As promised, his rushed recovery process proved to be far from easy. Being around the holiday season, his doctor at the LeMans Hospital seemed less than invested or cautious when it came to his condition. As a result, Peter struggled with the relentless pace of his therapy sessions and each grueling exercise —yet he persisted, driven by a newfound resolve.
Callista’s care and support provided him the solace he had been craving for ages, a comfort that eclipsed even the ever-present creature intermittently haunting his periphery like a vengeful wraith.
Peter knew that he was nothing more than a patient in her eyes, yet he so heartrendingly yearned to be liked by her, to know her better. He longed for the day when he would regain full coordination of his legs and perhaps share a dance. Whenever her fingers grazed his skin, he felt like a renewed man.
Words whispered by the otherworldly voice seeped into his mind like tar filling empty cracks, growing increasingly insistent with every passing day. They assured that his love was right, that it was pure —and above all, perfect.
And whether it was because of his convictions, or instead a surrender to that profane toxin… Peter eventually accepted those claims as truth.
Only then, the name appeared inside his head like an epiphany. She was Spellbound. The guardian devil that had latched onto him at the same time he found his angel.
She never attacked him; instead, she remained vigilantly by his side as a dedicated sentinel. Too afraid of being committed to a mental asylum to confide in anyone about her presence, Peter simply submitted to her presence, overlooking the terror that gripped him whenever he glimpsed through rents in her fabric skin. Behind the tattered facade loomed a hollow darkness that reverberated with faint whispers, as if within a dilapidated cathedral. At times, Spellbound’s abyss resonated with haunting echoes of laughter —not outright sounds, but rather vibrations that unsettled him to no end.
At other times she vanished into thin air, her disappearance often coinciding with Callista's presence. It made the nurse feel all the more like a ward against the malevolence lurking all around him.
Tonight was one of such instances.
“It appears we’re in the same boat together, Mr. Kimball.”
The words caught him somewhat ill-prepared, and for a moment, Peter was at a loss of how to respond. While they usually engaged in conversations regarding his condition and progress, it was unusual for Callista to divert from professional matters.
“Is there no one you’d like to visit on this night as well?” She added, a hint of melancholy in her voice that stirred his heart. Taking a moment to seat herself by his bedside, Callista returned his gaze, her eyes filled with a quiet sadness.
But, really, it shouldn't have come as a surprise. It was Christmas Eve after all, and the two of them were confined inside cold hospital walls.
“Please…” He began nervously, pausing a moment to try and steady his ailing chest. “Call me… Call me Peter.”
Perhaps by allowing her to use his first name, he could offer a hint of comforting familiarity during this imposed solitude; or at least, that’d be what he’d say if someone were to ask —truth was, he also cherished the possibility of hearing his name on her lips.
Callista humored him with a brief smile and a light chuckle, but her troubled expression soon returned.
“I really don’t think I should, Mr. Kimball.”
>> “Least rumors that I’m coming onto patients may start being spread by them as well.”
Well, it was worth a shot; however, her remark paired with a sigh did leave him wondering in curiosity.
“Excuse me? Them?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Please, pay it no mind. It’s just mindless hospital ward gossip.”
Despite her suggestion, Peter couldn’t help but think about it. He had never stopped to consider it before, but perhaps Callista, aside from sharing his loneliness, also had her own trials to endure.
It was a glimpse of vulnerability that left him reeling; He hated the thought of anyone giving her a hard time, especially considering her kindness and beauty. Yet it made sense… That she attracted both disdainful looks and infatuated admirers like himself.
But now that they were holding a silent moment of contemplation, there was also another worrying subject he had been neglecting on his constant admiration of her. One he couldn’t delay any further.
“Miss Callista… May I ask you something?” He began hesitantly, his fingers clutching tightly onto the bed sheets. “What… What happened to those two?”
A small sound of confusion came from her mouth, as the nurse tilted her head questioningly.
“I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m following properly. Which two?”
