Charlie is seventeen, and they are fucking dead. Before they can even legally drink alcohol, like come on. So lost with little to no memory, they find theirself in a large elevator with multiple ghosts such as theirself. "I need a fucking therapist." -Charlie !!WARNING!! This story contains graphic descriptions of violence, death, suicide, alcohol, murder, drug use, weapons, abuse, and other. Read at your own risk, and remember to stop if you feel triggered. !!If you see this posted somewhere other than Wattpad, it is stolen work and can you please tell me if you see this posted elsewhere!!