Chapter Eight: Happy Fucking Birthday

Part 1 – The Surprise That Shouldn't Have Happened

Birthdays ain't nothing but a reminder that time keeps moving whether you want it to or not. Another year older, another year breathing, another year dragging the same damn pain behind you like a corpse you can't bury.

I don't celebrate birthdays.

I don't talk about birthdays.

I sure as hell don't want people throwing me a damn party.

But nobody told them that.

---

After School – Walking Into the Trap

I should've known something was off the second I walked up to the house. The driveway was too empty. The curtains were drawn like somebody was trying too hard to hide.

I hesitated on the steps, rolling my shoulders, my whole body on alert. My gut was telling me something's wrong.

Then I pushed open the door.

And all hell broke loose.

"SURPRISE!!!"

I froze.

Confetti popped. Balloons bobbed. A big-ass HAPPY BIRTHDAY JORDAN banner hung across the living room. The smell of cake, pizza, and whatever else they cooked filled the air.

And right in the middle of it all—Matthew, Josie, and my mom, smiling like they just did the greatest thing ever.

My stomach dropped.

---

The Build-Up Before the Storm

"What the fuck is this?" My voice came out cold, sharp.

"Jordan—" Matthew stepped forward, grinning. "Before you flip, just listen—"

"Oh nah, we past listening," I cut him off. "I said, what the fuck is this?"

Josie bit her lip, looking nervous now. "We just… we thought it'd be nice."*

"Nice?" I let out a dry laugh. "I don't do birthdays. Y'all know that."*

"Yeah, but we never knew why," Matthew said, still trying to reason with me. "And we figured, you deserve something good, you know? Something happy."*

Something happy.

The words twisted in my chest, scraping against old wounds that never healed.

I turned to my mom. "And you?" My voice was dangerously low. "You let this happen?"

She sighed, stepping closer. "Jordan, baby, I just wanted to—"

"Don't."* My hands curled into fists. "Don't 'baby' me. Don't act like you don't know why I don't do birthdays."*

Her face tensed. "I—"

"Say it."* My voice shook. "Go ahead, Mom. Say it out loud. Why don't I celebrate my birthday?"

Silence.

The room felt too small, too hot.

She looked away. "Jordan…"

"Yeah. That's what I thought."*

The air got thick, and I could feel my skin crawling, my breath getting shallow. It was happening again.

The memories.

The weight.

The feeling of being small and helpless and dirty all over again.

And they—Matthew, Josie, my mom—they just stood there, confused, not knowing they had just ripped open a wound I never wanted touched.

I needed to get out.

---

The Breakdown

I turned on my heel and stormed toward the door.

"Jordan!" Josie called after me, but I didn't stop.

"Yo, where you going?!" Matthew shouted.

I yanked the door open. "Anywhere but here."*

I barely made it to the porch before my chest locked up. My breaths came out ragged. Too fast. My fingers twitched, my body shaking like it was trying to crawl out of its own skin.

I pressed my hands to my temples. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."*

It felt like I was five again.

Like I was back in that room.

Like his hands were still on me.

Like I was screaming and no one was listening.

My breathing got worse. The edges of my vision blurred. My nails dug into my arms, searching for pain, searching for anything to ground me.

But it wasn't enough.

I needed more.

I stumbled down the porch steps, my hands trembling as I reached into my pocket.

The cool metal of my blade met my fingers, and for the first time in years, I was actually scared of what I was about to do.

But I needed it.

I needed the pain to remind me I was here, that I wasn't back there.

I flicked the blade open.

Pressed it to my skin.

And then—

"Jordan!"*

Josie's voice.

Her hand on my wrist.

Her eyes—wide, frantic, worried.

"What are you doing?" Her voice was soft, but there was something in it that made my chest clench.

"Move."* My voice was barely above a whisper. "Let me go, Josie."*

She didn't.

"Please don't do this,"* she murmured.

My throat closed up.

I felt raw. Exposed. Like she was seeing a side of me I never wanted anybody to see.

Behind her, Matthew stood there, frozen, his face pale.

I swallowed hard, my grip on the blade tightening before my fingers finally let go.

The metal hit the ground.

And just like that, all the fight drained out of me.

I slumped against Josie, my breath ragged.

"I hate my birthday,"* I whispered, voice cracking.

She just held onto me, not saying a word.

And for once, I let her.

