As Lana was sitting in her vintage furnished office as she was drinking a mug of hot herbal tea in her hand, whilst relaxing, almost not having current commitments unless her boss orders her to write another article. She seemed sublime, in fact, the unbelievable amount of audience she gathered not only of the documentary Briarcliff Exposed, but also her article she published earlier today about Father McKenzie's evanescence. The aspiring, persistent journalist's success reached its own peak in the last few days. She was far from failure. She combatted for justice as always.

She omitted a sigh as she relished, watching out the window at the other facades and the walking strangers on the aesthetic New York streets. Sipping her hot beverage.

"What a nice time in the day to relax!" Her inner voice spoke to her, expressing her recent thought.

All of a sudden, an usual door tap cut her thoughts off as one of her closest colleagues, Alice, entered in her office, opening the door as she closed it.

"Lana, I have great news!" The blonde burst out hysterically cheerful as she strolled up to the brunette's desk as their eyes met, locked up in one another's gazes.

"It has to do with the article earlier today?" Lana attempted to guess as she pursed her lips for a while, placing the mug of herbal tea aloof.

"Exactly! It has reached hundreds of Bostonians." Alice declared jubilantly as her fingertips tipped the hardwood desk, a slight smile distorted across her plump, rubicund lips. "We should celebrate this ocassion, Lana!"

"Oh really?" She got from her chair as she threw her arms around the younger woman's upper back, tugging her in a tight and warm embrace that lasted for a half a minute. "We should highlight this tremendous success in less than 48 hours."

"Exactly! I am so proud of you." Shortly after they promptly broke off the embrace as Lana seated on her chair again, sipping her tea.

"I truly appreciate it."

***

The evening settled on the horizon as the moon hovered up in the nocturnal sky, moonlight dropping its luster below, illuminating partly the partly enveloped by the shadows church. Even the night hours were approaching far from sluggish than the expected since it was mid autumn. The tranquility. The nocturnal serenity. That's what the dark hours of the day were for.

Whereas the evening hours were rather relaxing for some, on the contrary, for others they weren't at all. Especially in Father McKenzie's case.

Whilst the young priest, a former administrator of the notorious nuthouse in Boston, was all alone in his dorm room after a tough day, he was praying and praying his heart out, hoping either a nun or a priest doesn't finds out about the inglorious newspaper article. Further, he prayed for the imminent days that awaited him, knocking on his door to live for today and tomorrow, the future. Alexander opted to leave behind as an oblivious prejudice that the cops will chase him and question him over the loathsome atrocities which he has committed.

"Surround us with Your divine hedge of protection. Encompass us round about with Your strength and Your might. Let all who take refuge in You be glad, let them ever sing for joy. And may You shelter us," During the prayer, he was interrupted due to a door tap as he took a frustrated, deep breath, still positioned as he's dwelled on the floor on his knees, bowing as his forehead was barely an inch away from his creamy hands. "Who is it?" Father McKenzie enquired, meanwhile the door opened as one of the nuns he knew since the debut of his priesthood.

The nun who stepped in his dorm was actually approximately middle aged one with slender body build, tall around 5'4, possessing pale, porcelain skin color, cold-blooded amber 2 pair of irises, rosy-coloured lips, chestnut hair, shoulder length as her hair bangs were freely exposed from her wimple, covering every inch of her hair that possessed once its silkiness.

"Evening, Father!"

"Evening, Sister Molly!"

"Pardon me for interrupting your prayer, if I..." She was cut off in the middle of her sentence as she squeaky door behind her. A slight, sympathetic smile curled up in the corner of her lips.

"It's okay. I was just praying!" He rose as he adjusted his posture, facing the older nun that stood against him, inches dividing them.

"You shouldn't apologize at all. The prayers are the excellent medicament for your soul."

"I know." A cocky, mild grin formed on his face. "And that's why..."

"What can you say about this, Father? What's your word on this sheet of paper, leaked earlier today?" Sister Molly demonstrated the newspaper with the obnoxious article that popped up in front of his winter blue eyes as their faces grimaced, meantime he scowled, glancing glaringly right at the article's headline. His heart freezed as his bile was in his stomach. His blood vigorously boiling in his veins like lava. Narrowed eyebrows as his temple creased.

