The Transfer
The ride to Lockdown was silent, except for the hum of the van's engine and the clink of the cuffs on Jayden's wrists. He stared out the window, watching the city blur by, wondering if Layla was somewhere out there, wondering if Tasha would even hear about what happened.
When the van pulled through the gates, his chest tightened.
Tall fences topped with coils of razor wire. Guards at the doors. Cameras fixed on every corner.
This wasn't a home. It wasn't even juvie.
It was a cage dressed up as "rehabilitation."
---
The Intake
Inside, everything smelled of bleach and metal. Staff in gray uniforms barked instructions: stand here, hands out, open your mouth, strip, shower, new clothes.
His hoodie, his sneakers, even the pencil he'd been carrying — all gone.
Replaced with a baggy uniform, thin mattress, and a bare cell with walls the color of ash.
On the door, in bold black letters: Carter, J.
He sank onto the bed, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. The fire inside him roared, but here, there was no place to put it.
---
The First Night
Lockdown had its own rules. No talking in the halls. Lights out at eight sharp. Three showers a week. Every move watched, every mistake punished.
That night, lying awake in the dim light of the hallway bulb, Jayden listened. The building buzzed with restless energy: fists pounding on walls, muffled shouts, footsteps of guards.
And then, from the next cell over, a low voice: "Yo. New kid?"
Jayden stiffened. "Yeah."
A pause. Then: "Don't let this place eat you. That's rule one."
Jayden almost laughed. "Yeah? What's rule two?"
"Find someone to watch your back."
---
The Meeting
The next morning, in the cafeteria, Jayden saw him — the voice from the cell.
Tall, lean, with sharp eyes that scanned the room like he'd memorized every exit. He moved with a calm that stood out against the chaos.
When Jayden sat alone, tray untouched, the boy slid into the seat across from him.
"Name's Dre," he said simply.
Jayden studied him. He wasn't smiling, wasn't mocking. Just steady.
"You got that fire look," Dre added. "Like you're either gonna burn this place down… or burn yourself out."
Jayden smirked despite himself. "Maybe both."
Dre nodded. "Then you need me."
---
The Spark of Brotherhood
For the first time since Miguel in juvie, Jayden felt it again — that pull, that possibility of a friend who wasn't afraid of his fire. Someone who might help him aim it instead of letting it eat him alive.
That night, back in his cell, he whispered to himself:
"Maybe this place won't break me after all."
But deep down, he knew — Lockdown would test him harder than anything before.