Ghostly Guitar | Julie and The Phantoms

Chapter Twenty- Four : Stephanie Wilson, A Girl Broken

Chapter Twenty- Four : Stephanie Wilson, A Girl Broken
October 2020

    Her eyes stung and her face was still wet with tears. This whole home made her cry, cry for who she lost to these walls. Her brother died within these walls. Stephanie snaked around the whole building know as Trevor Wilson's mansion. Each wall just slightly darker than the last, traveling from white to grey to dark grey, and in one room, just black.

    The only change from that small color palette was Carrie's bedroom. With it's pink wall, and posters covering almost every inch. Tickets of the different Dirty Candy shows would stand out every here and there.

    There wasn't a single instrument in the room, but it still remind Stephanie of hers when she was alive. Stephanie's was much darker of course, her house was almost reverse of this place. The pretty colors were in the walls around her, and her room was a dark grey, covered wall to wall in old band posters. Mostly Led-Zeppelin and Soul Asylum.

    Stephanie ran her hand over a picture of an orange background dancer in Carrie's band. She thought of her own life, looking at the lifeless photos. Stephanie wanted to fall back onto the bed, waiting for someone to come.

    But everyone who could see here wouldn't dare walk into this building. James and Julie had turned away from the ghost who lived in their home, unsure how to speak to them anymore. Even just looking at the four stung.

    As for the band they still hated Bobby for what he did. They wouldn't walk back here unless they could look him in the eyes. Make him admit what he told the world was a lie. What they put blood and sweat into, and took it as his own.

   But Stephanie no longer cared.

    She tore her afterlife apart in the same ways she thought she tore her life apart. And yet this time it was all in her head. And the first time, she had no control of it.

~

    He didn't know what he was doing. Sitting on the curb between his house and the house Carrie used to live in. The silver pole of a road sign was right next to him, sending small chills up and down his arm every time he bumped into it.

    The letter was resting in Jay's lap as he read his name over and over. The black pen was smeared at points and the last part of his name was curved upwards so it wasn't in a straight line.

    His left shoe was untied, the lace falling into the great next to his foot as he waited. Waited for a ghost. Part of him was hoping it would be Stephanie but if anyone came he knew it would be Cheryl. Her first name was so faron to her, but somewhere so was her last.

    Wilson no longer seemed to fit the ghosted blond he met in Carrie's hallway. For the past week he had been looking for her under the name of Cheryl Stone. A name long forgotten when she died. Jay didn't even know if Carrie remembered her mother. Just another tragedy of Carrie Wilson.