The Last Week
Seven days. That's all he had left before transfer.
The air in Lockdown felt thicker, heavier, like everyone could smell the clock ticking down on Jayden. Some gave him space. Others waited for him to slip, hungry for the show.
Rico still watched him with that predator's grin, Spider still whispered poison, and the guards… the guards treated him like he was already gone.
Jayden felt the fire clawing at his chest every second. Patience was a chain now, one that dug deeper every day.
---
The Betrayal
It happened in the yard. Dre was on the far side, talking low with another kid, when Spider slinked up to Jayden. His grin was wider than usual, slick with victory before it even began.
"You thought you embarrassed me with that candy stunt," Spider whispered. "But see, I always finish the game."
Before Jayden could answer, Spider shouted, loud enough for the guards and everyone else to hear:
"Yo! Scrap's holding something!"
All eyes snapped to Jayden. Guards stormed over, hands grabbing at his uniform. His heart dropped — until they pulled his pockets inside out and found nothing.
The yard buzzed with laughter, but this time at Spider. The guards shoved Jayden away, annoyed, muttering about "false alarms."
For the first time, Spider's grin cracked.
---
The Spark Ignites
Rico stepped forward then, shoving Jayden hard in the chest. "You think that makes you safe, Scrap? You're already done. Might as well bleed now instead of waiting for max."
Jayden's fists clenched. His breath came sharp. The fire roared, begging for release. He could almost feel the countdown burning into his skin: seven days.
Dre's voice carried across the yard, steady but sharp: "Jay. Not like this."
But Rico shoved him again, harder this time, laughter rippling through the circle forming around them.
Something inside Jayden snapped.
---
The Explosion
He didn't even feel the first punch leave his hand. His fist cracked against Rico's jaw, the sound sharp as thunder. Rico stumbled, eyes wild, before swinging back.
The yard erupted. Boys circled, shouting, the guards surging but too slow. Jayden and Rico collided, fists flying, the fire pouring out of Jayden like a flood.
But this time, it wasn't wild. It was focused. Every punch was measured, aimed, deliberate. The fire wasn't consuming him — he was steering it.
Rico swung, Jayden ducked, drove his fist into Rico's gut, then cracked him across the face. Rico dropped to one knee, spitting blood, glaring up with hate.
The guards tackled them both, slamming Jayden to the ground, cuffs biting into his wrists. The crowd roared like it was a show worth watching.
---
The Aftermath
Dragged back to his block, Jayden's chest heaved, sweat and blood dripping. His body ached, but inside, for the first time, the fire didn't feel out of control.
Through the bars, Dre's voice came low. "That… that was different."
Jayden whispered back, his lip split but his eyes burning. "I aimed it. I finally aimed it."
---
The Vow
That night, in the silence of his cell, Jayden scrawled across a scrap of paper:
The fire is mine now. And I'll use it when it matters.
He folded it carefully, tucking it under his mattress.
Max was still looming. The countdown was still ticking. But Jayden felt something new burning under his skin.
Not just rage.
Purpose.