✞ Matthew 6:15 ✞
✞ "But if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses." ✞
✞ Sister Jude, or rather, Judy Martin, the former head nun of one of the most infamous mental hospitals in the small city of...
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"Monsignor, we shall talk urgently!" The rustier, huskier accent of the senior woman of the cloth emanating from outside reprimanded, whereas her sufficiently wrinkled due to the inevitable aging process balled fist rapped frequently on the office door.
An eerie flat line indicated her incessant sternness, contouring her heavy wrinkles and unfriendly aura, oozing off her. His heart rate of Timothy increased rapidly, affecting surrealistic the drums throbbing in his rib cage, armoring the heart's intensity and the pulsations pulsating vehemently into his ears, tingling the clear Boston lilt of the Mother Superior.
The initial thought-provoking intention of accepting the forthcoming phone call crossed his vortex of thoughts and swam through the chaotically hazy tempest of dilemma, whether answering the forthcoming phone call, which is a one-off or on the contrary, miss the phone call and have a professional, grave conversation with the head nun of the mental institution.
What Timothy reconsidered was wisely objecting for a few minutes his co-worker, in fact, once he misses an important phone call, otherwise, the priest would miss the exceedingly prominent piece of news.
"Good morning, Mother Superior!" After clearing his throat with a light-heavy, hoarse sigh, thereafter his honeyed timbre accentuated his seriousness. "What we are supposed to discuss urgently?" After scratching with his solely free colossal, veiny hand the top of his head with his small, neatly trimmed fingernails, his eyebrows narrowed in a quirk.
"It is about Jude and two more innocent patients, whose place isn't exactly Briarcliff." The senior, revered woman of the cloth emphasized her utterance. "Their names are Kit Walker, the falsely accused as Bloody Face and Lana Winters, a journalist and reporter. Jude told me everything! They are pretty innocent, and they should be released today."
"Mister Walker and Miss Winters will be released within a few hours, however," A heavily fresh breath coursed through the British aristocrat's brittle lungs, glancing back at the office door to make sure that Sister Bernadette didn't disappear. "I am afraid Jude should be kept for a bit longer, in fact, her innocence isn't proved and her cure shall continue!"
Suddenly, what the younger man could hear as a baleful echo through the earpiece was Mother Claudia's baleful scowl, tingling notorious tunes to his ear. He supported his chin with his clumsily pristine fingers, cradling his jaw line surreptitiously and rolling dramatically, hesitantly his round big cocoa brown jewels, glinting indecisiveness and glacial coldness, blanching the vibrant nuances.
"Her daily cares, regularly taken on doses of medicament and prayers are still ongoing." His strong-willed nature was confronting the dilemma in which the senior nun was confining his comfort zone and individual decisions as a director of the madhouse.
What criminally surprised him was that the blonde had contacted somehow with her mentor discreetly and plotted Grace, Lana and Kit's arranged release, despite Mother Claudia's insistence her protégé join them.
