Unholy Atonement

Aversion and Grudge

As the wee hours of the morning loomed on the horizon as subtle, saturating sunrays dispersed through the closed crimson blinds of the former devotional members of the cloth's room, bathing their bedroom in scintillating light even if their eyelids were shut, protecting them from its bright sun light. Light as almost as silent as the death snores levitated in the bedroom.

The injured singer who experienced an unintentional accident during her show the night before was having a rough headache now as she laid all alone in her king-sized bed as its scarlet velveteen blanket still covered her senseless body. The alcohol, she drank the night before in the bar with the fellow former Monsignor left her body and blood at last as if it acquired parallelism of ghost of past. At last but not least, her knees didn't hurt her anymore as much as shortly after the incident, taking its place on the stairway to the cabaret. Her mane of glossy, wild old Hollywood golden curls ruffled on the scarlet pillow as she felt slight autumn breeze blowing in her almost motionless waterfall of honey curls.

In the interval, Timothy got up slightly earlier than her as the night hours already died in the ebon vacuum as he took a lukewarm, quick shower by changing himself in more casual clothing such as plain, white, neat shirt as he left a handful of buttons undone, followed by dark grayish slacks, layering his yet muscular, extraordinarily appealing legs for almost middle-aged man and black leather oxford shoes. Afterwards he zinged momentarily in the kitchen by brewing some coffee and preparing breakfast such as scrambled eggs and bacon. All he wanted was to redeem himself and earn forgiveness from the most prominent person in this world for him. It wasn't actually a piece of cake for him at all.

Once the blonde came to her senses as its acute aroma of scrambled eggs, bacon and brewed coffee emanated from the kitchen, drawing her attention in no time as she rubbed with her creamy, elvish fists her drowsy hazelish-brown eyes by gasping in pain, due to the rough headache that hit her right away. Thereafter she released an instinctive, unwilling yawn, escaping her dry, ravishing red lips.

"Oh God! This headache is killing me," The middle-aged lady complained by abiding stoic as she abstained instantly of crying out loud in soreful, agonizing pain which invaded her mind and body. It resembled a hell for her the headache and the accident which befell her the last night. The explicit memories of the last night during and after the occurred incident haunted her like shadows, chasing her in the darkest corners of the room and her corrupted mind with its resurfaced somber, grim thoughts which sailed and sailed.

After the former nun got from the bed by unwrapping the velveteen blanket out of her frail skeleton, she hopped up in comfy slippers by strolling up to the bathroom to brush her teeth and splash some water on her palish, dry face.

"Judy? The breakfast is served!" Timothy held a platter with two mere black mugs of caffeine beverages, followed by plates with scrambled eggs and bacon and silverware eating tools by setting them on the wide table as soon as he stepped up in the bedroom by shouting the blonde's name. It flabbergasted him she wasn't there as the sole piece of track of the former sister of the Roman Catholic church was the unwrapped blanket, giving him evidence she was already awake. Nothing else he knew behind her disappearance! Even the en-suite bathroom door seemed untouched.

Suddenly, Jude left the bathroom by being mesmerized by the sight she recently witnessed. Timothy awaited her for sharing a piece of remarkable moment by having a breakfast altogether as its tray with their plates and mugs of morning coffee sat on the large table. A coy, boyish smile flourished on his berry-coloured lips as their eyes met, locking up her hone brown orbs, fulfilled with bewilderment and tinges of disgust. Bewilderment, factly, she eventually recalled who was the recent guest in the purgatory, part of the gothic castle's residence and he treated her affably since the beginning without being a toady. Disgust, due to the circumstance, the singer recalled with whom she shared a few rooms along and it was actually the love of her life, who forsaken her for his blinding, lunatic, divine Rome miracle and naively, cheekily believing her foes without listening to her story as well. What the middle-aged lady hankered for was suffocating him by wrapping tightly her petite, nonetheless, delicate and potent hands around his neck by choking him by tormenting him and pouring her entire, fiendish anger on him for his wrongdoings and detrimental deeds which affected her life even messing it up to edges, destroying sandcastles, embodying their mutual trust, celestial respect and love they've had built for years of hardwork and indisputably strong chemistry they had.