After pacing in the profound, almost endless hallways of the old, grandiose, gradually demolishing asylum, the juvenile, aspiring man of the cloth was more than determined to confront the doctor of scientist after his initial rebuttal of his right hand's words about the sonly committed patient's story she knew about Arthur, Charlotte Brown, known as the fake "Anne Frank".
At first, Timothy didn't want to believe the hired former Nazi war criminal is as sinisterly barbarous as Jude portrayed him, via Charlotte's story when she spoke to her in person in her austere office. Nonetheless after the heating debates between the members of the church, Timothy overthought it twice as he thought it would be wiser and more mature to confront one of the biggest Jude's foes, instead instantly believing her utterance without speaking in person with .
The solemn classic music which played on the gramophone disk in Arthur's office, floating in the background as if a classical symphony was recently playing on live in the opera, hence, the elder man was distracting himself, thrumming inwardly, melodically to himself, matching along with the symphony's instrumental.
In the interim, the younger man's mammoth, milky as snow hand met the doorknob, opening it discreetly which was readily oblivious for Arthur, who was somehow utterly focused on his wee distraction especially when there aren't any visitors. Neither patients, nor any nuns or orderlies.
His humming was sufficiently audible for him only as if he was the sole inhabitant in his cozy, nevertheless, bizarrely uninviting office.
As soon as Timothy entered inside 's office by leaving the door opened askew, subsequently he gripped his rosary beads, balling it in his fist and socking the gramophone's needle that kept the gramophone's disk playing looped until the music faded in the background, ebbing its monotonous instrumental. It caught the older man off guard, turning to the spontaneous visitor, who has just set a foot into his office as if a trespasser in a godforsaken, demolished for ages property is exploring on his own.
Initially, the former Nazi war criminal was beyond flabbergasted as his mouth was slightly agape, contracting his jawline in shock by contemplating his boss's shorter figure standing behind the doorway.
"I'm sorry. Would you have preferred Mozart?" The older man enquired dryly as their eyes met, locking up his chocolate brown orbs, filled with searing nuances of lividness, abhorrent and seriousness.
"Jude was right about you!" In the meantime, he balled into his fist the rosary beads, lightly extending his hand to point with an index finger directly at him as an arrow. "You're a monster." His extended hand quivered faintly, baring his teeth.
"Why do you look for the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye," Meanwhile, the doctor walked away from his hardwood bureau by bowing lightly his head, followed by his gait, whereas Timothy's chocolate brown orbs were incessantly transfixed on the barbaric tormentor. "And pay no attention to the plank in your own?" He resumed his utterance by strolling up to his boss, emphasizing the last words in his retaliated question.
"I saw that girl," The holy man stuttered, struggling to spell the syllables, hemming reluctantly due to their proximity as the gape was almost sealed, facing the much taller, masculine figure. "What you did to Shelly."
"All in the name of progress. Isn't that what we agreed upon?" Rhetorical inquiry lingered on the elder man's tongue, looking up at him glassily.
"No, you told me this was for the greater good." He clutched even firmer his other free hand into a balled fist, casting a glaring grimaced look at him as his voice sounded rather hoarser with menacing pigments, tinting it. "You mutilated her!" He rose his voice as its decibels were higher than the usual.
"Perhaps. But you're missing the entire point. Briarcliff is a receptacle for human waste. Each patient a perfect example of an evolutionary failure." Meantime, Arthur approached his desk by seating on it. "My aim was to give these wasted lives purpose, meaning, and I've succeeded beyond my wildest imagination. My experiments with a combination of syphilis and tuberculosis have produced results unseen in the history of medical science. When they arrived here, these patients were less than men. Now, because of me, they're more than human." Sundry times his smaller sized eyeballs blinked as his monologue proceed, attempting to defend himself against his accusation, reclining leisurely on his chair. During his monologue, Timothy vaguely ducked his head as his hazelish-brown orbs timidly looked down as his mouth was agape being beyond eerily shocked by Arthur's explaination. "Would you care to see what your benevolence has produced? Witness the next stage of human evolution." In the meantime, the older gentleman got from his bureau as he ambled up to his laboratory, his shoes clicking against the cement's cold, dull flooring, whilst the younger one escorted him without an ado.
When the both men entered inside the maliciously fiendish doctor's laboratory, Spivey was beyond despaired, laying on the patient's bed by scarcely moving a single muscle after experiencing the rough, sinister torture.
"Have you lost your mind? Why on earth would you do this?" The English aristocratic emigrant posed the question gravely as he fixed his chocolate brown irises with obnoxious disgust and loathe at the wretched soul, who was lying in disheveled and half-dead condition.
