"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!"

Snapping my eyes open, blinking rapidly to clear the blur from my vision, Vixxie, Carrie and Emily are standing over me, holding pink sparkly wrapped gifts and a Victoria sponge cake alight with several burning flames. A ballerina figurine sits proudly on top encased by the candles the glow from them on their faces beaming down at me expectantly.

"Morning?" I yawn contemplating pulling the covers back over my head for another five minutes. That is until Vix launches herself onto the bed next to me and wraps me in a bear hug lifting me out from under the covers.

"It's your birthday, it's your birthday. It's your birthday, it's your motherfucking birthday!" She shouts in my ear. I reply with a groan shielding my face from the attention.

"Come on misery, no bad vibes today, only good. This whole day is about you." Vixxie settles on top of me, making sure to squash my kidneys.

"And you've made it to eighteen girl." Emily takes the pink cake from Carrie and sits on my other side.

She's right, I made it to eighteen. I'm eighteen.

I'm eighteen mom, are you proud?

Birthdays have always been bittersweet, it's another year I made it through hell but another year without them in agony. Although this year I have a new family to spend it with, I still have it hanging over me like a dark cloud. That and the fact I'm now classified as an adult... I'm on my own, technically not supported or protected by children's services anymore. The thought terrifies me, I've longed for years to be out of the system and now I want in it more than ever.

"Blow 'em out then or you'll get wax all over the cake!" Carrie says perching beside my legs, drawing me out of my depressive haze. Right, cake, birthday, happy.

I grin and purse my lips blowing out the sparkly candles.

"Did you make a wish?" Vixxie nestles closer to my ear.

I wish for happiness, just pure uncomplicated happiness.

I nod silently, Vixxie thrusting the first sparkly wrapped present into my hand. Opening It tentatively with three excited faces peering at me I pull out the contents of the packet. A pale purple satin slip dress tumbles its way into my lap, the fabric cool beneath my fingertips. The material shines in the light. It's gorgeous, the threads weave into each other seamlessly. It's sexy but the innocent kind of sexy, accentuating and scandalous but not too in your face.

"Do you like it?" Carrie leans into my face, eyes sparkling with shine from the dress on my lap.

"It's gorgeous, beautiful. Thank you, C." I reach over to hug her wrapping my arm tightly around her neck. She pulls back and shrugs modestly.

"We all need a little couture in our life." Winking she turns to Emily and Vixxie who pass me another gift. A bit shocked I take the flat rectangle, A3-sized object. The wrapping paper is even neater than the first, I guess Vixxies artistic flare helps. Emily bites her lip containing her grin and I tear open the paper.

A canvas appears, our four faces front and centre, the photo we took after the big win. Colours paint our cheeks, glitter and confetti in our hair, and pure joy radiates from our smiles. Tears gather on my lashline magnifying every detail on the picture, snapped with Emily's own camera. The memory cements something in my chest all the while something else cracks apart.

"Don't cry, baby girl." Vixxie pulls me into her shoulder.

"I... This is all too much. It's all so lovely, you guys are so lovely. I can't thank you enough." I hug them all before opening another present, this one with two brand new leotards, a leotard with stars on and another sparkly black. We sit munching on the cake, none of us bothering to get forks as we watch a few episodes of glee.

"So buttercup, what's the plan for today?" Spitting cake crumbs at me Emily asks.

"I'm heading to the studio but I don't know just a normal day I guess, I don't usually do much on my birthday." I shrug turning back to the laptop, the girls look over at each other. "What?"

"Nothing-" The doorbell goes and Carries mom shouts up the stairs.

"That's our cue," Emily says getting her bag, the other girls following suit.

"What... where are you guys..."

"Ladies. Where's our birthday girl." Brady singsongs bouncing through the door like he's had seven cans of Dr Pepper for breakfast. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY DOLL." He shouts hoisting me over his shoulder and spinning me until that cake threatens to make a return. By the time he puts me down, the girls have disappeared.

"Where'd they go-"

"Today I am your personal chauffeur, I shall take you where your heart desires and I'm taking you to lunch." He places a large hand on my shoulder.

"Brady it's my birthday, I'm not being crowned queen. You don't have to do that." I chuckle, moving to pass him the rest of the cake.

"You're a queen in my eyes."

"Ew, nope don't say that again." He chuckles spooning the last of the cake into his mouth.

"I don't have to but I want to so get your leotard on and let's go, go, go."

I gather my ballet bag and gallop down the stairs Brady hot on my heels, a new energy blossoming inside of me. Carries mom hugs me on the way down, she popped into Carrie's room earlier to wish me a happy birthday and gifted me a year subscription to Hulu so I can watch Dance moms whenever and wherever.

Brady opens the door and stops suddenly gazing down at the doorstep, a mixture of emotions flickering across his face.

"What?" I peek forward as he moves aside, a black box is sitting in front of his feet, a black bow tied delicately around it. "What's that?" I already know what that is.

"Open it." B moves out of the doorway and watches me carefully as I retrieve the box, perching on the bottom step I pull the bow, the box falling apart on my lap. My heart is beating in my eardrums. A small box sits on the crinkle of black tissue paper, I pick up the matching box and carefully flick the magnetic flap on the item. Red velvet coats the interior sported with a gold bangle resting in between the cushions, the flat surface shiny with black engraving on the top.

Alive

No card, no note. Those two syllables say a thousand words. I don't need a name to know who this is from. I don't need google to tell me what it means. I just know.

My lungs are like matches rubbing together until they ignite, burning deep inside of me until the pain engulfs my entire body.

A weight settles on my shoulders, "There's something underneath." Brady says calmly. I lift up the paper and beneath are a pair of emerald point shoes, gold thread weaving an art deco design across the heels. The ribbons flow down my arms caressing my skin like streams of cool water. A small note is under the shoes,

'' You gave me a home, more than that. You taught me there's more to life than pain, you make me feel alive, not just surviving but living. Happy Birthday.

I love you x

Where it all started, The Great Gatsby.

This has to be perfect, absolutely perfect. It cannot go wrong.