It isn't that easy, as it might seems; it doesn't take just asking to get answers. It turns out there are many protocols that need to be respected. Officers, or even any person in the hospital, won't share information to just anyone. There's a thing called confidentiality, and unless you are a direct relative, then you can't obtain personal information about a patient.

When James asks for Daphne Samuels, he is asked back what his relationship with the woman is. He can't lie and say he's the son, or some relative, because he will have to hand his ID and his lie would be discovered.

James is a really nice person, very asocial so the few social skills he has are fairly rusty. Hence, his lies, or any kind of deception, get easily caught.

We first went to the firemen and at that time he said he was Mum's son. They didn't even hesitate, they just looked him from head to toe and said, "Son, that woman was alone. There's no relative that can be contacted. Her only daughter died long ago. Now tell us what are you planning unless you want us to call the police."

Needless to say, we ran before he could answer.

It's obvious that after so many hours they made all the inquires necessary. Probably, even he neighbours explained how lonely my mum had been for the past fifteen years. And there's no point in James telling that I've been here all along because no one else can see me.

At the hospital James says he's a friend of the family, but that's not good enough for them to provide information.

"I'm sorry, kid, but we are not allowed to give that kind of information to non-relatives," the woman behind the desk replies, giving James a pitiful look.

"Can you at least tell me when her funeral will be held or something?"

"I shouldn't tell you this, but..." the woman takes pity of him. "We've contacted the ex-husband. Mrs Samuels's body will be cremated and the ashes taken to Cardiff, where he is living now. Her funeral won't take place here."

I can't say a thing and neither can James, so we just stare blankly at her.

"Now leave before you get me in trouble." James nods and his hand almost automatically reaches for mine. "My condolences," she adds before we take a step away and even if she is saying that to James, thinking he looks that devastated because my mum's death, in fact he's just feeling my own grief.

"Thank you," I say in a hoarse voice and then James repeats my words out loud for the woman to listen. She just nods with a tight smile.

Next thing I know, James is dragging me away from the hospital and doesn't stop until he finds a spot where we can be left alone, where no one will notice him talking to the thin air, and where he can hug me without anyone reporting him, thinking he escaped the mental ward.

I don't fight him when he wants to hug me anymore, even if that hurts him; instead, I just let him comfort me and make the pain go away so I won't hurt him any further. I'm numb right now, knowing that my mum's ashes will be taken away from Street, away from me. I know she isn't here anymore, but what was left will be in a place I can't go. I was hoping she'd be buried here or something similar so I could at least have a place to visit her, like normal people do. It's just a way to soothe the pain in our hearts, an illusion... but I won't even have that now.

"I'm very sorry, Paige," James says in my hair, hugging me ever so tightly. "I wish I could've managed to find out more."

"It's okay, you did your best," I say, pulling a bit back in order to meet his eyes and try giving him a little smile. "At least I know Dad will take care of her body."

He smiles at me lovingly before cupping my face with one hand. I lean in his hand, finding the contact so soothing and warm. Then I feel his lips on my forehead in a slow and calm kiss.

"Let's have lunch and then at night we can go to your house to see if we find your ashes," he proposes. I nod, pulling back completely because it's been long enough and he's getting too cold.

I follow him to a restaurant he picks, and to avoid making people stare, he wears his headphones and pretends to be talking on the phone, that way we can have a normal conversation even when we are outside. He asks for loads of food and I just sit across, watching him because I can't really share a meal with him. James asks me what I remember about my father but there isn't much. I don't even know if he has a new family. Maybe I have half siblings now, but I'll never find out. I don't even remember his name or what he did for a living, and if James asks me to describe him, I wouldn't be able to. The only image I have of him is from the pictures at home, but now even those are gone.

"Is it stupid that I feel sad because all my things are gone?" I ask out loud later in the afternoon. We've moved from the restaurant to that church where he took me before, just because it's pretty and quiet, and he doesn't need to wear the headphones.

"I don't think it's stupid, but it isn't really rational," he replies honestly.

I sigh, rounding my shoulders a bit. I bring my legs up, hugging them and resting my chin on top of them. "Mum made sure to keep everything as I left it, and now all that is gone. The clothes I couldn't wear, the toys I had when I was a kid, all my posters and notebooks, and everything I had." I look at him, hoping he can understand why I'm also sad for losing things I didn't even use anymore. "But what I miss the most are all those pictures I took when I was alive. There are gone forever."

I think he understands, or he tries to understand, because his eyes show sympathy, his lips curling in a sad smile.

"If it's true that we put a bit of ourselves in all the things we make, then it's normal to feel sad for losing them, considering that with that you are also losing a bit of ourselves," he tries to explain and I nod, following the logic in his words.

"I guess that by keeping my room my mum could pretend one day I'd come back from college, and I could pretend I still had a place in this world. Now all that is gone," I muse as I feel James arm wrapping around my shoulders, brining me closer to him. I rest my head on his shoulder, my eyes fixed on the space ahead.

We don't say anything else for a while, we just stay there until it starts getting dark and James too cold for holding me. I accompany him to get dinner, opportunity he uses to warm himself up, and once all that is done we head to my old house, which now is just debris and ashes.

