Chapter Three: Her Sins, His Silence
The confessional was designed for anonymity.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSa3FtVRgh8
Dark wood. Slatted screen. A veil of sacred secrecy between the confessor and the priest.
But that day, the booth felt too intimate.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxEgenp1yAf
Like a trap cloaked in incense.
She spoke quietly at first.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtoqVwJMWrg
As if afraid that God Himself might be listening too closely.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”
Her name was Ella Martinez.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGnp6PFo6E8
But she didn’t say that.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFthKjRk3we
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.”17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡC7PTH9FNp2
“Who, hija?” Ely asked, keeping his tone neutral.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡr3nLGS8lqj
“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.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuHDUfSgTnk
But this one felt different.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzqUS9vEXhI
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.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNoRCHSNEGQ
Wrapped in holy vocabulary.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3dy3vUSbGj
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.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8hEFPZqXr0
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.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFR1yB5aiBi
Unmoving. Eyes burning.
Because something inside him had shifted.
He wasn’t just a listener anymore.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHnDec9qyhS
He was a witness.
And he couldn’t unhear what he’d heard.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgnWBPdTmni
Couldn’t unknow what he now knew.
That night, Ely lit a candle in the convent’s private chapel.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmPmgAX4txw
He didn’t pray.
He stared at the flame.
And whispered—
ns216.73.216.251da2“Forgive me, Lord… but I don’t think silence is holy anymore.”
