Judy considers the razor. She heads out to a diner, excuses herself to the ladies' room and imagines slicing deep up her arms, her blood gushing out. She imagines herself dying alone in that cramped room on that dirty floor. She doesn't though, thank God. There are prettier ways to die, for one. She returns to her booth at the diner, only to find the Dark Bird of America there waiting for her. Surprisingly (or not surprisingly?) Judy greets her like an old adversary. "You jumped the gun again," Jude tells her. "It was a passing thought. Nothing but a passing thought." They proceed to have a captivating conversation about all the times the Angel has visited her. Jude calls herself the little girl who cried wolf. The Angel says her "song" was more piercing and plaintive this time. Jude, crying, wonders what was so different than the first time, when her fiancé left her after he'd given her syphilis and left her barren and despairing. All she ever wanted was a family of her own, she says. "Why didn't I die that night?" The Angel tells her she was still young and holding on to hope. And the night she ran over that little girl? "That was the night God revealed his plan for you," the Angel says. He gave her a calling. Jude despairs that He's now taken that calling away. She figures He figured out that she never quite rose to His challenge. She calls herself a drunken whore and a murderer. Hey now! Only Devil Eunice gets to talk to you like that! She takes a swig of her bourbon as the Angel tells her she deserves some peace, a peace befitting her "extraordinary tireless efforts to find meaning in this life." Okay, true. She's also exhibited extraordinary tireless efforts to inflict pain and torture on her patients. That too. The Angel wonders how Jude plans to ride out the long, cold winters, subsisting on crackers and coffee and bourbon. "Peace is so close, sister." Okay, this seems like proselytizing. No fair for Death to go for the hard sell. Alas, Jude tells her she's ready. She just has to do one last thing. Over by the counter, two waitresses look over at Jude, dining alone, and cluck sympathetically: maybe they should call Briarcliff. At least there she could get a bed for the night. Aw. Maybe Jude can subsist on coffee, crackers, whiskey and irony.
After the break, it's the next day, and we see what one last thing Sister Jude was talking about. She's sitting in the living room of some nice, upper-middle-class, older-middle-aged couple and she's looking very nervous. The wife of the couple has a tiny baby in her arms, which only exacerbates whatever Jude's feeling. It's guilt, of course. These are the parents of the girl she ran down. Missy was her name and Sister Jude is pretending she was one of her teachers way back when. The parents are asking her specifics of what classes she taught Missy in, but Jude gets distracted by a framed photograph of the family. She starts blubbering about how she remembers Missy's little blue coat. The parents are being very cheerful right now. Jude gathers herself and begins to explain her story when the door opens and a twenty-something woman in a nurse's uniform walks in. Still has those cat's eye glasses, though. It's Missy! That baby is hers! Sister Jude takes a few moments to process everything. She starts crying in the meantime. Missy and her mom look at her kind of cross-eyed, but the father is stern. The father maybe suspects what's really happening here, though he never says it. Sister Jude covers for herself with what is basically the truth, or a version of it: Missy's accident was a contributing factor to her decision to become a nun, which is why she's reacting so emotionally. And lately, she's been having something of a crisis of faith, so Missy turning up alive right now seems like a sign. The mother talks about how her husband, Hank, used to struggle with this too. He wanted revenge with the "bastard" who did this to her. Hank is still silently staring a hole through Sister Jude. "We get to live with our daughter," the mother says, pleasantly enough. "The monster who left her there has to live with himself." Sister Jude lets that one sink in.