"Why? When the Russians launch their nuclear missiles, 20 million Americans will be incinerated instantly. Another 20 million will suffer a slow, agonizing death. Natural selection would have weeded out the weak, but only over the course of time. Whereas I have managed to improve the species now, so that we can survive the atomic blast, live through the radiation and become dominant once again." In this moment, the mortified priest inspected from closer the mutilated body of Spivey, positioned on the patient bed as morbid panic was sketched upon his pale as ghost, parchment complexion.
"You should be locked away."
"With you to keep me company? We're in this together, Father. Remember? You gave me your blessing, along with the facility and the subjects."
"If you do open that window, the light will illuminate everything in Briarcliff. And I mean everything." Meantime as the holy man was about to flee the former Nazi war criminal's laboratory after witnessing one of the most abominable things as a piece of evidence about Arden's not only cryptical past, moreover blood-curling present and collecting piece of evidence as a witness for jailing him for ages, he blackmailed Jude's boss with exposing the mental hospital and its atrocities behind the dull walls. Baleful panic enveloped his heart in an ebony envelop, panting jadedly as he halted without successfully fleeing the barbaric doctor's area.
"Yes, that's what I thought. Now, you listen to me. You and I have nothing to fear from each other. However, we do have a threat in common. We both know where the real danger lies." At last but not least, Arthur kept on with his diabolic, acrimoniously calm riposte as Timothy's heart raced as the riposte advanced.
As Arthur emphasized real danger, subsequently he meant Jude was the threat by not only endangering his work, further, the facility's reputation with her opposition against him and protecting it from his vicious claws, which are responsible for relentlessly mutilating and murdering patients, besides their disappearance is part of his responsibility.
Ocean of still-in-progress for answering questions flooded the priest's mind with instability of solving them within seconds by determining her position whether declaring her official removal as a head of Briarcliff or otherwise letting his goose being cooked with its gruesome blackmail in exposing the notorious mental institution.
After a quarter an hour in confronting and being blackmailed, the Monsignor was more than determined to speak in person with his favorite nun, whereas she was in her austere, old-fashioned office, uttering the final words before adjusting the earpiece to the pitch-black, waxen phone:
"Fine. We'll be expecting you." In the interval, the younger man entered in his right hand's office by closing and shutting behind him the door. "Monsignor, crisis averted!" Her heart leaped as it raced in anticipation of his presence in her office lastly. Girlish, coy euphoria daubed her heart and exclaimation as their eyes met, locking up his stare as he bobbed down his head, glimpsing down until their stares linked again. "I mean, she-she went off and-and left her daughter here, as if we're some kind of personal child care facility." The middle-aged lady stuttered as a joyous, benevolent grin honed up in the corner of her naturally rosy-coloured, soft lips as her ivory, yet firm teeth gleamed. "For heaven's sakes, what is that expression on your face, Timothy?" Slight, sheepish as a schoolboy smile cradled his berry-coloured, dry lips as the blonde wondered for his intentions as an urgent message lingered on his tongue.
"It seems Briarcliff's become quite a burden for you."
"No, no! We just had a few, uh, difficult days, but the order has been restored," As the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer was in her mid-sentence by bumbling as her lip curled, he cut her off curtly, coarsely. The heartbeats accelerated heavily by infecting with its frequency, double ounce in her chest.
"Sister, I've contacted a colleague, Father Bernard, in Pittsburgh. He's just opened a home for wayward girls. I've recommended you highly to run it." At the moment, his hands were behind his lower back as the sister of the church's jaw constricted in an agape, being beyond unconditionally aghast by his decision and offer by working in one of the homes for wayward girls in Pittsburgh. Far away from , one of her biggest foes. Far away from her mentor and mother figure, Mother Claudia. Far away from her protégé and favorite, once innocent and taintless nun, Sister Mary Eunice. Far away from her favorite priest, whom her damned feelings on him haven't pottered out even when the betrayal pierced as a honed dagger in her ribs, marvelous, thick waterfall of blood spurted from the fresh slit area.
"Are you firing me?" The holy woman questioned timidly.
"You've lost your way. You need a new beginning. You're booked on a plane out of Logan Airport, Friday morning, 8:30 a.m."
All of a sudden, the blonde walked away from her desk by zinging up to the Monsignor.
"This is...this is all about Dr. Arden, isn't it?" She stammered by clutching her petite, creamy as satin hands into fists.
"Dr. Arden is not the issue here!" The devotional member of the clergy rejoined, gritting his teeth.
" is the entire issue here!" In the meanwhile, the administrator of the mental institution riposted with incensed voice, baring her teeth as her honey brown irises were darted to his as his face softened momentarily as a unflustered, desolated homeless puppy. "He's turned you against me. But I was right about him."
