Redivivus

Disclaimer- I do not own 'Holes', it belongs to Louis Sachar.

Summary – Seventeen year old Squid makes a transition from juvenile delinquent into murderer, and only the sister of the victim can give him the chance of redemption.

Warning! – Mild swearing.

Author's Note – Another chapter finally! Sorry for taking so long. It's slightly short, but has some important clues I hope you guys pick up on. Thank you!

Horsesareamazing – Thanks for another review, I'm glad you decided to read on. I realize Squid may seem too angry, but I really wanted to capture the whole "teenage angst" thing (classic overdramatic teens). Oh, and about his mother, I've always thought that children are sort of like their parents, even the tiniest bit, and although Squid may seem slightly like his mother they do have a lot of differences. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter Three

"All These Things I've Slain"

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The paper lain in front of him was bare, so crisp and white, that in his hands it seemed so out of place and wrong that he should be allowed to hold something so delicate as a plain sheet of paper. There was not a crease nor a smudge marring the pristine piece of paper but as Squid lifted a hand to sweep his hair from his eyes, the skin on the pad of his fore-finger was sliced on the edge of the paper, and as Squid jerked his hand away in pain, a deep crimson droplet of blood splattered across the once pure white page. Pulling down his sleeve over his hand, Squid tried in vain to wipe away the droplet of blood, but only a greater mark was left. Like a slash from a knife across the page had caused it to bleed.

"Shit!" he swore, still trying to wipe away the harsh red smudge, but the paper would never be as it was. It was tainted. Screwing it up angrily, Squid threw the paper ball at the wall and watched as it rebound finally rolling across his cell, hiding under his bed. Lifting himself from the floor where he had been sitting preparing to write, due to one of the few times the prison had actually given them a piece of paper and a pencil to write, he heard the undeniable clatter of cell keys, usually meaning someone would have a visitor, and Squid momentarily hoped it was his mother coming to see him. But that thought was foolish, so he brushed the thought away.

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"What happened to your finger?" she asked. Squid looked down at the small cut across his finger pad but then looked over at the girl opposite him, a scowl written across his features. He was actually quite surprised she had managed to see the small cut.

"I'm very clumsy when it's 'arts and crafts'," he sneered. It was almost as if he gained pleasure from concealing his pathetic events from her; guarding them as if they were secrets. The girl sighed and laced her fingers together and placed her hands on her lap.

"I'm sorry I walked out on you yesterday." Squid's brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed. There was that word again 'sorry' , it just sounded so fake, it didn't mean anything.

"You're not sorry," he spoke with a cruel smirk on his face "How could you possibly sorry for someone like me," he continued "I suppose you've heard all about me, read all these shitty reports, you know I think I remember one about your mum tryin' to get me on the death row." The girl looked up at him, her large childlike eyes starring into his.

"Please, don't talk about my mother. She's been having a hard time," the girl spoke in a soft plea making his insides clench uncomfortably. Squid shook his head lightly and let out a short, cruel chuckle which echoed throughout the near bare room.

"'A hard time'?" he repeated with new found malice in his voice. "S'ppose it's all for the cameras," he taunted. He had to admit it to himself; he actually wanted to get this girl mad.

"You weren't there," she replied her voice still in the same soft whisper. "You weren't there when she dropped to her knees and cried. You weren't there watching her weep knowing there was nothing you could do," the girl paused and wrapped her thin arms around herself "My mother was dying and I couldn't help her – I couldn't do a thing, because I – I can't find the words to comfort her, because there aren't any. Her son is dead and all she had left for a child is me, and I don't even compare to him," the girl had began shouting, her voice crumbling away into silence. He wanted her to stop; he didn't want to listen to this. "I have never said this to anyone, but most of the time, I flat out wish that it were me who was dead," her voice was strong and forceful. Squid held his breath and watched noiselessly as she buried her pale face in her hands. She didn't weep or cry, she didn't make a noise and he could barely hear her breathe, but watching the child fall apart in front of him, made him want to puke.

"What's your name?" he asked abruptly. It was the softest he had ever spoken to her before. He didn't know why he asked, maybe he just wanted her to act like she had before, and he hated it when people's emotions were all over the place. Her face lifted from her hands and she sat up straight looking him in the eye.

"April," she replied. Squid looked away from her penetrating stare and settled his eyes on the table unable to think what to say.

"I'm Sq – I'm Alan." His real name felt foreign to his lips now, but as he said it a small smile played on his lips, but he quickly replaced it with a scowl.

"Alan," she repeated, he wasn't quite sure why, perhaps testing the waters. His name slipped from her lips so softly, he didn't mind it when she said it. His mum hardly ever called him by his name; he wished she would have. April broke the silence as she sighed softly, causing Squid to look up at her, seeing her face twisted in discomfort.

"I had so many things I wanted to say to you, but now I'm not sure," she said, Squid didn't understand, but he listened anyway, "My mother is returning tomorrow, from her bereavement group, so I guess this will be the last time I visit." April's eyes connected with his, and he could see the dark circles around her eyes he guessed from loss of sleep "I want to say that I understand now, but I can't pretend." Squid suddenly felt rage building up within him. Narrowing his eyes like slits he glared at her and a low chuckle escaped his lips.

"Aw, how absolutely precious," Squid began in a sneer, standing from his chair but still looking her in the face. "Would mummy not like you coming to visit the big bad wolf?" April turned away from him and stood also, trying to size him up but she was a good foot shorter. "But of course, your mum wants me dead; perhaps she can use you to slip somethin' to me, huh?" April's features set in disbelief and she furrowed her brow, finally looking him in the face again.

"My mother is a caring woman…" her sentence was cut short as Squid snorted.

"Well if she's so fucking caring, where is she now? She's dealin' with her own problems, leavin' her daughter to cry to a stranger," Squid rambled in a fit of rage. "She doesn't give a fuck where her daughter is; I bet she didn't even ask where you were goin'. She goes and cries about her own woes as you're left alone. Some carin' woman." April had turned her back on him, shoulders sagging and head bowed. Squid didn't know why he was so angry, but as he watched her, he almost felt regret for shouting.

"What does it matter to you?" she asked. Her voice wasn't sneering nor judgmental but naïve, like when a child asks a question to their mother; like when seven year old Squid asked where his father was, so naively – so foolish. His mother had been crying, and he was too young to help, to know how to handle it.

"It doesn't," he snapped. April shook her head and turned back to face him, eyes set in pity.

"I'm sorry." He wished she would stop saying that.

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Author's Note – More feedback! If you have any ideas or suggestions, I am happy to hear them. Also, I'm sorry if I made April's character too corny, I would like to hear also what you think about my take on the characters. Please review.