He swallowed a lump in his throat, trying to figure out how to answer the older nun without much apprehension and impulsiveness. In the meantime, Alexander took a deep breath, imitating cleaning his throat.

"Take your time to assimilate it! You don't need to answer me right away."

The juvenile priest was as numb as a statue. Little did he know how indignant was the older woman in habit. He sensed it though he should be aware what kind of a response to deliver her. Alexander shook his head as he was ready to reply:

"This article is a lie about me. This journalist is the reason why my name is wearing a heinous title."

Further, the monsignor opted to lie the older nun as much as he could save his own skin from the venomous claws of his rivals.

Fortunately, Sister Molly was objective in the way she observed and suspected the things in the life generally. She wasn't misguided at all. It was obvious in her practical life experience how she's going to deal with the manipulator's compulsive lies.

"Oh, Father! You are so illusional! Can't you realize," She paused, didn't breaking the mutual eye contact, cocking up the newspaper into his eyes. "your lies won't get too far?"

Hence, he couldn't suppress a sharp inhale.

"The police will begin to search for you. They will inquire you. They will..."

"I know what exactly awaits me, Sister." He snapped at her as he drastically changed his tone.

"You don't belong here!"

"What?" Alexander arched an eyebrow in puzzled way.

"You should move somewhere else, Father." The nun exhaled dramatically. "Listen, this isn't about me. If you stay there yet, they will start to enquire me about you as they are perhaps know your current location."

Alexander couldn't oppress a dissatisfied sigh as he listened attentively, uninvitingly in the same time.

"I am trying to protect you." Molly continued with her caution, eyeing his suddenly darkened azure blue pools as sparkles of ire and lack of power.

The hypocritical man of the cloth was dumbfound, in fact, he was endangered and he will be assaulted with abundance of questions over the atrocities which he accounts for. His face became palish immediately.

"What tough days lately! You are probably right, Sister. I can't blame you."

"W-what is supposed to mean yar pathetic tale of woe?" Molly posed the question sternly, remorselessly. "I am not a fool." On the contrary, she was sceptical if he determines himself to move somewhere else, in case, to shun off as quickly as possible.

"Ha! Sister Molly, I am gravely serious. I will leave there and move as far as my stamina allows me." In the interim, the older lady looked up at his azure blue eyes in distrust, unable to cut him off as she perceived it as a brusque. "I promise I will flee in a matter of hours! All I want from you Sistah is...to not divulge me if the police comes here and starts with the questions." 

The nun just nodded her head, affirming his words instead of arguing as she yields to keep her promise or otherwise betray the juvenile priest. 

Sister Molly Fischer has been a woman, devoted to God for a decade due to a woe, enforcing her to become a woman of the cloth and marrying herself to God as it owns every cell of hers. She has known Alexander since he joined the church at brittle age. She spent years with him, guiding him to the right thing though his profound, grim secrets which he concealed under the clerical attires, disguising himself as a pious priest. Molly was aware of his actions and hypocrisy. Essentially, she justified him and his actions, factually because of his young age.

***

"Timothy, the dinner is ready!" Jude exclaimed as her voice could be heard from a hundred metres away. 

"I'm there in a second." He was in the middle of dismantling the piano in the living room as he left the unfinished project for later on. Eventually after dinner.

Timothy was dismantling the piano for a few hours as he needed more time until he indeedly finishes. 

Once he walked out from the living room as he headed up to the kitchen as he was met with Jude serving plates with pasta on the kitchen table after the green salad and the silverware eating tools. 

The twins seated next to one another as they waited patiently for their father to come and sit with Jude, whilst Agnes was sitting in her high chair. As soon as Timothy was in the kitchen, he washed his hands and the parents seated on the kitchen table as they commenced eating in silence and from time to time talking along.

"So how's the piano dismantling going, sweetie?" Jude posed the question leisurely. 

"It's well. I am just in the middle of the process." He concluded with an optimistic, versatile smile. 

