The Worst Things in Life Come Free to us|L.R.H

44- birthday party.

"HAPPY BIRHTDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO TESSA, HAPPY BIRHTDAY YOU,"

I wake up properly about half way through the song, but I'm awake as soon as Michael screams it above everyone, right from the beginning.

When I sit up, a stupid smile on my face, I notice the feeling of sadness in my stomach and force myself to look happier.

Just like Luke said when he thought I was asleep, I don't like birthdays; just like I don't like new years. But I'm going to try my hardest to prove them wrong, and show them I'm fine.

Ashton holds the cake in front of my face and I blow out the candles.

I don't make a wish.

I never have, and I never will.

They never come true.

After blowing out the candles, everyone sits on my double bed and they cut the cake, not caring about the crumbs going everywhere, they cut it out, and hand it over to our plates.

"Living the dream," Ashton says, laughing, I send him a confused look. "Eating cake for breakfast," he laughs and I roll my eyes.

"Very unhealthy life style you got there," I say, and he agrees, smiling goofily.

I stare and the sickly looking chocolate cake in my hands.

"Aren't you going to eat it? Because if you don't, I will," Michael says, with a mouthful. Everyone looks at me somewhat expectantly, and then they all share a look soon after wards. I don't want to eat; and they know it.

My stomach is in knots of anxiety and I cant stop thinking about the fact I'm sixteen.

Sixteen. One year older, one year closer to the end of my dull, sad life.

One year closer to adult hood, and I don't like that. I liked when I was a kid, when I wasn't older than ten and I didn't have responsibilities, when I didn't understand, and when I didn't worry.

"Tessa?" Luke asks, his voice anxious, he takes my hand and looks at me. "are you okay?" he says, though he obviously knows the answer.

I lean in and peck him on the lips before standing up. But then I realise I'm only wearing shorts. Short shorts. Bed shorts.

And they're showing my thighs. My thighs.... My thighs... my scars.

I feel everyone's eyes travel to my legs and I walk away quickly, trying to fight the blush rising from my neck.

As I leave the room, I hear them all whisper something and I know it's about me.

I grab a towel before hopping in the shower.

The damn thing is, despite me getting cold easily, and it being winter, under my duvets, and blankets, and having Luke and hot water bottles, I get hot.

So in the night, not actually considering what would happening the morning.

But as the water runs over my damaged body, I push it out my head and hum a song I wrote forever ago. I only hum the first verse and the chorus because I never actually finished the song. So that's all I know.

When I finally pull the water to an end, I feel refreshed and a bit better, I didn't wash my hair, as I only washed it yesterday so there's not much point.

I dry my body and then realize I didn't actually grab and clothes. I slip on a bra and knickers but nothing other than that.

I sigh.