This fiction goes through the entire season and focuses on the evolution of Lana and Mary Eunice's relationship.
Chapter I — Confusion. In which Lana wakes up after electroshock therapy and finds a sorry (and not-yet-possessed) Mary Eunice at her bedside.
Chapter rating: K+
Throwing the front door of her cosy suburban house open, Lana rushed inside, desperately calling out her lover's name: "Wendy? Wendy, I'm here! Baby, I did it, I'm back!". Running through the living room, her eyes couldn't keep from being drawn to a massive book open on the coffee table. Her effervescence slightly decreased, giving way to a familiar emotion, slowing her pace down. She allowed herself a little detour and sat down on the couch, her eyes fixed on the book: a photo album. All of the pictures Wendy and her had taken since the beginning of their relationship, as many precious and cherished moments spent in each other's company. Her trembling fingers ghosted over some pictures taken out their transparent jacket and scattered all over the table and the ground — she also noticed a few used tissues strayed here and there.
She was about to get back on her feet when a voice in her back got her limbs paralysed: "Lana? Lana! Lana, good Lord…". She didn't even have the chance to collect herself, Wendy's body collapsed into hers with a great strength, causing the two of them to tumble onto the sofa. Without a mutual glance, their lips crashed into a distraught kiss, their saliva mingled with the saltiness of their tears. "Oh, Lana…"
"Lana? Miss Winters? Please, wake up!", a rushed whisper dragged Lana out of her tormented slumber — and thereby out of what has evidently been but a dream. Her eyelids fluttered, her sight requiring a moment to adapt a bit better with the weak and flickering light of a candle flame, held only a few inches away from her face. Slowly and partly gaining her awareness back, she found herself hit by an atrocious pain — mental, in the first place: she was still stuck in here, at Briarcliff, as evidenced by her lousy habit and the pestilential, mingled smell of piss, fear and death that saturated the ambient air; then physical: her muscles all felt sore, worn out, but most of all, her skull felt as if it had been bashed with a hammer, every single one of her messy thoughts echoing painfully in her mind, an awful burning sensation martyring her temples. She tried reaching out a hesitant hand to the side of her head, but foreign fingers firmly held her wrist back. "No Miss Winters, don't touch!", the voice sounded louder this time. Lana raised her gaze, in an attempt to discern the stooped silhouette sitting near her knees. "Sister…", she murmured after a moment with a hoarse, brittle voice, confused. "Mary Eunice, Sister Mary Eunice. Do you remember me, Miss Winters?", the question was asked with a shade of gentleness Lana wasn't excepting, not anymore, not now, not here. Her thoughts scurried in her mind, bumping into each other, not allowing her to settle properly the vision of the mildly smiling face in front of her, "I-I don't know…" "It's okay, Miss Winters. To be honest, I-you…", the young nun lowered her shady gaze, a shameful expression veiling over her maidenly features, "You've been subjected to electroshock therapy.". Lana, speechless, tried as best as she could to sit up straight against the metallic headboard, "I what?". "Electroshock therapy… Sister Jude—", Lana's shout interrupted her, "Sister Jude!". Suddenly, memories, intercut with large blurs of void blackness, flashed through her foggy brain; images were getting back at her in the most truculent ways. Among those, the one, acute, of Sister Jude, her mocking smile, her contemptuous tone, her sharp eyes — and her radical, cruel, soulless manners. Yes, Sister Jude, her torturer, the one and only person responsible for her woeful condition. A growing rage was tugging at her sore intestines, "The bitch! I'm going to bash her face in!". Thereupon, Lana, driven by a feverish strength, jumped off the bed. But as soon her feet hit the floor, she felt light-headed, tottered and nearly fell to the ground pathetically. In a swift movement, Mary Eunice caught hold of the other woman's light body, before helping her back to the bed. The two of them embarrassed by Lana's shortcut effort and by the unusual physical contact that followed, kept silence for a couple of minutes, their eyes fixed on opposite spots in the gloomy room.
Mary Eunice was the first to break the silence, softly for fear of pushing the young journalist, "I trust Sister Jude. Even though she can sometimes come out as rough, I believe in her. She's a wise woman and I-" "Wise?!", Lana exclaimed with a humourless, exasperated laugh, "That woman is a fucking monster, embodiment of the Devil! For God's sake, Sister, open your eyes! Somebody should tear the bitch down, and I'd willingly undertake such a task."
