Chapter Five: The Fire Inside

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Pressure Building

The house is silent, but my mind is loud as hell.

I sit on the couch, leg bouncing, eyes locked on the TV. Ain't even watching it. Just staring. My body feels tight, like I'm about to explode.

In the kitchen, my mom moves around, probably fixing herself another glass of wine. She been acting normal, like she don't know I got suspended today. Like she ain't hear about me skipping therapy, again.

Then I hear it—her heels clicking against the floor as she walks toward me.

"Jordan." Her voice is careful, like she already know I ain't tryna hear it. "We need to talk."

I don't look at her. "'Bout what?"

"About you. About what's going on with you."

I scoff. "Oh, now you care?"

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Act like I don't care." She sits on the other end of the couch. "I've always cared."

I turn to her now, eyes cold. "Yeah? Like you cared when I was five?"

Her body stiffens. "Jordan—"

"Nah, let's talk about it, right? Let's talk about Oscar."

"Enough." Her voice is sharp.

My heart pounds. "Why you always do this?" My voice cracks, but I ignore it. "Why you always shut me up when I bring it up?"

"Because I don't want to talk about something that isn't true."

Something inside me snaps.

I stand up so fast the coffee table shakes. "Fuck you."

"Jordan—"

"No, for real. Fuck you." My chest is tight, vision blurry. "You never believed me. You never will."

"That's not true—"

"Then say it." My hands curl into fists. "Say you believe me."

She opens her mouth. Closes it.

And that's all I need to see.

I storm off, slamming my bedroom door so hard the walls shake.

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The Blade Always Listens

I can't breathe.

I can't think.

The anger is too much. It's crawling under my skin, burning, screaming for a way out.

I need it to stop.

I need to feel something else.

My fingers find the blade under my bed without thinking. The metal is cold, familiar. A friend I can count on.

I roll up my sleeve, eyes locking onto the scars, old and new.

Then, I press the blade down and drag.

The pain is instant. Sharp. Real.

I exhale. The anger fades, just a little.

I do it again.

Again.

Again.

My vision blurs. My head feels light.

Then—

"Jordan!"

The door flies open.

Matthew.

His eyes go straight to my arm, to the blood, to the blade. "Oh, hell no."

Before I can react, he's snatching the blade outta my hand. "What the fuck are you doing?!"

I don't answer.

"Jordan." His voice breaks. "Talk to me."

I can't.

He looks at my arm again, then back at me, realization hitting his face like a brick. "This ain't the first time, is it?"

Still, I say nothing.

"Jesus Christ." He paces, rubbing his hands over his face. "Why, Jordan?"

I swallow hard. "I don't know."

"Bullshit." His eyes are wet now. "You gotta stop this, man. You can't keep doing this to yourself."

I shake my head, feeling numb. "It don't matter."

"The fuck it don't!" He kneels in front of me, grabbing my wrists. "You matter. I don't care what you think, I don't care how bad you feel—this? This ain't the answer."

I look away. "I just… I just wanted to stop thinking."

He exhales hard. "Then talk to me. Scream. Throw shit. But don't fucking do this, Jordan."

I don't say nothing.

He pulls me into a hug, and this time, I don't fight it.

I just sit there, in the silence, and try to breathe.

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Burning Slow

Later that night, I lay in bed, arm wrapped in bandages.

Matthew stayed till I knocked out.

Or at least, till I faked it.

Now, in the dark, everything comes back.

Oscar's face. My mom's voice.

The way Matthew looked at me—scared.

I grab my phone.

Scroll through my contacts.

Find a name.

A girl I don't care about.

I send the text.

Because I don't wanna think.

I just wanna burn.

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Chapter Five: The Fire Inside (Part 2)

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Numb and Reckless

The buzz of my phone pulls me out of my thoughts.

"What u doing rn?"

I barely remember the girl's name. Brianna? Brittany? Don't matter.

"Pull up."

A second later, she replies. "Bet."

I throw my phone on the bed and head to my closet. I need to get out. Need to get fucked up. Anything to make the night disappear.

I yank on some sweatpants, grab my hoodie, and slip out my window. The house is quiet, lights off. My mom's probably passed out from her wine.

Good.

I light a cigarette as I walk, the night air cold against my skin. The nicotine hits, but it ain't enough. My mind still racing. My chest still tight.

The memory of Matthew's face won't leave me alone.

That look he gave me. Like he cared. Like he knew.

I shake it off and keep walking.

A car pulls up at the end of the block.

Brianna—or whatever her name is—leans out the window. "Get in, ma."

I smirk, but it don't reach my eyes.

"Say less."

