Chapter 38 Chapter 38
“We reject what reminds us of our weakness, even when it is love.”
Trinity shot upright in bed, her chest heaving as though she’d been dragged out of deep water. Her lips felt sore and her body drenched in sweat.
The room was dim, washed in the pale blue of early morning light filtering through the curtains.
Her heart slammed violently against her ribs, loud enough that she half expected Clara to hear it from the kitchen.
" it was just a dream " she said trying to calm her raising heart.
It had to be a dream, there's no way Peterson could get out of Saint Ridge, talk more of finding her home.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stumbled out, her bare feet cold against the tiled floor as she rushed toward the kitchen.
The smell of pancakes hit her first, warm, sweet, tingling her taste buds.
Clara stood at the stove in one of Trinity’s oversized shirts, her hair tied back loosely as she flipped a pancake. The domestic normalcy of the scene made Trinity stop short, for a moment, she just stared.
Clara glanced over her shoulder, brow furrowing when she saw Trinity frozen in the doorway, pale and shaken.
“Trin?” she asked, lowering the spatula. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Trinity swallowed hard and reached for the counter, steadying herself, she grabbed a glass, filled it with water, and drank half of it in one go, the coolness grounding her enough to breathe again.
“I had… a very weird dream,” she finally said, her voice hoarse.
Clara turned off the stove and leaned against the counter, curiosity flickering across her face. “About who?”
Trinity hesitated for only a second. “Peterson.”
Clara burst into laughter, the sound light and unguarded. “Again?” she teased. “You always dream about him whenever we’re away from Saint Ridge. Are you sure you don’t miss him?”
Trinity shook her head immediately. “No, absolutely not. There’s no way in this world I miss Peterson.”
Clara raised a brow, amused. “Why so sure?”
Trinity’s expression hardened slightly. “Because he doesn’t think for himself. Everything he does, everything he believes is all connected to Hale. Like Hale’s his god or something.”
The name hit Clara like a slap. Her hand twitched, fingers curling around the edge of the counter and Trinity noticed instantly.
“I’m sorry,” Trinity said quickly. “I shouldn’t have..."
“It’s fine,” Clara interrupted, forcing a small smile " Really.”
She turned back to the stove, flipping another pancake as if nothing had happened. “Anyway, it’s Halloween week. We should go shopping for decorations and costumes already.”
Trinity nodded, relieved at the change of subject. “Yeah, Definitely.”
Then, more gently, “But before that… you should go see your dad.”
“I’ve been avoiding him,” Clara admitted quietly. “I can’t keep lying about what I do. Every time I see him, I feel like I’m choking on the truth.”
Trinity stepped closer and rested a hand on her back. “Then don’t lie. Just… don’t explain.”
Clara nodded, though doubt lingered in her eyes.
Trinity lingered by the car in the parking lot, nudging Clara gently. “Go.”
Clara took a deep breath and walked inside. The nursing home was a bit dull as through sadness had soaked into the walls
She stopped at the nurse’s station first. “How has my father been doing?”
The nurse offered a sad smile. “He’s improving physically, but the medication causes some side effects. Temporary memory loss, confusion and aggression at times.”
Clara’s heart sank
“You should introduce yourself when you go in,” the nurse added softly.
Introduce herself?
Clara thanked her and walked down the hallway on unsteady legs, blinking back tears. She paused at the doorway, inhaled deeply, and stepped inside.
Her father sat by the window in his room, staring out at nothing in particular, his shoulders slumped
“Dad?” she called.
His head snapped toward her and his gaze sharpened, calculating then softened with sudden familiarity.
“Georgina?” he asked, standing. “Is that you?”
Clara shook her head violently, tears spilling. Georgina was her mother’s name. Her mother, who died giving birth to her. This was the first time her father had ever spoken it.
“I... I’m Clara,” she sobbed. “Clara Voss. I’m your daughter.”
He frowned, shaking his head slowly. “No. My daughter… my daughter died yesterday and Her name is Georgia.” His voice broke. “My wife’s angry with me because my daughter died "
" Dad. ...." Her voice cracked as she looked that the man that raised her struggling to remember her
" I'm standing right here... I'm your daughter"
He shook his head violently " Georgia is dead, who are you?"
Clara collapsed internally, her chest aching with a pain she couldn’t scream out.
“ I'm your daughter, your only child" she whispered.
He frowned " I don't know you young lady"
“ma... maybe I should just leave "
She turned to go, unable to bear it anymore.
“Wait....”
Hope flared as she looked back, maybe he remembered her
“Don’t come back pretending to be my daughter,” he said calmly. “I’ve lost her already.”
Clara fled the room in tears, barely making it to the parking lot before she broke completely.
“Take me away from here,” she cried to Trinity. “Please.”
Trinity didn’t ask questions. She just opened the car door and drove.
Inmates filled the field, lifting weights, running drills, shouting over one another. Hale and Peterson stood at the sidelines, watching.
Peterson sighed. “I miss my little servant girl already.”
Hale chuckled. “That wild girl?, The one who listens to no one but herself?”
Peterson leaned back against the table, eyes drifting up to the sky. All he could see was Trinity’s face.
“I didn’t believe it before,” he said quietly. “That thing people say about affection. About your heart racing?, Thought it was all lies.”
Hale shot him a look. “Spare me the love talk”
“But then she bumped into me,” Peterson continued. “And I felt it, my heart just trying to escape.”
Chaos erupted on the field as two inmates colliding, shouts breaking out. Hale smirked.
Peterson glanced at him. “Why do you keep pushing Clara away if you like her?”
Hale’s expression darkened like the very mention of Clara’s name annoyed him.
“Because she reminds me of my mother,” he said coldly. “Weak and always needing to be saved. Look away one minute and they're dead"