“Congratulations, you'll always have a room in my mind, but I'ma keep the door shut and lock the lyrics inside” you said the last sentence from your poem, looking at the crowd. It was silent, before all the people started cheering at you. You smiled, before the smile disappeared, as you saw Ghost in the crowd, staring at you. He followed you. He now knew everything from your past now. The abuse from your parents. You went down the stage, and he came to you. “I think we need to talk…”