Spirits || l.h

0.1

 [Luke's POV]

I run a hand through my messy hair and quickly run downstairs.

It’s weird actually, I woke up with this hollow feeling, like something was missing inside of me but I couldn’t quite put my finger into it. So the best thing is to speak to my parents.

“Okay this may be weird, but today I woke up with the strangest feeling that-,“ I came to a stop in midsentence when I noticed my mom, Liz, was crying into my dad’s shoulder. The scene was odd actually; he kept patting her back and whispering how everything is going to be okay.

I slowly approach them and say, “hey, is everything okay?” You can tell I’m pretty awkward during these situations.

They don’t answer me.

I groan and walk over to them. “Mom?” Again, nobody replies. I try to pat my mom’s back, “What happe-“

I freeze.

I try to pat my mom’s back again, and the same thing happens.

My hand goes through her.

I’m not even exaggerating. My hand went through her body, as if I’m just a hologram.

I start slightly shaking, “Mom? Dad?” I whisper.

Is this some kind of sick joke, or is it just a dream?

I slowly back away from the kitchen area and then I hear the most bizarre thing from the TV. “We have received confirmation of 5 Seconds of Summer member, Luke Hemmings’s death. The 17 year old has been…”

After that, all I heard were overlapping voices. I start shivering and my eyes widen, trying to focus. I get dizzy and hold the table to stable myself from falling. I’m suddenly aware of all the phone calls buzzing in the room that my parents are choosing to ignore.

Luke Hemmings’s DEATH? Does that explain the hollow feeling and the hand-passing-through-mom? What the hell? I can’t be dead.

How the hell am I dead? I’m right here, I hear and see everything. I even heard my own voice when I tried to speak to my parents. …. This must be a sick joke.

I angrily open the door and get out of the house, I need some air plus I need to get to the bottom of this.

The number of paparazzi and interviewers outside shocks me. They get all excited when I get out.

“Mr. and Mrs. Hemmings, how does it feel to lose a son?”

“Is it true he was drunk driving when he died?”

“I heard that his friends, the other members, were the ones driving!”

“When’s the funeral?”

They can’t see me.

Oh god, am I really DEAD?

My dad comes out and starts yelling “GET THE HELL AWAY FROM MY HOUSE. IT’S NOT THE TIME TO ANSWER ALL OF YOUR SHITTY QUESTIONS ABOUT OUR LOSS.” He says that then simply gets in the house and shuts the door.