Hi guys, thank you so much for all your nice words it means a lot! Thanks a lot to emma . ray, best beta reader of the world, your input is crucial.


I let out a displeased moan.

The shutters were really old, allowing the sun to come through the window uninvited and a ray of light was landing right on my face. I turned in the bed, making some sort of maki sushi with my blanket but it was a wasted effort. Well, might as well get up.

I sat on the bed and looked at my watch which I had put on a chair nearby. 10am. Wow. I sure had slept a long time, and neither my dad nor my mom had woken me up. That was unusual to say the least, but I was starting to like the change of habits that had occurred as we changed house.

I put my face on my hands, massaging my eyes and cheeks as a way to be fully awake and it took me a few minutes before I was able to remember the events of yesterday. The joint had helped me clear my head and accept a few facts: there was an actual ghost in our attic, it wanted something with me, and I would tell Spencer about it.

With a new energy due to the good night of sleep I had and the determination that was coursing through my body, I put on some clothes and walked with firm steps towards the kitchen.

My mom had put a note on the counter:

"Hey Paige!

I hope you had a good night.

We decided to let you sleep as you start school in a few days. I went to town to buy some furniture and your dad is already at the bank. I'll be home for lunch!

XoXo"

I had mixed feelings about that note. Part of me was happy that I was left alone as I would be able to explore the house with very loud music, and the other part knew that my mother's absence was what I needed to go back to the attic. I had no real excuse for not returning there. Except that I don't really want to. But I also wanted to. I wanted to know more. I had spent hours yesterday trying to figure out what had happened, trying to find a logical explanation, a sensible one. But I hadn't. And the fact that the ghost hadn't shown up in my room nor made any kind of weird stuff was a proof that it – she – whatever, wasn't malevolent.

I walked towards the telephone that was hanging on the wall and punched in Spencer's number. Nothing. No dial tone.

"Wonderfuck." I whispered.

I sat on a stool, defeated, my eyes wandering towards the stairs and what they held. I had to go back. I was thinking about that image I had read hundreds of times and found boring as Hell, the goddamn moth drawn towards the light. My light wasn't a flame but it was sure brighter than the sun. If my mind was being as boring as to refer as myself as a dumb fake butterfly I surely had to do something about that.

So I stood up.

And started to climb.

Faster than I had realised, I was standing in front of the attic's door and decided to study it a bit. The first time I got there I noticed some sort of scribbling and I was beginning to wonder if it had anything to do with what was lying just behind it. From what I was able to decipher, someone had carved the letters "A.D." on it, as in Anno Domini or something. Hm. And just like that, before I was able to grab the handle, the door opened.

I entered slowly, carefully, still wondering why the Hell I was doing that, but unable to stop.

The ghost wasn't there.

I walked into the attic completely and started to look around but nothing. She was gone.

I didn't know how to feel. I was relieved, of course. But also disappointed.

It had taken me a great deal of strength to be able to come here again, to prepare myself mentally for a face-to-face with a spirit. I was holding on to Spencer's jacket like a shield, grabbing the edges with my arms crossed to cover myself. With shaky breath I managed to articulate.

"Ghost...?"

"You're here..." she whispered.

She had come out from the far right corner of the attic, as if the sound of my voice had triggered her apparition. I jumped.

Turn arouuuund, briiiight eeeeyes

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," she said, an apologetic smile on her face.

"You didn't," I answered.

That was obviously a lie and she frowned slightly, laughter just perceptible in her eyes.

"Okay, you did startle me. A little."

She dipped her head to the side.

"Okay fine, a lot."

She scoffed.

"That wasn't my intention, apologies," she said. "I'm glad you're here."

"I gotta be honest," I told her. "I don't know why I came."

I was expecting her to answer, to try to convince me of something - of anything really - to try to make sure I'd stay but she didn't.

"I guess I was... curious, to say the least." I added.

