{Please read the authors note at the bottom!}

I've been thinking about this particular day all week- all month, honestly. It's been lingerging in the back of my mind and now it's finally here: happy 18th birthday to me.

Today should be special, and I guess it is special. I should feel happy like everyone else does. It's a milestone, the transition into adulthood, something meant to be celebrated with joy. But I'm not happy, nor celebratory. It's like an extra weight has been added to my shoulders. Sure, I'm glad I at least got to this point, but I'm not ready to be an adult. What about my childhood, my teenage years, all of it? It's gone, it's been wasted, and today is the day that I officially can't do anything about it.

I rolled out of my bed and noticed a note on my nightstand, it read: "check the kitchen counter". Assuming it was probably my mom, I fixed my hair to look presentable and stumbled over to the kitchen. A few small gifts were laid out on the counter, but nobody was there. I looked around to see if there was a note or anything left, but still nothing. I jumped as someone creeped up behind me, placing their hands on my shoulders and leaning into my ear.

"Happy birthday!" Lucille exclaimed, embracing me with a cheerful hug.

I sighed in relief, feeling my mood start to lighten up. "Thanks, Lucy- where's Mom?"

"You know, that's a good question, I'm sure she'll be out in a second; open your gifts!"

I was confused as to why my mom hadn't made an appearance yet, as she was usually awake at this time anyhow. Whatever. I grabbed one of the three gift bags from the counter, each one fairly small but nicely decorated. I didn't really expect anyone to remember or care about my birthday, let alone Lucille, but she seemed to be very ecsatic.

"Are these all from you?" I asked.

"Duh, they didn't appear out of nowhere."

"Oh, uhm- thank you, I didn't think you would even consider getting me anything. You didn't have to."

She shrugged her shoulders. "It's the least I could do. Go ahead, open it."

I carefully removed the tissue and wrapping and grasped hold of a tiny drawstring pouch. Inside was a silver necklace with a locket in the shape of a heart underneath, clearly worn but still as shiny as it could be. Lucille formed a wide grin as I observed the necklace.

"It's gorgeous, ain't it? It used to be mine when I was a little girl. My best friend gave it to me when I moved away from Austin to be sent to boarding school, and even though I never saw her again, it always reminded me of our friendship. I figured I would pass it down to you."

My eyes widened in admiration but also in surprise. Why would she give something so valuable to me, what made me special? I didn't want to accept it.

"Wow, are you sure you want to give this away," I paused for a second, "...to me?"

"Of course, you can keep it with you as you journey through life, like I did. It will always be there to remind you when I'm not that you're never alone. I trust you, kid, I love you like you're my...."

She paused. I glanced down at the locket, then back up at her. "Like your what?"

There was a slight hesitation in her voice. "A sister, I guess."

I suddenly felt my previous bad mood start to lift, and I immeditaely wrapped my arms around her as tightly as I could.

"Thank you, Lucy, really. You have no idea how long it's been since I've had someone care that much." I said, feeling the happy tears start to well up. I felt silly getting emotional over something so simple, but it really felt nice to have someone who cared about me to that extent; it's been a while.

She chuckled, hugging me back before slowly nudging me away. "That's not all, open the other two."

I placed the locket back in the pouch and reached for the other two gifts. One of them was filled with, what looked like, different makeup items, with brands such as Maybelline and Covergirl. The other was a fancy looking journal, with a few pens and pencils included with it.

"I figured since you seem to enjoy writing that you would like some fresh pages to write in. I know you have one, but you can never have too many."

She picked up one of the makeup products, presenting it to me. I knew nothing about makeup or any of that, but it all looked very colorful and fun.

"This is eyeshadow, it'll make your eyes pop. I can teach ya how to do makeup, if you want. I thought you might like to give it a try."

I rubbed the palette of color with my finger with curiosity. She introduced me to a few other products as well and what they were for, nothing I knew how to use. I would love to know how to do my own makeup, just like other girls do. It can't be that hard, surely, I see so many women wearing it flawlessly- maybe I could impress Michael.

I placed the gifts back into the bags, and gave her one more hug. That feeling of dread and bitterness was gone, and now my attitude is starting to lighten up. Well, at least for a moment.

As I set the gifts down on the counter, my mom entersthe room. She notices me and Lucy, and forces a smile upon her face. I could tell she was trying to appear happy, but something was off. Lucy's joyful grin started to fade, and the silence as she walked in spoke louder than anything. She held a small box tied with a bow and handed it to me.

