Chapter Three: Her Sins, His Silence
The confessional was designed for anonymity.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDqnaoWWR3A
Dark wood. Slatted screen. A veil of sacred secrecy between the confessor and the priest.
But that day, the booth felt too intimate.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUY22V7S6sd
Like a trap cloaked in incense.
She spoke quietly at first.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkOjCtX6EgT
As if afraid that God Himself might be listening too closely.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”
Her name was Ella Martinez.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9OsDCFX2Zd
But she didn’t say that.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmNNrX8Rqog
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.”8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCleWa6VZNt
“Who, hija?” Ely asked, keeping his tone neutral.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOdVDuootoU
“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.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBHurqEo3M1
But this one felt different.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVT1ZwnLGRi
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.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiASA9T1x4A
Wrapped in holy vocabulary.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYcu2xDuQT3
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.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2SR8FTGiJE
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.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdauDYc0lB9
Unmoving. Eyes burning.
Because something inside him had shifted.
He wasn’t just a listener anymore.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQK9OyLd2Ff
He was a witness.
And he couldn’t unhear what he’d heard.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVwbD2kfb9R
Couldn’t unknow what he now knew.
That night, Ely lit a candle in the convent’s private chapel.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQ6FoO2Mcm1
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.”
