...
"Leaving?" said Billie Dean incredulously. "What do you mean, you're leaving?"
She sat in a chair before the desk of the Reverend Monsignor, who had his hands folded before him. His expression was grim.
"The Church has sold Briarcliff," he said. "They are pulling out, which means I am being transferred."
"Transferred," Billie Dean echoed flatly. She lit a cigarette with matches snatched from his desk. She slapped the box down when she was done.
"Yes. To Rome. Sister Jude will be accompanying me."
Billie Dean barked a sharp laugh, exhaling smoke that burned in her throat. "Well, thank God for small favors."
Her word choice scraped on the Monsignor's nerves. "Life will not improve around here with the Church gone and an ex-patient in charge. Surely you know that. It would be best for you to get with the program and get yourself out of here, Billie Dean. It's relatively easy to meet the requirements for release currently. I can't guarantee what things will be like when—"
"Oh, please," she interrupted, tired of his bullshit. "You don't care. You don't care about me or anyone here. You never did. All you care about is your stupid, selfish goals to climb the ladder of— of—" She waved her cigarette at him, fishing for the words. "Whatever it is priests climb. What did they give you to abandon this place, huh?"
Flash forward to:
Reverend Monsignor accepting his appointment in Italy. Presiding over his congregation. Having rough sex with Sister Jude on an antique bed in front of a pair of French doors that open onto a balcony overlooking night-cloaked ocean.
Flash back in 1969:
"I go where the Church dictates," Monsignor Howard said stiffly. "I am not being bribed."
"Whatever," dismissed Billie Dean. "Leave. What do I care? It's not like your being here has gotten me anything."
He frowned, genuinely offended. "My presence here has benefited you in a lot of ways. I can't believe you are blinded to that fact."
She pursed her lips around her cigarette filter and bit back her immediate response. Finally: "Can I go now?"
The priest sighed. "We used to be friends."
"You used to be human."
That was the final straw. "The orderly will take you back to your room. I am sorry we have to say farewell this way." Then, louder: "Travis."
"You're a selfish jerk, you know that?" Billie Dean smirked. There was no smile in her eyes. She sucked a long hard drag and stabbed it out on Timothy's desk.
The door opened and a burly orderly came in. Went over to Billie Dean and put a hand on her shoulder, to steer her out. Caught up in the moment, she tried to shirk off his touch. The orderly grabbed both of her arms roughly.
"Take her to her cell," the priest said to the orderly. Then he turned away so he wouldn't have to watch. "I'll pray for your sanity, Billie Dean."
"Your God knows what's in your heart, Timothy," she accused, resisting as Travis hauled her to her feet. His hands on her eroded the last of her restraint. "You're no priest! You're a fraud! Fraud!"
"Come on, you," Travis grunted at her.
He muscled her out the door, but she didn't go quietly. She went kicking and screaming "Fraud!" the whole way to the quiet room.
—
In the days that followed the Church's departure from Briarcliff, things changed. The facility took on a government contract that saw a ward meant for 10 women house 40. Even the room Violet was in was sacrificed to the brutal inundation of state ward certifiably insane people who had been living in prisons and hospitals until then.
When space ran out after cramming three and four patients into a single room, the staff dropped mattresses in the halls. When those ran out, they dropped blankets. When those ran out, they stopped doing laundry. Trying to get a blanket back from a patient during a shortage was a fight no one wanted to engage in.
As conditions deteriorated, the notion of release grew more appealing to Violet. But she couldn't leave without knowing where Tate was. So, she did the only thing she could. She went to her dad.
She had earned the privilege of visitation and since he was still on the asylum's payroll, getting time with him was one of the easier things she'd managed recently. It wasn't until she was brought into his office though that she realized how long it had been since they'd been together.
He looked thinner than she remembered. Haggard. He hadn't shaved in a couple of days. Looked like he might have slept in the office overnight. If he slept.
"God, I hope I don't look as bad as you," she said as she sat down.
She meant it as a joke, but it fell flat. She looked worse than he did, and they both knew it. Still, he flicked on a brief smile.
"Good to see you still have your sense of humor."
"Yeah, it's about the only thing they can't take from you here unless you let 'em. Do you have a cigarette?"
Ben hesitated, then gave her one. "How are you holding up?"
