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"M-Monsignor," The sole syllables and vowels, which awkwardly limped backward and forward onto the juvenile woman of the cloth's tongue was the former aspiring Monsignor's ecclesiastical title. They stilled her registered in grasp the former devotional woman of the cloth's petite palish hand and shifting their attentions to the possessed doctor shortly after slamming behind him the door of the hospital room.

"It is not Monsignor anymore, Sister!" In the meantime, the British compatriot ventured to approach and participate in both women's company emphatically his honeyed voice accenting his caution, offering a primly sympathetic smile, tattooed on his porcelain youthful complexion.

"T-Timothy," Suddenly, the older lady's Boston lilt embarrassingly punctured her grunt, daring her smoky quartz jewels to the tall figure, which maintained almost a few inches of proximity with the female duo.

An eerie flat line, a medley of emotionlessness, aloofness and dryness roughly grained her beautiful facial attributes, incessantly manipulating her eyelids to blink in a tandem choir. The heart rate perkily rabid soared the thuds into her brittle rib cage and a medley of mild disappointment, sheer heartbreak and woeful felicity waltzed the heart pulsations.

On the one hand...

Mild disappointment, due to the sinister consequences of his infernal prayers, pitching Kit's small household two weeks ago like an infernal ballad, abstractly chanted. She hadn't expected the love of her life would be capable of and, most of all, bestowing her with such unspeakable retribution.

A sheer heartbreak, due to the circumstance that the former devotional man of the cloth would hurt and scarcely relent to Demogorgon's balefully blunt commands. They exquisitely disguised themselves as profoundly diabolic inner voices, ghosting his vortex of thoughts.

On the other hand, woeful felicity for her efficient attempt to bestow the former ambitious Monsignor with a second chance, which was unavoidably inexorable, according to her, unlike the sandstorm of disagreements that she would earn. It was two weeks since the last time they encountered one another and, most of all, confronting the vile essence that was recently spellbinding his frail skeleton.

"How ironic you aren't a priest!" Even when the juvenile blonde opted to conjugate the stammer, bare overwhelmness immersed her muscles and thoughts, scarcely could sort her mind at a snail's pace at least.

Her elvish creamily marbled hands were enigmatically trembling and the bright yellow bulb illuminating the hospital room, piercingly saturating their exposed fleshes and mops of hairs. "Did you categorically decide to leave the church for good?"

The childlike inquisitiveness seethed the young lady to discover more of Timothy's different occupation at the moment that was peculiarly doubtful. Incredulity roughly contoured her youthfully beautiful, delicate facial attributes.

"I-It is a long story, Sister!" A stutter railed out of Timothy's mouth, seating on Jude's other side, faintly bobbing graciously polite his head while lingering his radiantly friendly smile, permeating across his naturally plum, cherub lips. His fidgety pristine strong fingers lingered delicately on his sheerly pristine oyster-white doctor apron, embroidering his toned, muscular chest.

Subsequently, he had given the gracious impression of his professionalism and current occupation in the general population's sanctum.

Furthermore, the possessed doctor didn't have any intentions of leaking personal information even if it was modicum in front of the juvenile pious woman of the cloth.

In fact, he scarcely believed she would be passionately enthusiastic to be all ears and the sole thing as an ocean of luxurious scenarios swirling her thoughts was the horror. The horror the British compatriot has been through as a dynamic roller coaster and what his recent sinister incarnation of.

He deeply loved Mary Eunice as his daughter figure, due to the closeness he shared platonically with the former sleazy nightclub singer. Timothy and Judy's forbidden and unrequited love sequence emanated from their abstinence to open themselves more romantically, although they had been intimate.

"How are you, ladies?"

"Due to my hectic daily schedule and being always busy, I decided to pay a visit to Jude since I yearned to see her sooner than later." In the interim, the juvenile holy woman was idly, fatherly soft playing and fingerling her fidgety fingers a fistful of cheerfully obstinate aureate strands, framing exquisitely her full round profile.

