Prayers were recited in murmur, whilst the eyelids were clutched shut as the lit up candle holders with it's a handful of candles, illuminating the dim light austere office of the nun in the wee hours of the night. The silhouette of the middle-aged woman was reflected on the wall, due to the candles by ducking her head in the cordial, regular prayer.

The sound of opening door by shutting it behind the mysterious figure which gave chills to the sister of the church, ushered her to tilt her head as her eyelids' slits were opened. Horrified frown was tattooed upon her porcelain, pale as snow complexion as foreboding and prejudices were painted as an illustration naturally across her facial expression. The grim picture of the fear and deviation of the safety were illustrated altogether. Goosebumps trimmed her mossy, soft as peach skin underneath her conservative, wool habit and the heavily, frequently throbbing in apprehension heart beats varnished her frail heart.

Seconds of hesitancy flooded her mind whether to turn to and confront the mysterious figure of the uninvited visitor in her office or otherwise let the prejudices and her fear consume her being.

As soon as she turned to her office glassy mosaic door, the suddenness of noting the murderous Santa Claus in her office in the middle of the night affrighted her as she felt her bones quivering underneath her flesh. A couple of questions pooled her mind as the first one lingered right away on her tongue.

"What are you doing here?" The blonde questioned the serial killer beyond calmly with hints of jitters by transfixing her stare into him, due to the terror he caused with his presence.

"I'm here to open my present!" He replied with a tad pride, waxing his words as its sparks of angst glistened past his recent victim.

In the meanwhile, the young possessed by the devil nun locked her mentor's office by twisting the key, ultimately trapping her in the genuine hell. In the claws of the vicious murderous Santa Claus. The click of the locking door jingled unmelodic tunes in the elder nun's ears as her attention was utterly paid to the predatory inmate, disguised as Santa Claus.

"Ho, ho, ho!" At the moment, he ambled up to her by opting to cow her with his gruesome gait and demeanor, despite she sped up to the locked door, whilst he seated on her cherry wood bureau, contemplating her.

"Dr. Arden, open this door!" The former promiscuous nightclub singer rapped on the door with balled fist, emitting sound of somebody to unlock the door by opening it and rescue her from the psychotic lunatic, who was now in her office and sending chills her bones and body of disgust and panic. Leigh gathered the letter opener in one of his hands.

"I'd put the lion's share of blame on that sexy Little Sister. She really doesn't like you." Leigh replied by gingerly playing with the letter opener, whereas Jude's honey brown pools which were filled with disgust and fear were darted to the murderous Santa Claus as her mouth was mildly agape.

"What's all this about?"

"You left me in that hole to rot." He aimed the letter opener's silver edge to her as if it was directly pointed at her.

"But you're out now. Anything is possible. Let me pray with you!" He narrowed his eyes at her words as she timidly uttered the caution.

"I think I'd rather tell you about my fantasies, like the one where I jam this gigantic crucifix up your ass," He left the letter opener on the hardwood, covered in a tad dust desk the razor as he got from the seat, confessing his abominable fantasies with the elder nun. "Or the other one where I take my rotting teeth and my foul-breathed mouth and chomp down on your dried-up," The apprehension drastically transformed into loath and exceeding terror as her heart raced once he got from the desk by strolling up to her in gruesome gait, in order to scare the living daylights out of her even with the merest manner of his. Their distance was closing as the elder man was approaching the blonde, who held her both hands. Meanwhile, as Leigh's monologue advanced, he imitated with his mammoth, filth and poor hygienically layering hands claws of a vicious beast by ravaging his prey's flesh with ease, bobbing his head.

"Help me! Please!" Her palm rapped on the door, in order to somebody hear her pleas and at least unlock the office's door by rescuing her from Leigh, despite Mary Eunice and Arthur Arden stood in the hallway by doing nothing than just relishing the horrid scene of the tormented middle-aged lady. In this moment, Leigh had the ultimate opportunity to mortify her even more as the foul shame, guilt and disgust were on the very top emotions, brewing inside her as a black coffee.

"Oh, Sister, where's your sense of Christmas spirit?" He posed the question in slightly agitated and joyous way as if his joy bear a semblance of a child on the Christmas morning, who have just received his Christmas present. "I'm just beginning to feel the comfort and joy!" He imitated a boxer by clutching his palms into balled fists, in order to jab Jude in teasing manner, punching her.