---

Chapter Eight: Happy Fucking Birthday

Part 2 – After the Storm

The party was over before it even started.

Matthew and Josie must've kicked everyone out while I was outside falling apart, 'cause when I finally stepped back inside, the place was empty. No balloons, no music, no fake-ass smiles. Just silence.

The cake still sat on the dining table, untouched.

I didn't look at it.

I didn't look at my mom either, who stood near the couch, her arms crossed like she was bracing for another explosion.

Josie stayed close, like she thought I might bolt again. Matthew hovered near the kitchen, hands in his pockets, his jaw tight.

Nobody spoke.

Until my mom finally broke the silence.

"Jordan… I didn't know."*

I scoffed, dragging a hand down my face. "Yeah. No shit."*

"If I had known—"

"But you did know!"* I snapped, turning on her. "I told you, Mom! I told you years ago! And what did you do? You looked me in my face and said I was making it up! You chose not to believe me!"*

She flinched. "I—I was scared, Jordan. I didn't—"

"Don't."* My voice dropped, my whole body shaking with exhaustion. "Just… don't."*

She shut her mouth.

Good.

I wasn't in the mood for whatever bullshit excuse she was about to come up with.

---

Retreat and Recovery

"Come on, let's get outta here."*

Josie's voice was quiet, but steady.

I didn't argue. I just nodded, grabbing my hoodie off the chair.

Matthew followed without a word.

I didn't say shit to my mom as I walked past her. Didn't even look at her.

She didn't try to stop me.

For once in her life, she finally shut up.

---

The Diner – Just Us Three

We ended up at a small 24-hour diner a few blocks away.

The place was nearly empty, just an old couple in the corner and a tired-looking waitress who barely glanced at us as we slid into a booth.

Josie sat next to me. Matthew across from us.

None of us spoke for a while.

Then Matthew sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "Alright, what the hell just happened back there?"

Josie shot him a look. "Matt—"

"Nah, for real."* He leaned forward, eyes locked on mine. "You've never told me why you hate your birthday. I just thought—" He hesitated. "I just thought it was 'cause of your ex or something."*

I huffed out a dry laugh. "Yeah. I wish."*

Matthew's face darkened. "It's deeper than that, huh?"

I didn't answer.

Didn't have to.

He just nodded, staring down at the table. "Fuck, Jay."*

"Yeah."*

---

Josie's Gentle Push

Josie hesitated, then placed her hand over mine on the table.

It was warm. Steady.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" she asked softly.

I stared at our hands, feeling that weird twist in my chest again.

I wanted to pull away.

But I didn't.

"Not really,"* I muttered. "Not now."*

She nodded like she understood. "Okay."*

No pressure. No pushing. Just… letting me be.

I swallowed hard and finally looked up at her.

"Thanks."*

Her lips curled into the smallest smile. "Anytime."*

And just like that, for the first time that night, I felt like I could breathe.

---

Chapter Eight: Happy Fucking Birthday

Part 3 – Damage Control

We sat in that diner for what felt like hours.

Nobody rushed me. Nobody asked me to explain. Josie and Matthew just let me exist.

I appreciated that.

"So what now?" Matthew finally asked, stirring his half-empty coffee.

I shrugged. "Dunno. Pretend today never happened?"

Josie gave me a look. "Jordan—"

"What?" I leaned back, exhaling. "Y'all know I don't do birthdays. Let's just move on."*

"You can't just bury it forever,"* she said gently. "One day, you're gonna have to face it."*

I scoffed. "Yeah? Well, today ain't that day."*

She sighed but didn't argue.

Matthew just shook his head, muttering, "Shit's fucked up."*

Yeah. It was.

---

Back Home – Unfinished Business

I got back home close to midnight.

The house was quiet.

The mess from earlier was cleaned up. No decorations, no cake, no sign that a party ever happened.

Just how I liked it.

I made my way upstairs, my body heavy with exhaustion.

But as I reached my door, I hesitated.

Something told me to turn around.

So I did.

And found my mom sitting in the hallway, her back against the wall, staring at nothing.

She looked… tired.

Not her usual "long day at work" tired.

Like… deep-down-in-her-soul tired.

I sighed, leaning against the doorframe. "You waiting for me or something?"

She blinked up at me. "I just…" She hesitated. "I didn't want you to come home to an empty house."*

I frowned. "You think I care?"