"Happy birthday, Cynthia."

Unlike Lucy, her 'happy birthday' felt forced, as if she felt obligated to say and give me something. It didn't seem like she cared.

"Thanks, Mom." I replied as I opened the box.

Inside was a perfume, but not the nice ones you see in those fancy stores, just a generic perfume. It smelled good, and I still appreicated it, but it really just didn't feel sincere. I doubt she put any thought into it, and I wouldn't be surprised if it was one of hers she just gave to me. Either way, I still smiled and tried to hide the fact that I was kind of hurt. Maybe she was just tired, but I wish she cared a little bit more. Knowing her, she probably didn't even know it was my birthday today. But if Lucille remembered and had time to get three gifts, surely she must have known about it for a while, right? Was she dreading it like I was?

Lucy broke the tension in the room, attempting to keep my spirits up. "Well, I was thinking the three of us could all go out to lunch to celebrate, how's that sound?"

"Sure!" I answered, turning my direction towards Mom.

She nodded. "That's fine. Be ready by 12 PM, I'm going to get dressed."

She went back into her bedroom, leaving me and Lucy alone once again. She huffed, leaning up against the counter.

"Sorry about her, I don't know what her problem is."

"It's okay, maybe she'll be better at lunch once she lightens up a bit."

"Let's hope. I'm gonna go finish doing myself up, let me know if ya want to try out some of that makeup."

➳ ➳

I dolled myself up and even got Lucy to show me a few makeup tricks, then we took a subway to some place called Tavern on the Green. Lucy originally suggested Windows on the World, but my mom turned it down because she was afraid of heights. I'm pretty sure this restaurant is, like, fancy? I don't know, I'm not the one paying, but I felt awfully special walking in.

It was the first time in nearly a decade that I had been to a proper restaurant. Even as a kid, we never really went out to eat. The options were overwhelming, but I just ordered whatever Lucy got; she seems like she would have good taste. Mom got a salad, barely touching any of it. She's always been nitpicky with food, but I thought she would have grown out of the "once on the lips is forever on the hips" attitude by now. Apparently not, and I'm guessing my dad didn't help with that either. She fidgeted with her fork, sitting in silence for most of the conversation.

"So," Lucy asked, "ya excited that you're turning 18?"

Truthfully, not really, but I wasn't going to admit that out loud.

"Yeah, I guess, hopefully now being an adult and all of my future ahead, I can find out who killed my dad."

I don't know why I said that. Clearly, it struck a nerve in my mom, because she immediately furrowed her brow. Lucille took a sip from her drink and shrugged.

"Maybe."

"It's true, though, I haven't given up hope just yet. There's always a possibility-"

"Cynthia, do we seriously need to talk about this right now?" My mom snapped.

"I'm sorry, I just thought, maybe- it would give you, uh, a piece of mind? You know, knowing who the murderer is."

"Cynthia."

"Why do you keep fighting against me? Shouldn't you want to know just as much as I do?"

"Because I haven't healed from his loss, Cynthia, and why can't you just acknowledge that I'm still grieving too? Just, shut up about him for once, please?"

The table fell silent, I didn't know what to say. Lucy looked pissed, pursing her lips. I pushed my plate back and slumped down in my chair.

"Sorry." What was I apologizing for?

I caught a glimpse of somebody walking past the window, a familiar face: it was Michael and a few of his other friends, which of course included Diane. I seized the opportunity to leave the tense situation at the table and join them. So, I stood up, grabbing my small purse I had carried along with me, and hung it over my shoulder.

"Thanks for lunch. I'll see you at home."

I huffed as I walked away, visibly upset. I hurried out of the door and ran to catch up with the group.

◆      Lucille     ◆

I watched as she stormed out of the restaurant, her plate still halfway full. The poor gal was so excited, and she should be. But, of course, somebody just HAD to ruin it. If Michelle could just keep her mouth shut and actually think about anyone else but herself, we may have actually had a really fun day.

"Nice one, Michelle, what a way to make your daughter's birthday. You couldn't even try to be quiet and tolerate it?"

"You know I didn't mean to snap at her like that, but you can't blame me for getting upset. I hate hearing about him. Do you know how hard it is for me? Watching my daughter desperately scramble for answers when I'm the one who caused all of it in the first place?"

"Oh, boo hoo. Can't you think of anybody but yourself for once? Maybe you need to start confronting your problems instead of avoiding them like you've been doing for the past decade. You're becoming hopeless and pathetic, or maybe you always were."

