In order to keep the Halloween escapes quiet, the church had to send in their own recovery team. Petitioning his superiors to intervene was hardly ideal but to Reverend Monsignor Howard it was better than having the matter turn into a media circus—and the bishop agreed.

They were able to locate and bring back two of the three escapees. The third they found but could do nothing about immediately as he was securely hidden in his family home. Extricating him without making a scene would be virtually impossible. But as long as he stayed put inside the mansion, he wasn't likely to cause problems that they could anticipate.

Shelly was taken without resistance at the motel room she was sharing with Boyd, who put up more of a fight but was likewise subdued. Both were brought back to Briarcliff where they were sent to different wings of the hospital. Boyd went to Heath's ward. Shelly was sent to Dr. Pennhurst, who signed a few papers and had her gurneyed off for electroshock.

The treatment was traditionally used to treat depressed and suicidal patients but, at Briarcliff, the ECT machinery was used to subdue and punish patients more often than it was used to treat them. Shelly had never gone through electroshock but she had seen plenty of patients who had. She was scared but she tried to keep that fear hidden. She didn't want the staff to know she was afraid. Her brave front was the only thing she had.

Though the hospital had been laboring under staff shortage, there was no shortage of hands to haul her from the gurney to the table where they strapped her down again. This time metal headgear was belted to her head. Someone shoved a hard rubber bit into her mouth. It tasted like sewage smelled. She retched behind the bit but firm hands held it in place till the straps were secure. Then they were putting an apparatus at her temples, two cloth-covered nodes that pressed snugly.

Shelly's heart was already racing when the doctor hit the switch that sent 200 volts of electricity through her brain. The lights dimmed, then brightened again when Dr. Pennhurst finally killed the power eighty excruciating seconds later. By that time Shelly was so scrambled, she couldn't do anything but lay there in a daze. Someone pulled the bit out of her mouth then Sister Jude came into her blurry field of vision. The nun inspected her face at close range, seizing her jaw to turn her head this way and that before releasing her roughly.

"Make sure she's cleaned up and locked in her room," she told the doctor. She outranked Pennhurst at Briarcliff, something she knew didn't sit well with the man. It gave her pleasure to order him about.

The nun left then, her long skirt swishing with her brisk steps. Dr. Pennhurst wrote on his clipboard then he, too, left. He wouldn't challenge Sister Jude openly but he felt cleaning patients was beneath him. Alone with just Nurse Karen, Shelly lay there in a daze. She wasn't afraid. All she could feel was the warm hum under her skin left by extreme exposure to electricity. She was numb down to the bone apart from that humming, physically and emotionally.

"Where's Doctor Pennhurst?" Dr. Heath's voice floated somewhere above her.

"He already left," said the nurse, also somewhere nearby.

Shelly felt a prick as the nurse gave her some sort of sedative that took the edge off the electric vibration. Her muscles relaxed and she began to feel her arms and legs again. She let her head loll to the side and found she could see the doctor and nurse over to her left.

The nurse dropped the hypodermic into the hazardous waste bin and stripped her gloves. Dr. Heath moved in then, crowding into the young woman's personal space in a way that cornered her against the locked supply cabinet. The brunette nurse looked up at the doctor with a mixture of interest and intimidation.

"So it's just you and me," the doctor said. His deep voice was like a panther's purr. Or a preamble to a growl.

"Yes, doctor."

Heath pressed closer, putting a hand on her breast. Then he leaned in and kissed her. In another minute, he had her skirt hiked up, panties shoved aside, cock inside her. It was a sloppy, heated affair; over in just a few minutes more. It brought the young brunette no pleasure except the satisfied smile her employer gave her when he pulled out of her.

He left shortly after and the nurse returned to her cleanup duty, starting with herself. Nurse Karen hummed as she turned her attention back to Shelly, thinking of how being the man's lover would raise her status in the employment ranks. She'd already been taken off bedpan duty and was allowed as many breaks as she wanted, so long as she was available when needed. And she always was.

She fancied herself in love with Dr. Heath. She was enamored with his confidence and skill as a surgeon. She was sure if she kept on the path she was on, she'd eventually be made head nurse. Then, the doctor wouldn't be embarrassed to be seen dating her openly. Perhaps they would be married someday and run the asylum together, under the watchful eye of the Church.

She had big plans but she shared none of them with Shelly. She just shoved a pile of clean clothes at the dazed patient once she'd stripped and sponge bathed her.

"Get up," she said. "Get dressed. It's time to go back to the commons."

Time evaporated for Shelly once she managed to get her clothing on. Bits and pieces of existence floated in and out, like she was waking up from the same dream, over and over, each time in a whole new place. The common room flashed by and the mezzanine. Bedtime was suddenly on her and her teeth tasted of toothpaste, though she had no memory of the communal trip to the bathroom.

More time disappeared and it was morning. Breakfast swam by then it was time for her to see the therapist.

With the staff shortage, none of the doctors had time on their schedules to evaluate Shelly. It didn't take Sister Jude long to grudgingly agree that Dr. Harmon should take the overflow cases, starting with Shelly's.

The trip to the children's ward was a surreal experience. Shelly had never been to that section of the property before. Allain took her by way of the tunnels, keeping a hand on her to steady her. She was still in a fog as they moved through the dark, dank corridors, barely aware of her surroundings. Up a dusty flight of gray stairs they went, through an unmarked, rusty door. Then they were suddenly in light again.

