Jayden, a boy born in the late ’90s, grows up in chaos — both parents trapped in addiction, poverty, and neglect. Taken into foster care after a police raid, he’s separated from his younger sister Layla, a loss that leaves a scar he carries everywhere.

From there, Jayden is tossed through the foster system, group homes, and institutions, learning the unspoken rules of survival: don’t cry, don’t trust, don’t get attached. He builds walls around himself, and his reputation as an “angry, unmanageable” kid follows him from school to school.

At twelve, fighting and defiance put him on the fast track to juvenile detention. Inside, he meets Miguel, an older boy who becomes his first real friend. Miguel teaches him that not every battle is worth fighting, and that survival sometimes means keeping your peace. That friendship plants a seed in Jayden, one that stays with him long after release.

Later, in a youth institution, Jayden meets Malik, a boy with a calm, steady presence who pushes him to see beyond anger. Malik gives him a sketchbook, helping Jayden rediscover art as a way to process his pain. These two friendships become anchors in a life that feels like it’s always being ripped apart.

On the outside, Jayden struggles with freedom — curfews, probation, teachers who don’t believe in him, and peers who see him as nothing but “the foster kid.” But he also meets Tasha, a girl who shares his love for creativity and becomes a fragile, on-and-off connection throughout his adolescence. She sees through his anger to the quiet boy underneath, but Jayden’s fear of abandonment pushes her away just when he needs her most.

Now fourteen, Jayden finds himself caught between two versions of himself: the fighter the system keeps shaping him into, and the boy searching for something — or someone — to believe in. Every fight, every sketch, every late-night thought pulls him closer to a breaking point, where he’ll have to decide if he’ll keep letting the system define him, or if he’ll learn to write his own story.

After the night with the man by the corner store, Layla couldn't stop shaking. The world outside felt dangerous, and the Harris house didn't feel much safer. She needed something — a way to hold on, a way to remind herself she wasn't completely alone.


She couldn't see him. She couldn't hear him. But maybe she could still talk to him.


She grabbed her school notebook and tore out a clean page.


I don't know where you are, but I miss you. I heard the caseworker say something… something about detention. I don't know what that means, but I know it's bad. I wish I could be with you. I wish I could keep you safe like you always kept me safe. Do you remember the soup cans we stacked? Do you remember how you promised you'd never let go? I remember. I always will.


Her handwriting was uneven, smudged by tears, but the words poured out like they'd been waiting all along.


She folded the page carefully, slid it under her pillow, and whispered: "Goodnight, Jay."


Every night, after the house fell quiet, she'd write to him.


Dear Jayden, today Kevin told me I'm not family. I wanted to scream, but I didn't. I just smiled. Do you smile when you want to scream?


Dear Jayden, I made a friend. Her name was Mariah. She said we'd find each other if we ever got split up. She's gone now. They didn't even let her say goodbye.


Dear Jayden, sometimes I dream about you. I wake up and reach for your hand, but it's never there. I don't want to forget what it felt like.


The stack of folded pages grew thicker under her mattress. They were her secret treasure — proof that even if the world tried to erase him, he still existed in her words.


One afternoon, Kevin almost found them. He was digging around her bed, looking for her candy stash, when his hand brushed the edge of the papers.


She lunged forward, grabbing his wrist. "Don't touch that!"


Kevin smirked. "What is it? Love letters?"


Her face flushed hot, but her grip didn't loosen. "They're mine."


Something in her voice made him pull back. He muttered, "Weirdo," and walked away.


As soon as he left, she stuffed the letters deeper under the mattress, her hands trembling.


If anyone read them, if anyone took them away, she didn't know if she could survive it.


I don't know when we'll see each other again. But when we do, I'll bring all of these letters. So you'll know I never stopped thinking about you. So you'll know you're not alone.


She folded it neatly, pressed it against her chest for a moment, then slid it under the growing stack.


For the first time in weeks, she slept without nightmares.


Because even if he couldn't read her words yet, she believed one day he would.


Chapter 30 - letters to jayden