The air in the kitchen hung thick with the cloying sweetness of baking cupcakes and the vibrant chaos of streamers. Nina, her hazel hair a wild halo, worried aloud about their friend, while Charlotte, teal strands falling across her face, pulled a fresh batch of red velvets from the oven. “As long as she goes home before eight, she’ll be fine,” Charlotte chuckled, piping a smiley face onto a cupcake.

Meanwhile, in a different house, the 'birthday girl' endured her mother’s suffocating threats. “You stay here. If I catch you going outside, you’ll be in big trouble.” A forced smile, a murmured "I love you too, mum," as the door clicked shut. The party was supposed to be harmless. But soon, the joyful shouts of "Happy birthday!" gave way to the sharp, hasty pains of a hand across a face, the sickening sound of glass shattering. “I’m sick of this!” she cried, blood trickling down her face. A desperate dash to the bathroom, no window, only an orange container. Pellets. Knock knock. “I won’t hurt you, dear daughter.” A loud bang. A pair of honed scissors. Then, nothing but the prickle of a thousand needles and the cold silence of death.