A heavy sigh contracted then unloaded her frail chest, squinting up her azure blue cabochons at the former clergyman, vaguely beaming at him with her glowingly vibrant, amicable smile, parting upon her naturally roseate heart-shaped lips.

"It is so hectic in the orphanage where I work, honestly. But it is amazing to befriend and communicate with children." At the moment, twains of both older adults' cabochons were fixated on the young woman, gnawing on the raw spot of her lower plumpish lip after thudding her front ivory teeth to graze the delicate skin of her lip.

The truth eventually was that Mary Eunice was very fond of children in the age range of newborns up to adolescents. Furthermore, the juvenile lady didn't have any intentions of fleeing the church and losing her position as a mere nun in one of Pennsylvania's orphanages.

Even though it has been a few months since Mary Eunice has been working in the Pennsylvania orphanage, her job has complacently satiated her and refilled her daily hectic schedule from the early morning up to the nocturnal daily episode nonetheless.

The pious nun was somewhat insecure and indisputably self-conscious during the first week of her work in her new workplace until mind, consciously and physically adapted to the atmosphere at last. Every new fresh start whether unwanted or wanted, wasn't obviously child's play for anybody at all unless the enthusiasm, opulent ambition and muster were in charge of every individual's familiarity with the once foreign atmosphere, swaddling welcoming every uninvited guest.

"Anyway we are fine with Sister Mary Eunice!" All of a sudden, the older blonde delivered the response that the British compatriot was eagerly anticipating with a great deal of patience, welling in the fountain of his one-of-a-kind character. Her pools of magnificently profound hazel glistened genuinely prim optimism, cusping with her misty bittersweetness. "And tell us more about that orphanage, h-honey!"

The amorously amiable nickname for her former protege balmily warmed the juvenile blonde's brittle heart, thumping recurring rabid in her rib cage. Notwithstanding the circumstances, both former religious members of the church were eagerly enthusiastic to learn more about their daughter figure's miraculous present and how her dynamic young adulthood is still developing through its chaotic roller coaster.

"Well, there are many nuns in charge of that orphanage and it was not prominently popular at all," Her starkly rosy-coloured, chapped lips curved in the pause, seconds before manipulating her flexible throat muscles efficiently to swig the bubbly salty lump, seething her feminine Adam's apple. Twains of dark gemstones glinted with altruistic interest, mottling their natural eye colours. "It is an institution that has functioned for a handful of decades and it is under the name Saint Marianne Rose!"

Meantime, the older duo were gracefully all ears and passionately listening to the soundtrack of calmly, girlishly bashful voice, chanting in declaim her ballad about the institution where her heart majorly roomed and sensed the altar of her naked, celestial passion. Even apocalyptic salvation from pondering profoundly, pettily in his grim past with a rich collection of somber memories.

"It is a home to hundreds of unfortunately abandoned or just fated to don't have their family children."

"Go ahead!" Indicating a sign of bestowing the older adults the sequel of her new job in perkily quirking an eyebrow, they both seized in a pensive, attentive purse their own lips.

"And the children are not only very nice but also they are so enthusiastic, energetic and pretty creative."

Despite it saddened the former sleazy nightclub singer that her former protégé didn't flee the church for better, she was candidly delighted for loving her new job and working with the children and spending hours communicating with them. Even sharing personal stories and shenanigans nonetheless.

Furthermore, what it profoundly elicited from the Bostonian was one of her most celestial dreams that might have been true, but yet it was just impossible for her, due to her age and her carnal health condition. Having her child, made of her flesh and blood. Teaching and gracing it with the ethereally unconditional love of the world, which it deserves the most after the sea of tribulations that the older blonde has been through the years and still hardly persevering in the circumstances of being a childless lady.

