*Roanne’s POV*

The thump-thump of the bass from the speakers matched the erratic beat of my heart as I stepped into the event room, a space too small for the enormity of my paranoia. My fingers traced the delicate fabric of my dress, a shield against the stares that pricked my skin like needles. The forced smile on my lips felt as brittle as glass.

"Happy birthday, Roanne!" Lizzie, ever the effervescent soul, pulled me into a hug. Her voice, a soothing balm, ...