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Drowning the Pain

Her crib is in a neighborhood way different from mine. Small, messy, loud. Music bumping from the next house over, people sitting on porches, smoking, laughing.

We go straight to her room.

Bottles on the nightstand. A blunt already rolled.

She smirks, handing it to me. "You tryna feel good or feel nothing?"

"Both."

I take a long hit, letting the smoke fill my lungs. The weed kicks in fast, mixing with the liquor burning down my throat.

My body starts to float. The world slows down.

Finally.

"Damn, girl," she laughs, leaning in. "You stay tryna get lost, huh?"

I don't answer. Just pull her closer.

She giggles, lips brushing against mine. "Mm, you don't even like me, do you?"

"Nah," I admit. "But you don't care, do you?"

She laughs again, low and knowing. "Not one bit."

And just like that, I forget.

Forget about Matthew.

Forget about my mom.

Forget about the past clawing at my throat.

For a little while, at least.

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The Morning After

I wake up to a pounding headache and a text from Matthew.

"Where you at?"

I ignore it.

Brianna—or was it Bianca?—is still asleep next to me, arm draped over my stomach. I peel it off, grab my clothes, and slip out.

The sun is just coming up.

The walk home is quiet, except for the sound of my own thoughts creeping back in.

I feel empty.

I feel nothing.

And I already know—

Tonight, I'm gonna have to do it all over again.

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Chapter Five: The Fire Inside (Part 3)

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Running on Empty

By the time I climb back through my window, my head is still spinning. My body feels heavy, weighed down by the mix of liquor, weed, and regret.

I throw my hoodie on the floor and collapse onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. The room is quiet. Too quiet.

My phone vibrates. Another text from Matthew.

"I know you ain't home. Call me when you get back."

I sigh, tossing my phone to the side.

I ain't got the energy for him right now.

I turn over, pulling my blanket over my head, hoping sleep will take me before my thoughts do.

But I already know how this goes.

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Dreams or Nightmares

I don't sleep long before the dream comes.

It always starts the same.

Me, five years old. Small. Helpless.

Oscar's face, too close. His voice, too soft. His hands—

I jolt awake, gasping for air.

My heart is racing. My skin is on fire.

I sit up, pressing my hands against my face, trying to breathe.

The dream is always the same, always waiting for me the second I let my guard down.

I glance at the nightstand.

The blade is still there, right where Matthew left it after snatching it from me.

I don't reach for it.

Not tonight.

Instead, I grab my phone.

I don't even think about it—just open a new text.

To Josie.

"U up?"

The typing bubble pops up immediately.

"Yeah. What's up?"

I hesitate, fingers hovering over the screen.

I could say anything.

Could tell her the truth.

Could tell her I need her.

But I don't.

Instead, I type:

"Come outside."

A few minutes later, she responds.

"Give me 10."

And for the first time tonight, I breathe a little easier.

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Late Night Conversations

Josie pulls up in her car, hair tied up, hoodie on, looking like she just rolled out of bed. She leans over, unlocking the passenger door.

"Where we going?" she asks as I slide in.

"Nowhere."

She side-eyes me. "Then why am I outside at 3AM?"

I shrug. "Felt like seeing you."

She doesn't say nothing for a minute. Just watches me.

"You okay?" she finally asks.

I turn to the window, watching the empty streets. "I'm good."

"Liar."

I smirk, but it don't reach my eyes. "You don't know me like that, Josie."

She leans back, stretching her legs. "I know you more than you think."

I don't respond.

We sit in silence, the car filled with nothing but the low hum of the radio.

Then, she speaks.

"You ever gonna tell me what's really going on with you?"

I glance at her. "What makes you think something's going on?"

She gives me a look. "You disappear for hours. You show up looking like you ain't slept in days. You act like you don't care about nothing, but I see it in your eyes."

I swallow hard. Look away.

She sighs, shaking her head. "You one stubborn ass girl, Jordan."

"And you talk too much."

She laughs, soft and real. "Somebody gotta get through that thick-ass skull of yours."

For a moment, I just watch her. The way she smiles, the way her eyes soften when she looks at me.

Something tightens in my chest.

I ignore it.

Instead, I lean over, closing the space between us.

She stills. "Jordan…"

I don't let her finish. My lips brush against hers, slow but firm. Testing.

She doesn't pull away.

For a second, it's just us, breathing the same air, caught in something neither of us wanna name.

Then, she does pull back.

"Is this just another one of your games?" she whispers.

I don't answer.

She shakes her head, disappointed. "That's what I thought."

She doesn't say nothing else. Just puts the car in drive and pulls off, leaving me alone in the night.

I stand there, heart pounding.

And for the first time in a long time, the blade ain't the only thing that hurts.

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