At the crack of dawn, Fred was awakened not by an alarm... but by a sharp kick in the ribs.
"Up, fresh meat. Breakfast line."
It was Brayo again, sneering.
Fred groaned and sat up.
His entire body felt broken.
As he staggered toward the hallway, someone grabbed his elbow —
a tall, slim boy about 19, pale-skinned, green eyes with a cruel but intelligent glint, messy black hair.
His name was Malik — known among inmates as "The Ghost".
Nobody knew where he came from.
Some said he was the son of a rich politician.
Others whispered he killed his entire family at 16.
Only one thing was certain: Malik survived where others were buried.
They shuffled into the canteen — a long, stinking hall with broken plastic chairs and rusted trays.
The meal was horrifying:
A blob of sticky porridge
Three beans floating in yellow water
A stale, rock-hard slice of bread
Fred's stomach twisted in hunger and disgust.
As he hesitated, Brayo marched over, slapped the tray from Fred's hands.
"Fresh meat doesn't eat until he earns it."
The entire hall laughed.
Humiliation burned hotter than hunger.
Fred bent down to pick up his tray.
Malik appeared beside him, bending too.
"First lesson, kid," Malik whispered, calm like a snake,
"In here, never show weakness. Never kneel unless you're ready to die."
Fred froze.
His fingers inches from the ground.
The hall waited.
Mocking him.
Waiting for him to crawl.
With trembling legs, Fred straightened up.
He locked eyes with Brayo.
Brayo shoved him — hard — but Fred didn't fall.
Inside, Fred made a decision:
He would never kneel again.
Even if it killed him.
Behind Bars — The Silent Lessons
Later that day, while mopping the filthy corridor floors, Malik leaned close.
"You're not like the others."
Fred said nothing.
Malik continued, his voice low:
"You hide your rage. Good. You'll need it."
Fred glanced at him, puzzled.
Malik gave a bitter smile.
"Second lesson: Patience is deadlier than anger."
He pointed with his mop toward the upper balcony where a group of tough inmates lounged.
"They rule today. You'll rule tomorrow — if you survive."
Fred listened, heart pounding.
For the first time in weeks, something flickered in his chest.
Not hope.
Not yet.
But fire.
That evening, as Fred scrubbed the showers, a group of boys cornered him.
Kevin — tall, light-brown skin, 18 years old, missing front teeth — and his gang.
"New boy thinks he's tough?"
"Time for a welcome gift!"
Fred backed against the wall.
No escape.
A punch smashed into his face.
He tasted blood.
They pummeled him.
Knees to his ribs.
Fists to his stomach.
Kicks to his legs.
Pain exploded in every nerve.
He thought he would die.
"Stay down, bitch!"
Fred fell, gasping.
But he remembered Malik's words:
Never kneel.
With a scream of pure agony, Fred lunged at Kevin —
headbutting him square in the nose.
CRUNCH.
Kevin screamed.
Blood spurted.
Fred fought like a wild animal.
Biting.
Scratching.
Swinging blindly.
He didn't win.
But he didn't lose.
When the guards dragged him and Kevin apart, both were battered.
Fred's nose was bleeding.
His knuckles raw.
His eyes almost swollen shut.
But as he was dragged back to his cell...
He saw it.
The way the others looked at him.
Not as prey anymore.
But as something dangerous.
Something that might bite back.
Malik's Warning
That night, Malik visited him in the infirmary.
Fred lay on a torn mattress, stitches over his eyebrow.
Malik smirked.
"Lesson three, Fred."
"Pain is a language. You're learning fast."
Fred croaked, voice hoarse:
"Why are you helping me?"
Malik's smile faded.
For a moment, something haunted crossed his face.
"Because someone once helped me."
He handed Fred something wrapped in cloth.
Fred unwrapped it:
A thin, rusty nail sharpened to a wicked point.
A prison shiv.
"Keep it close," Malik whispered, his voice hard now.
"You'll need it sooner than you think."
Alone in the Dark
Later that night, Fred lay awake.
Pain rippled through his broken ribs.
The small shiv hidden beneath his mat.
He stared at the cracked ceiling, the rats nibbling on leftover bread crumbs.
Somewhere deep inside...
A piece of Fred died.
And something else was born.
Something cold.
Patient.
Deadly.
"I'll get out of here,"
"And when I do... the world will hear my name."
Fred clenched his fists, ignoring the pain.
The future was a long, bloody road away.
But he had already taken the first step.