Author's Note: I'd like to apologize for a half a month delay with the updates, nevertheless, not only I didn't have any motivation to continue this story, but also I was out of ideas or I've cluster of scenarios how to resume it and yet hesitating whether if they're going to be pretty beneficial or otherwise spoiling the story and ruining its quality. Furthermore, I'm planning to cut short the chapters, in order to finish this garbage earlier before Christmas holidays. I hope you like and enjoy it as well! Please, don't forget to leave feedback which arouse my elation to read them how much did you enjoy reading it! :))

--- *** ---

The intensifying atmosphere between the former Nazi war criminal, accompanied by the senior austere sister of the church Sister Bernadette and the aspiring Monsignor. What the aspiring Monsignor loathed more than anything was the irresponsibility and blunt entrances inside his office before keeping his wits about the current visitor's arrival.

Furthermore, Sister Bernadette has informed the Cardinal about Timothy's eccentric behavior in the past weeks and not investing any quantity of money in hiring more staff members to look after the wretched souls. Besides for higher quality food and medicament even equipment with which the patients to be provided and staff members.

Notwithstanding the circumstances, Dr. Arden and the senior pious woman of the cloth were bloodthirstily hostile with Timothy lately. Plotting galore of luxuriously malicious plans to strip him of his clerical possessions, even forbids Mary Eunice's contact with the British compatriot, not having any interactions with the former patients Jude, Kit, Grace, and Lana.

"It is not Monsignor anymore, Father! I have spoken to the Cardinal, informing him about your eccentric demeanor lately which is quite repulsive," In the meanwhile, a heavily coldhearted sigh flushed the senior holy woman's constricted bulky chest, whereas the younger man gnawed on the raw spot of her delicate lip, flickering up her scintillating glare at the younger man.

"And I bet you are still thinking of that released patient. The old whore!"

Emphasis punctured her rebuke in her northern lilt, crossing her floppily bulky, hypodermically soft fat arms contoured beneath the rigidly shapeless wool habit.

"No matter what she used to be in the past, you don't have the right to call her like that! She isn't an old whore!" A Tempest of heartache tore off Timothy's frail heart into millions of flimsily glassy pieces, shattered in a cataract of somberness and swamping the hollow with misery, heartbreak, and frustration.

Misery for scarcely getting out of his mind the vividly melancholic memories of Jude's last moments in the asylum by hopping up in the taxi, accompanying Kit and Grace.

"Regardless of the circumstances, Mister Howard, this woman is a disgrace to the church and the society! Just releasing her with Mother Superior's help and due to her threat means nothing." At this moment, the British compatriot lifted up his rear from his hardwood bureau, despite his arduous persistence to confront the older adults, whose intentions and morals were far from acceptable.

--- *** ---
--- A Couple of Hours Later ---

Within the advancing hours, the daylight episode of the day abruptly jumpcutted up to the nocturnal episode with the darkening of the starless cloudless sky. The full alabaster moon hovered up in the nocturnal, somber sky, dispersing its marbled pallid light, mirroring the blanketed shadows surrounding it below.

After Kit, Grace and Jude had dinner in the kitchen, thus Jude cleaned the kitchen table and washed the dishes, whilst Grace aided her. At the moment, Kit plugged the radio into the plug, subsequently linking it, to switch the stations until he peaked at the evening news station which he was listening to daily.

In the meanwhile, the sink's faucet was turned and lukewarm, crystal jet water splashed onto the sink's ground, reproducing the featureless cataract. The French compatriot was maintaining adequately appropriate proximity with the former devotional holy woman who lathered with a compact sponge the filthy food-greased dishes and handed them to the younger woman to collect the already lathered and washed dishes on the dish drying rack to wring its translucent crystalline beads.

"The former Monsignor Timothy Howard was abolished from his position after being charged by the head nun of the infamous mental institution Briarcliff and the doctor of science Dr. Arden in his eccentric demeanor, occurred a month ago after the release of a few patients." When the radio journalist initialized with the breaking news, the horde of adults was all ears about the evening news station.