"Help me! Dear God, someone help me! Anyone, help me!"

Her emotional protests abided unheard and overlooked as if they resembled a whisper in the desert, dancing on her tongue by wedging its voice decibels.

At the moment, the possessed juvenile holy woman yanked the key from the key lock by walking away, leaving her mentor all alone in the office with nobody else than her predator.

"It's just you and me, Sister." In the meantime, Jude sat on the flooring by reclining on the light yellow wall by lightly bobbing her head as the serial killer leaned against her. The back of her hand wiped her nose as dew of perspiration layered her complexion. "God's off having schnapps with the nice Santa." She swallowed hard at his words.

"I'm not the enemy."

"You're not the only enemy, you just happen to be the one I'm focusing on right now." The grip of Leigh's hands by grasping her as their proximity closed, scarcely gapping as whirlpool of franticness whirled her mind and the facial expression on her complexion. Their gazes met as his darkened sapphire blue pools were staring right at her soul by opting to not keep the flame of warmness, hopes kindle in her irises. "Whee!" He spun her as her body slugging against the polished armoire with the collection of canes' door, collapsing on the floor.

In the meanwhile, the armoire's double door opened as a collection of canes, whether thick or thin, drew promptly the serial killer's azure blue eyes which were filled with childish euphoria and hysterical jones to torment even more his recent victim.

Graphic, explicit images of year ago when he was canned by his favorite nun dawned as they smeared the pain he experienced into his vision. His mouth was mildly agape at the view of abundance of canes, which are used as a method of disciplining rebellious patients, despite their vices he has already put himself in their shoes by figuring out the sore pain of the hardwood, thick even lacquered exquisitely whip contacting the stark skin of his bum.

He used to feel this pain but he has already fantasized how it might feel to cane a nun especially his tormentor as his pride is gleamed by the light projectors of his revenge he has plotted since she had treated him harshly, numbering the security guard Frank.

"I take that back. Maybe God is here, and..."He approached the armoire as the opulent choice of whips gave him the opportunity to choose by evading the half conscious body of the sister of the church. He picked up one of the canes with its twisted ending, resembling a spiral. "He's giving me a sign." He set a foot on the right side of Jude as she vaguely rose her head up, gasping in muffled, hoarsely pain. Shortly before that he scrutinized cautiously his weapon for his plotted revenge and torment.

"My welts never healed. No sunlight, no medicine, no bathing, and you never, ever checked on me! Not once! They're putrid now." Meanwhile, he commenced to drag her by her back by maneuvering her to the desk as she creeped timidly, allowing his physical strength commanding her body as she gasped reluctantly, bending on her hardwood desk as he held the cane in the other hand. "They're seeping pus!" The murderous Santa lisped beyond lividly as the blood ferociously boiled in his veins, due to the stashed ire which brewed inside him by spewing his adrenaline on the middle-aged lady.

"Maybe I'll have you lick them after I'm done, huh? Remember what you said? Huh?" He withdrew the whip seconds before whipping her exposed rear by lifting up the rigid, dark habit's hem as her hands gripped the bureau.

Flashback of her words by explaining to him God doesn't have to work hard to enter him with his light were imprinted like patches, sewed into his tattered mind.

"Guess what? There is no God. But there is a Santa Claus." Leigh began whipping her rear as she gathered discreetly the letter opener.

The whipping process's pain escalated to sorer and searing as soon as the whip brushed her bum's bare skin which was shielded by her satin's bloody red slip. Initially, she flinched when the first whip was reckoned pensively as if children were jumping on the rope and their rejoicing screams spread like eerily cheerful tunes in the background.