"That's good." The blonde responded after munching some pasta noodles, melting in her mouth. Then she shifted her warm, loving, dazzling hazel eyes to Ellie, Tristan and Agnes, broadly smiling to them as always. "Hey, my lovely little angels!" In this moment, Timothy's chocolate eyes darted to their minis. 

"Yeah, Mommy?" Ellie asked gamely after chewing her pasta noodles and sipping her natural orange juice. 

"Do ya like the pasta? How does it taste?" 

"It's delicious." 

"I am delighted to hear it." The former nun agreed as she kept on with eating. 

"Do you know what, sweethearts?" Timothy inquired a rhetorical question, awaiting for his children's reaction as they wide-eyed at the former priest, whereas they just masticated and masticated. "If you really like your mama's cooking, I cannot disagree." He chuckled, pausing for a while. "She's doubtlessly an excellent cook. She used to cook for me such scrumptious meals and having wonderful dinners along." Then he couldn't contain the snigger that escaped his lips. 

"Timothy!" Jude blushed momentarily as she addressed him in faint jitter, followed by a laughter whilst the children ate in silence. 

"I am just telling the truth, rare bird!" Timothy confessed cordially. 

Hence, Jude gave him an affectionate smile as she proceed with continuing her dinner meal. Her heart commenced melting after hearing his compliments about her cooking, besides calling her rare bird. 

***

After the priest finished with his frugal dinner as he was accompanied by other priests and nuns in the local church, located in Boston, he entered in his dorm room where he spent the forsaken, cold nights by himself. With no lover. No family. No children. With no one to turn to. 

Fortunately, during the dinner between the clerical faces of the catholic church, no one raised the topic about the notorious article about Father McKenzie's abominations in the recently exposed ill-famed mental hospital for criminally insane, his successful escape and the documentary, mentioning out loud his name. It was such a relief for the young man himself.

When he was all alone with his thoughts in his dorm, he picked up his leather suitcase, commencing to pack some of his belongings that remained from his childhood as the monsignor determines to leave Boston and go back in his birth city Salem. Alexander attempted to figure out when he establishes in Salem what awaits him, factly, he will be unknown to its citizens. Nevertheless, there's a hurdle will occur. If the notorious priest moves from Boston to Salem and sees his parents, what would happen? Are they going to question him?  Are they going to recognize their son in what kind of a monster he had become since the glory and power are his priorities? 

By the way, he was praying during the luggage prepation, storing his personal items in the suitcase and packing them gradually until he emptied the dorm room, leaving it with its ordinary, intact furnitures just like before his settlement. 

"Lord God, I pray for Your protection as I begin this day. You are my hiding place, and under Your wings I can always find refuge. Protect me from trouble wherever I go, and keep evil far from me." He commenced with his prayers, whilst storing his belongings in the leather suitcase in the dim light room, illuminated by a candle as it its flame was the sole source for light. 

After Alexander was done with collecting every item of his and recited his prayer, he blew out the candle as he fled his dorm room within seconds, storming off the church as he went up to his car, setting the suitcase next to his seat and driving away as far as he can in the dark countryside's streets of Boston.

Once he began driving through the shadowed asphalt, he turned on the radio to change its station until he heard the radio news speaking in the background, announcing its current news:

"The notorious priest Father Stanley McKenzie will be inquired by the police from tomorrow as they are well aware where's his current location since he left Briarcliff to demolish, have negotiated with Father Malachi and returned back in the church where he used to be before his election."

"Screw it!" Alexander grumbled, huffed as he changed the radio station as from radio news it switched on a music station, playing in the background an eloquent, melodic music.

"There's a fog upon L.A. And my friends have lost their way. We'll be over soon they said..."

In spite of the former head of Briarcliff wasn't fan of the Beatles, he rather liked their music and found it for peculiarly relaxing, serene. Father McKenzie was particularly focused on his driving rather than the echoes of his rivals, haunting him like phantoms, roaming in the hollow. 

"Now they've lost themselves instead. Please don't be long please don't you be very long. Please don't be long or I may be asleep." The Beatles sang in the background yet, seizing the priest's problems and negative thoughts as he released himself from them once he doused himself in the mist seas of the placidity. In the meantime, he didn't miss the chance to hum.

To be continued...