Chapter Six: The Walls We Build

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Morning Regret

The next morning, my head still heavy from the night before, I sit on my bed, staring at my phone.

Josie left me on read.

I ain't surprised.

I was on my bullshit last night, and she knew it.

I exhale, running a hand through my hair. The way she looked at me before she pulled off—it ain't leave my head.

She wanted something real. I was just looking for an escape.

Same old Jordan.

I toss my phone onto my nightstand and head to the bathroom. My reflection in the mirror looks like hell—bloodshot eyes, dark circles, lips slightly swollen from kissing someone who probably hates me now.

I scoff at myself, turning on the faucet.

Cold water splashes against my face, but it don't wash away the feeling in my chest.

Regret.

I don't do regret.

But Josie?

She different.

I just ain't ready to admit it.

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The Therapist

I barely make it downstairs before my mom stops me in my tracks.

"Jordan."

Her voice is careful, like she knows I'm not in the mood.

I sigh, looking at her from the bottom of the stairs. "What?"

"I scheduled your first therapy session for this afternoon."

I blink. "You did what?"

"You need to talk to someone, Jordan. What happened at school—"

"I don't need a damn therapist."

Her lips press together. "You don't have a choice. You're going."

I laugh dryly, shaking my head. "Therapy is for white people, Mom."

"Jordan—"

"No, for real. You think some old white lady is gonna fix me? Gonna make me talk about my 'feelings'?"

She crosses her arms. "You don't talk to me, so maybe you'll talk to someone else."

I step closer, eyes narrowing. "Oh, you wanna talk now?"

She exhales, already exhausted. "Don't start."

"No, let's talk, Mom. Let's talk about the fact that you never believed me. That every time I tried to tell you about Oscar, you shut me down. Let's talk about that."

Her face hardens. "We're not doing this."

"Exactly."

I brush past her, grabbing my keys. "I ain't going to no damn therapy."

"Jordan—"

The door slams behind me before she can finish.

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Reckless Decisions

I don't know where I'm driving.

I just need to go.

Need to drown out the thoughts banging in my head.

I pull into a liquor store parking lot, tapping on my phone.

Matthew texts me: "U good?"

I ignore it.

I type out a different text.

To Maiesha.

"Where u at?"

A few minutes later, she replies.

"Cheer practice. Why?"

"Ditch it."

I know she will.

She always does.

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The Game She Plays

Maiesha meets me behind the gym, still in her cheer uniform, hair tied up in a high ponytail. She crosses her arms, smirking.

"You know I got a whole-ass boyfriend, right?"

I lean against my car, smirking back. "Do I look like I care?"

She bites her lip, eyes darkening. "You're so messy, Jordan."*

"And you like it."

She steps closer, resting her hands on my chest. "Kaleb would kill you if he knew."*

"Then maybe you should stop hitting me up."

She doesn't respond. Just pulls me in.

The kiss is fast, hot, reckless.

I don't feel anything.

That's the point.

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The Aftermath

An hour later, Maiesha fixes her uniform, glancing at me with that teasing grin. "You're so toxic."

I shrug, lighting a cigarette. "And you're still here."

She laughs, shaking her head. "You're gonna regret playing with me one day."

I exhale smoke, eyes cold. "I don't regret shit."

She watches me for a second, then leans in, whispering against my ear. "We'll see about that."

She walks away, hips swaying, leaving me alone in the parking lot.

I take another drag, watching her disappear.

A part of me knows—this is gonna come back to bite me.

But right now?

I don't care.

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Chapter Six (Part 2): Running from Everything

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Back Home

By the time I get home, the house is quiet.

Mom's probably still at work, doing whatever rich people do when they're too busy to raise their kids.

I head upstairs, closing my bedroom door behind me. The air feels thick, like the walls are pressing in.

I don't like being alone with my thoughts.

I toss my jacket onto the bed and open my nightstand drawer. My fingers graze over a small metal blade tucked between a pack of cigarettes and an old lighter.

The anger still sits heavy in my chest.

At my mom. At myself. At everything.

I take a deep breath, gripping the blade between my fingers.

One cut.

Then another.

A sharp sting, then warmth.

It doesn't hurt.

Nothing ever does.

I watch the red lines form, my breathing slowing.

Calm.

This is the only thing that makes sense.

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Matthew Knows

A knock on my window makes me jump.

I shove the blade back in the drawer and pull my sleeve down before walking over.

Matthew.

I unlock it, letting him climb in. "Damn, Jordan, you good?"

"What you want?" I mumble, sitting on my bed.

"You ain't answer my texts." He eyes me, his usual playful energy muted. "And you look like shit."

I roll my eyes. "Thanks."

He plops down next to me, hands clasped between his knees. "You been acting wild lately. More than usual."

"I'm fine, Matthew."

"You sure?"

I feel his eyes on me like he already knows.

I shift, pulling my sleeves further down. "What you tryna say?"

He sighs, rubbing his face. "I saw, Jordan."*

Silence.

