Sylvia

I stared in the mirror in my upstairs bedroom and couldn't believe it was actually happening today. Eighteen. Officially grown up. My hair was loose, slightly wavy, so light blonde that it looked almost white in the lamplight. My makeup was subtle, but it accentuated my blue eyes—just like Mia had shown me on FaceTime yesterday. My dress was black, tight, short, but not too short—just enough for everyone to notice, and no one to say I'd overdone it.

Loud music was already coming from downstairs. The bass was thumping so hard I could feel it in my chest. My parents were away for the weekend with friends at the lake—"We trust you, honey, just don't do anything stupid," my dad said with that serious smile of his, and my mom just added, "And you'll clean up afterward." Sure, I'll clean up. Tomorrow. Or the day after.

I descended the stairs and was immediately hit by a wave of warmth, laughter, and the smell of perfume mixed with beer. The living room was packed. Red cups in almost every hand, the kitchen table piled high with the snacks Emily, Sophia, and I had ordered, and in the garden beyond the glass doors, someone had already turned on the pool lights – the blue light reflected off the water and created a fantastic atmosphere.

“Happy birthday, queen!” Mia shouted, running up to me with two shots in hand. She handed me one, we clinked plastic glasses, and downed tequila. It burned my throat, but I immediately felt warm and light.

I looked around. There were probably fifty people here – the whole high school gang, a few cheerleaders, guys from football, even a few of my brother's older friends who had somehow found out. Jake was standing at the DJ booth (just a laptop and speakers plugged in, but it still looked professional) and smiled broadly at me when our eyes met. My heart skipped a beat. Something had been going on between us for months, but we'd never made that official move.

"Hey, birthday girl," Connor, the team captain, approached me with his typical confident smile. He was wearing a T-shirt with the school logo and jeans. "You look… wow. Seriously."

I laughed, maybe a little too loudly.

"Thanks, Connor. I'm glad you came."

"I wouldn't have missed it for anything," he said with a wink. He always did. He flirted with everyone, but somehow more with me. Or maybe it just seemed that way.

The music changed to something faster, and suddenly everyone started screaming and jumping. Emily grabbed my hand and pulled me to the center of the living room, where a makeshift dance floor had already been set up. We danced, laughing, spinning in circles. I felt eyes on me—some kind, some not so kind. But today was my celebration. Today I was the center of attention.

And then someone turned off the main light, and only the colorful lights the girls and I had hung earlier came on. The whole house looked like something out of a party movie. Perfect.

The party was in full swing. After about two hours of dancing, shots, and laughing with the girls, I felt like I was on top of things—a little tipsy, but in that pleasant way when everything feels perfect. Jake finally came closer, grabbed my waist, and we danced like that for three songs in a row. I felt his hands on my hips, his breath on my neck, and all I could think was, "finally." But the air in the living room felt heavy—vape smoke, sweat, ****, too many people in one place.

"I'm going outside for a second, catch my breath," I shouted to Mia, who was taking a selfie with half the cheerleaders.

She nodded and immediately went back to posing. I grabbed my red cup (almost empty now) and stepped out through the glass doors onto the patio. The night was warm for a California June—a gentle breeze, stars overhead, the pool shimmering with blue light. Laughter drifted from the garden, from those who had already moved the party to the water's edge; someone had thrown Connor fully clothed into the pool, and everyone was laughing.

I walked further, to the lawn behind the house, where the lights ended and the taller bushes by the fence began. I needed a moment of silence. I leaned against the patio railing, took a deep breath, and suddenly… something moved in the bushes. A small, gray shape. Its eyes glinted in the streetlight.

"Oh my, a kitten?" I said quietly, smiling to myself. I love cats. I've always wanted one, but Mom's allergic.

I set the cup on the ground and slowly approached. The bushes were thick, so I crouched down, then bent down, trying to peer into the depths.

"Come on, little one, don't be afraid…" I whispered, holding out my hand.

And then it happened.

A hand, large and strong, clamped over my mouth so tightly I couldn't even scream. Another arm wrapped around my waist like a steel band and pulled me back. I tried to struggle, to kick, but it all happened too fast. I felt hot breath on the back of my neck, the scent of men's perfume mixed with sweat.

I heard a soft click, then a sharp sting on the side of my neck—like a thousand needles at once. A stun gun. I knew what it was because I'd seen it in movies, but I never imagined it would hurt this much. My body stiffened, my muscles began to tremble uncontrollably, and the world spun. I tried to catch my breath, but my mouth was tight, my lungs wouldn't cooperate.

The last thing I remember was my knees giving out beneath me, falling onto the grass, and seeing a dark silhouette above me—a face obscured by a hood, eyes… I couldn't see them. The music from the house continued to blare, laughter, bass, as if nothing had happened.

And then everything went black.