The Calm Before
For a few days, Spider stayed quiet. He didn't approach Jayden in the cafeteria, didn't slide up in the yard, didn't whisper offers in the hall.
Jayden almost let his guard down. Almost.
Dre wasn't fooled.
"Silence ain't peace," he muttered one night through the bars. "It's setup."
Jayden didn't argue. He could feel it too — the tightening coil of something about to snap.
---
The Drop
It happened on a Tuesday morning. A guard stopped Jayden during line-up, patting him down with rough hands.
"What's this?" the guard barked, pulling a wrapped candy bar from Jayden's pocket.
Jayden froze. His mind reeled. He hadn't touched Spider's contraband. He hadn't carried anything.
But there it was, right in the guard's hand — proof of a rule broken.
The kids in line snickered, whispering.
"New blood's running games already."
"Spider's got him wrapped."
Jayden's face burned hot with rage. His eyes darted to the corner of the block. Spider leaned against the wall, grinning like a cat that had dropped a mouse at someone's feet.
---
The Accusation
The guard shoved Jayden against the wall, cuffs biting into his wrists. "Contraband possession. You think you're slick, Carter? This isn't your playground."
Jayden shouted, "It's not mine! He planted it!" But his voice bounced off uncaring ears.
The guard sneered. "That's what they all say."
Dre watched from across the hall, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp. He didn't move, didn't speak — not yet.
---
The Spiral Tightens
They dragged Jayden to the director's office. The air stank of bleach and power.
"This is your warning," the director said coldly. "Next time, it's the hole. Or worse. You think you're smarter than us? You're not. You're just another number."
Jayden's fists clenched behind his back. The fire roared, begging to burn the whole place down. But the walls pressed in tighter, reminding him: the system always believed the worst.
He walked out with a mark on his record and the laughter of Spider echoing down the hall.
---
The Boiling Point
That night, Jayden slammed his fist into the wall until his knuckles split. "I should end him," he hissed. "I should snap his neck."
Dre's voice cut through the rage. "And land yourself in lockdown forever? That's what he wants. That's what they want. Don't let them make you the monster they already think you are."
Jayden pressed his forehead against the bars, chest heaving. "Then what do I do?"
Dre was quiet a long time before answering. "You play smarter. You wait. You watch. You choose your moment. And when it comes, you make damn sure it counts."
---
The Sketch in Blood
Back in his cell, Jayden tore a strip from his sheet, wrapping it around his split knuckles. He pulled out the stub of a pencil he'd hidden and scrawled on the back of an old paper scrap.
A rat. Fangs bared. Shadowed eyes grinning.
And flames rising behind it.
Underneath, he wrote in jagged letters:
Spider won't win forever.
He tucked the drawing under his mattress, his heart still pounding, the fire still raging.