Hallelujah

The Bitch is Back

Soundtrack credits: The Bitch is Back -Elton John; Chain of Fools - Aretha Franklin; Judy's Turn to Cry - Lesley Gore; Please Mr. Postman - The Marvelettes

The Bitch Is Back

Briarcliff looked exactly as she remembered it. Imposing brick edifice of doom. Jude lingered on its lowest step, fretting. Shachath paused a few steps higher, looking back at her companion. "Judy?"

A heavy sigh. "Are you sure this isn't hell?"

The dark angel smiled. "You aren't doubting yourself, are you?"

"Just my sanity."

"That's not in question." Shachath looked up, gazing at the pristine firmament of Briarcliff. "You'll find it as you left it, I believe."

"How is that possible? With the time that's passed?"

"Does it matter? You're stalling, Jude."

A glare. But Jude seemed to gather her strength. She looked down at herself, white sundress swaying beneath her knees. A tisk. She closed her eyes. When she opened them, Shachath was gone, and her old habit brushed the top of her booted feet. With sure steps she approached the double doors and - with a mere thought - swung them open wide. An echoing bang announced her arrival.

The bitch was back at Briarcliff.

The entryway was indeed just as she remembered. In fact, perhaps even moreso than she remembered. Her last days here, as Betty Drake, were little more than a blur wrapped in a murmur. Her heels clicked against the marble floor. Almost wistfully, her fingers caressed the dark wood of her 'Stairway to Heaven.' There had been a time when she'd truly believed in it...

She was tempted to call out to Mary Eunice. To simply call out in general. To break the stifling, overwhelming silence. But something else kept her quiet: some odd sense of sanctity, as if the souls trapped here deserved at least the peace of quiet if naught else.

She had one foot on the bottom most step when motion caught her eye. Sharply, she turned. Just there. To the left. Someone had moved. Or something. Just a shadow it seemed, but dark. She blinked, checked her vision. There was no one there. Odd. Suddenly the sharp memory of a drunken night, a film, missing patients and that...thing...in the hallway. She shook away the vision. A vision from a bottle.

She looked up to the landing and began her ascent again when -

"Who's there?"

She whirled toward the voice, a flashlight shining from dimness, clicking off in the light. "...Frank?"

The security guard squinted. "Sistah Jude?"

She stepped down, went to him, forehead creased. "Frank, what the hell are you doing here?"

He was close to a smile seeing her. It nearly broke her heart. He shrugged. "Guess I'm like all the other poor bastards stuck in this shithole...Jude. But you...I never expected to see you back here. Not now. Not like this."

"Frank, God rest yar soul." She embraced him. It took an awkward moment, but he embraced her back. "What about Claire, Frank? Yar wife? You could be with her! Frank you've got nothing to atone for here!"

He held her suddenly at arms length. "I don't think it's that simple." Shook his head. "Besides. I can't leave them here."

"Who?"

"You know." He gestured to nothing. "Little Sister. Shelley. The Monsignor."

Jude's head spun suddenly. She held Frank's arm for support. "The Monsignor?"