Chapter 18: When Heaven Refused to Answer
They told Ella she was cursed.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4vMnIiJJX9
They told Ely he was possessed.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwZneCPWneb
They told Clark he was deceived by a Jezebel.
But none of them could explain the silence that followed the truth.
No thundering rebuttal from the Church.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDoMQHK8Qlh
No divine intervention.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFUF6YYNibF
Just… headlines.
“Priest Linked to Abuse Found Dead in Seminary Grounds.”8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtWb12AFS8M
“Vatican Investigates Leaked Documents from Former Augustinian.”8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHXhlfbxnS5
“Victim-Turned-Whistleblower Breaks Silence on Clerical Exploitation.”
Ella sat at the edge of the old convent rooftop, her hair undone, wind wild around her like a halo of war. Below her, the media vans waited. Not for salvation. For spectacle.
Clark climbed beside her. “It’s starting.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I’m not going down there to play the martyr.”
“You’re not,” he said. “You’re going down there as a survivor.”
She didn’t respond immediately. Her eyes were locked on the horizon, where the cross on the seminary’s chapel still stood unbothered—uncracked, untouched.
“Do you ever wonder,” Ella said, “what if we’re wrong? What if we are the deceived ones?”
Clark shook his head. “We didn’t destroy anything. We just told the truth.”
Ella stood. Her hands were shaking.
Not from fear. From exhaustion.
Years of being silent. Of being groomed. Of being spiritualized and damned at the same time.
Ely met them at the base of the convent. He looked thinner, his eyes sunken. He no longer wore his cassock, only a plain white shirt. A rosary still hung from his neck, but not as a badge—only as memory.
“They’ve sent someone from Rome,” he said quietly. “He wants to speak to you.”
“To threaten me or to absolve me?” Ella asked.
Ely hesitated. “Maybe both.”
Clark stepped forward. “We’ll record everything.”
Ella turned to him and gave a small, tired smile.
“You still think we’re the good guys, don’t you?”
“No,” Clark said. “I just think the truth deserves a camera.”
That afternoon, they didn’t shout. They didn’t cry. They walked into the university auditorium—now packed with reporters, senators, victims, and priests—with the calm of people who already burned in hell and came back with stories.
The papal envoy sat in silence.
He watched the footage.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfUT80c56OM
He read the files.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBicYskNKLS
He listened to Ella’s statement.
And when he finally stood, he said:
“There will be internal investigations.”
But no apology.
No accountability.
And when Ella asked, “Do you believe us?”—he only replied:
“It is not my place to judge. Only God sees the whole truth.”
Outside, protestors were growing.
Some called her hero. Others, demon.
But Ella didn’t flinch.
That night, as they drove back to the small safehouse Clark had rented for them, she turned to him in the dark car and whispered:
“Do you think… they’ll kill me?”
Clark held her hand tightly. “No. They’ll try to erase you. That’s worse.”
Ella nodded.
And then smiled bitterly.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLul99MBt7m
“They can try.”