It was a painful conversation to continue. All this time, Peter had unwaveringly believed that the police hadn't come to arrest him due to his recovery process from the head injury. But that never truly soothed his worries about the possibility of having ended two lives that night —an idea that, alongside Spellbound, kept him awake at night.
"T… The mother and her daughter…" Peter forced himself to continue, trusting in Callista to neither hide the truth from him nor to deliver it too harshly if the worst had come to pass. "The ones… I ran over."
The nurse's brow furrowed, not only expressing her confusion but also her own growing apprehension.
"I don't know what you mean, Mr. Kimball," she clarified with a serious tone that made him certain this wasn't an attempt to misdirect him. "You were the only one involved in the accident. You drove straight into a tree."
>> "If anyone else was hurt, we would have known. This hospital is the only one close to where it all happened."
Feeling his blood freezing inside his veins, Peter stared off into nothingness without focus, struggling to process the revelation. The contradiction bore down on him like a physical force, as his recollection of that night came under intense scrutiny. For as brief as the flashing scenes had been on his eyes, the image of of the woman and the girl in his headlights was seared into his memory, just as much as the puddle of blood that ran under the crumpled steel frame —too large to be his own alone.
All of them were being called into question by the new reality presented by Callista. How could this be possible? How could he have gotten such an important detail wrong? Doubt swirled within him like a whirlpool menacing to drown him —yet he never placed mistrust in the nurse even once, despite the mounting uncertainty. To Peter, her words were gospel, unassailable and well-intended truth… But, if that were to be the case, then...
How many other things was he also mistaken about? What else else was a lie?… Could he trust his own eyes and thoughts anymore?
No... It couldn't be possible. The panicked faces that haunted him, even through the darkest periods of unconsciousness before his awakening, were far too real to escape. That guilt he had been feeling all this time… It couldn’t have been for nothing.
It felt as though the very ground beneath his feet was shifting, his grip on reality crumbling like a sandcastle battered by the relentless waves of a storm.
Time lost meaning for a minute as he remained unmoving, shoulders slumped and features etched with despair. It was likely enough to make anyone uneasy, especially someone as kind as Callista.
“I… Have to go now, Mr. Kimball.” She announced in a voice wavering with nervousness as she rose from her chair beside him. The motion left Peter feeling desolate and abandoned, even before she had fully withdrawn her presence. “Please, just let me know if you need anything, okay? I’ll be here all night, so don’t hesitate to call.”
Oh, how desperately he longed to unburden himself, to lay bare the chaotic tumult of everything he felt about her. To express how deep his love was, that it transcended well beyond mere attraction. How he needed her by his side at that moment —and for all those yet to come as well.
And yet, defeated and brokenhearted, Peter hesitated to heap his troubles upon her shoulders. Yes, Callista had her own challenges to face, and it would be grossly unjust to add his disturbing and unsorted ones to her worries.
Before letting his heart in the open, he needed to untangle himself out of his own disaster. With the door once more closing to leave him utterly alone, his forehead succumbed into an open palm, as the dull throbs of his brain resonated against the walls of his injured skull.
“Did I not tell you…” The voice of Spellbound blended with his thoughts, as it so often did, offering an easy alternative to the torment. “… About all the lies?”
>> “Trust in me… I’ll guide you through confusion.”
It felt like a treacherous hand extended in his direction, tempting Peter to surrender to the illusion Spellbound offered. He wanted to deny it, to insist that he wouldn’t listen to false promises, and that he’d find his own way. After all, even when he felt battered and broken, he had found the willpower to carry on in Callista —taking the shape of a love that should make the specter’s seduction insignificant in comparison.
And yet… He couldn’t bring himself to say no to her.
For the path ahead was shrouded in uncertainty, fraught with potential turmoil... And even in this second chance at life that he had been granted, Peter wasn’t sure he possessed the resilience required to face the darkness on his own.
Whether they lead him astray, away from the truth; or deliver on the blissful satisfaction and fulfillment she offered each time… Peter wasn’t strong enough to refuse the respite that the comforting lies from the demon doll tempted him with.