"Honestly?" She lit the cigarette. Inhaled deep and held the smoke for a couple of beats before exhaling again. "I'm worried about Tate. It's been weeks and I haven't seen him anywhere. Nobody wants to talk about him either."
Ben knew he shouldn't discuss other patients with her, but his personal frustration with the matter on top of everything else he'd been enduring made it impossible not to commiserate.
"He was taken off my patient roster," he told her. He lit a cigarette for himself. "By Doctor Thredson. He wouldn't tell me where he's been moved to. Only that he's being 'cared for'."
"So, he is still at Briarcliff?"
"As far as I know," Ben said. "But as I said, Doctor Thredson wasn't exactly forthcoming."
Violet sat back in her chair. "He's been trying to get me into some sort of outpatient work release program."
Ben looked dubious. "I don't know about that."
"Oh? Why?"
"I've heard...things."
"Things? What things?" Violet said impatiently. "Don't be like that. You don't have any reason to protect this place."
That wasn't entirely true, but Ben didn't want to draw his daughter into the complicated politics of being in charge of the children's ward during overpopulation crisis.
"Just be careful," he said. "I've heard stories of people getting into the work release not being able to leave it later."
"What else can I do?" she demanded. She didn't want to unleash on him, but he was making it easy. "Stay here? Dad, have you seen how many people they're cramming into the rooms? If I wasn't crazy coming into this place, if I stay here much longer, I guarantee you I will be."
Ben and Violet locked eyes and Ben saw a side of his daughter he had never seen before. He knew she was strong and brave, but he never thought of her as a person with anger in her. Her anger felt like his anger. It was strange to see it reflected in her.
"Dandy won't let me just release you or else I would," he said. "In a heartbeat."
She sighed and slumped back in her chair her emotions spent already. "I know. He doesn't want me going anywhere anyway. I'm pretty sure he knows where Tate is but trying to get it out of him is... it's not easy."
"Shelley..."
Violet waited, but when her dad didn't finish his thought, she prompted: "Shelley?"
He shook his head. "She was transferred to the children's ward."
"The kids' ward? Why?"
"Dandy thought it was an appropriate place for her to have her baby. She might be able to get something out of Thredson." Again, he felt a twinge of guilt at how he was dealing with patient information, but he smothered the feeling. He had no use for it.
Violet sucked on her cigarette then tamped it out. "You think so?" Then: "Did she say who she thinks the father is?"
"Let's stay on topic," Ben deferred.
Violet snorted softly. "Fine. You think she'll get anywhere with Dr. Thredson? I never got the feeling they were that close."
"She has her ways."
Violet rolled her eyes. "She has one way. Unless you count different sexual positions."
"Violet!"
His outrage made her smirk. "Don't be such a square, Dad. I'm past hang-ups."
"I never will be," he said gruffly.
She still found his reaction funny, but she swallowed her amusement for his sake. "Are you going to ask Shelley about Dr. Thredson or should I?"
"I will," Ben said, happy to change the subject. "She's probably more likely to talk to me."
"Yeah. Just be careful she doesn't try to screw you."
"Violet, I just said—"
"Relax, Dad. I meant in the, you know, screw you over way. Not that other way."
He wasn't buying it, but he let it slide. "I fully expect her to try. I'll be fine."
—
Later that night, Ben saw Shelley in his office. He intended to question her, to subtly probe for information before diving into whether she could help him. But her help came with physical contact. Lots of it. As she deep throated his cock where he sat behind his cluttered desk, he told himself that he was taking one for the team letting her suck him off. And what his wife and daughter didn't know wouldn't hurt them.
...
Author's Note:
It's been a helluva few weeks. Death in the family. Flood so bad we had to evacuate the house. Kid in surgery. None of these things related to each other, just stacked one right after the other sort of thing. 2022 is nothing if not dramatic. On a more optimistic note, my film is cruising along in post-production. I can't wait to share it with you when it's done. It'll be hitting film festivals this next year locally and then nationally. Woo! Not sure about international yet, but if it's not available in your area you should be able to VPN it. I think?
Anyway. Because of all the insanity, I did not do any editing with this chapter yet. Apologies for any errors or inconsistencies. I'll tidy things later. Promise.
Next time: Violet's got a choice - Dandy or Tate. What's she gonna do?
