Chapter Three: Her Sins, His Silence
The confessional was designed for anonymity.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfOzgJFkyO2
Dark wood. Slatted screen. A veil of sacred secrecy between the confessor and the priest.
But that day, the booth felt too intimate.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5a4PveAgZU
Like a trap cloaked in incense.
She spoke quietly at first.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLsGSUzraM8
As if afraid that God Himself might be listening too closely.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”
Her name was Ella Martinez.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5iADjNj8Nl
But she didn’t say that.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyXEleqWShT
Not at first.
She was a student. University-run by the same congregation that governed the parish, the convent, the seminary. Everything interlaced in invisible cords of power. No one outran it. Especially not a girl like her.
“I think I… I made him want me.”10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡf6IjNZmLhB
“Who, hija?” Ely asked, keeping his tone neutral.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTCnoRPwPXA
“Fr. Vico. He touched me. I didn’t say no. But I didn’t say yes either.”
Silence.
The kind that weighed heavier than judgment.
Ely had heard many stories over the years.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0NpP6J3ny2
But this one felt different.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlQeJfQu1ai
Maybe it was the way she said his name—Fr. Vico—like it was both a wound and a chain.
“He said I was special,” Ella continued. “That I reminded him of the Blessed Virgin. That if I told anyone, I’d be hurting God’s servant.”
There it was. The manipulation. The grooming.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSiCq9orCJ7
Wrapped in holy vocabulary.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3NMQd9NLiA
Camouflaged behind rituals.
Ely clenched his fists in the dark.
He knew Vico. A smooth talker. Younger than most. The kind of priest who wore his cassock tight and his homilies looser. Popular with students. Praised by the bishop. A rising star.
And now… this.
Ella didn’t cry.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyGxg84SI0E
She didn’t ask for forgiveness.
She just needed to say it out loud.
“Am I going to hell?” she asked.
Ely’s voice cracked—so softly she couldn’t hear it.
“No,” he whispered. “No, anak. Hell is for those who use God to touch what isn’t theirs.”
She exhaled—like she’d been holding her breath for months.
Then she left.
And Ely stayed in the booth long after.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡT2FBtE3tSI
Unmoving. Eyes burning.
Because something inside him had shifted.
He wasn’t just a listener anymore.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfVn3y3870c
He was a witness.
And he couldn’t unhear what he’d heard.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgzvpQ2HFdG
Couldn’t unknow what he now knew.
That night, Ely lit a candle in the convent’s private chapel.10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0PmT1Veh0P
He didn’t pray.
He stared at the flame.
And whispered—
ns216.73.216.203da2“Forgive me, Lord… but I don’t think silence is holy anymore.”
