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 – I am so so sorry about the freaking long update. Lot's of homework to do. But anyway, I'm really starting to break into the story line now. Hope you enjoy!

Cityofevil – I absolutely adored your review! Thank you so much. I apologize to a wonderful dedicated reader that I hadn't updated in so long. I like to think that Squid isn't this big softie like many others portray him, and as for April – I really strived to not make her perfect, as I know many others dislike that in most OC girls. I really wanted to set her apart, but one thing I will say is that maybe she is too overdramatic. Wow, I really rambled just then. Anyways thanks so much for your review, hope you read on!

I would like to dedicate this chapter to cityofevil, for her absolutely lovely review!

Chapter Six

"Language of a Maniac"

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"I must admit that I am surprised that you showed." The long drawn out drawl left Squid's lips with a twist of cockiness – cockiness he didn't even know he possessed. He watched as April shuddered at the sound of his gruff voice.

"You asked me to," she mumbled, each word tumbling from her lips as if forced. Her head was bowed and her long ratty hair drew a curtain over her face. Squid leaned forward and held a confident smirk upon his lips.

"And if I asked you to jump off a bridge…" he replied in almost a sing-song voice, allowing his sentence to linger.

"I don't need anybody to ask me to." Squid rose an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side and let a sympathetic mask fall upon his face.

"Oh boo-hoo, cry for me," he taunted, his tone imitating that of a girl's voice. April's gaze snapped upward and her gaze met with his; he had expected her look to be filled with hatred and perhaps anger, but instead pooled misery and pleading.

"Please, just tell me what you called me here for, I need to leave here." Squid almost missed the girl who had sat before him asking that he would be the one who would see her. Squid's smirk widened as he leant closer to the glass, in turn causing her to rear backwards.

"This may be the last time you see me behind this glass," he began, April's face contorted into confusion, but kept silent "But this won't be the last time we see each other." His last words were whispered so low, he wondered if she actually heard. He watched as she drew an uncomfortable breath and saw her hold it in.

The silence was grueling and he momentarily wondered what she was thinking – he wanted to see inside her head, to be able to bewitch her thoughts, read her like an open book – he wanted to possess her. He hadn't realized how much she actually interested him until that moment, as he watched her curiously, like an animal awaiting its prey. He liked her naivety but at the same time resented it – it was a battle raging within him, was she going to fool him like every other person he had begun to trust?

"Why would you tell me this?"

"I thought you ought to know, I mean I think now that we are a little closer than just acquaintances." April seemed disgusted by the concept and stood from her seat abruptly.

"You really must be sick – you know what you did!" She was usually so calm, Squid mused to himself, but at this moment disgust was bleeding from her "You think I want to see you – you think we could actually have some sort of friendship? I don't like the fact that the answers I crave can only be told by the person I should hate the most. I may not be able to hate you – but there has not been any instance that I have liked you. Most of the time I like to pretend you don't even exist." A large smirk tweaked on his lips as if he hadn't heard a word of what she had, but he had heard every word that had left her lips. April, as if just realizing everything she had said, sat calmly back down in her chair and allowed her fingernails to dig painfully deep into the flesh of her arm.

"People like you and me need each other," he drawled, his eyes glinting in the light. April turned her head and let her hair hang in her face as usual.

"I am not like you – I cou - I couldn't kill somebody. I am not like you."She sounded forceful, pushing the words from her lips; spitting them at him like bullets.Squid's fist slammed down on the table and his other hand pushed against the glass, his palm facing her.

"You just can't see it – you can't see what we have – but you'll know. I can show you," Squid's maniacal voice boomed across the room, his own voice alien to him. He could hear himself sounding like a maniac, but he didn't care. She was denying it – denying the fact of who and what she was. He wouldn't stand for fakers. Her face was struck with terror and she once again rose from her seat, her hands clutched together and eyes wide.

"Please, just stay away from me – it's not fair to him – you are scaring me." He watched her run to the guards, her trousers, which were at least two sizes too big dragging across the floor as she ran. He pushed forcefully against the glass with his palms and stood also watching as the guards let her out.

"See you soon! You'll see, you'll see!" he called, tone set in madness. He then saw as she turned her head, just for a moment to take one last look, and then closed her wide eyes and left the room.

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Squid sat in his cell, a vial of pale liquid in his hand. It looked like milk, with a bluish tinge and perhaps a slightly thicker liquid. The vial was no bigger than his little finger and he clasped it tightly in his fist, looking around carefully to make sure there were no eyes on him, and carefully uncorked the milky liquid, slowly bringing the glass edge to his lips. Zigzag hadn't told him what the liquid was, or what it would do; but it was perhaps that mystery that made Squid unafraid. Or perhaps it was the fact he had nothing to lose – how can you be afraid of death when there is nothing to live for, why be afraid of pain when half the time you want to hurt just to know that you are capable of feeling pain, you are capable of feeling something - anything.

"How the fuck could you get it in here?" Squid had asked. Zigzag immediately shushed him and scowled.

"Keep it down!" he had hissed, his wild, wide eyes darting in each direction. Maybe he hadn't lost that slightly paranoid spark, Zigzag had about him. Zigzag's eyes had finally settled on Squid, and he had leant in close to the bars of Squid's cell.

"All you have to do is drink it – but you make damn sure that you get rid of the container. The cork you can swallow." Squid had agreed without many questions, he didn't need to really ask how Zigzag had gotten it in the prison supposedly undetected, Zigzag obviously had connections now – Zigzag had money now.

Feeling the cool glass, so smooth and clean, he finally parted his lips, tilted his head back the liquid darted down his throat. Feeling the cool liquid slither down his throat, burning as it went, Squid quickly pushed the vial into the small gap he had made into the stuffing of his mattress and pressed his booted foot hard down onto where he had placed it within the mattress, causing the vial to smash into small shards. The cork however Squid chewed and swallowed – the small parts sliding down his throat. Feeling satisfied with himself, Squid finally sunk onto the floor, his back leant against the wall as he finally acknowledged the pain pulsating in his stomach, twisting his insides agonizingly. Clenching his fists at his sides, Squid tried to contain his agony, but eventually a loud groan escaped past his lips and reverberated throughout his cell. Squid let out another cry of pain, and began to squirm in torture on the floor. A sharp blade of pain poked at his insides and clenched them together, twisting them like putty. Loud echoes of pain rang throughout his cell, and his screams of agony overpowered those of the Mother-crier. Clutching at his stomach, Squid squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth, trying to suck in the pain. Cold sweat trickled down his back, causing goose-bumps to rise on his skin, and his head began to ache as more shouts left his lips. Dizziness was overcoming him, and as he lay on his side on the damp cell floor, he blacked out, with only the weeping of the Mother-crier and the thumping of his own heart sounding in his ears.

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Author's Note – I am sorry if this didn't sound realistic enough, suggestions would be great. Please review. Thank you!