Chapter 21 Chapter 21
“A lie spoken with confidence can silence a truth whispered in fear.”
Mayor Brattfield stood behind the podium, the state emblem gleaming behind him like a silent witness. Cameras flashed in staccato bursts, the low hum of murmuring reporters filling the hall like a restless tide. He lifted both hands slightly, an appeal for calm and the room gradually settled.
“Good afternoon,” he began, smoothing his expression into something between fatigue and authority. “I called this press conference to address the circulating rumor that the State is using Brattfield Penitentiary as a ground for scientific research.”
He paused, as though giving the rumor itself a chance to die in the silence.
“These claims are baseless,” he said firmly. “And frankly, misleading. The penitentiary is a reformative facility. A place designed to protect society from dangerous individuals; men who are, in many cases, threats both physically and mentally. The idea that the State would allow any form of scientific experimentation in such an environment is simply unreasonable.”
A ripple went through the crowd as reporters scribbled. Mayor Brattfield pressed on.
“Furthermore,” he added, “people should be cautious about the information they choose to consume. Claims made without evidence are nothing more than fabricated noise.”
He had barely finished when a voice cut through the air like a thrown blade.
“Even if there were evidence, a man like you would destroy it before it ever reached the press.”
The entire hall turned. A woman stood, microphone in hand, gaze sharp and unwavering. The bold lettering on her badge read: Chief Reporter Truth Aylaree
The Mayor’s lips twitched, an attempt at a restrained smile before he addressed her directly.
“And why, Ms. Aylaree,” he said slowly, “would you think that?”
She didn’t bother sitting. “Because your administration never allows visitors into the penitentiary except during the annual visit. If there’s truly nothing to hide, then why restrict access to that degree?”
Mayor Brattfield tilted his head as if genuinely considering the question. Then his eyes dipped again to her badge, as though confirming who he was dealing with.
“The men inside that facility,” he replied, “pose a threat to normal citizens. It isn’t a zoo or a tourist center. The annual visit is a privilege, not a right. However...” he added with a shrug, “if you would like to visit, Ms. Aylaree, arrangements can be made. I encourage transparency.”
A smirk curled Truth’s lips. “If transparency is so encouraged, then why do you have interns working inside? Not government officials. Interns. Serving inmates directly.”
The Mayor straightened. “That claim is entirely false,” he said swiftly. “Everyone working in that facility is a verified government employee. The State would never place civilians, much less interns, at such risk.”
Truth’s eyes narrowed. “You’re awfully quick to defend against it. Are you hiding something, Mr. Mayor?”
Gasps rippled through the hall.
Mayor Brattfield threw his head back and laughed..too loud, too bright, too immediate.
“Hiding something?” he repeated between chuckles. “My dear reporter, the only thing I hide is my exhaustion from dealing with rumors lacking common sense.” He wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. “Let the public be rest assured, nothing unethical happens in that facility, nor will it ever. The State will never sit back and watch human beings used as scientific lab rats.”
Then, quicker than a magician changing cards, he shifted his tone entirely.
“Now! Onto lighter matters.” He clapped his hands once. “The annual Halloween festival is approaching, and I’m thrilled to announce that all government workers will receive a full week of paid leave and” he leaned closer to the microphone “we’ll be offering prizes and events bigger than ever before. I want everyone to simply relax and enjoy the season.”
The hall filled with confused murmurs at the abrupt change of topic, but the Mayor simply waved and stepped away from the podium, his smile locked neatly into place.
The television in the common room clicked off, and a brief moment of silence lingered before Trinity broke it with a shriek of pure excitement.
“Paid leave!” she practically danced in place. “Clara! Do you know what that means?, we're getting rich. So rich enough to enjoy Halloween this year!”
Clara laughed, flopping onto the couch beside her. “Enjoy it how? By buying those overpriced costumes you’ve been whining about since August?”
“Yes! Those exact ones!” Trinity grabbed her shoulders dramatically. “We can finally walk among the normal people in something that isn’t made of leftover uniform fabric!”
Clara shoved her playfully. “You’re impossible.”
“That’s why you love me,” Trinity replied with a wink.
They were still arguing about which costumes suited them, Trinity insisting on something sparkly and ridiculous, Clara insisting on something simple and non-headache inducing when movement caught Clara’s eye.
The new inmate stood near the entrance.
He wasn’t approaching fully, just hovering, hands clasped together, shoulders slightly rounded, eyes darting between the girls and the floor. He looked as if he wasn’t sure whether he was allowed to exist in the same space as them.
After a moment, he cleared his throat.
Trinity and Clara both turned.
“H...Hi,” he said, giving a small wave that was more nervous twitch than greeting.
Clara offered a kind smile. “Hi. You need something?”
He stepped forward but only a little, like each inch was a decision he had to negotiate with himself.
“I, um…” His fingers worried the hem of his shirt. “I didn’t want to interrupt. I just...uh...wanted to ask if… if it’s not too much trouble…” He swallowed. “Could I...maybe...get some books? I ran out of things to read.”
The sincerity in his eyes softened Clara instantly.
“Of course,” she said. “We can get you books. Any type you like?”
He brightened just enough to show how much the offer meant. “Fiction, mostly. Something… quiet.”
Trinity elbowed Clara. “Look at him. He’s cute. Like a frightened deer.”
He immediately flushed, deep red. “Oh..I didn’t mean to..."
Clara sighed at Trinity. “Ignore her. She has no filter.”
“I have a filter,” Trinity protested proudly. “I just never use it.”
The inmate let out the smallest laugh, shy but real.
And somehow, the moment shifted, softened, like a curtain lifting.
Before long, Clara, Trinity, and the inmate; Frank, he finally introduced himself as, were talking like old acquaintances discovering the first threads of something easy and familiar. Frank loosened slowly, answering questions with timid honesty, asking a few of his own with the carefulness of someone afraid of overstepping.
Clara noticed how he always looked relieved when she responded kindly. He wasn’t used to gentleness. Not here. Maybe not anywhere.
And somewhere across the room, Hale stood half shrouded in shadow, watching the three of them.
His jaw clenched.
His arms folded.
And beneath the cold light, his expression hardened into something unmistakable..jealousy twisted with anger. The kind that didn’t simmer.
The kind that waited.