A handful of canes have already welted her bare rear though he thrummed inwardly to himself once the ravishing red lingerie caught his eye as if he was a bull. He knew right away the nun wasn't a virgin anymore due to the unholy lingerie, which hugged her slender, nevertheless indisputably attractive with its ageless and swan curves, highlighting her body muscles. At last but not least, the suitable sobriquet flooded his mind to portray her after noticing the provocative sultry, bright red silky, lacy slip. His lip curled by whispering after the 4th whip:

"Whore! I don't know who do you plan to seduce, however, my guesses could be either your goody two shoes security guard who licks yar heels or," He paused by clearing his dry, soar throat after starving and not drinking a fresh, cool water to resurrect his body and organs from the barrens. "Or your favorite Monsignor as I'm starting to think he doesn't know a holy whore is coming with him in Rome. And the nuns address her Mother Superior since he's the Pope and don't figure out who's standing next to the Pope." Leigh exclaimed in jeering manner as a hysterical snigger quivered in the corners of his foul-breathed mouth. She vaguely jumped after the 5th cane.

In this moment, the sister of the church abided quiet as she felt impotent to halt her worst nightmare which was in her office. Right here. Right now.

She swallowed hard after the shame and guilt concreting her hear, factly, he exposed her pettiest and most forbidden secrets. Wearing the lingerie for nobody else than her favorite priest whom she wore it on every Friday coq-au-vin dinner night. Panic was painted upon her porcelain, sanguinely tinted complexion. The heart beats' frequency encumbered her as she sensed a humongous ounce building in her contracted chest.

After a couple of whips, he slapped with the cane bluntly the desk by laying it as his callous hand shifted down to her small, perfectly shaped rear which once was as mossy and clean as peach until the welts, bruises and pink tints were illustrated as an artwork of his torture. Fingers traced the softness of her rear's flesh, relishing its silken delicateness.

Afterwards he dragged her violently towards the en-suite bedroom of hers where she spent the lonely and cold nights without a male companion.

"Are we having fun yet? Have you softened up enough to receive the light?" He threw her forcefully on the bed as she was groveling, gasping in pain again. "Except it won't be God..." He paused by kneeling on the edge of the bed, approaching her as she turned to face him, panting.The heart beats pulsated into her sensitive, petite ears which were coiffed in the wimple. "And, actually, it won't be light." The distance of their faces closed its gap as she felt the light breeze of his foul-breathed mouth hardly brushing her frantic complexion as she expected the worst at last. His hand drifted to her wimple by yanking it in swift motion in no time, releasing her angelic halo ringlet of old Hollywood honey tresses, freely coating her upper back. Her honey brown pools were fixed on his disgusting complexion in horror as it was her ultimate chance to stop him by stabbing his neck with the letter opener, which she found on her bureau.

When the letter opener's silver edge ramming the crook of his neck, thick, marvelous cataract of blood spewed as his senseless condition commanded him by slumping, releasing the mortified holy woman of his bear trap at last. Her elbows propped her weightless figure in the middle of her compact bad, watching how Leigh laid on the floor in defeatist manner. Blood coated her hand after glimpsing at him, panting in weary way after self-defending herself against the psycho.

A handful of hours have passed since her catnap's episode. 

Explicit, disturbing graphic images of the nightmare she had with her old foe, Leigh Emerson, dawned as variety of tinges tinted her tightly shut eyelids, muttering babbles which lingered on her tongue, whereas Timothy was beyond focused on his path. A waterfall of tears gushed down her cheeks, staining her pale as ghost complexion with layer of dew. 

The blonde commenced wriggling as she wedged as a little child, who had a nightmare by fearing of the dark and the imaginative monsters, which haunted not only him, but also the room, itself. 

Nonetheless Timothy heared her inward sobs which were audible for him, pulsating its unwelcoming tunes into his ears even when his attention was focused on his vehicle. 

"Jude, are you alright?" He enquired anxiously as benevolent concern tarried his utterance, parking his car in the middle of the snowy path and turning to his former lover to check on her. Obnoxious concern was sketched upon his parchment, pale as snow face by scrutinizing the older woman's uncontrallable, hysterical demeanor due to the demons of her nightmares, crawling in her mind by plaguing its cells.

"Argghhhhh! Get away from me, ya hobo Santa Claus! I told ya, I don't have any times for yar games." The middle-aged lady bewailed in agony as Timothy extended his mammoth, creamy hand to cup her cheek as her sobs escalated, floating inside the vehicle as the sound beared a semblance of nails scratching hardwood desk or plank. Suddenly, she opened her eyelids, coming to the conclusion she wasn't dreaming at all by glimpsing at the extended hand which cupped her cheek. Her frail, quivering hand was placed on top of his which cupped her cheek. Thumb featherly traced her well-defined cheekbone as it wiped away the stray tears. "T-Timothy! Where are we?"

