I still can't believe the attention this story is getting. Just so you guys know it's super motivating for me to keep working! Even when the website keeps crashing and I have to keep checking back to see when it's gonna come up again. Would have posted this last night otherwise! Lol! Anyway, enjoy!

Once inside, Héctor led her back the way she had come and straight to the office that she'd originally woken up in. This time, there was a man sitting at the desk. She wasn't positive, but Becca thought he looked like the guy she'd originally seen when she first got here.

"Hola Jorge!" Héctor announced as soon as he stepped through the door.

"Héctor?" The man behind the desk greeted skeptically. That is, until he spotted Becca. "Ah, I see you've found our little run away," he added with realization.

However, Becca remained pressed up against the far wall. She didn't feel real keen on getting any closer to the guy who had been chasing her yesterday.

"It's not like she went far. How hard did you try and look?" Héctor questioned, plopping into one of the chairs that was arranged in front of the desk.

"She could have gone anywhere! We figured if we just waited, she'd turn back up here eventually. And look, here she is, with you," Officer Jorge pointed out skeptically, like he wasn't sure how Héctor had convinced her to come back. She was still chewing on that one herself.

"I couldn't just leave her out there," Héctor reasoned.

"Fair enough. Come here, niña," Officer Jorge motioned for her to come sit down.

Becca shook her head. "That's okay. I'm just fine right here," she told him.

"This will go much faster and easier if you cooperate," he warned her. Héctor looked back to give her a reassuring smile.

Becca pressed her lips together and rolled her eyes – at least she would have, if she had lips. . . "Fine!" she snapped and rigidly sat down in the other chair.

"Ahora, give me your full name, por favor," he requested.

"Rebecca Hansen," she said, adding extra haughty emphasis on her last name.

"Hansen?" the officer asked with concern.

"That's right," she told him flatly.

He pressed several keys on his computer, probably typing in her name.

"No results for 'Hansen'," he said after a moment with dismay.

"What a shocker," Becca muttered under her breath.

"Wait, you said you were half Mexican. What about your mamá's last name?" Héctor wondered.

"Rodrìguez," Becca told him with a sly smirk, putting a Spanish accident on something for the first time since she'd been here.

Office Jorge typed it in. "Uh—" he hesitated.

"Don't tell me, let me guess. Now you have the completely opposite problem?" she remarked with false sympathy in her tone.

Officer Jorge looked from her to Héctor. "There are literally thousands of entries. Do you know any of your extended family's first names to help narrow it down?" he directed at her.

"No," she said with exasperation.

The officer looked at her like she was a mutant. Maybe that seemed really strange to him, but for an American it was pretty typical.

"You sound Americana. I don't think we've ever had a situation like this before. I'm not sure what to do with you. . ." Officer Jorge trailed.

"I told you – I don't belong here," Becca reminded Héctor.

He looked at her like he didn't know how to respond to that.

"Well," she said, getting up out of the chair with a sigh. She did her best to try and let go of the resentful attitude she was feeling. This wasn't their fault, after all. "Thanks anyway," she tried to give Héctor a sincere smile. "I appreciate you trying to help," she told him, and then quickly made her way out the door.

Héctor stared at the door the girl had just exited through, then back at Officer Jorge as if expecting guidance on what he should do.

"So, you're just going to let her leave?" Jorge offered.

At that realization, Héctor hopped up out of the seat and quickly hurried after Becca.

He caught up to her as she was heading towards the doors leading to the plaza.

"Whoa! Wait, wait, wait!" he requested, circling around in front of her and forcing her to stop. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked with concern.

"I'm going to try and find a way to get out of here," she told him honestly.

"What?!" he seemed to think for a second. "But, there isn't one. There's only the final death," he told her.

"What's that?" Becca asked.

"As long as there is someone in the living world that remembers you, you get to live here." He pointed towards the ground. "But if everyone who remembers you passes away, and no one passes down your memory, then you experience what we call the 'final death' where you disappear from this world," he explained.

Wait, so as long as she was remembered? Trevor was only nine! He was going to be around for a long time, and if they passed down her memory. It meant she really could be stuck her for all eternity!

"Ugh! This can't be happening!" she moaned in despair. "I think I'm going to be sick!" she exclaimed.

Héctor gave her a funny look at her comment. "You can't be sick, chiquita. You no longer have a stomach," he reminded her.

Becca thought about that for a second, and then decided to check by lifting up her hoodie and T-shirt. Sure enough, nothing but ribs. She made an anxious groan in the back of her throat and pulled everything back down.

"Is there – any way to expedite that 'final death' thing?" she wondered aloud.

Héctor flashed her a really worried look at that. "You can't think that way, chiquita," he told her with concern.

"Why not?!" Becca demanded. Lifting her arms up and slapping them against her sides in protest. "I'm already dead," she pointed out in frustration. She felt her legs giving out, and she slipped to the floor onto her knees. "What am I supposed to do now?" she posed the question rhetorically, feeling like she was going to start crying again at any second.

Héctor could hear the defeat in her voice, and he felt another pang of sympathy run through his bones. It's exactly how he had felt when he'd first learned that his family had disowned him. He felt really bad for her. No kid should ever have to feel that way!

"You – can come to mi casa with me," he suggested after a moment.

For a second, Becca couldn't believe what she'd heard! She looked up at him with a dumbfounded expression. Before shaking her head.

