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.

The meeting replayed in Jayden's head all night.


The way Mrs. Givens called his drawings "disruptions."


The way Mr. Carr said "trajectory" like Jayden's future was already locked in a cage.


The way Ms. Waller barely looked up from her phone.


Even Ms. Delaney's defense, strong as it was, couldn't erase the sting.


He lay awake staring at the cracked ceiling of his room, his jaw clenched, his fists tight. His whole body buzzed with the need to do something. To fight. To scream. To burn it all down.


Instead, he reached for his sketchbook.


He flipped to a blank sheet, pencil shaking in his hand. Then the lines started pouring out, fast and dark.


He drew the semi-circle of adults from the meeting, their faces featureless, blank ovals.


Above them, thick black lines tangled like bars, closing in.


In the center, he drew himself — not as a boy, but as a shadow figure, fists clenched, flames spilling out from his chest. Fire so big it reached the edges of the page, swallowing the faceless figures whole.


He pressed the pencil so hard it snapped, but he didn't stop. He grabbed another, then another, shading, carving lines until his hands were black with graphite.


By the time he was finished, his chest felt lighter, his throat raw as if he'd been screaming.


The page looked alive, almost dangerous, like it could burn through the paper at any moment.


Jayden stared at it, his breath uneven. For the first time, he saw his anger for what it was: not just destruction, but power. A fire he could aim instead of letting it consume him.


Not the boy in the file. Not the problem in the binder.


The next day at school, he carried the sketchbook in his backpack, the fire-drawing tucked carefully inside.


Part of him wanted to keep it secret, his private rebellion. But another part of him — the part that remembered Tasha's words, "Sometimes your art fights for you" — wanted to show it.


Wanted someone else to feel the flames.


During art class, he slid the book onto the desk, open to that page.


When Tasha walked by, her eyes widened.


"Jay…" she whispered, staring at the burning figure on the paper.


He looked up, meeting her gaze. For once, he didn't feel ashamed.


And in her eyes, for the first time, he saw something he'd never seen before:


That night, he added a new line under the drawing:


If they won't hear me, I'll make them see me.


Chapter 36 - the fire inside