Chapter 33 Chapter 33
"Desire is easier to plant than fear.”
The field looked so wrong in daylight. The tragedy that happened didn't just linger in the hearts of everyone in the Penitentiary, it also lingered so strong in the field.
Clara stood beside Trinity, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as though the air itself had teeth. The grass had been disturbed where the body had lain. The place was flattened, darker, stained in places the cleaners hadn’t quite managed to erase. Even after the corpse had been taken away, something lingered, maybe a warning or just heaviness. It was hard to tell.
The two girl stood in silence, both having the same thought... "what was really going on" ....
Clara broke the silence first.
“Do you think,” she said quietly, “we should just… leave?”
Trinity turned to her slowly, studying her face as if she were afraid the answer might vanish if she blinked. Relief flickered across her features, quickly chased by surprise.
"Why are you suddenly asking that"
"I... I don’t know but I know this place is...danger" She shrugged
“Yesterday,” Trinity said carefully, “you were ready to tear my head off for even suggesting that.”
Clara shrugged, but the movement was stiff, unnatural. “I know.”
She stared back at the field, her eyes unfocused. “I don’t know what happened. For a while, it was like… like this place made sense. Like staying felt right. Every thought I had about Saint Ridge was.....” She frowned, struggling to find the word. “Positive, oddly Comfortable. I just can't explain why it felt that way"
That admission sent a shiver down Trinity’s spine. She knew something was definitely fishy about Clara's previous behaviour
“But now?” Clara continued. “Now I just want to go home. I want to be a librarian again. I want quiet shelves and dust and boring days where nothing bleeds or watches you back.”
Trinity let out a slow breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “I miss our old life too.”
The words felt heavier than they should have. She missed cramped apartments, late rent, arguments over groceries, things that had once felt like burdens but now glowed with a dull, impossible warmth.
Clara glanced at her. “Do you think any of this was worth it?”
Trinity hesitated, weighing her words
“At least,” she said finally, “we paid for your father’s treatment. At least we bought the apartment.” Her voice wavered. “But if you’re asking whether that makes this place worth it…”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I.. Just... don't know "
They stood together in silence as the wind moved through the grass like a whisper that refused to form words.
Hale’s cell smelled faintly of soap, sweat and iron. He was halfway through a set of push-ups when Peterson strolled in, hands in his pockets, posture loose.
Peterson clicked his tongue. “You were sloppy this time. Too sloppy, how could you even kill without giving me a heads up first."
Hale didn’t look up. His movements remained precise, controlled. “I wasn’t and I don't need your approval to kill"
" It's not about approval, it's about me knowing there's a body to clean up afterwards so your kill does not attract the wrong attention " He groaned
Hale frowned " I had everything under control Pete"
“And somehow the body ended up in the field,” Peterson said mildly. “That’s sloppy in my opinion ”
Hale finished the set before rising smoothly to his feet. His expression was flat. “I disposed of it properly. Exactly where it was supposed to go.”
Peterson raised an eyebrow. “Then could it be that someone moved it.”
Hale said nothing.
Peterson rubbed his jaw, eyes narrowing as he thought through the possibilities. “Interesting,” he murmured. “That means we’ve got a player who doesn’t follow the rules. That’s not good”
A pause stretched between them before Peterson spoke again.
“Why did you even kill Frank?”
Hale’s jaw tightened. “He took her somewhere closed off, away from my eyes. And he tried to fill her head with nonsense.” His eyes darkened. " He was also getting too attached to her, i could see it in his eyes.... the way he looked at her....”
Peterson let out a low chuckle. “Ah. So that’s what this is about. You're..."
Hale shot him a sharp look. “Don’t.”
Peterson leaned against the wall, unfazed. “You’re territorial now?. That’s new.”
“I’m intrigued,” Hale corrected coolly. “And until I’m finished with her, I don’t want anyone else looking at her like she’s something to be taken.”
Peterson laughed under his breath. “Careful. That almost sounds like a confession, could it be that you've caught the love flu?.”
Hale turned away, irritation flashing briefly across his face. “You worry too much. I'm not in love.”
“Maybe,” Peterson said. “But now I have to stop watching my favorite little assistant just to clean up your mess. I don’t like that ”
Hale’s lips twitched. “ what a tragedy.”
Peterson sighed theatrically and pushed off the wall. “Try not to kill anyone else without telling me first next time"
“No promises,” Hale replied
Clara didn’t remember deciding to walk.
One moment she was standing in the corridor, and the next her feet were carrying her forward, each step heavy and light at the same time. The walls seemed closer than usual, the lights dimmer, buzzing faintly like insects trapped behind glass.
Her head felt… too quiet...
She stopped in front of a door and frowned at it. For a brief, disorienting second, she wasn’t sure if she was meant to be there but she opened the door and entered anyway. Without much thought, she made her way to the bathroom.
Hale lay in the bathtub, water rippling around his body. His arm rested on the porcelain edge, veins visible as he pressed a syringe into his skin with practiced ease.
Clara gasped, earning Hale's attention
Hale looked up, eyes locking onto hers instantly. Surprise flickered across his face, not at her presence, but at the uncertainty written all over her expression.
She swallowed. “I… I.. should not be he... here, I think I might be in the wrong place.”
Hale smiled slowly, something sharp and pleased glinting in his eyes.
“No,” he said softly. “You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. I want you here. "