house. It was a small house, fit for one person. The shrubs in front of the porch were unkempt and the lawn was slightly overgrown, but overall it looked somewhat maintained. Along with the shrubs looked like a few white rose bushes that Eustace must’ve planted himself.
As Eustace guided Lance out of the car, he couldn’t help but glance at his jacket. It appeared to be made of leather, but it had some alligator skin textured accents around the back and shoulders. With his arm already slung around Lance’s shoulder for support, Eustace felt around the texture with his thumb. It was a very interesting design for sure, it wasn’t like anything he’d ever seen before.
“Is your jacket custom made?” Eustace couldn’t help but ask as he helped Lance stagger up the porch steps.
“It’s inherited,” Lance said, offering no further explanation.
As Eustace shuffled through the pockets of his cassock looking for his keys, Lance spoke up again.
“Listen Eustace, about inviting me into your house and everything… Are you sure you wanna do this?” He sighed, almost imploringly.
“You’re weird, you know that? I’m trying to help you out, Lance, of course you’re welcome in my home.” Eustace continued to fumble around for the right key. “...You’re not in the right physical state to be causing me trouble anyways,” he said, smirking. Lance gave a weak smile in return.
When Eustace finally unlocked his front door, he let Lance lean against him as they walked into his house. Eustace tried his very best to keep Lance balanced.
The inside of Eustace’s house was a little cramped, and his furniture was certainly lived in. Emptied shot glasses and plastic wrappers were scattered around his coffee table, it was apparent that Eustace doesn’t usually have guests over. Intricate paintings of religious figures could be seen on nearly every other wall of the house, each one adorned with a unique frame. Crucifixes and crosses were hung along with the paintings. Lance shivered at the sight.
“All of my supplies are down in the basement, it’d probably be best if I carried you down there, it would save time,” Eustace said. “It’s a little cold down there, so I apologize in advance.”
They both stumbled towards the basement door, which was luckily only a few steps away. There was a room on the wall right next to the basement door too, right by the couch. Of course, it had a crucifix nailed to the door.
“You’re pretty serious about this religion stuff, huh?” Lance couldn’t help but ask.
“Well, it’s my job,” Eustace said, laughing shyly.
The basement door itself made a screeching sound when opened, revealing a pitch black abyss. Eustace leaned through the door and flicked the lightswitch. The dimly illuminated basement stairs were definitely worn down, there were visible marks from where Eustace had walked on them.
They slowly creaked their way down the stairs, holding each other tight. Eustace let Lance rest on the floor for a moment while he searched for his collection of first aid supplies.
Eustace’s basement was lit with a singular humming lightbulb on the ceiling, but there were unlit candles partially melted into the dusty furniture down there. The walls weren’t decorated like the upstairs area was, it was just rough concrete and spiderwebs. There was a pile of cardboard boxes in the far left corner, and next to it was an eerie looking grandfather clock, which surprisingly had the correct time. To the right of the grandfather clock, there was a beautiful wooden vanity with an assortment of different bibles lined up against its mirror. On the wall of the stairs, there was an unused circular dining table with three wooden chairs. The missing fourth chair was in front of the vanity, and it seemed to be the most used chair of all of them. Eustace must use the vanity as a work desk of sorts.
Eustace rummaged through his old wooden vanity, frantically opening drawers and slamming them back closed. He scanned the flat top of the vanity, seeing nothing but his collection of bibles and dust. He quickly looked at his reflection in the mirror, frowning when he noticed how shaggy his hair was getting. He glanced behind him through the reflection in an attempt to check up on Lance’s condition, but all he saw was the concrete floor the stranger should be sitting on. He spun his head around. Lance was still there… tugging at his bloodied shirt. Eustace squinted, really taking in Lance’s appearance.
There’s no way… He looked in the mirror’s reflection again. Lance was completely invisible.
Fuck.
Conveniently, Eustace had some holy water in the pocket of his cassock. He dipped the tips of his fingers into the bottle, turned back around, and flicked little droplets of liquid at Lance’s arm. In seconds, Lance’s pale skin was dotted with sizzling black spots. Lance hissed at the sensation, falling backwards and colliding with the wall behind him.
“Fuck, what the hell was that for?!” He shouted, rubbing the back of his head with his good arm.