Silence fell back heavily; Lana was out of breath, cheeks red with anger. Mary Eunice's eyes gazed upon the ground. Lost into confusion and shame, she struggled to restrain childish tears. It was true: she believed in Sister Jude, was also afraid of her. For those reasons, she couldn't even consider to betray her in any way. Still, standing so close to Lana Winters, she couldn't help but feel another kind of culpability. She wished to put it into words, didn't know how. "Why are you even here?", Lana hissed, dragging her out of her thoughts. "I, um... Well, I thought I could come and clean your… wounds, and um, maybe give you something to drink.", she pointed at a basin of water placed near the footboard. Lana, brows furrowed, held her gaze and asked aggressively, sensing it wasn't the whole truth: "Why are you here?". The young girl slightly shuddered at the ice-cold expression and the suggestive tint in Lana's voice, she hesitated, "I-I should've never let you in the other night; you wouldn't be in this… state. I, I should've never…", she blushed, sighed with embarrassment, "I am sorry, Miss Winters.". The inmate's eyes widened, stunned, but quickly, a spark of eager hope lit up in her pupils. She rushed forward, her face merely inches away from Mary Eunice's, causing her to move back a little, looking like a deer in the headlights. Neglecting her excuses, Lana murmured with a half-smile: "You know I don't belong here", the nun didn't dare to answer, troubled by the sudden proximity, "You know it. And you're the only one who could help me out.". Mary Eunice suddenly became aware of the direction this uneven exchange had taken, a veil of sadness covering her eyes as she turned away from Lana's wan face. She couldn't look at her in the eye, couldn't bear the hope she couldn't answer, couldn't face up her own responsibility. Couldn't go back in time. She could only apologize: "I'm so sorry, Miss Winters.", she whispered painfully. Slowly, she stood up, ready to flee, but Lana gripped her wrist firmly, forcing her to face her again. "Sister, I know you can do it. You're the only one in this goddamn ruthless place who actually has a heart. I'm begging you…", tears were streaming down her puffy face, "Please…", she pleaded, her voice but a hardly audible whine. Mary Eunice couldn't hold back an unconscious impulse and wrapped Lana's shoulders with her free arm. Her face buried in the other woman's neck, she whispered: "Sorry. I'm so sorry. I, sor-", but realizing her position, she clumsily broke the embrace and, without a word, left the room. The heavy door slammed shut behind her.
Still hearing Mary Eunice's muffled footsteps, Lana fell back heavily on the mattress. She felt lost, overwrought, dazed and abused. And yet, she couldn't deny the small streak of light that Mary Eunice had just meddled within her. What could it be? Comfort? Compassion? Hope? Tenderness? Something else? Lana didn't know, but she did know that in order to survive and remain sane, she had to cling on to it. Something inside her told her this Sister Mary Eunice was a beacon in her wide-awake nightmare. I cannot lose her. But how can I reach her?
Lying across her bed, Mary Eunice stared at the off-white ceiling of her austere bedroom, fingers absentmindedly toying with the beads of her rosary. Trails of dried tears were streaking her pallid cheeks. It's all my fault. Even here, I'm an utter failure. Sister Jude would hate me — she probably already does. And Lana Winters… How didn't she strangle me when she had the chance to, back in her room? How didn't she throw me to the ground when I hugged her? Oh God, I… hugged her? I went to try and provide her some comfort, but I don't even deserve her eyes on me! Her eyes… Those big wet eyes, intense brown, glistening with will to live despite all the suffering. Miss Winters is truly beaut- Lord, what am I thinking about?
Lost in her thoughts, Mary Eunice took off her veil, and still in her holy habit, rolled up into a ball before bursting into tears once more.
That night, neither of them managed to fall asleep.
Just thought I'd let you know I'm not a native speaker and am definitely not fluent in English. Please, let me know if you come across any lexical or grammatical aberrations. It's also my first fictional work ever (I like writing, but am not used to fiction structure) so it might be a bit unskilful. Criticism and reviews are obviously more than welcome! So yeah it takes me ages to write this but I'm actually having fun.
Thank you for reading, my little pains au chocolat :).