Unseen

-20-

"James," I cut him off and turn to look at him. "It's nice what you're trying to do and I appreciate it, but it's not necessary. I've accepted I'm dead so now I have to do these other things. Figure out how it happened, when and then how to cross over."

He looks at me in a way I can't describe and that is just so intense, I can't manage to hold his stare so I look away, and instead focus on the urn. I feel that knot in my stomach, so I take another deep breath even if it doesn't help at all, it's just a reflex. I take a step closer and then raise my hand, trembling. I hesitate, pulling back when I'm about to touch it and then trying again but I just can't. I am too nervous to even try and I don't even know what will happen but my mind is creating the worst case scenarios.

Then I feel it. Someone touching my hand, squeezing it and it takes me three seconds to realise what's really happening: James is holding my hand.

My head snaps in his direction, horrified for what he's doing so I try to pull away immediately but his hold is tight. I can see in his face the pained feeling, it's evident in the way his jaw tightens and how he presses his lips tightly together, but he is fighting to look calm and fine.

"James, stop it," I command, still trying to pull away but failing.

"Right now you need it. I won't let go," he says, trying to sound strong but his voice is shaky due to the effort of controlling the pain. "If you want me to let go then stop complaining and touch it."
Even if he says that I can only stare at him, moved by his words and actions, by the meaning of this. Such support from someone who's not related to me is the most foreign thing that has happened to me, and I'm a ghost so that's saying a lot. I feel so touched that even my chest hurts, my heart races and I can barely think of anything else.

James is enduring the pain to help me go through this.

But he's in pain so he's right, I need to hurry. With that in mind I turn to look at the urn again and reach out for it once again. My hand doesn't shake that much but I squeeze James' tighter and he does the same.

My index finger touches the urn first and I shiver but there's no pain. I don't feel anything just yet so I dare to press my whole palm against it and that's the moment the wave of desperation comes to me. Strong and unstoppable with the force of a hurricane, throwing me off with memories.

So much tears. So much fear and sorrow. So much loneliness and confusion. So much hatred and agony and it's choking me. I fall to my knees and I can't breathe but I fight for air I don't need. I struggle but it's to no avail.

I get memories. Memories of myself crying on a bed, my bed, begging for this pain and torture to stop. Begging someone could give me a hand. Wanting to just sleep and never open my eyes.

I also see myself locked in a room and banging at the door desperately. It's a small space, like a janitor closet and dark. I can't see. I feel like there isn't enough air and the tears are drowning me. I bang and bang but no one answers. I hear giggles at the other side but no one opens the door no matter how many times I beg for it. I fall to my knees, still crying but I stop calling for help. This will not come. I put my back to the door and hug my knees, muffling my sobs between them and shaking. It's cold and everything hurts. I remember hoping that this would be the end, once and for all.

"Paige!" Someone screams and it's hard to pay attention to that faint voice. It's hard to focus on anything but the pain and desolation I felt locked in that small space, the paralysing fear and the pain in my every muscle. "Paige, come back!"

I'm shaking... or someone is shaking me. I don't know. I blink once and then again and again until the voice calling my name grows louder and louder and I can finally see James crouching down in front of me, shaking me, worry written all over his face.