The Countdown Eats at Him
Ten days left.
Every tick of the clock pounded in Jayden's chest like a hammer. Ten days until transfer. Ten days until max.
He tried to breathe steady, tried to follow Dre's rules, but the fire inside was restless, clawing. Some days it burned so hot he thought it would rip through his skin. Other days it smoldered low, like it was waiting for the right spark.
The silence of the block made it worse. The whispers, the smirks, the way Spider and Rico just watched him. Every look felt like pressure, every step like walking on glass.
---
The Small Provocations
Spider never stopped. He'd slip close during line-up, whispering:
"Max'll eat you alive."
Or: "Rico's waiting. He's gonna make sure you don't leave here standing."
Rico didn't waste words — he just stared, fists flexing, his eyes promising blood.
Jayden ignored them, at least on the outside. But inside, the fire twisted hotter with every taunt.
---
The Guard's Push
One evening, on the way back from the yard, a guard stopped him. Searched him in front of everyone, rough and unnecessary.
"Empty your pockets, Carter."
Jayden froze. "I don't got nothing."
The guard smirked. "That's what they all say."
He shoved Jayden against the wall, hard enough to rattle his teeth. The block erupted in laughter, inmates cheering like it was a show.
Jayden's fire surged. For a split second, he saw himself snapping — headbutting the guard, fists flying, screaming until they dragged him away in chains.
But Dre's voice cut through the fire: Patience. Survive the clock.
Jayden swallowed his rage, shoved it down so deep it burned his ribs. The guard sneered and waved him on. But the laughter followed him back to his cell like chains.
---
The Night Boil
That night, Jayden couldn't sleep. His fists clenched and unclenched, his breath coming sharp.
"I can't do this," he whispered through the wall. "I can't just sit here and take it."
Dre's reply came slow. "Yeah, you can. Because if you explode now, you're gone. That's what Spider wants. That's what the system wants."
Jayden's voice cracked. "Then what the hell am I supposed to do with all this fire?"
Dre was quiet for a long time before answering. "You wait. And when the right moment comes, you don't just burn back. You burn smarter. You make them regret ever lighting the match."
---
The Vision
Jayden lay back on his cot, staring at the ceiling until the cracks blurred. In his head, he saw Layla again — her hand clutching his sleeve, her voice echoing: "Don't let them take me."
Only now, it wasn't just about Layla. It was about him. About not letting them take the fire that kept him alive.
He grabbed his scrap of paper, pencil shaking in his hand, and sketched until his knuckles cramped. Flames spilling through cracks in the wall, burning through the guards, through Spider's grin, through Rico's fists.
Underneath, he wrote:
I am not theirs. Not yet. Not ever.