...
The locks clanking open woke Tate to a freezing cold world. He shivered and curled up in a tight ball, wishing he'd worn his sweater to bed.
"All out!" an orderly called and banged on someone's door with a baton. "Let's move it, you snow faeries. Breakfast isn't getting any warmer."
Tate groaned his objection to the order. He did not want to leave the relative heat of his wool blanket and face the cold air.
"Oh, Jesus," muttered a voice near the floor.
Tate had a roommate. He'd forgotten that overnight. He poked his head out of his blanket and looked over to see who the new guy was. His eyes got big when he found himself looking down at a familiar face.
"Doctor Thredson?" he boggled. "What're you doing in here?"
The man squinted up at him from the thin mattress on the floor. His black hair was a mess and his glasses were off. He had a dark five-o'clock shadow. He almost looked like another man, to Tate.
"They didn't tell you?" Thredson had assumed since Shelley seemed to know something that his downfall wasn't a secret. Apparently the girl hadn't shared her gossip with Tate.
The teen confirmed that with a shake of his head. "They don't tell me jack."
Oliver sat up and wrapped himself in his blanket. "Someone framed me for the Bloody Face murders."
"I said all out, gentlemen!" barked Roman, the orderly, banging on their cell door with his baton.
They both got moving. Tate put on his dad's old brown sweater with the cable knitting along the bottom. The thing was straight out of the 50s.
"Is it like this every morning?" Thredson grumbled. He pushed his glasses on and trudged for the door.
Tate followed him. "Pretty much. Some days it's worse. Some days, Sister Jude comes around to oversee things."
They got in line. Oliver tried to run his hands through his hair, but without his V05 hair gel it was impossible to tame the black mop. When he looked over at Tate, the teen was staring at him.
"What?"
Tate shrugged and grinned. "You look weird. With the hair and the chin," he rubbed his own jaw to denote stubble, though he had none to speak of himself. "You look like somebody else."
"Believe me, I am still myself," Thredson assured with a look that said he didn't intend to let the situation change their social balance. "This is all a big mistake. Things will go back to normal once they've sorted everything out." It was the biggest lie he'd told lately, but he needed to have at least one person under his control—even tenuously.
"So should I still call you doctor?"
Oliver thought about it, then gave him a curt nod. "I think it would be best."
Tate smiled. "All right, doctor."
He believed the man. Thredson just seemed too cool and confident to be guilty, in Tate's estimation. He thought he knew the man pretty well after spending so much time with him. He didn't know much about the crimes the doctor was accused of and he didn't much care. The outside world was so far away, it may as well be a fantasy world.
...
Dawn hadn't even touched the horizon yet, but Sister Jude was already awake. The chill in the air woke her. She curled up on her side to try to conserve warmth before she had to rise. Shutting her eyes again, she thought about what she had to do during the day. Her thoughts wandered to the Monsignor and she wondered if he was stirring now, too, or if he was already awake. Showering, possibly.
She imagined the water hitting his bare skin...washing suds from his muscular frame. The thought made her crotch wet. Her hands were already tucked between her thighs for warmth. It was far too easy to just reach out and brush her panties with the tips of her fingers. It was sinful and she would ask forgiveness later but in the moment, she lost control. Soon her hand was strumming furiously, making the blankets bob with the motion. Distracted by the cloth, she cast it aside and spread her legs. Her fingers went to work again and she arched her back as the pleasure grew more intense.
The door flew open with a bang, scaring her half to death. She hastily yanked her hand away from her privates and pulled her nightgown down, ready to berate Sister Mary Eunice for bursting in without knocking again. Only it wasn't the younger nun standing there, staring at her.
It was the Reverend Monsignor Howard.
"Sister," he said and immediately had to clear his throat. "Forgive the intrusion but you are needed urgently in my office."
He left hastily, pulling the door shut behind himself. The man took a deep breath and released it. He could feel his face heating up and was glad no one was around to see it. He headed back to his office then. He had intended to brief the nun better but his focus was shot. She would learn the nature of the emergency when she got to his office.
—
Sister Jude was met with a strange sight when she arrived. The Reverend Monsignor was there and so was the Judicial Vicar, along with two men in black suits the nun didn't recognize and Dandy Mott. He was wearing a cream-colored suit with a bright red and white striped tie. He had a cream felt hat on but when she entered, he removed it respectfully. His hair was neatly combed back with Brill cream. He'd used some of his mother's liquid foundation makeup in an attempt to make the scars on his face less prominent.
"Sister," he greeted before anyone else could speak. "It's good to see you again."
