Chapter Two: The Flesh Beneath the Robes
They were men.35Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡP8HEoGvgDo
Long before they were priests, they were men.
And inside the whitewashed walls of the convent, when the incense faded and the faithful had gone home—the rituals became routine, and the temptations bled through.
Not every priest was corrupt.35Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgyE5G6Umoc
But not every priest was clean.
Father Ely had long known this. He’d seen it too many times, especially in confession rooms that doubled as therapy booths for his fellow clergy. They came to him not just to confess—but to vent, to justify, to seek forgiveness without change.
“Forgive me, Father, for I slept with another sacristan. He said he was twenty—he wasn’t.”35Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡm36lwvJJQU
“Forgive me, Father, I took church money again. Just a little. For my dying mother. And a new iPhone.”35Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEpY8QkPYko
“Forgive me, Father, I was in Solaire last night. Baccarat was flowing. So was the wine. I wore my collar under my jacket. It made the waitresses nervous.”
Some were secret drinkers.35Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpEM0ENxcE7
Others had private Grindr accounts under fake names.35Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYwpHF6Snwo
A few kept women in apartments rented from the university funds.
They joked about it in whispers.35Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡe1BdlAIoRk
Called themselves the "Brotherhood of Flesh."35Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYxEeBkgYAF
A mocking nod to the vows they all broke in some way.
They weren’t all predators.35Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGbMAntqemI
But some were.
There was Fr. Lino, soft-spoken, fond of young choir boys. He never touched them—no. But the way his hand lingered on shoulders, the extra-long “spiritual retreats” he scheduled with his favorite boys—everyone knew. But no one reported him.
Because in San Bartolome, you don’t expose a priest.35Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLCsJsHR2Vu
You protect the image, even if it kills the truth.
“We are shepherds,” the Prior once said in a closed-door meeting. “And shepherds must sometimes keep the flock in line—by silence.”
That silence was golden.35Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2EPNt8k175
It funded casinos.35Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQsK7rWJKeH
It protected reputations.35Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXKSSXUQiJS
It buried scandals like corpses under marble floors.
Even Father Ely—the one they called the golden boy—had secrets.35Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMsgEb2Mse0
He didn’t touch children. He didn’t steal. He didn’t gamble.
But he was lonely.35Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDF40r1VAuJ
Deeply. Quietly.35Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡx79nvIqM8A
And sometimes that loneliness took the shape of a sin he refused to name aloud.
That was before Ella Martinez walked into the confession room.35Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkIerzuFDc2
Before her voice—shaky, soft, braver than most—asked him something that unsettled his soul.
“Father, what happens when you want to believe… but the people of God are the ones hurting you?”
Ely couldn’t answer right away.
Because her voice reminded him of something he buried.35Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFohV42kNTO
Because he, too, once asked that same question—35Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡT5nfbJuyOV
Only difference was… no one answered him.