Honing their ears to assimilate the information that was the journalist interpreting, meanwhile, the young man was tidying the food chunks and remnants from the dining table with an outworn old cloth.

During the minute of silence, nobody dared to peel a single word and unzip their cherub lips to emit another crafted utterance with its syllables and vowels, exquisitely sorted to form a word.

Based on its formula. Incredulity stung widened in shock not only Grace and Kit but moreover, Judy's embers. The different notions, conflicting with one another embers' owners blazed them with the fieriest blaze.

What could be readable past the young couple's visions was they hadn't expected such a brassy unexplainable scenario, far from imaginable. Despite their know-how, their former foe was indisputably quite fond of the British compatriot unlike them. They were inwardly at peace with themselves after witnessing the British compatriot's betrayal towards his rara avis and being partly responsible for her institutionalization.

"After Sister Bernadette and Dr. Arden have contacted the Cardinal even informing Father Malachi, both sides backed them up without a shadow of a doubt and started the process with the former Monsignor's removal from his position, declaiming him as insane with schizophrenia for his distance from the reality and pondering in his thoughts and keeping in mind yet of a former nun and patient in the same time."

After washing the last dish during the lukewarmly running jet water and splashing its jet below the flimsy marble material until the blonde clumsily tossed unintentionally, reluctantly the plate on the floor. The ballad of the radio reporter's deep halfhearted declaim and the broken plate on dozens of frail marbled pieces squirted a handful of yards tingled a distracting ode.

Whereas the French compatriot turned off the faucet and the blonde crouched down after daubing her drenched hands in the towel and retrieving a broomstick and paddle to clean neatly the mess after herself, grunting in a murmur inflammatory cuss with a heavy dry snort.

"Holy shit!".

"Judy?" The young man accentuated an emphasis in addressing his friend's name after cleaning the mess after herself, the broomstick's wooden handle lingered in her spider-palish fingers. Ducking childishly mortified her parchment, yet elderly young-looking complexion with a generous layer of thick rubicund blush powdering her overall facial skin with sweltering heat crawled underneath.

In the interim, the former promiscuous nightclub singer's frail heart thundered in her rib cage, scarcely hankering her former foe's honeyed voice, fueled with immense concern, nor the radio news.

"Judy, you okay?" All of a sudden, after repeating in a choir his northern lilt, accenting his rhetorical inquiry, the older lady lifted her shamefaced face from her uneasily fidgety slipper-clad feet up to Kit's handsome facial attributes. A dab of relief oddly consoled and softened her facial attributes in a jiff after linking her hazelish-brown jewels with his cocoa brown.

She managed a nod in agreement, opting to obscure the heartache of acknowledging the British aristocrat's institutionalization inside the madhouse and the mortification of the accidentally broken plate.

"You don't need to be that concerned about such a petty accident, involving a broken dish." At this moment, the proximity they maintained diminished by inches and his bizarre, mildly embarrassing closeness powdered a heavier powder of blush overally the middle-aged lady's face.

Sensing how small, weak and vulnerable she was when somebody attempted to provide her affable, kindhearted comfort, she longed for it.

"Come on, Judy! You can take a break, while I'll take care of the business."

Encouragingly consoling manipulating his colossal alabaster hand to rub her shoulder blade forced her cherub rosy-coloured lips to stifle a gasp at the nip of the raw spot of her lower lip between her front ivory, firm teeth.

"Kit, no!" The sharpness, punctured in Bostonian's snap didn't interrupt the young man from snatching the broom from her long slim fingers as flute stings immediately.

"Last but not least, the ex-priest won't be replaced as an ex-director of the mental institution, whilst Dr. Arden and Sister Bernadette are still in charge of Briarcliff and invest innovations from the budget they've earned in the past weeks. Stay tuned for more news about Briarcliff!"