“You tricked me!” Eustace shouted back, his voice cracking slightly.
“In my defense, I thought you would’ve killed me, with you being a priest and all,” Lance objected, furrowing his eyebrows. His arm was already fully healed.
“I… I don’t kill people,” Eustace stammered, sweating at the thought. He glanced back down at the stake protruding from Lance’s abdomen. Lance shakily stood back up, and limped a few steps toward Eustace.
“Why were you out in the woods then?” He asked, cocking his head slightly to the side. He stood there in front of Eustace, awaiting a response.
“...I was looking for you,” Eustace muttered.
“So they sent you to come ‘banish’ me, right?” Lance said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. Eustace could see his pointy canines. He avoided Lance’s gaze, a warm wave of embarrassment coating his face.
Lance limped closer and looked back down at his wound. He grabbed the end of the stake and pulled, it made a gruesome ripping noise as the weapon was repelled from his abdomen. Blood frothed around the wound, spilling onto his shirt. Eustace just stared in shock, repressing the urge to vomit. Once Eustace thought it couldn’t get more repulsive, the gaping wound made a grotesque sucking noise, and flesh began to grow back at a rapid pace. Soon enough, all that was left was a discolored patch of skin where the stake used to be. Lance shakily grabbed Eustace’s hands and wrapped the priest’s fingers around the bloodied stake.
“I’ll make your job easier, Eustace,” Lance insisted, guiding Eustace so that the point of the stake was lightly jabbing his chest. Eustace was sweating bullets, staring at his own shaking hands.
He could’ve just gotten it over with right then, maybe the clergy would respect him that way, maybe they would throw him a big party and use Lance’s blood as confetti, but if Eustace was being completely honest with himself, he didn’t want any of that. When he looked into Lance’s eyes, he didn’t see malevolence. He saw a scared man. He saw a man that was just as worthy of life as he was, just as worthy of forgiveness and mercy.
The stake clattered to the ground, and Eustace stayed gazing into the vampire’s eyes for a moment. Lance stared back, his eyes wide in surprise, his hands still resting on Eustace’s wrists.
“I don’t want to kill you,” Eustace murmured, taking a brief step back. Lance turned his head slightly, giving Eustace a confused look.
“Then… what are you gonna do?” Lance said, furrowing his eyebrows. This question was clearly thought provoking for Eustace, because soon after Lance spoke, he was running his hands through his own hair, perplexed.
“Well I can’t just let you continue hurting people out there… God, all those missing cases…” Eustace mumbled nervously. He had never been in this sort of moral dilemma before, at least not anything nearly as stressful as this. There was a clear solution, but Eustace was afraid to say it. There has to be another way, there’s no way he could keep this man in his house.
Eustace looked back up at Lance. “Maybe we could…” He wiped his sweaty hands on his cassock. “Maybe I could keep you here, just for a little while… Until I make my mind up.”
The instant regret Eustace endured felt like a slap in the face. So did the impending doom, and the guilt, and the secret thrill in the back of his mind. Was he really that desperate for someone else's company?
Lance didn’t respond, just stood there, with an unreadable expression. Maybe he wasn’t pleased with the idea of being held hostage in Eustace’s basement, or maybe he was. It was impossible to tell, and Eustace had no idea which one would be worse.
“Shit, do you have that bag?” Lance asked, suddenly looking distraught. “The one with the initials on it, do you have it?”
“Um, yes! I have it… is it yours?” Eustace stuttered, still feeling overwhelmed by everything going on.
Lance sighed, avoiding eye contact. “No, it belongs to the guy who stabbed me… I recognized the initials on it, and I really need it back.” Eustace nodded, and awkwardly walked back over to the stairs, keeping an eye on Lance.
“Don’t move,” Eustace ordered. Lance shrugged and sat back down on the cold concrete, leaning against the wall.
Eustace made his way back upstairs and closed the door behind him. He leaned against the door, holding his face in his hands. He desperately wished he could stop being such a wuss, that he could just get this vampire situation over with, what’s stopping him? He lowered his hand back down to the clerical collar around his neck, then to the crucifix hanging from his necklace. He twirled it around in his fingers, contemplating his decisions. Deep down, he felt that this was wrong. It wasn’t just the fact that he spared a vampire, or that he went on this whole endeavor without permission from the church. It was something more. There was something deeply, horribly wrong, more than what can be seen on the surface. Just being in Lance’s presence made him feel lightheaded, along with this strange sickening feeling in his stomach, it was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before.