She furiously turned her body away from me, crossing her arms as she dramatically leaned back into her chair. I rolled my eyes, clenching my jaw as I tried not to go off on her and cause a scene.

"Who do you think you are, Lucille? I'm suffering too, you think I don't feel guilty? You think you know it all, about me, about Cynthia, but you don't. I'm doing my best as a mother, but of course you wouldn't understand that."

"Cynthia has been through hell and back yet still loves you unconditionally, still tries to forgive you and find the good in you, but you can't seem to return that favor, not even on her special day. You are so lucky to have someone like her, a daughter who cares, you know what I would give to have that? I would kill to have what you have, Michelle. Not all of us are blessed with the opportunity to have a daughter and you take that for granted."

She glanced back at me, the only noise was the background chatter from other tables and clinking of silverware. There was an awkward silence for a while, like she was contemplating what to say. She looked like she wanted to apologize, almost like she wanted to cry, but she just couldn't- and I wasn't going to make her. She can disrespect and use me all she wants, but I won't tolerate her giving the same treatment to Cynthia. Call me crazy, but that girl just feels like a daughter to me. I feel the need to protect her and guide her through life. I can't ever have kids of my own, and Michelle knows that, but she doesn't care. If you ask me, I would say she doesn't care about anyone. She'll take anything and anyone for granted.

I pulled out my wallet, setting some cash to cover me and Cynthia's meal on the table as I stood up.

"You can eat by yourself, and you pay for your own damn meal."

I, too, left the restaurant, leaving Michelle by herself. Maybe she needed to sit alone, reflect for a while. I have more important things to worry about.

◆ ◆

Well, what a birthday I guess. I'm glad I ran into Michael and them, or else I probably would have been miserable.

I told them that I was turning 18, and they offered to take me to a roller skating rink to celebrate.  I had never been skating before, I could barely stand up in them. I got the hang of it after a while, although I have a few bruises now.

The environment was fun, so many people having a blast and not a care in the world. All of the vibrant colors and upbeat music made you feel so care free- I may not be a kid anymore, but I still have time to cherish these kind of moments while I'm still young. I mean, I'm still technically a teen, right?

At first, Michael was really the only person I could sort of consider myself friends with.
Now, I can confidently say I've made a few more friends today, especially Laura. She reminded me a lot of a girl I met in juvie who was always there for me, and I grew really close with. She kind of just disappeared one day, and I never knew what happened to her, but I never saw her again. Laura was like a version of her.

And Jessie was also a sweetheart, the youngest of the group being only 16. She'd talk about her day, about high school, making me wish that I could have experienced those things too. But they both were just the kind of friendsl needed: people who would understand me and treat me like a person, and include me in everything as if 1 had been their friend for years.

The only person I couldn't say the same for was Diane. The entire time it felt like she resented me, and I'm certain she does. She used to be my best friend before everything happened, and I don't think she would ever believe me when I say I'm innocent. I just really hope she keeps it to herself. If any word got out that I was behind bars for murder, my life would be over... again.

When I got home, Mom was seemingly waiting for me in the kitchen along with Lucille and Rosemary, who was busy washing dishes. I approached them, a confused look spreading on my face.

"I'm sorry for lashing out at you earlier, Cynthia. I didn't mean to ruin your day."

"It's fine." I replied, watching as my mom made her way to the fridge.

She pulled out a red velvet cake, decorated with my favorite color and designs, topped with a candle in the shape of the number 18.

"I thought you might like a little treat to end your day on a good note, what do you say?"

I smiled as she pulled out a lighter to light the candles. They sung happy birthday, and I blew out the candles and made a wish. I knew what I wanted to wish for for a while:

The truth.

A/N:

{Hey yall, so I'm not sure if previously in the story I stated that Cynthia was 18, but if I did, just act like I never said that 😅  I originally made her 18, but changed my mind because I had the idea to write this chapter. I don't feel like going back and checking/rewriting previous chapters so just pretend for right now that she was 17 before.}

{Ignore any spelling or grammar mistakes in this, or just errors of any kind. I had to re read this like a million times and I'm still finding corrections. My autocorrect turned off and I'm a very fast typer, so excuse some mistakes you might find ;) }

(Also, I know I keep using "Lucielle" and "Lucille" interchangeably throughout the book. Just ignore it, I'll fix it later. I can't decide which spelling I want to use lol)

Thanks for reading <3