On our way to my home—my old home—, we walk in silence. I have too many thoughts in my head as to keep a conversation and I guess James does not know how to break the ice. I'm not sure how I'll feel when I walk in. Last night I didn't focus much on my house, Mum consumed all my thoughts. I know I'm a ghost and I shouldn't have any attachment to material things, but how can anyone not feel attached to the place one lived for so long.

I feel really nervous when I'm in front of the house, which it burnt. It still has its normal shape, It doesn't look that terrible from outside. I'm not sure how Mum died, but I hope it wasn't burnt. I hope it had been intoxication for the fumes. I think that's more merciful.

There's no pot left, it broke, but I don't think I need a key to open the door. And I'm proved right when I just push the door and this opens for us. I can't walk in first, so it has to be James guiding me inside, taking my hand so I don't stay behind.

It still looks like my house, but everything inside has been destroyed. Whether it fell and broke or it has been burnt and now it's half ashes, half object. The frame pictures are broken, the furniture half burnt, the ceiling with holes and debris on the floor. And on top of all that, everything is wet. I walk around slowly, trying to see if something survived. If it wasn't victim of the fire, it was of the water used to extinguish the flames. It's hard to see it like this, when it looked the same for so long. It's all destroyed, what once was my home is forever gone.

"I'm homeless," I mutter. "A homeless ghost. I can't stop getting weird."

Even if it's actually quite sad what I'm saying, James chuckles. I look over my shoulder and see him pressing his lips tightly to hold his laughter.

"Why are you laughing?"

"Sorry," he apologises. "It's just... they way you say it. Regardless, I don't think you're homeless," he says next, making me frown.

"Then what? The house is ruined and now that Mum is gone I don't even know what's going to happen to this."

James shakes his head before taking a step closer and wrapping his arms around my waist to pull me against his chest. "I mean, you have a home. A new home." I think all this tragedy made my brain overheat because I can't really understand what he is implying. And James knows I'm not following, which makes him chuckle again. "My place is your place now, too. You can't be homeless if you have a place to stay."

I just blink up at him, too flabbergasted with his words. I know I've been staying there for a while but I never considered it my home. I also know he's referred to it as such a few times but I never took it too seriously. Knowing he is sharing his home with me stirs something inside, it makes my heart race. Or well, it makes me feel like my heart it's racing. It's hard to describe without using human analogies.

I never lived in his place, I can't really live there, but this is still really meaningful. So I lean against this chest, taking deep breaths and closing my eyes, listening to his heartbeat.

"Thank you," I say. "For not letting me be a homeless ghost."

Chuckling, he replies, "Thank you, for not leaving me alone."

"You mean for following around at the beginning?" I smile widely and he does the same. "Like a stalker?"

"Yeah." He kisses my forehead. "From that moment onwards."

I pull back although I keep my smile. I'm very thankful he's come with me, it makes things more bearable. Although I don't think I would've come if he hadn't suggested it this morning. And because he suggested finding my ashes, I head to Mum's room. It's in a very similar condition as the rest of the house. It breaks my heart to see it like this, the place Mum slept at every night, where I carried her to sometimes.

I look at the shelves where I saw my ashes the last time, that urn that kept my remains. It's all broken, everything Mum kept there is on the floor. The wood of the shelves gave out after being burnt and couldn't hold the weight of small things anymore. On the floor, broken and with ashes spread around, a bit wet, lies my urn. I know it, I can recognise it, and I feel it. That's me. On the floor. Scattered like that.

It hurts seeing that, in a level no words can describe.

I stay there, standing, watching a broken urn and my ashes without being able to even utter a word.

"There's still something inside," James mentions, walking towards it and picking the urn in his hands. "I guess we can't save all your ashes and it doesn't sound that bad leaving a bit of them at this place, but we can take the rest. I'll get a new urn or something for you."

I don't know what to say or how to feel, not even when he grabs the bottom of the urn that holds the bit left of my ashes. He rises to his feet again and turns to see me, a little smile on his face.

"It's not all gone," he adds.

"I don't even know how to feel," I mutter. "I know that's me, or what I once was, and I just..." I close my eyes, trying to collect my thoughts and put myself together. "I will not touch it. I'm scared of what I might remember if I do."

"It's okay, you don't have to," agrees James. "I'll take care of them... and is it okay if I keep them even when you cross over?" he asks next, a thing I didn't even consider before.

"If I cross over," I correct him but he shakes his head, dismissing my statement. "I guess... If that's what you want, I'm okay with it."

"It's just a way to keep you with me when you're not around," he confesses looking down, at the urn and ashes in his hand. "So I won't feel like you're completely alone. That's probably why you're mum kept the ashes in her room."

I don't say a word, I just stare at him until he meets my eyes again.

"Shall we go to our home now? We found what we came for," he changes topics.

"Let's go home," I agree, trying to smile, but there's still something bothering me, and I think it's the fact I don't like the idea of leaving James.

Whatever it is, I'll have to deal with that later.

>>>·<<<

Yay, update! To be honest, I had the chapter ready long ago, but I didn't have time to post it on Thursday so today. Also, I wrote down the ideas for the rest of the story (outline that I didn't have before) and things are clearer now, so I should finish this more easily. 

What do you think of this chapter? Let me know on the comments!

Dedication to -Relatable101-. You got the point of the story perfectly ;)

Bel, xx

NU: Thursday