What Is The Plot Twist In 'Birthday Girl'?

"Don't move!" Coming home late from work, I was sneaking a shower in the shared bathroom of my rental when a warm body suddenly pressed up against me. His rough palm clamped over my mouth, pinning me against the cold tile. He held me there against the damp wall, his skin burning hot against my back as he let out a low, gravelly threat. "My guys are right outside. Just try and scream." Instead of panicking, I leaned back into him, shifting slightly. I tilted my head back and breathed softly into his ear. “So… you want everyone hear? I don't mind… we can give it a try.”

As my murderer's claws tear into my abdomen inch by inch, my father and brother are seated in our family's banquet hall. They're celebrating Carly's 18th birthday and coming-of-age. "You'll always be my little girl." "Happy birthday, Carly." They light 18 pink candles for her. On top of the exquisite red velvet cake is a wolf figurine that they carved for her, and there are well wishes and laughter all around. Meanwhile, I'm curled up in a sewer filled with liquid silver as I bleed to death. My phone has been crushed, and I can't get out. I can only cry for help. A few days later, my father and brother show up together at the autopsy room. My brother stands by the operating table with a scalpel. He slices open the body and sews it back up like it's nothing. My father just covers his nose as he shoots a disgusted glance at my body. He urges my brother to hurry up with the autopsy report. "The victim is a young female wolf presumed to be of pure lineage. Before her death, she was subjected to prolonged captivity and torture. Her throat is nearly severed, her cervical spine is dislocated, and her chest cavity has collapsed. She was also injected with liquid silver before death." Hearing the report, my father looks so calm that it's just like a case study of no consequence. Neither of them can recognize that the body belongs to me—their daughter and sister!

I was a child who was born in a vocational school's toilet. To my mom, I was a stain in her life that she was given birth to after having her cherry popped by a delinquent when she was still young. I knew that Mom had been trying to kill me. Unfortunately, she hadn't succeeded so far. The first time she tried to get rid of me was when she decided to give birth to me in the toilet. It was a cold, winter month, yet she didn't give me anything warm to wear. The second time she attempted murder was when she got into grad school, which was based in the north. No one was around to take care of me, so she turned on the gas while holding me in her arms and clutching her train ticket. The third and last time happened when Mom was about to marry the man she loved. On the night before her wedding, she had tears streaming down her cheeks as she told me, "You're nothing but a burden. You ruined my life! "Do you know that I can only forget about all the pain and suffering you caused me after you die? Only then can I start a brand new chapter in my life!" I wiped Mom's tears off her face with my tiny hand. So, her wish was for me to die. On my birthday, my fever hit 104 degrees Fahrenheit. That was when I finally received the first slice of birthday cake in my entire life. I didn't have the heart to eat it, so I made my wish solemnly. "I hope that I will die soon." I heard that birthday wishes often came true. That way, Mom would be very happy.

Being kidnapped is never pleasant. It might be when your kidnappers are billionaires mistaking you for their runaway daughter who looks very much like you.

I've been in a secret relationship with Declan Gibson for five years, and I've tried to seduce him more times than I can count. Yet, when I stand in front of him in my birthday suit and a pair of bunny ears, all he does is worry that I'll catch a cold and wrap me in a blanket. I used to think his restraint came from being the mafia don, that he was saving our first time for our wedding night. However, one month before the ceremony, he secretly plans the city's grandest fireworks show to celebrate his childhood sweetheart's birthday. They hug and share a slice of cake in public. That night, they check into a hotel. … The next morning, I watch them leave together. That's when I realize Declan is not restrained. He just doesn't love me, so I walk out of the hotel. I call my parents. "Dad, I've broken up with Declan. I'll marry into the Sullivan family as planned." My father is stunned. "I thought you were madly in love with Declan. Why did you break up? I heard Bryson can't have children. You've always loved kids. What will you do once you marry him?" "It's fine," I reply, disheartened. "We can always adopt."

On my birthday, the dining table was loaded with all my favorites. My mom had been cooking and baking the entire afternoon, insisting everything be perfect for when Mike got home from work so we could celebrate together. But then, he called and said his first love had been drugged at a bar, and he had to go help her. I stopped him and begged him not to go. Mike snapped at me. "Jesus, Em, don’t pull this jealous wife crap. She’s alone, defenseless, and unconscious—I can't let some random dude take advantage of her!" My mother heard those words and was so enraged that she had a heart attack. She died on the spot. Just like that, my mom died on my birthday. I called Mike, asking him to attend my mom's funeral. But before he could reply, I saw Cathy Miller's latest Instagram post, captioned: [Mikey… after all these years, it was always you.] Mike had liked it. My thumb moved before my brain caught up, typing out the only words that mattered: [A homewrecker and a lying bastard. Hope you rot together.]