Momentarily blinded, Shelly tried to pause to let her eyes adjust, but Allain just tugged her along. He left her in a tiny closet of an office, the walls of which were mostly hidden behind piled up folders of documents and boxes. Ben had cleared the center of the space so the desk had room for him to function around it. He was seated behind the desk and Shelly was deposited in the lone chair in front of the desk before Allain retreated.

"Hello, Shelly," Ben greeted. He had her case before he was busted down the kids' ward so he was familiar with her background already.

She blinked slowly, knowing it was her turn to say something, but she couldn't quite sort out what.

Ben laced his fingers atop his desk and studied the young woman. Ordinarily she would have been hitting on him by now. He didn't condone the behavior but it saddened him to see her personality so skewed by a single shock treatment.

"How are you feeling?" he tried.

She licked her lips and rolled her eyes to the side but the answer wasn't anywhere over there. "Thirsty."

"Thirsty?" Ben echoed. He glanced around. All he had was a cup of coffee. "I can get you some water."

He lifted the receiver of the rotary phone and dialed the nurse's station. He put in a request for a pitcher of water and a cup, then assessed his patient again.

"I know you're not feeling too hot right now," he said gently. "So we're not going to get into why you ran away. But I want to know... Was it your idea?"

She licked her lips again. Her mouth tasted like the bitter rubber of the bit. A cigarette would help but she couldn't find the words to express her desire. So she answered his question instead. "No."

"Was it Dandy's idea?"

Shelly hesitated. Then: "Yes."

He wrote something on the paper pad he had in front of him. "Thank you, Shelly."

...

Timothy was braced for just about anything when Heather was brought to his office. He had seen her at her initial assessment during intake but most of his acquaintance with her was through the pictures that ran in the newspaper.

"Hello, Heather," he greeted from behind his desk in a warm and gentle tone.

One of the orderlies led her over to his desk where she hesitated before taking a seat in one of the two chairs before it. The orderly shot a questioning look at the Monsignor, who ever so slightly shook his head. He didn't need the orderly to stay with them. The girl was visibly frail and had never acted out during her stay, as far as the hospital records showed.

"Hi," Heather responded after a brief look around the room from where she sat. She focused on the priest, looking at him as though seeing him for the first time.

Timothy got up from his seat and came around to the front of desk. "How are you?"

She smiled a crooked little smile. "People keep asking me that. I feel fine, sir."

The Reverend Monsignor paused, trying to decide how best to maneuver through the delicate situation. He was no psychologist but he was a smart man. "Your friend Billie Dean said you haven't been quite yourself lately."

Something sparked in Heather's pale blue eyes that startled the Monsignor. It was just a flicker of an expression that vanished almost instantly but he'd seen it. It was a surprised sort of guilt; like a child caught drawing on the wall.

He knew then he wasn't talking to Heather. He also realized he owed his cousin an apology but he had no time to dwell on that. Whatever was in the teenager sitting before him needed to be identified and abolished.

"I was sick the other day," the girl said, looking down at her hands. "But I'm okay now. A lot of people got sick after the blackout."

Timothy pressed his lips together briefly. Then he put on a smile. "Yes. I suppose you're right about that."

He thought about pressing the entity but he was completely unprepared to deal with a possession. He would need time to prepare. So he decided to change tactics.

"Have you given any thought to what you might want to do once you're a legal adult?"

Heather tipped her head curiously. "What do you mean?"

Timothy found that response odd. It was a pretty straight forward question. "When you turn eighteen, you'll be discharged from Briarcliff but only if you demonstrate you can provide for yourself." He knew this had been explained to her before but put the lapse down to the entity possessing her. He had no idea what drugs she'd been given during her stay so didn't take that into account. "You'll need a job if you're going to be able to take care of yourself."

Heather blinked at him. Then she nibbled her lower lip and looked down at her hands again. She thought for a moment then looked back up at him, squinting a little in thought. "Couldn't I just get married?"

Timothy's brows inched up. "Who would you marry, pray tell?"

Heather shifted. "I don't know," she admitted.

"You need to think about what you want to do," he counseled. "The Church can help you find a position someplace, and housing, but it will be on you to do the work."

She looked down at her lap again. She didn't like this conversation. "I guess I want to be a... a..." She couldn't think of anything that sounded fun. "A model." That sounded fun and easy.

The Monsignor had to take a moment to process that. "I... don't know if that's possible."

"You said I needed to pick a job," the girl said, frustrated and close to whining. "I picked one."

The priest considered rejecting her decision but she wasn't a patient exactly. She was free to pursue whatever career she wished, even if it wouldn't get her out of the asylum. And with all the media attention Briarcliff had lately, photographers were in ready supply. He knew several would jump at the chance to photograph the waifish newspaper sensation in a different way. It might even bring some money into the asylum.

"Fine," he said with a smile he didn't feel. "I happen to know a photographer or two. I'll see if I can get one to come here for a shoot."

...


Author's Note:

Happy Halloween month!

I've been gorging myself on horror this season. Every chance I get. I've got American Horror Story playing in the background as I type. Murder House. Yes, again. I've been watching new stuff too. But I can't resist my faves at this time of year.

Next chapter: The asylum shows its dark side. That's all I'm gonna say. Did I mention I've been watching a lot of horror lately?