"Dandy..?" she said. Then, to the clergymen: "What's going on?"
The Vicar answered her. "Briarcliff has been sold. This is Mr. Dandy Mott. Mr. Mott is the new owner of the hospital."
Sister Jude shot a wide-eyed look at Monsignor Howard, who spread his hands and gave his head a little shake. He didn't know much more than she did and was equally unprepared for the news.
"But—" Sister Jude faltered. "Dandy Mott is—"
"I'm your new financier," the dark-haired young man interrupted with a little bow from the waist, his hat over his heart. He smiled at her and she could see the cunning in his eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing. "The answer to your prayers, fiscally speaking. I don't intend to change things here at Briarcliff. I simply want to help make this place the best it can be. Does the bakery need a new oven? Done. Do the radiators in your personal quarters need repair? Done! Simply make a wish list and it's as good as done."
Her hand settled over her breastbone and looked over at Monsignor Howard again. They shared a look. They both knew he was blatantly trying to bribe their silence. The hospital hadn't reported his escape; they couldn't very easily do it now that he owned the place. It would look strange at the very least. Unbelievable at best.
"I'm.. sure... there are a few things Briarcliff has been in want for," the Monsignor said haltingly. He could practically feel the sin staining him from the inside.
Dandy's smile was brilliant. "Just say the word," he said charmingly. Then he put the smile away for a more businesslike look, brows high. "I would like to meet with the senior staff. Individually. I prefer to get to know my employees personally before we enter a working relationship."
"Of—Of course, Mr. Mott," the priest stammered. He would have to scramble to let everyone know.
"It's Dandy. Please," the young man smiled again. "Mr. Mott was my father."
...
Reverend Monsignor Howard said a good long prayer than night: For himself, for Briarcliff, and for Sister Jude. During the evening meal, he had instructed the nun to come to his chambers at midnight for her penance. What had happened that morning was a sensitive matter and an extremely private transgression. It needed to be handled discreetly. The less people who knew, the better.
Sister Jude also spent time in prayer, on her knees with hands clasped, heart racing with anxiety. She didn't fear the Monsignor. It was just difficult to face him thinking about what he'd seen her doing. Having to confess and explain herself. He was as strict a disciplinarian as herself; she knew the consequences and was braced for that. It was his personal opinion she feared. Oh, what he must think of her!
She went to him that night, contrite in just her robes, barefoot and hair uncovered to show her humility. She knocked lightly and he answered promptly. When she entered, he locked the door behind her. She found she couldn't raise her eyes to meet his; her shame was too great.
"Forgive me, Father. I have sinned gravely," she said, her words thick with emotion.
He could tell her remorse was genuine and he would expect nothing less of her. "You will be forgiven," he assured. His words were quiet but intense. "But you must first serve penance and be shriven of the sin of lust."
She winced when her sin was named and nodded. "I understand and willingly accept whatever you deem is just."
His mouth set in a grim line. "Physical sin calls for physical penance." He hesitated, then continued. No one would be benefited by his drawing things out. "Please go over to the closet door and face it. Strip to the waist and take hold of the doorknob. Do not release the doorknob until I permit you to do so. Do you understand, Sister?"
She cleared her throat. "Yes, Father."
Sister Jude did as he instructed but it was an awkward process. She lowered her top of her robe, allowing the thin belt to support the whole garment at her waist. She kept her front turned to the door, though she was certain the priest wouldn't try to see her bare upper body. Still it was quite an experience being topless in front of the man she had just been guilty of lusting after.
She gripped the doorknob and squeezed it tight. Then she shut her eyes and whispered another prayer for strength.
While she was preparing herself, the priest went over to the dresser and collected the leather flogger there. It had three supple lengths of horsehide bound in a solid black handle. He brought the tool over and took up a position behind her.
"May God forgive you," he murmured.
He raised his arm then and brought the flogger down. When it struck her back it sent fire through her skin, straight down through the muscle. She bit her lip to clamp down on the noise she wanted to make, reducing it to a choked whimper.
Monsignor Howard went slow, both to keep her cries of pain from getting too loud and to make her really feel the punishment. It was taxing for them both. When she left, Sister Jude was in agony and tears but composed enough to make it through the halls without notice. She went back to her chamber and spent the next few hours in prayer as she had nothing else to reach for.
After she left his room, the Monsignor stripped and turned the flogger on himself for the impure thoughts he'd had while castigating the nun.
...
Author's Note:
The doctor's become the patient, the patient's running the asylum, Sister Jude's getting punished... The world has gone mad!
Next time: Dandy tours his new kingdom. How will everyone react when they learn he's taking over?