Chapter Three: Her Sins, His Silence
The confessional was designed for anonymity.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyWyynkWhJM
Dark wood. Slatted screen. A veil of sacred secrecy between the confessor and the priest.
But that day, the booth felt too intimate.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡg42avIpyS0
Like a trap cloaked in incense.
She spoke quietly at first.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡm1tdiO161f
As if afraid that God Himself might be listening too closely.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”
Her name was Ella Martinez.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7cBT6R08uW
But she didn’t say that.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5CCICrjNpp
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.”9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2jhJWlXSs4
“Who, hija?” Ely asked, keeping his tone neutral.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuncXvIor59
“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.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQHmgC3AGXF
But this one felt different.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0qFxHTfJ3v
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.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQAbztP9w28
Wrapped in holy vocabulary.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡETAM56zATc
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.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcHdnkniwse
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.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlqWjrQiaZW
Unmoving. Eyes burning.
Because something inside him had shifted.
He wasn’t just a listener anymore.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiXDe7xScyX
He was a witness.
And he couldn’t unhear what he’d heard.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQ3QgCJwyqD
Couldn’t unknow what he now knew.
That night, Ely lit a candle in the convent’s private chapel.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvgRf5EFNdF
He didn’t pray.
He stared at the flame.
And whispered—
ns216.73.216.209da2“Forgive me, Lord… but I don’t think silence is holy anymore.”
