With the somnambulant ease of good practice a new patient is escorted by two burley male care assistants from the black cab at the wrought iron gates to the stoney doorsteps of Briarcliff manor on a stormy November evening. There in the rain waiting for the sullen looking teenage girl in a hospital gown and scruffy pair of safety mittens waits a Catholic nun clad in night black robes with an umbrella and a precautionary shot of Diazapam at hand.

"Sister Jude I'd watch this one, she's slippery."

"Boris, do you really underestimate my capability to institutionalize a girl who barely weighs ninety pounds?"

"She's a smart one s'all I'm saying Sister." Boris mutters pushing the girl forward who's sight is somewhat blinded by the expending light from the hallway.

"Hmm we'll see how smart she is when I'm finished with her." The girl jerks her head and steps back almost knocking into Boris when sister Jude tries to touch her.

"But Sister Jude, if I may, don't be too hard on the girl I mean, she ain't tried to escape or nothin."

Sister Jude let's out a somewhat kind of wind chime cackle before she reefs the girl forward into the building, but before she closes the door she turns to face the two rain sodden men in trench coats, addressing only one.

"Boris, if you want to know something about teenage girls just know that they're not like boys. They congregate in packs but have next to no loyalty when they want something. They're patient about it, tactful. If they're gonna escape they'll wait months before they actually do it, whatever's necessary. They'll charm and flirt their way out of a place like this before ever thinking of running for those gates down yonder."

"Right you are Sister Jude."

"Yes, now if you'll excuse me I have an institution to run so I think I'll leave it here for tonight."

"Very well Sister Jude."

"Goodnight Gentlemen."