✞ John 1:5 ✞
✞ The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. ✞
A former sleazy nightclub singer with a gloomy past and afterwards a devotional sister of the church, Sister Jude Martin, running with an iron fist the most nef...
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--- The next morning ---
Several hours passed after Timothy's whispering promise as his inner voice echoed in his right hand's head as radioactive waves were signalizing her by thinking twice whether to believe his promise or on the contrary repudiate it as if another false hope was delivered to her.
False hope by deluding her to be jailed behind Briarcliff's dull, lifeless walls with the other patients, who were destined until their days were reckoned. What she doubtlessly feared was losing her son Edward Ralph by sending in to an orphanage, although the unconditional love his parents had for him, especially his mother.
Cracks gapped her mind in the wee hours of the morning, even during her peaceful slumber with her newborn son who nestled in her tight, warm, maternal embrace by leaving tracks of hesitancy.
What was oblivious for the former sister of the church was her bed sheet was inundated with fresh blood as its lake of blood trickled her inner thighs shortly after labor.
The morning was embraced by the eloquent, merry songs of the chirping birds outside by encircling the old unwelcoming mental institution's façade with their lovely, monotonous songs, whereas a tad autumn breeze blew outside.
As soon as the former nun woke up, due to her ray of sunshine's bewail which swam in the cold, barren cell of hers, the sudden clink of old, rusty keys' in the women's wing hallway wasn't audible for Jude as she was rather focused on alleviating Edward. Her heart raced as if Edward interrupted her slumber by opening reluctantly without blinking for a single second her drowsy hazelish-brown eyes, glinting criminal disquietness by keeping her wits about her peckish son.
"Shu, shu, shu, sweetie! Everything is alright! Mommy will feed ya, my little sweet ray of sunshine!" The blonde rocked her baby son into her scooped elvish, secure hands by peppering his temple and cheeks with loving, tender kisses until her cell's rusty door cautiously, slowly opened, as a result of one more uninvited visitor paying a visit to Jude.
"Good morning, rare bird!" The man of the cloth just emerged in the corner of her honey brown moons by meeting her neutral, glassy gaze as a grotesque, emotionless frown cracked upon her pale, dry complexion, highlighting her recurring hostility to him, even when she opted to be as amicable as possible the last night when she gave birth to their bastard child. Both former lovers' facial expressions contrasted.