His eventual discharge from the LeMans Hospital after a full recovery came little under a month after Christmas Eve, but in all honesty, he had come to dread such a day. Not only did it mean he would no longer have an excuse to see Callista, but he would also have to face the repercussions that he had been ignoring this far.
Consequences, that could be seen as mundane when compared to the otherworldly experiences he was subjected to inside the hospital walls, in his infatuation with Callista and his fright over Spellbound —a presence that he was now more or less used to.
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But.. how could he not feel intimidated by the real-world horror stories lying in wait, filled with cruel and cold facts he wasn't yet ready to face?
His version of the events, as it turned out, was held with little regard by the police. They had already gathered all the information they needed during his two-month coma, or at least enough to fine him for all the damages caused by the accident.
Having never bothered with health insurance, Peter now found himself also responsible for the entire medical bill. Payment plans or delayed time frames proposed for it didn’t change the undeniable fact that this wasn’t something he could ever afford —or at least not by relying on his father’s veteran benefits that he and his mother survived with.
And speaking of which… Upon finally returning to his abandoned house, Peter realized just how much he had neglected a particular problem for all this time. The original beneficiary of all his income —his mother.
Due to his inability to care for her during his hospital stay, social workers assessed her needs in his absence and concluded that their house was no longer suitable for her to reside. Diagnosed as unable to live independently, she was taken away and placed in a long-term nursing home.
Which would have been fine if she were to be returned to him upon his discharge… But, to make matters worse, the authorities were now initiating the legal proceedings to establish conservatorship over his mother’s affairs —all in the name of ‘ensuring that the decisions regarding Vivien Kimball's health and finances are made in her best interests.’
Or in other words… They were planning to seize her money and rob her of the safe familiarity of his company, tearing her away from the comfort of the home they had always shared together.
In a panic, Peter withdrew all the remaining funds in her account, fearing that they would soon take even that from him. It wasn’t much, considering his pre-hospitalization penchant for frittering away money on mobile games.
And all of this didn't even begin to address the issue of repairing or replacing his mangled car. The weight of it all was so overwhelming that Peter’s mind recoiled, unable to acknowledge the enormity of problems before him in full capacity.
Trapped in a world that felt like a suffocating prison cell, he yearned for the safety and attention he had found within the hospital walls, where Callista’s presence was all that filled his reality —the place where he met true joy for the first time in his life.
How much he had wanted her then…
And oh Christ, how much more he craved her now.
Whenever he wasn’t wailing in his misery, thrown in bed he often sought solace in sleep, hoping that in dreams, the two of them might reunite. Peter’s biggest fantasy was that she would come knocking on his door, to rescue him from the storm of ruination that had made his life its permanent resting place.
He couldn’t bear it any longer… Not on his own… Not without her...
“Then why did you abandon her?” Spellbound’s voice, once merely tantalizing, now also beguiled Peter, preying on his weaknesses, reminding him of all his faults, of all his wrong choices. “If you had allowed me to guide from the beginning… You could have avoided all this anguish.”
>> “It’s not too late… Let’s make everything right...”
The insurmountable weight of his troubles made it more and more difficult not to succumb to the melody that Spellbound’s whispers offered, her voice weaving around his weary soul, enchanting him inch by inch.
“Haven’t you realized, dear Peter? Your Callista loves you as well..”
>> “Can’t you remember? The way her eyes lit up every time your hands met?”
No… That couldn’t be true. He was anything but a burden; and he had always been a failure. In his forty years of life, all that he had ever learned was only how to fall. For as much as he wanted to, liking himself was entirely out of the question —and how to even begin deluding himself that an angel like Callista would look upon him with love rather than disgust?
At first, he noticed it —How Spellbound’s voice slithered through his memories like a poisonous cloud. But he was already too drained, too devoid of fight, to resist the strange sense of calmness that fell over him.
His moments with Callista took on different lights as he found himself basking in the illusion of his reciprocated feelings, one carefully spun by the spectral doll.
But… He liked it. The chaos and the sadness that had plagued him now seemed distant, overshadowed by the allure of a much sweeter reality crafted by that spellbinding song.