"You're in my car. I'm driving you to our new home." Her sobs subdued as soon as her gaze met his, locking up his soothing, affectionate chocolate brown pools which were transfixed on her. His heart ached to behold her in such deliriously vulnerable, unspeakingly despaired condition. "Shu, shu, shu, rare bird! Everything will be okay. You aren't in Briarcliff anymore and I promise the things will be better especially for you as you're now safe and sound."

Silence arched between the both adults as the almost former priest noted the pigments of its sparks, glinting her hazelish-brown irises of sorrow and horror, keeping its flame igniting inside in the visual altars.

Suddenly, the ice was broken by Timothy, who was beyond inquisitve the emanation of her nightmares and delusive babbles:

"Is everything alright? Did you have nightmares?"

"Yes, I had! It was," She stuttered, struggling to resume her exclaimation by sluggishly spelling the syllables, exhaling sharply as her dry throat agonized her. "Him! The murderous Santa Claus!" In the meantime, she murmured his name which lingered on her tongue.

"Leigh Emerson?" At the moment, the former sister of the church bobbed timidly her head, swallowing hard at the thought of her gruesome nightmare and the mortifying memory, she had with him when she was trapped and locked in her austere office with nobody else than her foe. "What about him?"

"I-I was in my office as you remember my old office. I had an appointment with Mary Eunice to enter my office and Arden lock the door and instead, Leigh was the visitor by not only violating and trying to rape me, but also I stabbed him in self-defense. I was locked in my office and trapped with nobody else than with this abominable human being." The former promiscuous nightclub jazz singer stuttered, nibbling on her bottom, plumpish lip as the younger man has already wiped away the last, drying tears which rolled on her cheeks as rain drops. Further, he was beyond disgusted and livid, due to the fact, the serial killer has attempted to rape and violate her. "Afterwards my goose was cooked as I fainted as I was disgusted by the blood and finding myself strapped on bed, being under your supervision."

"I can't believe what this monster did to you! I'm indeed sorry for hearing all this and you don't deserve the worst. Please, no sad faces and tears! The life is too short for so much sorrow."

"Everything is fine! At least, I'm grateful ya listened to me and I'm so relieved."

"I'm the more relieved one for hearing your story, Judy! I will make the brightest things to happen as soon as possible as this misery and fog of nightmares vanish in the thin air." He leaned against her by pecking a tender, feather kiss on the top of her head as his berry-coloured lips scooped her head. She relished the moment of the forehead kiss.

"I hope so! I hope I'm not living a lie anymore."

"You aren't living a lie, Jude! I'm the one, who allowed this mess to fog the light which God granted you. Sooner or later, Briarcliff isn't going to flood your mind with the bomb of obnoxious memories, which will explode to make you upset only and toy with your emotions and feelings." In this moment, his other colossal, smooth hand averted from the steering wheel by taking her petite, mildly trembling hand into his, perfectly fitting by dragging it to his face, peppering a platonically doting, soft kiss on her knuckles as her face flushed. "In addition to, we're near the half way to home until we eat something delicious together. Take a break and when we arrive, I will stop the car in the yard by opening the passenger car's door for you!" Angelic, beaming smiles flourished on their lips as the former man of the cloth attempted to persuade her the things will be alright as soon as they're at home. She nodded humbly, sheepishly her head, affirming his words as the warmness of the palm of his hand, which once cupped her cheek, felicity and calmness were tattooed on her face as he adjusted his position by carrying on with driving up to the two-story mansion without an ado. 

Shortly after the car engine started as it buzzed, the former holy woman shut her eyelids as blinds by feeling her heart melting at the delicate, affectionate touch which her love interest gave her, as a result of the forehead and hand's kisses, besides the cupped cheek in the palm of his hand. It has been a long time since a man has treated her adequately unlike the majority of the men, who brought her rather trouble and messed up her life. Life, known as a dynamic roller coaster with abundance of adventures of trials, blocking her way to accomplish eventual felicity and holy light which she has hankered for ages. 

To be continued...