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.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmtFpkbGmXQ
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.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhPAapq1u9q
The room smelled like alcohol.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJGvh35419v
And fear.
When she woke up, her blouse was half-unbuttoned, but nothing else had happened.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ47lv0bpv3R
Not yet.
Because someone barged in.
“ELLA!”
It was Ely.
Sweating. Wild-eyed.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡV7pvZrvxKB
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.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPzaXhl1XNs
The blog was shut down, but not before its final entry went viral:
“If I disappear, if I die,9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMjHaaRlNZi
Don’t light a candle for me.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSRqBmyU1JV
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.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1mdVEfGWY8
Not abuse.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0LZD9QaO1a
Not cover-up.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzwNAvl10Lz
Not rape.
Scandal.
They called his protection of victims more offensive than the sins of their predator.
Ely no longer wore his collar.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrNuuVEnZ04
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.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4nfA3dArMK
Some wafers had traces of something not holy.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEL8rphZDGn
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.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqPYWXvPyA2
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.”9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡu2d1Oc6lnF
“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.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡw4zKy9gxHk
But to endure.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdaxzgSSqOo
And to bring every buried truth into the light.
9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡO1TmEwJdiq