And so, he got rid of his apprehension and allowed himself to follow Spellbound’s footsteps through the depths. One by one, scenes with Callista now played out like a wondrous play inside his mind, each scene more enrapturing than the last.
He remembered a gentle way in which her fingers ran through his hair, as she cared for him during his recovery —tender touches that now also seemed to hold a hidden promise of love, all thanks to Spellbound’s influence.
He recalled the sound of her laughter, its melody taking on a new meaning as the entity tethered to his side suggested that it was all for him, a secret shared between two lovers.
The late-night conversation that they once held during Christmas Eve, once no more than a simple exchange between a nurse and her patient… Now turned into a passionate declaration of love, twisted and reinterpreted by seductive whispers.
Unable to resist the tantalizing illusion, Peter lost himself in the dance, allowing Spellbound to lead him further and further away from the harsh realities that awaited him on the other side of the mirages. At some point, all of them flipped, becoming the much-preferred truths of his dreams. The line keeping the fantasies at bay had become irreversibly blurred.
Under his clouded senses, the next steps in admiration for his beloved came as naturally as breathing.
At first, Peter was naturally nervous, unfamiliar with all the nuanced complexities that being in a relationship entailed. He followed Callista from a safe distance, capturing her image in photographs and watching her every small gesture from afar. These moments fed Spellbound’s blissful concoctions, providing him with the fodder for comforting dreams each night.
Some things he observed left him worried, like the times when she was subjected to the harsher ends of awful social interactions; enough to make him feel compelled to do something about it. But first, he needed to learn more about her.
After discovering where Callista lived, he peeked through her windows while she slept; and then aided by Spellbound, he infiltrated inside, maneuvering through the shadows with utmost care. He invaded her privacy, and pried into her personal spaces —all in his goal to maintain as close to her as possible, for protection.
He inhaled her exhalations, moving discreetly to avoid being detected. He acted as an unseen observer, piecing together the puzzle of her life by sifting through dresser drawers, and creaking open the doors to secret rooms.
Though she remained unaware of his vigilance, he made sure to understand her deeply, ensuring her well-being from behind the curtain, leaving no trace of his departures behind.
She depended on him, even if she didn't know it yet, their connection solidified in the depths of the eternal unknown. With the unbreakable bond sealed by Spellbound, their fates intertwined indefinitely. Through thick and thin, they'd remained inseparable, woven together by forces beyond their control.
Whatever the circumstances, be they right or wrong...
He was the only one Callista would ever belong to.
The things he did in her name were atrocious, as he delved into the darkest confines of her past. Finding those people proved to be no easy task, but for her sake, Peter hesitated at nothing —no effort was too great, no price too high.
Yet, he found himself longing… Craving for more. He yearned for Callista to be awake while he touched her, to embrace and caress her with full awareness.
“Then take her… Draw near… Accept audacity…” Spellbound’s words were like a venom urging him forward. With a racing heart, Peter stepped out of the darkness, approaching her at a moment when she seemed especially defenseless, during a dog walk unfolding in unnaturally late hours of the night.
Her reactions, however, created a strange dissonance between his altered psyche and his perception of reality. When Callista ran away from him, he refused to believe it, convincing himself that she waved happily at him once they crossed stares from behind her window.
There was something going on, and so, Peter reinstated himself that he needed to stay vigilant to protect his angel, changing his position to ambush anyone who might dare to harm her.
Hidden in the darkness of her backyard, he remained silent as he clung to her dog, falling to the floor with her phone clutched tightly. Witnessing her anguish was a torment that threatened to burst his heart, and he desperately wanted to reveal himself to offer her shelter.
“Wait…” It was Spellbound’s voice that held him back. “Someone’s coming.”
Just as predicted by his spectral companion, a uniformed man eventually knocked on her door. Peter watched him with resentful eyes, but even in his delusion he knew he recognized that he possessed everything he perceived himself as lacking.
