Chapter 32 Chapter 32
"When bodies appear without witnesses, it is never an accident, it is a message.”
The moment Trinity truly saw the body, something twisted violently in her stomach.
Not just fear but recognition.Her breath hitched as her eyes traced the broad shoulders, the long limbs, the unmistakable build that even rot couldn’t fully erase. The world seemed to narrow until all she could hear was the pounding of her own heart. It was really him, it had to be him.
No one else was built like that I'm this Penitentiary
“No, It can't be” she whispered clutching the hem of her shirt
Before Clara could ask what she meant, Trinity grabbed her wrist and yanked her away from the growing crowd.
“Trin.... what... Where are we going? ”
“Let’s leave from here” Trinity said sharply. “Now.”
She didn’t wait for agreement. She dragged Clara across the yard, past shouting guards and frantic inmates, past the smell that seemed to cling to everything. Clara stumbled after her, barely keeping up, her breaths coming in shallow gasps.
By the time they reached their dorm, Clara was trembling.
The door slammed shut behind them, and the moment the lock clicked, Clara collapsed on her bed.
Her knees gave out as she slid down the wall, hands clawing at her throat. Her breaths came fast and broken, eyes wide and glassy, chest heaving like she was drowning on dry land.
“I... I can’t...” she gagged, dry heaving violently. “I can’t breathe..” Her eyes widens as her mind brings up the image of the body
“Hey. Hey. Breathe. Okay?" Trinity crouched in front of her, gripping her shoulders firmly. “Look at me. Clara, look at me.”
Clara shook her head, tears spilling freely. “It’s still there. I can still smell it.”
“I know.” Trinity softened her voice, though her own hands were shaking. “But you’re safe. You’re inside. You’re okay.”
“I’m not,” Clara sobbed. “I’m really not. I.... I just..”
Her breaths turned erratic, sharp inhales that didn’t seem to reach her lungs. She gagged again, clutching her stomach.
“Breathe with me,” Trinity said urgently. “In. Slow. Out.”
“I can’t,” Clara cried. “I just can’t.”
Trinity pulled her into a tight embrace, pressing her head against her chest. “You can. You have to. Listen to my heartbeat.”
Clara clung to her like a lifeline, fingers digging into fabric as she shook violently.
“Who was that?” she whispered between gasps. “Who was lying in that field?”
Trinity swallowed hard "I think it was Frank.”
Clara stiffened. “No, I don't believe it. That's impossible "
“He’s the only inmate built like that,” Trinity said quietly. “Even without seeing the tag… I’m sure.”
Clara pulled back, eyes wide with disbelief. “That can’t be Frank. I spoke to him a couple of days ago.”
Her voice dropped to a terrified whisper. “That body… that body looked like it’s been rotting for weeks.”
A chill crawled down Trinity’s spine.
“I know,” she said. “That’s what scares me.”
Silence settled between them, thick and heavy. Something about Saint Ridge felt deeply wrong, more wrong than either of them had dared admit. The walls, the guards, the routines and it all felt more staged now, like a carefully maintained illusion with something rotten underneath.
Goosebumps prickled along Clara’s arms “This place…” she murmured. “It’s not right.”
“I know,” Trinity replied.
Later, at the general dining hall, the atmosphere was tense and unnatural. Conversations were hushed, glances darting nervously. A name went unspoken but hung heavily in the air.
Trinity nudged Clara subtly, her eyes scanning the room.
“Look,” she whispered.
Clara followed her gaze.
Frank’s seat was indeed empty, No tray, no presence. Nothing.
Clara nodded slowly, her face pale. “He’s missing.”
Trinity’s jaw tightened. “Yeah.”
Clara leaned closer "How?. What do we do now?"
Bryant’s office smelled of polished wood and expensive alcohol. Mayor Brattfield sat across from him, posture stiff, fingers interlaced as Bryant leaned casually against his desk.
“Are you absolutely sure such drugs exist? Something that can really make you control the mind of others? ” the Mayor asked, his voice careful. “This isn’t… theoretical?”
Bryant laughed, rich and amused. “Oh, it’s very real.”
He poured himself a glass of whisky, the amber liquid catching the light. “Two scientists were working on a cure for diabetes. Insulin regulation. Neural response enhancement.”
He took a sip " and one of them made a mistake.”
The Mayor leaned forward, captivated. “And that mistake…?”
“Led to the discovery of something extraordinary,” Bryant said. “A compound that overrides natural resistance. The body responds to commands as if they were instinct.”
The Mayor’s eyes widened. “Control?"
“Compliance,” Bryant corrected smoothly.
“Incredible,” the Mayor breathed. “Where is this doctor? I want my hands on it immediately.”
Bryant shrugged. “One’s dead. The other vanished with the compound. What we have left is some rough work..."
The Mayor opened his mouth to respond but the door opened distracting them.
Rome stepped inside, his expression grim.
“Is there a problem?” Mayor Brattfield asked annoyed
Rome didn’t answer, He simply bowed slightly toward Bryant.
Bryant sighed. “Excuse me for five minutes Mr Mayor”
They stepped into the hallway.
“He killed out of turn,” Rome said quietly.
Bryant groaned. “How many people witnessed it?”
“No one saw it happen,” Rome replied. “But they all saw the corpse. Questions will be raised if words get out”
Bryant pinched the bridge of his nose. “ Just tell Peterson to do his thing.”
Rome nodded " Yes sir"
That evening, Trinity stood alone near the field.
The grass had been disturbed. Flattened. Stained.
She stared at the spot where the body had lain, her mind replaying the image over and over, trying to make sense of something that refused to be understood.
She didn’t hear the footsteps behind her but Peterson stood a short distance away, eyes fixed on her back.
Something in his pocket beeped softly and He pulled it out without looking down, his gaze never leaving Trinity.
The device blinked once then Twice earning a smile from him still while watching her.