Possible Second Chance

✝ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕊𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟: 𝔾𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔸𝕨𝕒𝕪 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕄𝕦𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕣 ✝

"Thank you, Father! Good night!" Maneuvering her kindhearted wave of her hand at the older gentleman after retiring to the exquisitely lacquered, hardwood door, the last thing, he saw of her very presence that bountifully filtered the patchy hollow of loneliness in the wee hours of midnight.

The nefariously hideous creak of the dorm room's door ghosted the separate of the both adults as Judy headed in her own way and retired from the grandiose sacred building within a handful of minutes solely.

Her imminent destination was home and within a handful of minutes after her petite frame's very presence occupied the chapel's exterior, meantime, a stealthily foul grapple with its fatalistically mammoth hand clawing her delicate, palish expanse with its fingers, hooked in a bloodthirstily venomous slit across the unblemishedly alabaster, glossy flesh behind her startled the blonde.

Her initial reaction was breaking her facial expression by twisting curved her naturally roseate, chapped lips into a huge O, expressively raising an arch of her thin, dark eyebrow and flicking up with her smoky quartz bijous at the familiar tall figure behind her with its medley of breathily cinnamon and tobacco-stained breath, pinching her skin and electrifying goosebumps unceasingly showering her epidermis. Hitching her breathing intimidatingly uneven, the heart pulsations' acceleration vigorously thumped into her brittle rib cage, sensing the fatal imminence of losing her life or at least the damage she would earn from the possessed doctor.

She wouldn't deem the love of her life as an apocalyptic threat to her unless his spiritual possession was dancing squarely around her very essence with its stealthily grim dance of demise and malice.

The former sleazy jazz nightclub singer's stubbornly potent feeling of confronting her worst nightmare which was eventually the spiritually possessed doctor bestowed her with the quest of staying away as much as possible and get home safe and sound or at least seek Father Malachi's aid in no time before it was too late. Before her actual demise. Before her nemesis. Before the unholy devilish corruption persevered and won with contaminating bewitchingly dark the impending prey of vulnerability.

"T-Timothy," At that moment, the younger gentleman manipulated his huge, roundish smoky quartz bijous glimmering with the brightest, the most sinful brass pigment sheened her lion mane of luxuriously old Hollywood gilded curls, curtaining her ghostly pale façade like stage's projectors.

Moistening embarrassingly with twirling her wet, strawberry-coloured tongue her lower and upper chapped lips, the masculinely lusty, unhealthily envious grip sealing her waist. It emanated from the younger gentleman's solely free hand, the former licentious nightclub singer's vowels and syllables unceasingly limped backward and forward in her throat to formulate a rational, adequately sober utterance even if it solely consisted of a word.

Furthermore, the British compatriot's brilliant sanity detected his rare bird's apprehension and the vigorous heart pulsations, throbbing into her ears as if the time had halted.

"W-What are ya doing here?" The spur-of-the-moment's recent ejection of the posed question, immediately begging for an immediate response built perpetually a logically plain conversation between the both former members of the church.

"W-Why do you think I am here," The eerie nonchalance and huskiness in the British compatriot's rhetorical inquiry delivered icy chills to the older woman's figure, oddly relishing and dearly treasuring the violent grasp bracing her neck with her former boss's.

The haphazard pause squeezed his mouth whilst manipulating to twirl his swan tongue to sponge his rare bird's nape of her neck, sponging its flawless porcelain flesh, stilling his manly deft grasp without having any intentions of releasing her unless Demogorgon played his own cards right and utterly satisfying himself with commanding his current victim of possession.