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☾ My head
is
a very dark place ☾
--- *** --- --- A Day Later --- --- 28th of October, 1964 ---
Within the approaching morning which elapsing sooner than a mild summer breeze, tickling and fanning playfully the surroundings, it the elapsing hours were a dynamic roller coaster in your and the members of the clergy's cases.
The arranged release. A medley of genuine felicity to savor the freedom's true taste and despondence, not due to anything else than missing the friendships you made with Kit, Shelley, Pepper, Grace and most of all, one more person who wasn't part of their common guilt. The one who took an adequate care of your freshly sore wounds, left untreated and menacing balefully to engulf the immune system and its stability after plaguing with a difficultly curable infection. The one who has even confronted the woman of the cloth back to the night of your false commitment to Briarcliff. The one who cared even more about you rather than himself. The one who will genuinely miss you and rot after your disappearance. The one you felt desperate spiritual connection with, due to sharing a few things potently in common. It was Timothy Howard. The name laced your tongue sweetly and bitterly in the same time with amalgamating flavours which you still questioned.
It was almost approaching noon and one of the orderlies was securing the room where you were getting ready to flee the mental hospital within a couple of minutes only. At the moment, the ambitious Monsignor was waiting outside the room with the staff member patiently, fidgeting his fingers and the taxi was about to arrive past the mental institution's grand massive stone stairs outside.
In spite of nobody acknowledged the kiss which you surreptitiously mottled in with the pious sister of the church, nevertheless, you sensed how bizarrely monstrous the kiss affected you and most of all, yet questioning how you didn't even venture to stop in a halt the process.
Notwithstanding the circumstances, the lusciously cherub, attractively roseate lips of the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer yet haunted you and the silky softness grazing the delicate raw spot of your pair of lips yet lingering. You were far from oriented how to feel about the arcanely lustful moment which was a pure manipulation to drag you out of the infernal ruins of the retribution which she considered you deserved due to your disappearance overnight. The solitary.
Even when you had modicum of trust in the aspiring Monsignor, you were far from determined and cocksure to inform him about everything, taking its place in his rare bird's office. You sensed a fountain medley of sheer mortification, stark nonplus and mild irritation brewing and cooking inside you with adrenaline pulsating into your figure. Exquisitely contaminating your vortex of thoughts with questions whose answers were begging for bonus time whether to object your versatile abstinence or on the contrary risking ominously to open in front of Timothy about anything that puzzles you. Even though you weren't quite close to one another, you still doubted you might encounter him except in a local church or hallowed site ever again. Your vast enthusiasm to get to know Timothy as much as his luscious covet to discard the cloak of your enigmatic character was still a challenging, dithering mental agony.
