“_Ugh… my head…_” I murmur, sitting up. Cold concrete beneath me, I stand and look around. Old plaster walls surround me, partially blocked by coat racks and… costumes?

I turn and see giant maroon curtains, almost like the ones on a stage. People dressed in black dart around like desperate ants, yelling into head sets and rearranging set pieces.

I spot Bella, “_Hey, Bella! What’s happening? I thought showtime wasn’t for a few more hours?_”

She shakes her head and frowns, but doesn’t stop moving. Why wouldn’t she answer me? “_I am the star of this show! I am Madame Plum, singer extraordinaire!_” I shout, waving my purple feather boa in front of her face. Red droplets fly from my arms, the color of roses. I look down and see where they are coming from: a giant slice across my neck.

“_Ah, seems like you finally caught on, my queen,_” a voice says as I spin around. There stands a man in his early twenties, dressed in concert black and holding a clarinet. He also appears to be transparent.

“_Y-You’re dead. I’m dead. Is Bella dead? Am I a ghost? Are you a ghost? Oh my gosh, I’m gonna miss the biggest show of my life!_” I shriek, and he shakes his head.

“_Little late for that_,” he explains, “_But yes, yes, no, yes, yes, and an I’m sorry to answer your questions._”

“_Well, how intriguing. We have a bloody Broadway Star on our hands,_” a new… **ghost**… laughs, waving at me with her arms. Which seem to be missing hands.

“_I know this is all very new, but we’re here to help. We are all dead…_” the first ghost says.

“_Just like you,_” adds another, floating down from the ceiling.

“_Yes, dead like you. We were all murdered before the biggest show of our lives. But, focusing on the present, we have all decided to focus on helping each other survive an eternity dead!_”

The handless ghost snorts, “_You’d be surprised by how much that happens; being murdered. And no one can ever remember what happens afterwards until they wake up here._”

My head feels like it’s spinning. My life was over, done! I was a ghost apparently, stuck with a bunch of other dead actors for all eternity. All because of Josephine…

“_Wait,_” I ask, “_You don’t remember how you all died?_”

“_No…?_” The ghosts all answer.

“_But, I know _**_how_**_ I died. I was murdered by my sister…_” I gasp, “_Who is standing. Right. There!_”