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MICHAEL LANGDON HAD A PARTICULAR HATRED OF PRIESTS. There was no way he couldn't, after all. Their existence went against everything he believed, everything he was born to be. Every essence of their being went against his father, even praying daily for his downfall. He felt a sense of loyalty towards his lineage - meaning he detested everyone involved with religion. Priests and church-goers alike.
But his resentment steadily grew to a full-blown hatred as he developed. An incident where his grandmother brought in a priest to 'cure him' of his so-called troubles springing to mind.
The priest believed the devil had a grasp of his childhood mind, preyed on his innocence and manifested itself by prompting him to commit evil acts. So when Constance left them alone, the priest would speak words that caused his ears to burn, a blinding pain resonating through his skull. His reaction only spurred the priest on more, as if he delighted in Michael's pain, when really - he just wanted to rid the child of evil.
His grandmother was disgusted when she found the scene. Michael only understood more about it now, but he still thought it was wrong of her to be so angry at her grandson for defending himself.
He remembered the experience so vividly, he knew better than to enter the church he was seated outside of. Michael lounged lazily on the stone steps, his eyes transfixed on the moon while he waited patiently. Funnily enough, patience wasn't a virtue he was ever bestowed with before. But he was willing to wait for this.
The priest from his younger years sprang to mind when the subject of his evening finally exited through the front entrance, eagerly locking it behind him. They looked nothing alike - this one had dark skin and a hairless head. But their purpose was all the same.
Besides, this wasn't his first time to kill a priest.
It wasn't hard to track down where Molly attended Mass, quietly following behind her that same morning. He waited until she left, looking positively glowing. Radiant was not a good enough word to describe the lightness Molly practically emanated everywhere she went. He didn't know how she could stand to go to the same church after her incident the week before, but he didn't question it.
"Are you okay, son?" A voice sounded from behind him, Michael's eyes falling to the ground beneath him. The priest approached the boy, who wore nothing but a t-shirt and shorts despite the cooler night air. Cooler than normal for California.
He approached the boy until he was standing beside him, taking in his young appearance. Michael looked no more than seventeen or eighteen.
"Have you got a place to sleep tonight?" The priest pressed, hesitating before placing a hand on his shoulder in comfort, worried for his well-being and eager to help any lost soul.
