Chapter Six: Wine, Blood, and Silence
They attacked Ella first.
It wasn’t in some dark alley or shadowy parking lot—it was in the school clinic, of all places.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXY0stTiTBP
She had gone for a mandatory physical exam after her scholarship renewal. There were cameras in the hallway, nurses on duty, and a waiting room full of students.
Still, someone locked the door behind her.
The nurse on record—Sister Mel—was gone that day. Instead, a man wearing a white coat with no nameplate whispered her name like an accusation:
“Martinez. You’ve stirred too much.”
She remembers the sharp sting on her arm before her knees gave in.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoLPGdJHakn
The room smelled like alcohol.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQ1RM4iXNR2
And fear.
When she woke up, her blouse was half-unbuttoned, but nothing else had happened.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcbNTmJv8IP
Not yet.
Because someone barged in.
“ELLA!”
It was Ely.
Sweating. Wild-eyed.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8Fw3qG6iby
And behind him—an actual nurse, panicked and holding a master key.
The man in the coat fled through the fire exit. Gone before anyone could ID him.
After that, the school board could no longer deny the danger.
Ella was escorted to safety, moved into a safe house run by a nun from a rival congregation.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzmRZtTgseP
The blog was shut down, but not before its final entry went viral:
“If I disappear, if I die,8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkVA20xjxOw
Don’t light a candle for me.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTiSQxE3jd3
Burn the whole church down.”
That same week, Father Ely received a letter from the Archdiocese:
“You are hereby suspended indefinitely pending investigation into your conduct, which has caused scandal to the Church and confusion among the faithful…”
Scandal.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKkPwgfVqLf
Not abuse.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxTfC7WvZ4W
Not cover-up.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡooEur19ZrS
Not rape.
Scandal.
They called his protection of victims more offensive than the sins of their predator.
Ely no longer wore his collar.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQCb8Fn8aWo
But he still carried his cross.
And in his bag was a bottle of sacramental wine, not for the Mass—but for evidence.
He had begun tracking every Eucharist hosted by the accused priest—Fr. Emiliano, the man protected for decades.
What he discovered was darker than even he expected.
Some wine bottles were laced with sedatives.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6K0JvNHJTA
Some wafers had traces of something not holy.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXoQaLgPM7P
And one victim—an altar boy—confessed that “Father gives me a sip before bed. Says it’s the blood of obedience.”
Ely gathered the bottles.
He took the confession.
He knew it was time.
To break his vow of silence.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXhlUeAg6bA
Even if it meant breaking the Church itself.
But that night, someone left him a letter slipped through the chapel door:
“You are not the Savior. Stop pretending to be.”8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡth6EQKedZl
“People like us disappear in silence. Just like our victims.”
Ely sat in the pews, gripping his rosary so tightly the beads dug into his palms.
He didn’t weep.
He prayed.
Not to be saved.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡg0XoZC67zz
But to endure.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡG5YH2E5d7I
And to bring every buried truth into the light.
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIPwPjMkdIc
