[Hospital Therapy Wing — Late Afternoon]
Dr. Luka Kovač stands by the window, thumbing through a patient chart, concerned. He grabs the pager and sends a quick message.
Pager Message:
“Dr. Nelly Furtado to Therapy Room 3. Urgent consult.”
Moments later, Dr. Nelly Furtado strides in, a warm but firm presence. She nods at Luka, who breathes a sigh of relief.
Dr. Luka Kovač (low voice):
“Thanks for coming, Nelly. It’s Angelina Jolie. She’s… in a volatile mood. Talking about grand futures one minute, self-harm the next. If it were up to me…” (he smiles wryly) “…I’d endorse Shiloh for UN President already. But right now, Angelina needs focus, not despair.”
He steps closer to Angelina, who is sitting cross-legged on the therapy couch, fidgeting with a pen — too tightly.
Dr. Luka Kovač (gentle, steady):
“Ms. Jolie, listen to me carefully. I greenlight your ambitions — all of them. The world needs your heart, not your silence. But please… do not sever your aorta with a pen. Not today. Not ever.”
Angelina looks up at him, blinking, caught between a tear and a laugh. Dr. Nelly moves in smoothly to take over the session, her voice like a balm.
Title: The Young Pope and the Shadow Beneath the Mind
Setting: A dimly lit chamber in the Apostolic Palace, candlelight flickers against the faces of gathered physicians, psychologists, and Vatican advisers. Angelina Jolie is not present, but her case looms over the room like incense smoke. Pope Pius XIII enters, wearing stark white, eyes burning with righteous clarity.
Pope Pius XIII (calm but cutting):
“I’ve read the case notes. The testimonies. The contradictions. And the silences between the lines.”
The doctors exchange cautious glances.
Pius XIII:
“Some of you claim Angelina suffers from false memory syndrome. That the horrors she recalls — the rituals, the masks, the torches, the blood — are inventions. Distortions. Psychological noise.”
He walks slowly, hands behind his back, stopping in front of the lead psychologist.
Pius XIII (low voice):
“But I wonder… is it her mind that’s confused? Or is it your faith that’s gone blind?”
A long silence.
Pius XIII (sharper now):
“There is a Satanic network in this world. It has many faces — not just the grotesque masks of cults, but the marble smiles of billionaires, the wine-soaked feasts of secret clubs, the eyes of men who believe they are gods.”
He turns to face the whole room.
Pius XIII:
“These rituals exist. They are not folklore. They are the religion of power. And if you — in your pride — dismiss them as delusions, then you are not healers. You are useful idiots, or worse — merchants of Mammon, who will say anything for a grant, a headline, or a raise.”
A younger doctor stammers:
Psychiatrist:
“But Holy Father… it’s hard to prove…”
Pius XIII (interrupting, voice like thunder):
“Because the devil buries his footprints in gold. Because you don’t want to see them.”
He steps closer.
Pius XIII:
“You think you’re practicing science. But if you ignore evil, you are practicing cowardice. And no soul was ever healed by a coward.”
He pauses. Then, quietly:
Pius XIII:
“I will not let her be devoured by the wolves of reason who have no room for mystery — or memory. If you will not believe her, I will.”
The doctors bow their heads. The candles seem to flicker stronger, as if in agreement.