Eustace suddenly snapped out of his anxious spiral, remembering what Lance asked him to do. He ran out to his car, grabbed the satchel, and ran back. He came back to the basement with some blankets for Lance, feeling guilty that the man had to sit down there in the cold.
“You alright?” Eustace asked, sitting in front of Lance with blankets and satchel in hand. Lance looked at him with a blank expression, dark carmine eyes unblinking. He rested the side of his face on his knee, staring into Eustace’s eyes. Eustace stared back.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” Lance asked, squinting with suspicion.
“I can’t just be nice?” Eustace said, smiling shyly. He didn’t know the reason himself.
“It’s just…” Lance brushed some strands of pure white hair out of his face. “...Odd, is all. You do realize I’m not a person anymore, right? I hurt people.”
Eustace broke eye contact to look at the floor. “You don’t seem hurtful, Lance. You sound like someone who needs help, that’s all.” Eustace leaned in closer, quickly glancing at the vampire’s bloody shirt before gazing back into his eyes. “I became a priest so I could help guide lost souls like you, not so I can blindly follow orders from the church… it’s sad how much that sets me apart from the rest of this town.”
Lance nodded, his eyes softening a little. There it was again, that churning feeling in Eustace’s stomach, the panic breaching his mind. His blood felt as if it was boiling under his skin, like acid was melting through his heart. His skull gently hummed against the sensitive cerebral matter of his brain, affecting his ability to think clearly.
“Um…” Eustace muttered, trying to abolish the tension in the air. Unfortunately, ‘um’ was the only thing he could think to say. Lance raised his eyebrows curiously. “I think…” Eustace looked at the grandfather clock next to his vanity. It was nine o'clock. “...I think I’m gonna go to bed now.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, um… Goodnight, Lance.” Eustace sat up and made his way back upstairs. “I’ll try to figure something out.” He shut the door behind him.
Eustace sighed, running his hands through his hair. This whole scenario was unbelievable, Eustace desperately wished that he was just having another drug induced dream. He looked up at the ceiling and grabbed his rosary from out of his pocket, winding it around his fingers. He prayed for courage, for wisdom, for strength, for anything. Nobody answered, but he felt that his answers would come with time. He dragged a chair from his living room back over to the basement door, and propped the top of the chair under the doorknob.
Eustace dragged himself to his room and collapsed onto his bed, groaning softly into his pillow. Today might’ve been his most mentally exhausting day yet. Halfway through undressing himself, he thought about Lance’s presence, the fact that the vampire was still in his house, that this wasn’t something Eustace had just made up in his head. He quickly went to lock his door, anxiety creeping into his mind. He was used to the feeling of being watched, it was something he feared as long as he could remember, ever since the concept of God was drilled into his mind, but this was different. There was a real person in the room right beneath him.
He finished getting himself dressed for bed, trying his best to push away the continuous stream of thoughts and questions about Lance, but when he laid back down in his bed, he couldn’t help himself. He fidgeted with his rosary and thought about Lance’s face, about his pointy canines, his mysterious attitude, his unwillingness to give out personal details… There was something about him that was strangely alluring. His standoffishness made Eustace want to know more, and something about his appearance was angelic, in a way. His long white hair curled around his face and body perfectly, as if each strand had been carefully sculpted that way, and he somehow made it look effortless. His fair skin looked as if his features were delicately carved out of marble. Everything about Lance was so unnaturally graceful. Maybe it was a vampire thing, maybe that’s just how they lure in their victims.
Eustace spilled some pills into his cupped palm, and hesitantly downed them. He prayed that the stressful day he had wouldn’t haunt his dreams tonight. He turned to look back at the Virgin Mary painting beside his bed, hoping she might save him from his impending nightmares. Her gaze was usually soothing for him, but tonight it made him feel strangely uneasy. Eustace wondered if he made the right decisions tonight, or if God might’ve been disappointed in his efforts.
Eustace turned over, closed his eyes, and tried his best to fall asleep, despite the buzzing swarm of thoughts swimming through his head. He curled up under his comforter, and eventually drifted off to sleep.