A cold weight settles in my stomach. "Saw what?"

"Your arm. When you were fighting Kaleb. I saw the scars."

My whole body stiffens. "You tripping."

"Am I?"

I don't say anything.

He exhales, shaking his head. "You can talk to me, you know."

I force a smirk. "What, you my therapist now?"

"I'm your friend."

The words hit me harder than I expect.

I swallow. "I don't need saving, Matthew."*

"I know."* He stands up, stretching. "But I'ma be here anyway."

I watch as he climbs back out the window, disappearing into the night.

Something about that makes my chest ache.

But like always—I ignore it.

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Chapter Six (Part 3): Buried Memories

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Unwanted Dates

A few days pass, and the world keeps spinning like it always does.

School, smoking, skipping class, messing around with girls, ignoring texts from Josie. Same routine.

But then—Mom brings it up.

"Your birthday's next week."

My whole body tenses.

I keep my eyes on my phone, scrolling like I ain't hear her. "So?"

"So, I was thinking we could do something this year."

I let out a cold laugh. "You 'thinking' now?"

"Jordan—"

"No, for real, Mom. You wanna celebrate? You wanna throw a party? Decorate the house? Buy me a cake?" I look up, voice flat. "Like nothing ever happened?"

Her jaw tightens. "I just want to do something nice for you."

"You wanna do something nice?" I lean forward. "Believe me."*

She exhales sharply, rubbing her temples. "We're not doing this."

"Of course we're not."* I push back from the table, grabbing my keys. "We never do."

She calls my name as I walk out the door, but I don't stop.

I already know how this ends.

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The Spiral

I drive aimlessly, fingers gripping the wheel so tight my knuckles turn white.

I don't wanna think about it.

Don't wanna think about him.

Don't wanna think about the way my mom looks at me when I bring it up—like I'm the problem.

I pull up to some random parking lot, my heart pounding in my ears.

I need to make it stop.

I grab my lighter, flicking it on and off, on and off. The flame dances in the dark car, casting shadows on my hands.

I can already feel the sting before I even press it to my skin.

But right before I do—my phone vibrates.

Josie.

I hesitate.

Then answer.

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A Different Voice

"Jordan?" Her voice is soft, almost hesitant.

I clear my throat. "Yeah?"

"Where are you?"

"Nowhere."

She exhales. "You okay?"

I stare at the lighter in my hand, the heat of the flame warming my fingers.

No.

"Yeah," I say instead. "Why?"

"Because you sound… different."

"I'm always different."

"Jordan—"

"What do you want, Josie?"

She's quiet for a moment. "I just… wanted to hear your voice."

My fingers tremble slightly.

I don't know what to say to that.

So I just sit there, listening to her breathe on the other end of the line, feeling something shift inside me.

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Chapter Six (Part 4): Slipping

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The Call

Josie's still on the line, waiting for me to say something.

I hate that she can tell when something's wrong.

"You just wanted to hear my voice?" I finally say.

"Yeah."*

I scoff, flicking the lighter shut. "You getting soft on me, Josie?"

She laughs, but there's something else in her voice—concern. "Maybe I am. You got a problem with that?"

I don't.

But I don't say that.

"I'm fine," I lie, leaning my head back against the seat. "Don't worry 'bout me."*

"I always do."*

My throat tightens.

I don't wanna deal with this right now.

"I gotta go," I say quickly.

"Jordan—"

I hang up before she can say anything else.

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Losing Control

The car is dead silent now.

I toss my phone onto the passenger seat and rub my hands over my face.

I can feel the rage creeping back in.

I don't even know what I'm mad at.

My mom? My uncle? Myself?

All of it.

I grab the blade from my jacket pocket.

My hands are steady as I press it to my skin.

Deep breath.

Then—

A knock on the window.

I freeze.

Through the glass, Matthew stares at me, face unreadable.

I don't even know how he found me.

But I know I'm caught.

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Matthew's Patience

I roll the window down slowly. "What."

He doesn't answer. Just opens the door and slides in next to me.

"What you doin' out here?" he asks.

I shrug. "Clearing my head."

His eyes flick to my sleeve, to the blade I barely had time to tuck away. "That how you clear it?"

I stay silent.

He sighs, shaking his head. "Jordan, man…"

"Save the speech, Matthew."

"Nah, you gon' listen." His voice is low but firm. "You keep actin' like you don't care, but I know you do. You just scared to let people in."*

I look away. "You don't know shit."

"I know you, Jordan."*

That makes my chest tighten.

"You ain't gotta do this alone," he says. "You got me. You got Josie. Hell, even your mama tryin', even if she don't know how."*

I let out a dry laugh. "She 'tryin' by ignoring everything?"

"She don't know what to do."

"She don't want to."*

He sighs again, rubbing his face. "I can't make you talk. But I ain't goin' nowhere. So when you ready? I'm here."*

I don't answer.

But when he pulls me into a quick hug before leaving, I don't pull away.

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