"Pack your things, Sister!" The last words which were spat out directly as a serpentine venom, dumbfounded the middle-aged woman as soon as her boss fled her office and clamping with an elvish, milky as vanilla hand her mouth.
She was beyond astounded by him and the expectancies of the confrontation between the doctor and the priest as she could feel no longer fated to run the mental hospital. The love of her life believed blindly or rather let Arthur blackmail him instead of allowing the consequences assault him with swarm of ordeals, blocking his way to collaborate normally with his rare bird.
The sole version she ceaselessly believed was it was the doctor of scientist who turned her love interest against her and begs for her discharge in running the facility as she's being conveyed into another one especially in the small city of Pennsylvania, where she would never behold the member of the clergy's indisputably handsome, bashful face ever again, recalling each fragment of his physical traits such as his warming as hot morning coffee chocolate brown orbs, followed his megawatt, sympathetic smile, thriving on his berry-coloured lips. His silver-tongued, British, velvety voice which molted her heart and electroshocked her body muscles as goosebumps effloresced as plants on her pale as snow, creamy as baby head's skin. Velvety voice ringing angelic, sacred anthems in her sensitive, small ears as if they listened to the chirping birds' songs in the woods, engraving positive vibes.
The truth was in the middle. She believed Arthur entirely manipulated the love of her life, besides he stands behind the blackmail as a plotted conspiracy against her. That was her version. Little did she know what else resurfaced as an iceberg in the mist, grandiose ocean of fewest truths they the least resurfaced after the answers she's looked for were solved eventually.
Additionally, what the younger man wanted to do was to protect his right favorite nun by sending her away by offering her to be employed in the home for wayward girls in Pittsburgh from the barbarous Dr. Arden as the almost future Cardinal didn't want his rara avis being either the imminent victim of the inhumane, unrealistic experiments or their bile rose up in one another's throats, due to the fact, the holy woman was maternally and professionally concerned for the inmates for their welfare and aiding them to find path to the light and God as the darkness has already diminished the translucency of the light. Furthermore, the mysterious disappearance of certain patients were distressing Jude, herself, by questioning one of the least harmless staff members inside the monumental, old façade.
Although everything else, Judy was more than determined to store her paraphernalia in her leather suitcases along with garments, prominent belongings, the Holy Bible, her ravishing red silken slip and so forth. The crucial, howsoever, sole issue she had was she didn't have any money stay in motel for a handful of days by booking for herself a room until Friday, when she shouldn't miss her flight for Pittsburgh as it's reserved, thanks to her former boss.
A handful of hours have elapsed since Jude and Timothy's confront in her office, resulting accepting the offer to take the flight to Pittsburgh and accept her new job's position by evading Arthur without hesitancy.
Moreover, she preferred tonight to flee Briarcliff by staying in a motel for a few days as she was folding some of her attires, thereafter stashing them in the suitcase.
Her lion mane of silky old Hollywood honey curls were coiffed in a messy, casual bun, framing ideally her still gorgeous complexion with slight wrinkles for the midlife stage of her life. A mere, long sleeved ebony as devilish onyx dress, knee length with boat neckline hugged her slender, still appealing body with lacking signs of wrinkles and aging, tattooed naturally on any inch of her mossy flesh, snaking it. Her petite feet were shoed in black, classy stilettos as they perfectly matched with her outfit.
Suddenly, the oblivious sudden presence of masculine figure, tiptoeing to her askew bedroom's opened door propped on the doorframe, contemplating his sole loyal friend saying farewell metaphorically to the institution by storing her belongings along with anything else which she possesses.
Frank whistled in low voice to himself as it was solely audible for him, ringing absent tunes in his ears by removing his cap, in order to rub uneasily his head with his fingertips.
When the former administrator of the mental hospital for criminally insane turned to the dresser to gather her sheer as an angel, white, ordinary, ankle length nightgown by folding it, she startled by clamping with a single hand her mouth. Her honey brown orbs illuminated the suddenness of the franticness, which airbrushed its igniting flame.
"Oh, Frank! Ya scared the shit out of me."
"It's alright, Sistah! I didn't know ya are about to leave very soon." The former cop strolled up to her by surveying the recently stored remarkable items as a piece of luggage. His mildly wrinkled temple creased by arching an eyebrow at noting the scarlet red silky nightie, mingling with the rest of the attires.
"Well, those are my opportunities, Frank! Nothing more than just staying away from that Nazi doctor, who's responsible for maiming the poor Shelley!" In this moment, Judy heaved a weary sigh, pulsating from the top of her brittle lungs.
"I think there's something else than just , that Nazi bastard to be the reason why you're leaving tonight." After she picked up the white nightgown by folding it gingerly, properly and heaping it as a part of the baggage, afterwards she turned to the former police officer, raising an eyebrow elegantly. "For example, yar favorite Monsignor!"
