Chapter 23 Chapter 23
“Not every warning sounds like danger, some whisper like reassurance.”
Chief Reporter Truth Aylaree’s visit had sent a low, vibrating tension through Saint Ridge Penitentiary long before she even arrived. The morning carried a different energy; brisk footsteps, clipped voices, and a cold metallic echo that made everything feel sharper than usual. Clara felt it the moment she walked into the common hall where Rome had gathered a small group of recruits.
Rome stood at the front, hands clasped behind his back, wearing the calm, carefully measured expression of a man who had rehearsed and knew every single word he was about to say.
Clara took her place beside Trinity, who was already chewing nervously on her thumbnail. Two other recruits; Mina and Caleb stood a little distance away, eyes bright with anticipation.
When the four of them settled, Rome’s voice filled the room.
“As some of you have heard, Chief Reporter Truth Aylaree and her crew will be visiting tomorrow for an official interview. They’ll be asking questions about your experiences, your duties, and the general environment of Saint Ridge.”
Caleb raised a brow. “Like… personal questions?”
Rome nodded. “Very likely. She has a reputation for digging deep. Don’t be surprised if she tries to get you comfortable before sliding in something sharp.”
Clara gulped. Mina looked ready to faint.
Rome continued, “You are to answer truthfully but remember, confidential information stays confidential. You don’t mention anything classified, and you do not imply that you attend to inmates personally, even if you sometimes do.”
Trinity folded her arms. “Why? If it’s the truth?”
“Because,” Rome said, smiling a little too pleasantly, “the truth isn’t always safe when given to people who twist it. Your job is to give clarity, not fuel conspiracy.”
Clara exchanged a glance with Trinity. The statement definitely hinted at something.
"Okay" They mutter in unison
Rome clapped his hands softly. “Good. If we’re clear, Mina, Caleb, you’re dismissed.”
The two hurried off, whispering anxiously to each other. Once the door closed behind them, Rome’s posture softened. He turned his attention fully to Clara and Trinity.
“So,” he asked, leaning against a table casually, “how are you girls finding the job so far? Settling in? Regretting it? Planning dramatic escapes?”
Trinity snorted before answering. “We don’t necessarily hate it.”
Clara nodded. “It’s… manageable. Not what I expected, but not terrifying.”
Rome laughed, a warm, rolling sound that seemed to echo too long in the cold hall. “Good. Good. Most new recruits break within a week, so you’re doing better than most.”
Then his smile dimmed slightly, replaced with something more analytical.
“Tell me,” he said slowly, “have either of you noticed any… unusual activities or questionable occurrences?”
Clara felt her heart leap to her throat. Unusual? Questionable?, There had been plenty. The inmate shifts in mood, Hale’s unpredictable behavior, the whispers at night, the strange shared dreams, and the eerie, too calm areas of the penitentiary.
She opened her mouth. “Actually I..."
“Nope,” Trinity cut in quickly, stepping slightly ahead of Clara. “Nothing unusual. Nothing questionable. Nothing suspicious. Everything is completely normal.”
Clara blinked. “Trin..."
Trinity nudged her sharply.
Rome regarded them for a long moment, his eyes lingering on Trinity as if trying to peel back the layers of her refusal. Then he chuckled.
“A little eager, aren’t we? I didn’t say it was a test.”
Trinity forced a smile. “Of course. Just being honest. Is there something we need to watch out for?"
He held their gaze for another beat before nodding. “Well, no, there’s nothing you need to watch out for. Everything here is under control.”
That smile again, too bright, too rehearsed.
Rome adjusted the folder in his hand. “Anyway, you two are progressing quickly. At this rate, you’ll be promoted soon. If that happens, you won’t have to work directly inside the penitentiary anymore.”
Clara felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment. She had grown oddly comfortable, or maybe just curious or maybe she just wanted to stay back for Hale.
Rome started toward the door but paused.
“Oh...Clara.”
She straightened.
“I read your report about Hale,” he said. “His unstable behavior. The way he seems… split. Like he’s two different people depending on the situation.”
Clara’s stomach dropped. She hadn’t expected him to bring that up. “I..yes. I wasn’t sure if I should have mentioned it.”
“You did the right thing,” Rome assured her. “If his behavior is medical, we’ll look into treatment. Thank you for observing closely. That’s exactly what we expect from exceptional recruits.”
Then he left the room with a satisfied nod.
Clara watched the door close, uncertain if she felt reassured… or exposed.
The moment he was out of earshot, Trinity grabbed her arm. “Why on earth would you want to tell him about anything unusual?”
Clara frowned. “I wasn’t going to tell him everything..just that Hale seems different sometimes.”
“And what would that solve?” Trinity hissed. “You don’t tell people like Rome things like that. He was baiting us.”
Clara looked genuinely confused. “Baiting us? To say what?”
“To slip,” Trinity said. “To see how much we know. To see if we’ve noticed things we shouldn’t notice.”
Clara shook her head slowly. “Rome doesn’t look like someone who’d hurt us or try to trap us. He’s always so kind.”
“That’s exactly why I don’t trust him,” Trinity murmured. “People who smile too much always have a reason.”
Clara sighed. “You think I’m naïve?.”
“I think you trust people too blindly,” Trinity corrected gently. “And this place? Blind trust will get you killed.”
Clara looked away, chewing her lip. The words lingered in her mind longer than she wanted them to.
After a couple of other works, Clara made her way to the bathroom, day had worn her out. The upcoming interview, Rome’s questions, Trinity’s warnings..it all circled her mind like restless birds.
She stepped into the bathroom, grateful for a moment of quiet. The fluorescent light flickered once overhead, buzzing like a tired insect.
Clara rolled up her sleeves and turned on the tap, splashing cool water on her face. Droplets slid down her cheeks and dripped onto the porcelain sink. She inhaled deeply, letting the silence settle around her.
Until something moved.
A small, dark shape on the tiled wall near the corner.
Clara leaned forward.
The same bug.
The same one that had been sitting there for weeks. It was brown, still, almost invisible if you weren’t paying attention.
She had brushed it off mentally before, assuming it was one of the harmless little pests that clung to old buildings. But today… today it looked different.
Tense. Too still. Almost intentional.
A prickling discomfort crawled across her skin.
She grabbed the large cleaning brush leaning beside the sink. “Okay, little guy. Time to go.”
Clara stepped closer.
The bug didn’t move.
She lifted the brush....
and before she could even bring it down, the bug darted upward then shot across the ceiling with unnatural speed.
Clara froze.
Her fingers tightened around the brush.
That wasn’t normal movement.
Not for a bug that tiny.
Not for anything that had been practically glued to the wall for weeks.
She stood in place long after it disappeared, the silence suddenly heavy, suffocating.
Something wasn’t right.
Now it felt like something had been watching.
And now… it knew she had noticed.
The brush slipped slightly in her trembling hands.