Chapter 41 Chapter 41
“Some nights end with nightmares. Others end with blood on your sheets and the terrible realization that you might need a shovel.”
Trinity paced the length of her bedroom like a caged animal, bare feet sliding against the cold tiled floor, her nightdress sticking uncomfortably to her skin. The room smelled wrong and her breath came too fast, shallow, her chest aching as though it might crack open.
Her bed was ruined, the white sheets were soaked through with blood, no longer white at all but a deep, horrifying red, as if someone had spilled an entire life across them.
It wasn’t splatter, it wasn’t an accident, it was heavy, deliberate, undeniable.
And beside the bed, on the floor, Peterson lay motionless.
Her gaze kept drifting back to him no matter how hard she tried to avoid it. His body was twisted at an odd angle, one arm bent beneath him, his chest rising so faintly she had to stare to be sure he was still breathing.
“I acted impulsively,” she whispered, pressing her palms to her temples. Her voice shook. “That’s all. People act impulsively every day.”
She swallowed “But they usually don’t stab someone.”
Her stomach rolled violently
“If this is a dream,” she muttered, voice cracking, “I should have woken up by now.”
She pinched her arm hard, nails digging into skin until pain flared bright and sharp but nothing changed.
Peterson didn’t vanish, the blood didn’t fade, her heart didn’t slow.
“Oh God,” she breathed. “Oh God, this is real.”
She stumbled back to the bed and grabbed her phone, fingers trembling so badly she almost dropped it. The screen lit up, painfully bright in the dim room.
She dialed halfway through an emergency number before her mind caught up with her panic, what was she going to say.
"Hello, yes, I stabbed a man who broke into my apartment and guess what, he's a criminal from a guarded prison.... how convenient"
She let out a strangled sound and threw the phone onto the mattress.
“No. No, no, no,” she whispered. “That’ll send me to prison, definitely.”
She forced herself to stop moving, stop spiraling. Her inner voice echoed faintly in her head "Think, Trinity. Panic later."
“Okay,” she whispered. “Think straight, you’re smart and you overthink for sport.”
Her eyes slid toward the door. Clara could help.... relief bloomed painfully in her chest. She turned and took two hurried steps before something slammed into her from behind.
The impact knocked the breath from her lungs in a sharp, painful gasp as she crashed to the floor. Her scream tore out of her throat as a heavy weight pinned her down.
Peterson groaned above her, low and furious, his arms locking around her like steel.
“How dare you,” he snarled into her ear, voice hoarse with pain and rage, “try to kill me.”
Terror exploded through her body
“Get off me!” she screamed, thrashing wildly. Her fists hit nothing useful. Her legs kicked uselessly against the floor.
He grabbed her hair and yanked
Pain burst across her scalp, bright and blinding. A cry ripped out of her before she could stop it, tears flooding her eyes instantly.
“You think you can just....” he growled.
She slammed her elbow into his side with every ounce of strength she had.
He screamed....not a shout, but a guttural, animal sound that vibrated through her bones. His grip loosened for a split second and Trinity didn’t hesitate.
She twisted violently, slipped free, scrambled across the floor on shaking hands and knees, and bolted toward the far end of the room. Her heart thundered so loudly she could barely hear anything else.
Behind her, Peterson dragged himself upright and just in that moment, Clara jolted awake.
“Trin?” Clara’s voice came muffled through the door. “What’s wrong?”
Trinity slammed her back against the wall, chest heaving. “The door’s locked" she yelled. “Peterson is in here"
“What?” Clara rattled the handle. “Why is Peterson...."
“He’s trying to kill me!”
The silence that followed was terrifying then frantic pounding. “What do you mean trying to kill you?”
Peterson straightened slowly, there was no smile on his face now, no teasing glint in his eyes. Just cold, focused fury. Blood stained his shirt, dark and slick.
Trinity knew, with terrifying certainty, that if he reached her again, she would not survive it.
He lunged.
She ducked and ran for the bed, intending to climb over it, but he was faster. Always faster. In seconds, he had her cornered between the wall and the mattress, his body blocking every escape.
Clara slammed against the door, shouting Trinity’s name, desperation thick in her voice.
Peterson loomed over her, shadow swallowing her whole.
“Please,” Trinity sobbed, sliding down the wall. Her knees hit the floor. “Please, don’t.... kill me. I acted impulsively ca..cause I thought I was dreaming "
He didn’t slow, didn’t hesitate.
Her mind scrambled wildly, grasping at anything... anything at all that might save her.
“I’m pregnant!” the words burst out of her mouth before she could think.
Peterson froze and for a second the room went dead silent.
“What?” he asked quietly, his eyes softening just a bit
She nodded frantically, tears streaming down her face. “I’m not lying, I swear.... I wouldn’t lie about that.”
His eyes searched her face, sharp and suspicious, peeling her apart layer by layer. She could feel him deciding whether she lived or died.
Her hands shook as she reached for him. Slowly, carefully, she took his hand and pressed it against her stomach.
“I swear,” she whispered. “I’m pregnant.”
Something flickered across his face.... something close to forgiveness
Then BANG. A loud metallic crash echoed through the room and Peterson’s eyes widened, his body stiffened then he collapsed like a puppet with cut strings, hitting the floor with a heavy, final thud.
Clara stood behind him, breathing hard, both hands gripping a metal vase. Her face was pale, eyes wide with horror.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “Oh my God.”
Trinity slid down the wall completely, shaking uncontrollably.
“Trin?” Clara rushed to her side. “What happened? Is he.... is he...."
“It wasn’t a dream,” Trinity whispered hoarsely.
Clara gasped. “You stabbed him?”
“Yes.”
“And then he attacked you?”
“Yes.”
“And you told him you were pregnant?”
“I panicked!”
Clara stared at her. “Are you actually pregnant?”
“ eww, no!”
“Trinity.....”
“I said I panicked!”
They both looked down at Peterson’s unconscious body, the silence that followed was thick and suffocating.
“So,” Clara said carefully, “what do we do now?”
They exchanged a long look, then both looked back at the body.
Half an hour later, they stood over Peterson, now wrapped tightly in white sheets pulled from the linen closet. Blood stained the fabric in ugly patches.
“This is heavier than it looks,” Clara panted.
“He’s a grown man,” Trinity snapped weakly.
“Well, I didn’t expect him to weigh like regret!”
They paused, breathing hard, staring down at what they’d done.
“Do you think burying him is too dramatic?”
Trinity snorted despite herself. “At this point? It’s either dramatic or illegal. Or both.”
They stood there in stunned silence, wondering how one hides a man who was never supposed to exist in their world at all.