"I don't know what you care about, Jordan."* She gave a small, sad laugh. "I don't know anything about you anymore."*

That stung.

Because as much as I wanted to act like I didn't give a fuck, a part of me did.

And I hated that.

"Then maybe you should've tried knowing me back then,"* I muttered. "Instead of calling me a liar."*

She flinched. Looked down at her hands. "I deserve that."*

Damn right she did.

I waited for her to say more. To finally give me some real apology.

But she just sat there.

Silent.

And I… I was too tired to fight anymore.

"Go to bed, Mom,"* I muttered, opening my door. "It's over."*

She didn't argue. Didn't try to stop me.

She just nodded, whispering, "Goodnight, Jordan."*

I didn't say it back.

---

Behind Closed Doors

Once I was alone in my room, the weight of the night finally hit me.

I felt it creeping in—the anger, the memories, the pain.

My chest got tight. My skin itched.

I needed something to make it stop.

I reached under my bed, fingers wrapping around the cool metal of my lighter.

Then I grabbed the blade hidden in my nightstand.

Just one. Just enough to feel something else.

I rolled up my sleeve, staring at the old scars, the faded lines that only Matthew knew about.

Then, with a shaky breath, I pressed down.

---

Morning Regrets

I woke up to the sting of fresh cuts.

The blood had dried, but the pain was still there. A dull, throbbing reminder of last night.

I sighed, rolling out of bed.

Another year older. Another year more fucked up.

Happy fucking birthday to me.

---

Chapter Eight: Happy Fucking Birthday

Part 4 – Unspoken Truths

The next morning, I woke up feeling like I'd been hit by a truck.

My throat was dry, my eyes burned, and the dull ache in my wrist reminded me of what I'd done last night.

I sat up slowly, staring at my bandaged arm. I didn't even remember wrapping it up.

Maybe I should stop.

The thought came and went like a whisper in my head. But I knew myself too well. I wouldn't stop. Not yet.

I ran a hand through my hair, sighing.

Then there was a knock at my door.

"Jordan?"

Matthew.

I didn't answer, but he walked in anyway, closing the door behind him.

"I brought food,"* he said, holding up a bag from our favorite diner. "Pancakes, bacon, extra syrup. The usual."*

I looked at him. "You bribing me?"

"Nah."* He sat on my bed, handing me the bag. "Just making sure you eat."*

I took it but didn't open it. "You tell Josie where I was last night?"

He shook his head. "Figured you'd want to do that yourself."*

I nodded. Appreciated that.

We sat in silence for a while.

"You okay?" Matthew finally asked.

I gave a half-smirk. "Ain't I always?"

"Jordan."* His voice was low, serious. "I know what you do."*

My stomach clenched. "The fuck you talking about?"

He nodded at my wrist. "Saw the blood on your sleeve last night."*

I clenched my jaw.

"You need to stop,"* he said. "For real."*

I laughed dryly. "Easier said than done, bro."*

"Then let me help."*

"You can't help me, Matt."* I looked away. "Nobody can."*

"That's bullshit and you know it."*

I exhaled sharply. "Drop it, alright? I'm fine."*

He stared at me, like he was trying to see through all my bullshit. Then, finally, he sighed.

"I'm here. You know that, right?"

I didn't answer. Just nodded.

That was enough for him.

---

Downstairs – The Aftermath

I avoided my mom all morning.

But when I finally went downstairs, she was waiting for me.

"Jordan, can we talk?"

I didn't want to. But I was too tired to argue. "Yeah?"

She hesitated. "About last night…"

"What about it?"

"I didn't know, Jordan."* She looked at me, eyes full of something I didn't trust. "I didn't know birthdays were so hard for you."*

I folded my arms. "Maybe if you ever listened to me, you would've known."*

She flinched. "I'm trying."*

"Try harder."*

Silence.

"I never wanted to hurt you,"* she whispered. "I just… I didn't know how to be a good mother to you."*

I scoffed. "That's your excuse?"

"It's the truth."*

I swallowed. Looked away.

She sighed. "I won't push you, Jordan. But I want to fix things. If you let me."*

I didn't know what to say to that.

So I didn't say anything.

---

Later That Night

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

Thinking about everything.

Matthew. My mom. Josie. The party.

The memories. The scars. The weight of it all.

I felt like I was drowning in it.

But somehow, someway… I was still breathing.

For now.

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