Hello lovelies! It's been awhile hasn't it? Well, I reread this story and got an idea for an alternate ending with a little different approach! Hope you like it!

After releasing all the spirits in the house including my two best friends, I went into a really dark place. So much so that my parents eventually had to take me to a hospital to get a psychiatric evaluation from someone other than my dad. After being released being diagnosed with severe depression and put on suicide watch, I went on medication to help me cope. It was still extremely hard. I missed them so much. The house was silent with my parents usually being at work. For a while, I wouldn't even speak to my friends at school. It was just me and my thoughts and talking to Tate and Violet in my head.

I pushed on though, knowing that's what they wanted me to do. They didn't want me to dwell on their release. The didn't want me to die, to waste away to nothing. They wanted me to do something with my life - and that's what I did. After beginning therapy and being on my medication, really taking care of myself, I began to excel again. My grades went up, I was hanging out with my friends more often again, and I felt okay. I still thought about Tate and Violet everyday, wondering what they were doing in their afterlife and hoping that they were getting along, but I felt like myself for the first time in a very long time. I was beginning to feel happy.

Years passed, I went to a prestigious art college, and graduated. Eventually I got my masters and became an art professor myself while also doing freelance work on the side. I was making something of myself, of a life that I almost ended. I was making friends easier and I even decided to move out of LA and across the country to the East Coast, knowing that I would find more freelance work there.

Still, I carried the memories of my friends with me, knowing they were looking down on me.

My 26th birthday was a whirlwind. My boyfriend of two years proposed and we got married a year later. We had two beautiful kids, Tatum and Vanessa - whose names I chose - and they were two spitfires. I loved my husband, Eric, with all my being and he loved me just as much. Still, I would never shake my first true love, though. Sometimes I would think of what he would do if he was here, if we were able to get married and what our kids would be like. I knew that would have never been possible, but it lingered in my brain always.

My kids grew older, having lives of their own. When my husband turned 50 things began to change and not for the better. Instead of getting closer as we grew older, we were growing more and more apart, especially him. He seemed so detached from me all of the sudden and the next thing I knew, I was walking in on him and some 20-something year old. We were divorced in two months. My depression worsened again, but I was able to push through with the help of my daughters. I continued my art and teaching. I continued to live my life to my full potential, traveling all over the world and meeting all kinds of people.

I wouldn't marry anyone else, not being able to trust another man. I also knew I didn't need one in my life. I also knew that Tate would have never done such a thing to me and not just because he had been trapped inside that house.

A couple years after the divorce, my parents both died within a year of each other. As much as I loved New York, I had moved back to LA to take care of them as they were dying. They had never left that big house and going back there had so many memories for me - good and bad. My daughters actually moved to California with me both were married and had kids and wanted us all to stick together.

My life and my heart was so full.

Once I turned 80, I still felt young. I still traveled, and I still did anything I would have done when I was younger. I was on top of the world. Then one day, a doctors visit turned my life upside down. Hearing the words "inoperable" and "stage four" were all it took. My daughters urged me to do treatments, but I wanted to live the rest of my life as myself and not feeling sick. So that's what I did. I survived longer than anyone thought I would, a year and a half, and it was filled with love and warmth.

I was happy.

Then one day, I felt as if I was in a dream. My pain was gone and the world had brightened. When I stood from my bed, I saw myself in the mirror and I was young. Back to my teenage self it seemed. Being in the house that had helped me grow so much as a person I guess had an effect on my death.

"Ellie!" A familiar voice called.

I turned and Violet cane running at me, tackling me in a hug. "Vi!" I shouted in excitement, embracing her tightly to me.

"It's been so long. I'm so, so proud of you!"

I pulled back, looking at my very best friend. "I missed you. I never went a day without thinking about you."

"We didn't either Elouise. We were always looking down on you."

I smiled brightly at that. "Thank you..."

"Well, well, look who finally showed up."

I looked pass Violet and there stood Tate, same as I had always remembered him. The same side smirk that he always wore on his face. Tears came to my eyes and I ran to him jumping into his arms and burying my face in his neck. Cries racked my body unwillingly and he just held me tight, telling me it was all okay. When I finally settled down enough I looked up at him and he down at me. "God, I missed you."

"I missed you too."

He quickly bent down, pressing his lips against mine in an urgent and passionate kiss. He hands gripped my waist as mine went up and into his curls just like I had always done. It felt familiar and real again. Something inside me that I felt had always been missing was finally returned to me. "I love you so much, Elouise," he whispered as he pressed his forehead to mine.

"I love you too, Tate."

The three of us were able to walk into the bright light together, my parents waiting, and the other spirits of the house were there as well.

I was finally home.

The End.