Las Dos Marias

Chapter 25: The Priest's Deception

Father Enrique paced back and forth in the small room behind the chapel. Chaos swirled in his mind as he stared through the high window. He could feel his breath coming in short, shallow gasps, as if he might collapse at any moment. Even his prayers felt shallow as he tried to divert his focus.

"He has been gone too long," he whispered over and over, craning his neck to look toward the path leading up to the church. Each tick of the clock deepened the anxiety and dread he'd been feeling since dawn. Every so often, his brow would furrow as he turned away from the window and resumed his restless pacing.

Just then, a soft knock at the door startled him. He turned abruptly and opened it.

"Padre?" said a hesitant voice.

Father Enrique gazed at the owner of the voice: another of his sacristan boys. The friar exhaled softly, summoning the strength to appear more composed. "What is it, son?"

"There's... s-someone here to see you," he stammered.

Father Enrique's heart seemed to lurch into his throat. He swallowed hard, wiping sweaty hands against his robe. "Who is it?"

"They're here for confession, Padre."

Both panic and relief shot through him. "Send them away. I am not feeling well."

The boy hesitated at first but then resolved to follow the priest's command. "Very well, Padre. Shall I bring you anything else?"

"No, just... just leave me be."

The boy bowed his head before leaving.

"Wait! Has Dante c-come back yet? Did he find the other sacristan? Rafael?"

The sacristan's face darkened upon hearing the name. "No. The errand boy hasn't come back yet, and neither has Rafael. Should we inform the Guardia Civil now?"

"No!"

The response escaped too quickly that he had to clear his throat.

"Let's just wait for Dante. I'm sure Rafael just visited his mother. I-I will handle this."

"Very well, Padre," the boy replied. And yet, the anxiety lingering in his eyes did not escape the friar's observation. The sacristan, however, said nothing further and finally stepped back from the door.

The friar stood frozen for a while. Thoughts started swirling in his mind again. Nobody—except Rafael—knew what truly happened in this very room a few nights ago. He thought he would find his body, but he was gone, like a bubble that had just burst in the air. The uncertainty gnawed at him. If, somehow, Rafael had escaped and told someone the truth, it would mean his downfall. He'd be fucked!

Slowly, like fragments of a broken film, he recalled what happened that fateful night...

The room had been dark, except for a lone candle on the nightstand. He heard the first creak of the floorboards but dismissed it, thinking it was just rodents that were making that noise. But then he saw a figure, moving quickly, as if searching for something on his desk.

"Who's there?" he asked, concealing the bubbling panic in his heart.

The figure froze, and as his obscured face became visible in the dim light, Father Enrique realized it was Rafael.

The boy stood before him, looking like the scared lad he had come to know, but something had changed in him. Wild-eyed, he showed Father Enrique what he was holding in his hands.

Documents. Father Enrique's documents.

"What are these, Padre?" Rafael asked, accusation lacing his tone.

Almost instantly, Father Enrique felt a trail of sweat on his forehead, feeling as if the room would shrink and swallow them both.

"What are you doing in my room?" he managed to bellow, but Rafael did not move. He didn't even flinch as Father Enrique stepped toward him. "You have no business here, boy! Leave at once and wait until I summon you!"

"I've already read them, Padre," Rafael spat, his voice now devoid of fear. "These letters—they say you, Maximo Velasco, were excommunicated by the Catholic Church!"

Father Enrique felt the floor drop beneath him. He opened his mouth to renounce the accusation, but no words came.

"You are not the new priest assigned here in San Felipe! What did you do to the real Padre Enrique? The one who was supposed to come here?"

"Inútil!" he exclaimed, snatching the documents from the boy's grip. "You don't know anything, lad!" he added, as a slap tore across the boy's face, sending him to the floor. And yet, he could see anger brimming in the boy's eyes as he looked up at him.

"What did you do to that priest, Padre?" he repeated.

Father Enrique backed away as Rafael got to his feet. The boy took a step forward, and the Padre quickly realized they were nearly the same height now. In a few months, young boys like him would be much, much taller and stronger. He couldn't help but shiver at the thought.

But how had he slipped through his fingers and uncovered the truth?

"This—this is God's work, Rafael. Everything I do is His will!"

"God's work?" Rafael spat, his voice trembling with rage. "Lies! You are no man of God! You are a fraud! And all those nights you made me do those unspeakable things—they were nothing because you never intended to help my mother! You are no priest! You are a monster!"

"And what can you do, boy?" he replied loudly. He wouldn't let Rafael see his weakness. No, he wouldn't allow that. He took a step forward. "You are just a boy—and I am a priest!"

"I know enough, Padre," Rafael hissed. "I am going to make sure people know the truth."

The lad turned on his heel, ready to storm out of the room. But Father Enrique's panic exploded in his chest. He couldn't let him leave like that.

His hands reached for the nearest object—the cold metal on the nightstand—and before Rafael could take another step, he swung it with sudden, brutal force. With a thud, it collided with the boy's skull, and he fell to the floor.

For a moment, the priest watched as fresh blood gushed from Rafael's head. The feel of the metal seeping through his hand as he caught the scent of blood and candlewax mixing in the air.

"Y-you made me do this, Rafael," he sobbed, kneeling to the floor as he realized the gravity of what he had done. "I had no choice."