"Why on Earth – or I guess, wherever we are – would you want to take me home with you?" she asked him with disbelief.

"What? I can't help a damsel in distress?" he asked with a smile, trying to lighten the mood.

Becca narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm hardly a damsel in distress. More like a stray puppy," she realized with dismay.

"Perfecto! Everyone loves puppies," he joked, but Becca didn't really find it funny.

"Héctor, you don't have to—" she tried to tell him. He hardly even knew her! She shouldn't be expecting him to do her any favors.

But he didn't give her the chance to protest. "No discutes! Come on, it won't be so bad," he told her, taking her arm and pulling her to her feet.

Well, she figured nothing could be worse than sleeping alone under a stairwell.

Becca followed along behind Héctor as he strolled out of the building and eventually towards the exit of the plaza. Her wandering eyes were taking in all of the sights as they went. Everything was just so colorful here – and loud! They could hear music practically everywhere they went, accompanied by dancers, street performers, and artists of all kinds. It made Becca wonder where the business men or scientists were. Possibly in all of the buildings they were passing.

As they moved away from the more populated areas, Becca began to notice that she wasn't the only one staring. Since she wasn't able to blend in with a large crowd, she seemed to be standing out more and more as people watched her pass by.

Eventually, she realized it was probably her hair. Everyone here seemed to have black hair and brown eyes, except for the older people who's hair had gone gray with age. It was a stark contrast to her brown hair and green eyes. None of them actually had skin anymore, but Becca had never felt so white in her entire life. At least she wasn't blonde! However, that didn't stop her from self-consciously pulling her hood back up over her head and walking just a bit closer to Héctor.

Continuing on, he began to lead them into darker and more dank areas. While it had been brightly lit in and around the plaza, here it seemed to devolve into perpetual night time. The colorfully painted buildings gradually began to be replaced by dark, cold stone. Héctor ducked into an alley way, which made Becca feel nervous about where they were going. Not wanting to be left alone in the dark, however, she reluctantly followed.

The alley then opened up into what Becca could only describe as a slum. The area seemed to be totally flooded, with run-down looking shacks sitting just above the water. They were connected by a sketchy looking walkway made of planks of wood. Since there were no street lamps – for obvious reasons – the people here were using lanterns to light the area, as well as lights on wires strung up along their roof tops, like sad Christmas decorations, she thought.

"Hola Chorizo!" Becca heard someone call out. It seemed to come from a man who was sitting at a table on one of the porches. She could only assume he was speaking to Héctor.

"Hola Chuy," he replied wearily. He didn't seem real fond of the nickname.

The guy's eyes swiveled, noticing Becca behind him. "Hey, did you know you have a little shadow following chu?" he asked.

Héctor turned to find Becca with her hood up, skulking along behind him. He grabbed her and dragged her around in front of him, pulling off her hood in the process.

"Atención por favor, this is Becca," he announced to everyone there.

Becca had an overwhelming urge to tear away from him so that she could put her hood back on. She was not comfortable with all this attention on her. Instead she remained frozen where she was. Freaking out might come across as rude.

"Becca, this is mi familia," Héctor explained.

"Everyone here is your family?" she asked in a hushed tone.

"Well, not in the literal sense. We all just call each other family since we have no other family here, and no one to put our pictures up on an ofrenda," he explained – sort of. If this was where Héctor lived, it certainly helped to explain his wardrobe.

"She doesn't have any familia?" A woman asked him. Héctor shook his head. "Oh, pobrecita! Come here – let me get a look at you."

The woman then grabbed a hold of Becca and pulled her so she was right in front of her. She gripped her face and began a full inspection. "She's so young. Such a shame! No te preocupes, pequeña. I'm sure your parents will put your photo up on the ofrenda for you," the woman assured her.

Becca gave her a dubious look. "I – really doubt it. Seeing as how I was raised in America, and I have no idea what that means," she explained bluntly.

There it was – that stare again. Everyone was looking at her like she'd just grown a foot out of her forehead.

"Well, slap me thrice and hand me to my momma! You've brought home a gringa!" that Chuy guy exclaimed.

Becca glared at him. "Your bones are just as white as mine are!" she snapped at him, ripping herself out of the lady's grip. "And I don't appreciate getting yanked around. I'm not a rag doll, ya know!"

And with that, she flipped around and stormed off towards a darker area of the make-shift village. Once again, she didn't know where she was going, but this time she didn't care! At the moment, anywhere would be better than here. Apparently, she had figured wrong.

The slapping of footsteps behind her altered Becca that someone was following her, probably Héctor. He grabbed her arm to stop her.

"Hey, chiquita. Lo siento, Chuy didn't mean to insult you, he was just surprised," he tried to explained, but Becca wasn't having it. Seriously, what had she just said?!

"Let go of me!" she warned him darkly.

He looked taken aback by her tone, but released her arm.

"And would you stop calling me that?! I'm twelve, not five!" she snapped at him.

"I – I know this probably isn't what you're used to–" he tried to continue to placate her, but she cut him off.

"Not what I'm used to? Well that's the understatement of the day! When I died, I expected to go to heaven! Not to some Mexican purgatory!" she shouted at him, loud enough for others to hear.

He flashed her a hurt look, but she didn't care. She just turned on her heel and rushed off into the dark.

Just so you know, I felt really bad writing those comment she made! :.( Bet you don't feel so sorry for her now. . . Becca how could you! :P