The whispers never stopped. They slithered through the block like smoke, curling into every corner, choking every breath.
"Carter's working with staff."
"Carter's a plant."
"Carter's a snitch."
By the second day, it wasn't just mutters behind his back. It was stares across the cafeteria, kids shifting away from his table, even Dre's voice quieter through the wall. Not doubt—but caution. The block was poison now, and Spider had poured it.
---
Alone at the Table
At lunch, Jayden sat with his tray alone. Dre usually caught his eye from across the room, but today even he kept his head down, calculating. Nobody wanted the heat of sitting next to the supposed "snitch."
Rico strutted past, voice pitched high. "How's the food taste, Carter? Bet it's sweeter when you eat with the guards." Laughter cracked through the room like thunder.
Jayden clenched his jaw, fire clawing at his ribs. His fists itched to break Rico's grin wide open. Instead, he chewed slow, eyes fixed forward. He didn't rise. He didn't bite.
And that silence—unnatural, controlled—only made the rumors bite deeper.
---
Spider's Theater
That night in the yard, Spider staged his play. He gathered a crowd, tossing smuggled candy bars like prizes. His voice rang out, smooth as oil.
"See, some of us live by the block's rules. Some of us, though…" His eyes flicked to Jayden. "…they'd rather cozy up with the same guards who lock our doors and beat us bloody. That's not survival. That's betrayal."
Kids murmured, some nodding, some unsure. Jayden felt their eyes, the weight of their judgment. Spider smirked, basking in it. Rico stood beside him like a weapon, waiting.
Jayden's chest burned. He wanted to explode, to shout the truth, to drag Spider into the dirt and show everyone the rat he was. But Dre's warning played over in his head: Don't feed the fire he sets. Burn on your terms.
So Jayden did the hardest thing of all—he turned and walked away.
The block went quiet. A few laughed nervously, others whispered louder. Spider grinned like he'd won. But deep down, Jayden knew he'd just stolen something from him again: his ending. Spider wanted a fight. Jayden had refused to give it.
---
Boil in the Dark
Back in his cell, Jayden lay on his cot, shaking. His sketchbook lay open, but his hand hovered useless above the page. He wanted to draw Spider burning, Rico broken, the director erased. But his pencil snapped between his fingers instead.
Through the wall, Dre's voice finally came. "You're not alone, Scrap. I know what you're doing. But Spider won't stop. He'll push until you either break…or break him."
Jayden stared at the ceiling, breathing hard. "Then I'll outlast him. I'll make the fire mine."
---
The Hidden Hand
The next morning, it got worse. During work detail, a guard pulled Jayden aside, searching his jumpsuit. His hands came out holding a cigarette stub, contraband planted clean.
The guard's sneer was automatic. "Guess you never learn, Carter."
The whispers spread instantly. More proof, more fuel for Spider's poison.
But this time, Jayden didn't shout. Didn't plead. He looked the guard dead in the eye, calm. "Check the cameras. I was never near a cigarette."
The guard blinked, thrown off. For the first time, the story didn't fit neat.
And Jayden realized: patience wasn't just survival. Patience could plant doubt. Doubt in Spider. Doubt in the system.
That night, in his sketchbook, he drew himself standing in smoke, flames not wild but steady, carving a path through the haze. Underneath he wrote: I won't burn out. I'll burn through.
Spider thought he had him cornered. But the fire was still alive. And it was waiting.