In the interval, the brunette approached Judy and guided her in wobbles up to the guests' room warily, to not harm her and provide her modicum of kindheartedly altruistic comfort and affection after noting her abrupt despondent condition. Not only after unintentionally breaking the plate after tossing it on the kitchen floor but also grieving over the former man of the cloth's imprisonment.

The radio news was yet ongoing and lowly humming in the kitchen's background.

"Where are ya taking me, Grace?" The northern lilt, puncturing the graveness in Judy's low-spirited posed question didn't break the French girl's facial expression, supporting her middle with an alabaster, lean arm, snaked steadily to maneuver her to the guests' room.

"You seem pretty despondent, Judy! I think the best thing you could do is to rest and not pressure yourself physically and mentally." Grace detected the low spirits, oozing of the former pious holy man promptly and aided her to be on her feet physically and mentally after nudging with an elbow the door handle to the guests' room.

Subsequently, swinging opened the door at the welcoming, cozy atmosphere, hovering the sufficiently expansive room.

"It is not your fault at all."

"It's my fault I left him to think constantly about me and I didn't even say anything to him when he was screaming my name while leaving Briarcliff." Shortly after the brunette bit her lower lip begrudgingly and emboldened the former nun to seat on the edge of the queen-sized bed gingerly, tenderly, she snaked another alabaster arm to support her middle in the scooped embrace. "I remember how ya and Kit persuaded me to speak to him instead of ignoring him as if he is a second choice because he wanted to tell me something."

"Judy!" The hideous sob broke Bostonian's facial expression, consequently allowing a heavy rain of crystalline translucent tears to trickle downward her lower eyelid.

Barely having the strength to daub them with the pads of her spidery marbled fingers whilst burying her tear-stained face in the crook of the French girl's arm, soaking her convenient sweater with her bittersweet fugly tears.

"Are you crying over somebody who firstly betrayed you, due to his ego and then arranged your release? It is ridiculous."

"I still love him, and he doesn't deserve the hell that I have already been through, Grace!" A heavy snort flushed the former sleazy jazz nightclub singer's vulnerably sticky soaked nostrils, drawing her in a tight, friendly hug after throwing her arms to brace her satin shoulders.

The heartbreak, tearing off Judy's heart on trillions of glassy pieces wasn't enough for her to cope with Timothy's imprisonment and her unimaginable intentions to go back to the facility and rescue him at any cost with the cost of her pearly life.

"We have to do something about him and grant him the freedom which he granted us,"

The continuous requiem of sobs is distinctive for both women as the French compatriot purred a velvety shush with her French lilt, kneading with her fingers her spine with a paradoxical paroxysm and warmness.

"Before it is too late and that old hag Sister Bernadette, even Dr. Arden kill him or at least be partly involved in his homicide."

"Everything is going to be alright, Judy!"

"It is not going to be okay until Timothy isn't released from that fucking hellhole!" Suddenly, the middle-aged lady nagged, her tongue scarcely forging the vowels and syllables, limping backward and forward on her tongue after attempting to cope with the lethal heartbreak and melancholy.

"Or at least we do something to get him out."

"But Kit would be strongly against-" When the brunette opted to conjugate an utterance, the former pious sister of the church snapped at her, cutting her off curtly momentarily after breaking off the embrace.

Taking their time to admire one another's facial features, even when the blonde's red-rimmed and unattractively swamped with crystalline dew eyelids blinked the tears, aching due to the overwhelming melancholy.

"I don't give a damn if he is against Timothy's release or something, because I would deeply regret dumping him to rot in the hellhole where he truly doesn't belong at all."

--- *** ---

Hours after the former holy man was abolished from his position as a director of the notorious facility, thereafter, two orderlies dragged him violently to the hydrotherapy.

When he was donned in the ordinarily extravagant patient outfit, shielding his frail skeleton from the common frosty climate. Writhing stormily in their grasps and bleating protesting whimpers pitched the dully lifeless hallways of the madhouse, trying to escape from their grips, due to the obnoxious hydrotherapy bathtub where the liquid's temperature was searing and welting his sensitive epidermis.

