The silence pressed heavier each day. Without Dre's gravel voice through the wall, Jayden felt the block swallowing him whole. Every second of quiet was another crack in his chest. He kept replaying Dre's words—Don't break. Make him—but alone, they were harder to believe.
Spider knew it. He moved through the block like he owned the air, smirking wider with every step. Rico limped less now, swagger back in his stride, his grin sharp as broken glass.
And the block followed. Kids who had started to doubt, who had started to shift, leaned Spider's way again. Whispers swirled like flies: "Dre's gone." "Carter's soft now." "Spider runs this place again."
Jayden burned, fists clenched so tight they split open. But without Dre's voice, holding the fire steady felt like choking.
---
The Push
It came at lunch. Jayden sat alone, chewing stale bread, when Rico swaggered up with a smirk. He slapped Jayden's tray onto the floor, food splattering across the concrete.
"Guess your teacher ain't here to protect you now," Rico sneered. "So what you gonna do, fire-boy? Cry into your sketches?"
The block watched, eyes hungry. Even Spider stayed back, arms folded, letting Rico play.
Jayden's chest shook. He wanted to swing, wanted to smash Rico's head against the table until his smirk bled out. The fire screamed to be free.
Instead, he bent down, picked up the tray, and dumped it into the trash. His hands trembled. His vision swam red. But he walked away.
The block erupted in laughter. Spider's grin split wide. And for the first time in weeks, Jayden felt like he'd lost ground.
---
Breaking Point
That night, lying on his bunk, Jayden couldn't stop shaking. Dre's silence was a knife in his chest. Without his anchor, every second of restraint felt like drowning.
He opened his sketchbook, but the pencil snapped in his grip. His pages blurred. He wanted to burn the whole book, wanted to burn the whole block.
"Control is fire too," he whispered to himself, over and over, like a prayer. But it didn't feel like enough. Not tonight.
---
The Trap
The next morning, Spider made his move. Guards pulled Jayden from lineup, shoved him toward the showers. The air inside was heavy with steam and menace. Three boys waited. Not Rico this time—Spider didn't need him. Just fresh faces, strung up on Spider's strings.
"Time to finish it," one muttered, fists cracking.
Jayden's chest heaved. The fire exploded against its cage. For the first time in weeks, he felt himself slipping. He could already see the blood on tile, the sirens, the file marked for max.
But then he remembered Dre's empty bunk. The silence. And his own words scrawled under a drawing: If he breaks my anchor, I'll become my own.
Jayden raised his fists. But this time, not wild. Not uncontrolled. His fire was steady, contained, dangerous.
---
The Choice
The first boy lunged. Jayden sidestepped, grabbed his wrist, twisted. The boy cried out and crumpled. Another came from behind—Jayden ducked, shoved him into the wall, breath steady, fists leashed.
He could've broken them. Could've painted the showers with blood. But he didn't. He made them stumble, made them fall, but never swung past control.
When the guards burst in, Jayden stood tall, fire in his chest but not spilling. The three boys sprawled on the tiles, groaning.
Spider's shadow loomed in the doorway, grin gone, eyes black with hate.
---
The Sketch
Back in his cell, hands trembling, Jayden opened the book again. He drew three shadows tangled in their own strings, broken but not bleeding. Above them, he drew himself—not a flame wild and raging, but a torch, upright, steady, burning without end.
Underneath he scrawled: I am my own anchor.
The wall stayed silent. But for the first time, Jayden didn't need it to answer.