He had a tall and muscular frame, with a square jaw that exuded resolute masculinity. The hair on his head was sandy blond, kept short and neatly styled; But what bothered Peter the most were the man's clear blue eyes, which seemed to sparkle with lecherous intent whenever they looked at his Callista.
Peter’s chest rose and fell in an uneven, irregular tempo. His breathing came out in rapid, heavy spurts, as every second kept from enacting what his impulses demanded felt like a torture, nerves brimming with anger and jealousy.
“Look… She’s uncomfortable…”
>> “Are you going to let him hurt her?”
Indeed, Callista’s expression as the man squeezed her shoulder revealed an unease that Peter never wanted to see on her face. And so, unable to take it any longer, his fury erupted like magma from a volcano as the blonde intruder pulled the nurse closer, attempting to hug her.
Peter would have crashed disastrously against the glass wall separating Callista's backyard from the main hall if Spellbound hadn't placed herself in between first. She decimated the crystal before it could make contact with him, solidifying her position as his benefactor and partner in this pivotal moment of his display of pure, true love.
The clash between Peter and the uniformed mad unfolded in a chaotic and disjointed manner, exacerbated by occasional lapses in focus caused by adrenaline and the dense miasma clouding his mind —but the pain was still felt loud and clear, as he eventually found himself starting to lose the battle.
Any word spoken by the man was distorted into blank noise in Peter’s ears, but he had no intention of communicating with him anyway. All that mattered was triumphing, to shield Callista from any kind of danger.
“Help me, please…” He whispered through gritted teeth as he was immobilized against the ground. “… I beg you, Spellbound.”
Everything that happened afterward remained mostly obscured in Peter’s head, despite the many traces of intense strife left behind in the aftermath. Rising to his feet once more, he felt warmth trickling from his nose, swiftly wiping it away with the sleeve of his raincoat.
He had all the faculties he needed to confirm if Callista was okay, and after a quick search, he found the nurse cowering behind the kitchen counter, trembling and paralyzed with fear —their shared glances spoke volumes, now that the tall intruder had finally been dealt with. Peter smiled at her reassuringly, and she soon enough did the same.
“Mr. Kimball… No, Peter…” Hearing his name on her lips was a moment he had been longing for since forever, and it had finally happened. There was no need for any distance anymore. “Thank you. Thank you so much for saving me.”
Peter felt weakened and dazed, but he pushed through it, drawn to Callista's presence like a moth to a flame. Her smile was intoxicating, filling him with a euphoria he had never known —one that made his heart feel ready to explode.
“There’s no need to thank me.” He replied, bubbling with joy. “Protecting you is all that matters to me.”
>> “You don’t have to worry about anything anymore, I’m here.”
It was like finally breaking free from shackles. There were no further pretenses, no more barriers between the two of them.
“Don’t hold back… She’s all yours…” Spellbound’s voice inside his head as she reunited with him sounded a little different than usual. It was more exhilarated, more frantic and ecstatic than before. Peter figured it was because of how much that moment meant to them both.
But he wanted to savor things slowly, to let Callista know just how much he loved her first.
“How did you know I needed you?” Callista asked him, her voice laced with confusion and gratitude. It was understandable, their relationship had been somewhat distant up until this point, but that would be corrected from now on.
“Shh… Callie…” He responded, closing the distance and meeting her gaze “I know everything.” He reassured her with the most comforting smile he could muster, trying to ignore the growing irritation caused by the liquid still seeping from his nose. “From the room you like to keep closed and hidden, to the people that wronged you in the past.”
>> “I made them pay for you.” Peter continued, his voice overtaken by conviction. “In the same way that I want to help add to your collection.”
His words earned a beaming admiration from Callista. Yes, this was how his life was supposed to go from the start. He was thankful to Spellbound, for finally making this a reality.
“Oh, Peter… I love you!”
And then his angel moved forward, ready to be fully embraced by him… But… Something felt strange. There was a searing, excruciating pain coming from his stomach as they finally came together.
His smile faltered, even though Callista’s remained, with his hand instinctively moving to the source of the agony —a knife, buried deep into his flesh by her own hand.
