Chapter One Sign Of Life
Chapter One:
Sign Of Life
Alaina
“You’re hard to pin down, you know that?”
Bash chuckles, glancing over at his bandmates before he speaks, and their guitarist Yasmin Flores shakes her head.
Not that he listens. “I usually like being the one that does the pinning,” he jokes, making the interviewer blush slightly when she realizes she walked right into that one.
“I thought this was just a quick Q&A, Miss Brodie. I didn’t know you were going to try to dominate me. ”
“Would you let me?” Holding up a hand, she laughs awkwardly and shakes her head.
“Don’t answer that. You’re right, the fans want a Q&A with Hollow Apparition, and here you are.
The first question is for you, Bash. Maggie from Burning River wants to know if you believe in ghosts,” she says.
“Some of your lyrics — and obviously the band name itself — suggest you do, but give us the deets. Are you a believer in the supernatural, or is it just a spooky little gimmick?”
“Nothing is a gimmick,” he responds quickly, his teasing smile gone. “I don’t write music for attention, every word is there for a reason. Of course I believe in ghosts. I think the only people who don’t are kidding themselves because they don’t want to fuck with things they don’t understand.”
“Kidding themselves sounds a little harsh,” the drummer Levi interjects. “I think what he means is that the supernatural makes people nervous, and they’d rather go about their day not thinking about it at all.”
Bash rolls his eyes with a huff. “Yeah, until one is sitting next to them.”
The interviewer laughs a little uncomfortably. “One of them... like a ghost?”
“I see them far more than I see God,” he says with his eyes locked on hers, almost like he enjoys the fact that she’s a little uncomfortable. “When I was a kid, there was a girl that used to visit me in my treehouse.”
“Not this again,” guitarist Yasmin laments. “Are you ever going to admit you made her up?”
Jonah, the band’s bassist, scoffs. “You’re Hispanic, aren’t you supposed to believe in ghosts?”
“You’re white, shouldn’t you be off stealing someone’s land?” she counters. “Ghosts are real, but they don’t drink Dr. Freakin’ Pepper.”
The interviewer glances between them as Bash’s brows narrow. “I’ll remind you this question was for Bash. Who was the little girl? What makes you think she was a ghost?”
“She would only appear when I needed her most,” he admits.
“When the world was too heavy and I’d want to give up.
She didn’t go to school, looked like she was starving and sad and sometimes she’d have bruises, then she’d disappear for weeks.
I feel like she’d come to remind me shit could be worse than I had it, but I used to wish she was real.
She was probably the only real friend I ever had. ”
“That’s sweet,” she comments. “When did you stop seeing her?”
“In my treehouse or in my head?” He slouches down in his seat and drops his gaze to his tattooed hands.
“In my treehouse when I was about twelve, I think? I don’t know, she just stopped visiting me.
In my head though, she lived there a while longer.
I only recently stopped being able to see her face. ”
“So she stayed with you for almost twenty years. Pretty impactful for a ghost, wouldn’t you say?”
“I’d say it’s the least I could do after all she went through.
I don’t know her story or how she died, but the least I could do is remember her.
I kind of feel like shit about the fact that she’s faded away now, actually.
I used to be able to see her blue-grey eyes when I closed mine, and now she’s just a flicker in the headlights when you’re driving at night. ”
Silence falls over all five of them until the interviewer takes another question. “Levi, you already know our viewers are heavily invested in your dating life. Is there anyone new...?”
When I was five, my childhood ended.
It wasn’t some sudden, overnight thing, no.
It was gradual. Less like a pipe bursting and flooding the whole house and more like a slow, steady leak, hidden from the rest of the world as it infected every part of me.
I thought the walls I built would keep me safe — all pretty and pristine and strong — but behind those walls, that slow, steady leak ensured I was rotting from the inside out.
And as I grew, pieces of the walls I built would break, revealing the stinking, damp rot beneath.
I’d patch those walls, the pipes would continue to leak, and I’d continue to rot.
The older I got, the faster they’d break, and the more time I’d spend patching and leaking and rotting until I knew nothing else, knew nothing but the pretty walls that kept breaking and the ruinous rot within.
I was five.
I was five, and now I’m not, yet the cycle continues.
Build and break and rot.
But it ends now. Glancing up, I set my phone down and stare at the tree that once held the only safe space I’ve ever known. It’s gone now, not even a whisper of the ladder that led me up to Bash, but I know it was there. I spent months searching for it. I know I’m right.
“I know it happened. I’m gonna find him, okay? I’m going on tour with him, he just doesn’t know it yet. I’m gonna find him and I’m gonna bring him back here and he’s gonna remember everything.”
Unsurprisingly, the tree doesn’t answer me.
It stands there, silent and looming, holding my most precious memories in its rings.
The memories that kept me sane during my darkest days, the ones that kept me afloat when my world twisted itself around and spat me out.
The ones that reminded me there was kindness in the world despite the horrors I’d seen.
“I’m gonna get him back.”
Wind tickles the leaves, telling me to get up and go. Brooklyn is sitting in the passenger seat of my Bronco waiting for me to stop conversing with tree bark, so I stand up, wipe my knees off, and head back to the car.
Sliding into my seat, I hand her the cord to hook up her phone. “Are you ready?” I ask. “And are you sure you want to be a part of this?”
Brook scoffs, pulling up her GPS to navigate to the airport. “Am I sure I want to repeatedly see my favorite band while you finally get this shit out of your system? Yeah, Alaina. I’m sure.”
Good. This is insane, and I know it’s insane, but what about my life hasn’t been? At least now I’ll know. I’ll be able to see if he meant what he said, if I really stayed with him as long as he stayed with me.
And hell, maybe I’ll be able to stop the leak for good.