18

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[THREE MONTHS LATER]

When I was in foster care, turning 18 was my way out.

It was the one thing that kept me alive most days; the thought that eventually I would age out of the system and no one would ever get to hurt me again. Aging out, living alone, that was what I had to look forward to.

Turning 18 meant freedom, and peace, and safety from my life. It meant being on my own, because at least I would be safe on my own.

What turning 18 meant to me then, and what it means now, are very different things.

Now, turning 18 meant that Zayn and Louis were going to bring me to a tattoo parlor and buy my first tattoo.

"Are you coming?" Zayn called from downstairs. It was going to be the first time I saw either of them since my trial against Donte, three months ago. A lot had happened since then.

"Yes!" I called back. I smiled at my reflection in the mirror and flashed it a quick peace sign before starting down the stairs.

"There's the birthday girl," Louis laughed. He pulled me into a hug and rocked me back and forth before letting go, so I could go to Zayn.

"How do you feel? Old? Wise?" Zayn tested.

"I feel the same," I said, "it feels like I only turned 17 a few weeks ago." In reality, though, I had done a lot of growing up in the past year.

It was the first birthday in two years that I hadn't spent in a foreign country. Not that England wasn't kind of foreign, but it was where I had legally lived for the last three years.

"Are you ready to go, love? Your appointment is in 20 minutes."

"Yeah, let's go," I said, "and hey. What's the rule?"

"Don't tell Niall," both boys chorused. I smiled and nodded my head proudly. The three of us walked out to Zayn's car.

I made Louis sit in the back so I could sit in the front, next to Zayn.

Birthday perks.

While Zayn drove, I played with the locket around my neck. The one Louis had given me a year ago on my birthday, that belonged to his mother. I had tried to give it back the day we broke up, but he told me to keep it. I did what he wanted.

The locket around my neck with the wedding picture inside of it was a reminder that Louis and I would probably never get the future we wanted.

I wore my grief around my neck.

When Zayn parked in front of the tattoo parlor, he looked over at me. "You're sure you don't want to run this past Niall and Liam?"

"Technically, Liam's guardianship expires today. And Niall's just going to be weird about it."

That was something.

No legal guardian.

No more being a minor. The possibility of me being placed back into foster care had just finally, in my mind, dropped to zero percent.

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