Last but not least, it vibrantly brightened her and brought her the murderously glimmering smile, wearing a thousand patterns of mirth permeating across her naturally nude pink, cherub lips. She was having Kit, Grace, and even their unborn ray of sunshine living in his own mother's womb as her only and uniquely extraordinary family.

"That is amazing you have got a strong love for those children, Mary Eunice!" The huskily deep voice of the British compatriot didn't vanish in the thin air, whilst highlighting his retaliation which was almost dying on his berry-coloured, wet tongue and ushering his both mammoth, lactesently creamy hands to claw the former sister of the church's cheeks, swaddled up amusingly warm into his palms. "I strongly believe that those children are pure geniuses and special."

"You are doubtlessly right, Timothy!" Despite Mary Eunice having limited opportunities to address her father figure, stilling her white-knuckled elvish, youthfully fresh hand squeezing her former mentor's feebly elvish, pallid hand. A swan thumb kneading her brittle knuckles, her heart molted to spend each golden second, which was pearly delightful for the orphan with her former mentors as if she was in seventh heaven into their consolingly reassuring presences.

They formed an outstanding duo and sanctuary of comfort, warmness and unblemished love.

"It surprises me that there are some extremely smart children that can solve some solutions even better than high schoolers, you know!"

When the haphazard doldrum lethally coldhearted suffocated the hospital room and the sole background sound was droning was the low hums of the former ambitious Monsignor, lingering his thumbs tracing delicately his rare bird's well-defined cheekbones, gliding sleekly beneath the pads of his thumbs.

"I am sorry," All of a sudden, both ladies shifted their attentions to the former aspiring Monsignor whilst declaiming in a honeyed mumble his apology, ducking head and locking up eagerly the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer's gaze in no time.

The medley of his brass and smoky quartz gems landed on her porcelain, elderly young-looking complexion, admiring her ethereally beauty, although the flaws and the medley of bruises, wounds and scars are possibly, uncommonly spotlighting her flawless, authentic grace.

"For what I did to you that night, Jude!" The genuine notion of pangs of conscience was prominently envenoming the British compatriot's shamefaced timbre.

"Don't be sorry, Timothy!" Even the female duo noticed the pangs of his conscience promptly, and they deeply cordial know even if a spiritual possession was contaminating him. He would wryly regret every harm and damage, tattooed freshly on his rare bird with its remarkably abstract oils, inking the tattoo's details even the pettiest in its memorable contour, contouring the curves and angles of the masterpiece. "It is not yar fault at all."

"I am a monster!" Shaking his head stubbornly, opting to cleanse his bleakly somber inner voices was the toughest task for him at the moment when his regrets resurfaced criminally critically and fatally smothering him. "I am responsible for hurting many people."

"You aren't a monster." In the interval, the juvenile sister of the church docilely snapped him out of his worries, stern graveness remarkably puncturing her stark seriousness in her caution even when he didn't dare to maintain a glance or at least an adequate eye contact with the young lady. "Look what, Timothy! Despite the things you have done to those innocents, ya aren't a monster! Yar my Timothy."

Crystalline tears rimmed his pools of abysmally photogenic chocolate brown, lingering on her pallidly optimistic, vibrant face. That brightened his facial expression immediately with her soothingly benevolent smile, sketching upon her lusciously nude pink plumpish lips.

It tore his heart into a thousand glassy pieces and subsequently his patchy, flimsy heart leaped at his right hand's confession, managing to claw his colossal, veiny hands after releasing Mary Eunice's grapple momentarily.

"I love you very much and I am grateful you released me from that snake pit!" An idle, cold-blooded heavy sigh flushed his nostrils, frequently blinking his teary orbs and quietly sniffling and sensing how weak and vulnerable Timothy was. Especially, when a single confession especially emanating from the love of his life would be unnaturally emotional and heartwarming. "Never and ever call yarself a monster! Yar my hero, even if the demons are chasing ya yet."

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😈What are your thoughts on Mary Eunice's return? 😈

😈 Do you think Timothy is worth of atonement? 😈

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