Harper was restless that night. She wasn’t sleepy at all, but then again, Grey had told her ghosts didn’t have human needs. It kind of freaked her out, but hey, she still had her voice, didn’t she?

That’s one thing this damned death can’t take away, she thought forcefully, looking out the window.

With a small amount of wistfulness, Harper remembered the time her choir teacher had caught her singing – she recalled his expression very well.

He had asked her if she had any voice training, and he had been elated when she answered no.

Mr. Berkshire had taken her under his wing, and she had soon been taking full time voice-lessons.

She had learned to master every chord, every note; it was a painstaking process, and Harper had suffered many sore throats and bleary mornings because of it.

And now it was gone.

The world of singing was gone.

She couldn’t even touch her guitar anymore.

I hate this! Harper thought, trying unsuccessfully to batter her head against the wall.

She couldn’t even vent properly.