Furthermore, the British compatriot was renamed from Timothy into Owen Manson and a series of black and white, fuzzy mugshots were framing his patient file paged up on the top.

What he solely knew now was that he was destined to spend the rest of his days behind Briarcliff's lifeless, hum-drum walls and potently doubting the love of his life would return to rescue him even beholding his rare bird ever again. Shameless, ominous betrayal slit his heart and spurted a thick bleed of gory cataract.

Hopelessness and emotionlessness highlight his yet charming facial attributes with the scruffy stubble mapping his sharp jawline and blanched coffee-brown irises, losing their true glossiness.

"Mister Manson, you are supposed to be quiet instead of letting yourself down!" One of the orderlies rebuking rejoined at the inmate after stepping inside the hydrotherapy room and dragging his weight up to the bathtub with a great deal of effort.

"Shut your filthy mouths!" The former devotional clergyman croaked a reprimand at the top of his brittle lungs once his knees contacted the marbled bath and one of the orderlies grasped vehemently him.

To keep him secured without having any intentions to attack either of them and flee in a jiff.

The second staff member attempted to peel off the younger man's vest and scowled ferociously to horrify him even more the inmate, hardly allowing him to escape from their vicious claws.

The series of pleas and writhes were jading the British compatriot's muscles and bones, commencing to welt his wrists, leaving traces of outworn skin with mauve tints after one of the staff members headstrongly, steadily clutched his wrists, incapable of protesting physically.

"Arghhh!" All of a sudden, his English lilt chanted an infernal profound resonance that sounded far from humanoid's croaks. Peculiarity spotlighted the diabolic mewl, while the coffee-brown pigment no longer mottled the former holy priest's embers.

Thus, flaming with the brightest, the most daredevil brass nuance, instantly glinting sheer bloodthirsty covet for avenge, abhorrence and invincible immortality.

"You don't have the right to swear and use strong language to staff members in the name of disrespect, Mr. Manson!"

"Just keep him quiet with one slap, Graham! Isn't that har-" Once the second sanitarian managed to smack a slap behind the patient's nape of his delicate, oyster-white neck to cut him off, parting his lips in the scoff retaliation.

Abruptly, Timothy cast teleportation in front of both asylum's staff members, startling them with his abrupt disappearance in the thin air and being oblivious to where his current location was until an emphatic, unyielding clicking tongue's soundtrack tingled bad vibes into their ears. Ditheringly turning to face the possessed former holy man, whose ivory, still firm teeth lingered in a bared, baleful grin, decorating his pallid complexion.

"Jesus Christ! Owen, I don't know what has gotten into you but Sister Bernadette should be informed about the next exorcism," After the British compatriot's hands manipulated to cast a spell on both older men, subsequently, the telekinetic power shoved them inside the bath, and their epidermis seethed due to the gruesomely high temperature of the liquid.

"Cheer up, beautiful assholes!" The unbelievably blow-minding explicit language which Timothy has never presumed to utter, subsequently anything explicitly slipping from his tongue was obliviously a third wheel, a daredevil, hoarse snicker stilling on his mouth.

His chapped, pale-pinkish lips curled in the scoff, folding his arms victoriously after teaching a lesson to Graham and his colleague.

"Have a nice bath, faggots!" Both older adults felt small, vulnerable and powerless to stop the possessed younger man, from drowning in the hydrotherapy bath without any ado, just seconds before the former clergyman fled the room before being caught by whether a nun, Dr. Arden or on the contrary a security guard.

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✞ Is it possible our two fellow protagonists to unite together, in spite of Timothy's spiritual possession? ✞

✞ Is Kit going to accept that Jude's closest friend, or rather romantic interest in the family or not at all? ✞

✞ Don't forget to leave a honest feedback with your initial impressions, if you have genuinely enjoyed and liked the chapter. :)) ✞