2. Coming Back

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Listen, as someone who wanted to write songs for a living, has E.T. as her comfort movie, and lived with four male teenagers older than her, I tend to cry most of the time. Mostly for stupid reasons. Still, I think leaving my family behind is a valid excuse for a break down... one that lasted since the moment I woke up in a dark room to the random day I arrived in the year 2020.

After a thorough investigation, I concluded I came back for a reson. A dude had found my backpack, tambourine included, in the trash. And the details have yet to unblur, but I believe that somehow woke my soul up. Unfortunately, no one, not even the guy who found it, could see me.

So yeah, turns out I'm a 16-year-old ghost. Very cool. It took some trial and error to learn that I can't grab 99.9% of objects; the only thing I've managed to clutch is my leather backpack and the instrument inside.

And that's how the last month has gone by: searching for whatever 'normal' meant now. Grasping for the remaining pieces of my life. A huge part of me hoped that I would find the boys, maybe joking around or playing a new song. I just wanted to give them one last hug.

But luck is too harsh for me because when I came back, I couldn't even find my parents. Not like they would listen or talk to me; we ended in a huge fight the last time I saw them. They'd probably blame for the death of Alex or, knowing them, for mine. 

I even went to Bobby's old place and I couldn't find him either. Did he die alon as well?

Unfortunalety, due to our disappearance, our place was occupied by the Molina family. I've tried for them to see me (horribly failed), so I don't think they mind my presence. Besides, I'm a friendly ghost, not the 'possession, making your life miserable' kind. And my name is still carved behind the stairs, so I'm sure they're fine with it.

"I'm so sorry, mom. That I haven't been here." A girl's voice interrupted my thoughts. I believe the her name's Julie.

Usually, no one visits this part of the house. I've heard faint conversations about them selling because their mom died. Maybe she's here to clean up...? Or maybe she wants to vent; I would often come here to do that.

"I like your shoes," I said, referring to her dinosaur slippers. She also wore a yellow happy face sweater, ripped jeans, and glasses. And yes, I know she doesn't see me, but conversation ensure I don't go insane.

She scanned the loft. First, she saw Luke's guitar case, then Alex's drumsticks, then everything else. My sight stays longer on Reggie's bass strap. Oh, how I miss the boys.

Out of all the items present, she picked our Sunset Curve demo. "Oh yes, you're going to love it! We worked very hard on it," I exclaimed. "Fun fact: in 'Late Last Night', you can hear Reggie faintly sneezing around the two-minute mark."

The record player was downstairs, so she went back for it. I decided to stay on the high floor. After all, it would be weird to hover over her.

I sat on the balcony, listening to the magnificent riffs of 'Now or Never'. I hummed to the sound of Luke's voice. It's odd to hear him on a speaker and not live by my left.

Voices suddenly began to scream, and I'm pretty sure they were not coming from the CD. They got louder and louder, making me cover my ears with my flannel.

 The sound of a thump turned the screaming turned into groaning. I glimpsed at the sources of chaos. Wait ... are those who I think they are? No way, no way, no way!

"Woah, how did we get back here?" The very familiar guitarist questioned. Screaming reemerged. I was shocked, preventing me from doing what Julie did: run out of the garage.

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