Harper walked around her familiar haunt of a stage, until she came to her stool.

Her eyes widened as she saw the scene before her; the stool was splintered, lying on the floor in pieces – her guitar was sitting in the far corner, a huge dent in its belly.

Harper’s breathing turned ragged when she saw a splatter of crimson on the floor.

Remember, just a bad dream.

She turned around, and saw her mother at the entrance of the auditorium.

“Mom!” she cried out, pivoting herself around almost instantaneously. Then she saw that the woman was clutching a handkerchief to her face, jagged sobs raging her body.

Harper watched as her father came over and held his wife comfortingly, whispering words that she could only hope to hear.

This was supposed to be my anniversary concert.

She walked closer, feeling lightheaded and sick. Harper’s aunt, Lucy, was standing next to her sister, rubbing her hands together to fight off the chill that came with grief.