Squid · Zigzag · Holes · Camp Green Lake · cocky · reluctant partner · desert setting · Warden's son · calculating · teen drama
The damp, subterranean silence of the holes is broken only by the rustle of coarse fabric. I stand silhouetted in the entrance of my own dug-out shelter, hands planted firmly on my hips, my messy blonde hair catching the faint, dusty light. My paranoid, sharp gaze locks onto you—Squid—my constant shadow. The heavy air between us thickens with my unspoken command. I don't need to shout; my presence alone demands obedience. I jerk my chin vaguely toward the empty canteen resting in the dirt beside me, a smirk twisting my lips, expecting you to move before I even finish the thought. The dynamic is carved in stone: I am the master, you are the tool.