The Music Or The Misery (FOB FanFic)

Chapter 1

Eight months later...

-Patrick's POV-

"Alright, thanks for coming in, Patrick, we'll see what we can do," The human resources representative told me as we stood up and shook hands.

I nodded my head in appreciation, "Thank you." The representative guided me out of the office and called for the next applicant, who - along with other ex-artists, musicians, you name it - was sitting outside in the hallway nervously. You'd think they were in school and had been called down by the principal with how nervous they all looked.

I decided to apply for an office job at a corporate business downtown since it seemed like the ban was never going to be lifted.

A lot of artists were settling and applying for ordinary jobs nowadays, seeing as there was nothing else to do. Unless you still wanted to try and pursue your dying career, but it would only end in you either getting killed or arrested and put in jail for life. There's already been over a thousand deaths and countless arrests, and it's only been a year.

I walked out of the office building and got in my car, driving home. I walked inside the dark house and closed the door behind me. Sometimes I still thought Mara would be there to greet me, ask me how my day was or how I was feeling. But now I was just greeted by an over presiding sense of loneliness.

I threw the keys down on the small table by the door and took off my jacket before entering the living room. I looked dismally at the TV that hadn't been turned on in what seemed like ages. Just like films, television programs had been banned, except for the news programs.

But I had no reason to watch the news. It'd only be about how "great" the country was now that there was a "uniformity" that had ultimately resulted in a "decrease in violence" and "better world for the generations to grow up in". That was complete bullshit, in my opinion. Music made me who I was today, and was I that bad off? I didn't think so. I personally thought I was worse without it.

Suddenly, there was a knock on my door. I glanced over my shoulder, Who the hell would be knocking on my door? No one's come to visit me since the band was forced to break up. Not even my mom.

Another knock.

"C-Coming!" I stammered, making my way over and opening the door. But when I opened it, there was no one on the other side.

"Hello?" I peeked my head out.

No response.

"Hmm." I closed the door and walked back into the house.

Only for there to be a third knock, right as I was about to go upstairs.

I sighed and went back, opening the door for a second time. Again there was no one.

I was about to go back inside when I noticed a letter on my doorstep, stuck beneath my foot. I took a step back and looked around apprehensively, theorizing that whoever knocked on my door was the same person who left this note, and they couldn't have gotten far.

"Who's out there?" I called.

One of my neighbors, a widowed woman in her late sixties, was out in her lawn, tending to her garden. And when I asked if anyone was out there, she looked back at me with a strange look on her face, as if to wordlessly say she thought I was crazy or something.

I blushed in embarrassment before bending down and picking the letter up. I walked back inside and closed the door behind me, staring at the letter in my hands.

The only thing written on the envelope was my name. Not even my address. Or a return address. Just my name.

The handwriting looked familiar but I couldn't put a name to whose it belonged to.

I walked into Mara's old office (where she used to write) and picked up a letter opener from her desk, slicing the envelope open and taking out its contents, which was really just a tri-fold piece of paper.

I discarded the envelope and unfolded the letter.