"Oh, Frank!" She cried out loud, sighing dramatically again by nibbling on her bottom, plumpish lip at the thought of her love interest which lingered on the middle-aged man's tongue. "What a coincidence of being offered a position in home for wayward girls and being thrown away from yar own home, or perhaps, only home ever in yar life, besides yar life which is focused on saving wretched souls instead of postponing of doing something for the others' good!" Husky, wry chuckle tickled the corners of her oral caverns which bewildered her favorite employee even more.
"What does that mean?"
"With other words, he didn't have any intentions of believing me and instead, I'm going to accept the Pittsburgh offer."
"Oh! At least, Dr. Arden won't be there anymore to be part of your concern!"
"That's amidst the good things about Pittsburgh. But I can't believe why the Monsignor can be such naïve little boy."
"I'm certain, he's either disappointed by ya or he just wants your safety instead being on Arden's patient bed and torture ya with his inhumane experiments, ya know!"
"He wants my welfare?" Another hoarse, sarcastic giggle quivered the corners of her mouth, bearing a semblance of an earthquake. "Think again, Frank! As ya said, they're never going to accept a woman in charge especially as strong as am I."
"That's goddamn right, Jude! That's what I'm telling ya from a while since this goody-two shoes, Timothy Howard, is trying to bamboozle ya with his birds and honeyed speeches that the things would never work as you wished." Meanwhile, what the middle-aged lady felt bracing as strong, muscular arms circa her shoulders by pulling her in a tight, warm hug from behind which caused a tad franticness, painted upon her flushed complexion as sanguine pigment tinted her cheeks with additional heat, her ivory as emeralds teeth clattered inwardly as it was only audible for her, fortunately. "If he does it for yar safety, he'd give a damn about ya, at least."
"Language, Frank!" She retorted as she melted into the hug, biting her bottom lip again as the heart pulses were affixed with cement, increasing its frequency. "W-What are ya doing?"
"I'm just giving you a friendly hug! Can't I?"
"O-Of course, ya can!" Meantime, she turned to him by throwing her arms around his upper back as an agitated child as one of her parents came to pick her up from the kindergarten, being clung to the absorbed warmness which built. She shut temporarily her eyelids as blinds, relishing the warmhearted moment of being embraced and platonically doted.
Little did she know how long it has been when a representative of the opposite sex has treated her normally after the guys in her past life as a jazz nightclub singer have brought her nothing than just trouble.
"Where do you plan to go now?"
"I'm about to stay in motel."
Shortly after they broke off the hug, the former cop discreetly took off some money by handing it to Jude, offering her for reserving for a few nights a motel room until the day when the plane leaves Boston for Pittsburgh without missing it.
She gawked the cash as if somebody was offering her to savor from the blandest dish by lightly pushing away his hand, shaking her head in disagreement, pursing her lips.
"No, no, no! That's so kind of ya, Frank! Keep them for ya!"
"I just cannot leave ya without money and homeless. Take them! Ya won't regret afterwards." Instead of demonstrating disrespect, she affably, remorsely took the offered sum of cash for the motel, patting amiably, featherly his shoulder with a humble, blameless smile, bloomed on her rosy-coloured lips.
"Why thank you, Frank! I really appreciate it." The blonde was beyond nonplussed by his goodwill which resurrected his benevolent, affectionate nature. She didn't long to bicker with her ex-employee.
"Always, Jude! I'll genuinely miss ya, ya know!"
"Of course!" She bobbed modestly her head, affirming his words by bearhugging him for last time just moments before fleeing the office and leaving lacks of tracks of her disappearance in the middle of the night. The tight, affable embrace lasted even than longer a minute. "It's probably going to be our last time seeing one another before the paths separate us."
A handful of minutes later after the head of security guard and the nun said Farewell to one another, afterwards they fled the austere office as Judy grasped in one of her elvish hands the suitcase with her unique belongings in the dim light, profound, abysmal hallway of the asylum as the sudden sound of opening door from Timothy's office checked the mystifying silhouette of the middle-aged woman, who paced in the corridor as her stilettos clicked against the cemented flooring, producing monotonous choir of clicks.
His chocolate brown orbs which were fueled with arrant fatigue as the eyelids' heaviness barely allowed him to blink freely, an indifferent frown spread across his lips by wondering who's the mysterious lady, dressed up in different outfit than the common dark, wool attires that once concealed each inch of her ageless, soft as velvet skin. He knew his right hand as Sister Jude only. Not as another character, shadowing the sister of the Roman Catholic church's personage.
When the blonde passed through the double front door, subsequently she delved into her purse, rummaging for her car keys by finding them within a split second as she approached the vehicle, consequently unlocking it by getting inside the cab and driving herself to the forthcoming destination. The motel.