He says he doesn't want to make my sister jealous because I'm his favourite niece, but he will buy me pretty dresses and I get to create model fashion shows for him. Sometimes we spend all afternoon in the den where he praises me and the accessories I've paired with what he's gifted.

For years we’ve had our secret games and for the most part, I enjoy the attention, but tonight he doesn't seem like his usual fun self. He's on edge, or high strung. I don't really understand the difference if I'm honest. Most of the adults in my life are that way so it's probably just the stress of the party and all the pressure that comes with it.

I had to meet him down the end of the driveway with an overnight bag packed and ready to go. He wouldn't tell me what was happening, so I kept pestering him until he finally gave in and told me. He has planned a surprise party for my eighteenth birthday and my whole class is invited. Most importantly though, he said I needed to wear a beautiful dress to celebrate in. So I picked one of his favourites, the one that makes him smile the most. The only thing I had to cross my heart, not to do, was tell anyone, or else I'd ruin the surprise. The last thing I needed was another reason for my mother to be angry at me, so I promised not to tell a soul.

She never fails to remind me how differently she would have done things when she and my father decided to have a baby. And always mentions how she would have used a surrogate like they did for my sister.

The first slight I gave my mother was that I ruined her body and every day since she has reminded me that I'm not worthy of the Davis name. I'm too short, too trusting, too meek. I will never be my sister, and even though Lizzy defends me every chance she can, she is also four years younger and doesn't truly understand the difference in how we're treated.

Uncle Tommy acts likeI’mimportant, thatImatter, and I relish in the affection he gives me when he is around. Fortunately, my Aunt Gemma comes to see her sister, my mother, as often as she can, so they're over at our house at least four times a week. Sometimes they bring my cousin but he usually sulks off with his strange friend. I tried to hang out with them once but I was promptly told tofuck off, so I usually avoid them now.

Uncle Tommy tries to sneak into my room when they come and visit. He’s the one person I can tell all of my secrets to. But even if he can't get to my room, he always seems to find me when I am alone. He tells me how beautiful I am, how special I am ... until I finally started to believe it. Tocrave it. I know it's silly to say but I think Uncle Tommy is the only person who loves me. If he wasn't in my life then I don't know if I would even exist, other than for Lizzy. I’m almost positive that if he thinks I’m beautiful then surely Johnny Mathers thinks the same.

“Who is Johnny, sweetie-pie?” he asks, the strain in his voice clearer this time, almost angry. “Have you let him touch you?”

Both of his hands return to the steering wheel and there is just enough light left in the day to see his knuckles turn white. I tell my Uncle everything, but talking about my crush wasn't something I knew how to do.

“What? No!”

I haven't let anyone touch me, not that they’re lining up at my door but still, even the boys I've wanted to hold my hand, or maybe even kiss, have never come as close as Johnny.

I’ve neverwantedthem as much as I want him.

I'm not naive. I hear what the other kids say about what happens at parties, and even though I've never been to one, I've seen sex scenes in romance movies so it's basically the same thing. It's always so beautiful and charming and I'm positive it will be like that with Johnny, that he will make our first time special. This could even be the night we tell our children about. The night we fell in love with each other.

“Have I done something wrong? ... I’m sorry,” I whisper, confused by his question.

Sighing, he runs his fingers through his hair, the last of the light flickering through the pine tree forest we’re passing through. The car starts to slow and we pull off to a gravel road, barely visible in the darkness.

Tree trunks haunt me as we drive past them, illuminated by the headlights of the car. Pulling to a stop, he leans his head back in his seat before turning off the engine, the pitch black of the night swallowing us whole. Gasping at the dramatic change, I reach out for his arm, finding his hand as he intertwines our fingers.

“It's okay sweetie, I'm right here. Everything will be better now.”

His words are mumbled, like he’s dreaming of something unknown and I’m not sure if I’m meant to understand them.

“Where’s the party?” I ask.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand as he lazily strokes my hand in the darkness.

“A friend of mine bought this property a few years ago. There was an old fall-out shelter that was half remodelled but it has running water, a bathroom and several spaces I thought would be perfect. There are no neighbours for one hundred acres ... Only the highway we were on cuts through.”

“And we're having the party in the fall-out shelter? A bunker?” I ask, confused.

“That's right. Everything is there ready for us.”

I can barely see the whites of his eyes in the dark, the strain of trying to see anything hurting.

“You mean everyone? Everyone is waiting for us?” I question.

“Yes, yes, everyone. Come now, we don't want to be late. I have a big night planned.”

I feel his arm dragging across my chest,my breasts, causing me to gasp. I've never been touched there before and it makes me a little bit uncomfortable.

But it's dark, he can't see.

The click of the glove box sounds and suddenly the car interior is alight from the flashlight he's holding. Uncle Tommy is still leaning over, so close I can feel his heavy breath against my neck.

“Come on now, we should go. Get your bag from the back, I've got to carry my things and we still have a bit of a walk ahead of us.”