Cigarette Smoke ☏✂ Oliver Thredson

Dr. Bonneville

Briarcliff was blanketed in a late golden evening as a sleek 1967 impala model carefully parked itself in front of the massive institution. 

Several dozen people, most of which were nuns, scurried in and out of the ghastly building with their heads sunken low as they moved along quietly like mute ghosts. 
The driver shut the ignition off now, sending the car into a sudden silence as they pushed open the door and stepped out into the sinking sun. 

A young woman with short black hair strung in a pin-up and umber hazel eyes that glinted under the dying sunlight stood before the hulking mass of stone and cement. She was dressed in a modest black turtle neck that was folded at the wrists and a grey waist-high skirt that was slightly stained at the knees by something dark and questionable. The woman slid a slender hand against her greased locks, things that resembled  oily black leeches, before sniffing the air with a curious expression. It smelled stale. Stale and something else that made her shudder. It could have been chemicals...then again, it could have been blood.

The woman placed her hand against the roof of the car door before grabbing her small satchel and pushing it closed. She pulled the large bag over her head and across her chest before making her climb up the Institution's steep stair case. With every step made her more nervous then the last as she found herself growing nearer to the front doors. And soon enough, she reached out her hand and pulled the door open---a shriek escaping the halls and colliding with the woman's ears. She apprehensively took another step forward, her spine tingling with dread as she let the door shut behind her.

"Welcome to Briarcliff's Mental Institution" A voice spoke, the woman turning to look at a tall nun wearing the same clothes as the others. She had elderly yet young pretty features painted across her face, practically hiding the wrinkles time had weaved to her skin. "I am Sister Jude, welcome"

"Th-th-thank you" The lady stuttered with a smile, her lips painted pale red. 

"I presume you're Doctor Doris Bonneville, am I correct?"

"Y-yes" She stuttered again before taking a slight curtsy, her right hand balled up into a fist against her thigh.

"Of course, I presume you're here on investigation of the frequent-" Sister Jude paused to look around before whispering. "Murders"

"Y-Y-Yes, M-Miss. I Came. I came to look at the, the bodies in the, in the morgue." She quaintly smiled, her lips quivering with every word.

"I see" The Nun nodded before leading her down the hall, distant yells and screams accompanying them. "I would assume you are the Forensic Pathologist that the department sent"

"Yes"

"Wonderful then!" Sister Jude exclaimed before stopping in front of an office that read her name across the door's blurry window. "Would you please wait here for me, I must attend to some work before I escort you down to the morgue"

"Oh-of-of course" Doctor Bonneville smiled before watching the woman walk back inside her office, the door silently shutting behind her. Doris let out a soft sigh before seating herself down on a chair that sat beside her office door. It was chilly against her legs, but Doris didn't mind as she leaned against the chair's backing and listened to the nearby sounds.

In a way, it scared her. She wasn't used to a place like Briarcliff's institution, she was used to the ELPS Private Detective Agency in Pennsylvania. The air there was always fresh and sterilized, and the walls where thick so even if someone did yell out in pain, it wouldn't disturb anyone. But no one ever did because she hardly ever had any living patients. It was a wonderful quiet agency decorated in both fake and real flowers & greenery. Doris suddenly felt herself miss it. She missed her desk where she looked over pictures of crime scenes and dead bodies and her parents who were probably missing her too.

"Hello," A cold, baritone voice suddenly spoke, the female blinking out of her daze before looking up to see a tall dark figure looming over her. It was a man with neatly combed black hair and dreary, empty looking brown eyes that hid behind a charming pair of glasses. His skin was pale, flawless, and practically glowed in the faint light which gave him a sallow atmosphere. "Oliver Thredson. Doctor, Oliver Thredson" He introduced himself, particularly out of the blue, before extending his open hand to her which she hesitantly took—the man gently shaking it. "And you are?"

"D-D-Doctor Bonnev-er-Bonneville," She awkwardly smiled before feeling him rub his thumb gently across her palm. She quickly unlaced her hand from his before laying it back on her lap. "Nice to meet you Doctor Thredson," Doris quietly spoke as she slightly glanced at Sister Jude's office, wondering when she'd come out again.

"Oh, have they replaced me?" He dryly mused, his spine becoming slightly rigid as he said the words. 

"Oh, no no n-not at all s-s-sir" Doris quickly replied with an assuring smile. "No, I'm a F-Forensic Path-Pathologist"

"Ahhh..." He droned. "I see. Apologies Dr. Bonneville" Doctor Thredson smiled before the Office door was pushed open again, allowing Sister Jude to walk out. Her eyes instantly smarted the male Doctor over with a sort of coldness before she turned to look at Doctor Bonneville with a warm, irked grin.

"I see you have met Braircliff's temporary Pathologist, Mr. Oliver Thredson" The woman smiled as Doctor Thredson cringed at the sound of Mr. in his title. Doris took no notice of his reaction. "But introductions will have to wait Mr. Thredson. Doctor Bonneville has a very busy schedule this evening," Sister Jude smiled before gesturing Doris to follow. The woman slowly stood back to her feet before politely nodding to Oliver as she walked away. The man's eyes never left her silhouette.