She moved very slowly towards me, as if she was trying to test the water, and was detailing my face in search of a negative emotion inviting her to stop. I let her get a bit closer so that I could gauge her as well.

"That's enough." I said, in a very bossy way, probably inherited from my father's side.

She was really beautiful. More than just her ghost state, there was something otherworldly in her features. The perfection of her traits didn't seem to have faded despite her lack of substance, and she must have spotted my examination as a smile started to arise from the corner of her mouth.

"I'm sorry," I said softly.

And I was sorry. I was fixating on her, forgetting every politeness my parents had instilled in me.

"Don't be," she answered. "I know how strange it might look to you."

My grip on Spencer's jacket tightened again. I was tense, uneasy, and I had a lot of questions galloping in my mind but I was unable to focus on just one.

"Why don't you just sit and I'll try to answer as many questions as you have?"

"I prefer to stand, thanks."

The hurt. Again. I could see that my distrust had pained her once more but Hell, I had never seen her in my life before yesterday. How could I not put faith in the part of me that was telling me to run?

We were watching each other in silence, scrutinising from head to toe and I started to relax a bit. Her kind eyes and sadness-tainted face were an invitation to calm and trust - not that I trusted her - but absolutely no sign of ill-intent was laying there.

"What's with the clothes?"

Out of ALL the questions I could have asked this was the first one I was able to say out loud. Like...seriously.

Surprise was easily discernible on her face, mixed with hilarity and a bit of concern. She opened her mouth slowly, closed it, and opened it again.

"This is what I was wearing the first time we kissed."

...Okay. How do I respond to that? She's clearly deluded. And crazy. Crazy ghost. Not a nice combo. I decided to be open and simply ask to measure the depth of her delusion.

"Erm... what do you mean?"

"There was a chance you wouldn't remember...but I was hoping that seeing me like this would trigger memories of your past lives."

I froze. Was she serious with this past life thing? And plural.

"I mean no disrespect," I said carefully, "but I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

She lowered her head, another sign of the grief I was provoking in her. I didn't get it: I had no recollection whatsoever about her, about past lives, and if I could just focus on the details, I had zero inclination towards girls. But the strange thing was that I was still here. I was still mesmerised by her, curious about her story and the supposed story of us.

"You seem to know me. You know my name. I guess a formal introduction is in order."

I took a few steps towards her, watching the light coming back into her eyes as she raised her head in my direction.

"I'm Paige McCullers."

I stretched my arm as to shake hers. The gesture wasn't calculated, it was more of a reflex than really wanting to know if she had some sort of substance - but still, I was curious about that.

"Emily," she paused. "Fields."

She mirrored my gesture and as her fingers passed through mine, fading into nothingness, images flashed before my eyes.

A boat. The jungle. The sea. A temple. A big town. A desert. Emily. A waterfall. An ancient city.

"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!" I screamed, jumping away from her.

She took a few steps back too, apparently as surprised as I was. Confusion was obvious in her features, I deduced that she had seen the same thing I had.

"I...I have no idea. Please believe me, I wouldn't trick you, I didn't know this could happen."

Her voice was pleading but if I was really honest with myself, I was more pissed than scared. I wasn't going to leave before I had some serious answers.

"What was that?" I asked again, more gently this time.

"I think...they were memories."

Her voice was hesitant, yet I felt as if she was more and more excited as she was starting to realise something. I frowned.

"What do you mean memories?"

"I remember some of the things we just saw. They are part of me, of you. Of us. They were from our past lives."

Again with the past lives.

"I don't believe in that." I said, looking at her right in the eyes.

"I'm pretty sure you didn't believe in ghosts, as you called me, before we...met," she said with a smile.

I smiled in return.

This was really fucked up. She had managed to calm me in a instant with the smallest quip.

"You're right. But still." I tried to bring back my poker face before asking: "How do I know you are telling the truth?"

She came towards me. Very close this time. I didn't move, captivated by her and all the noise in my head.

She raised her arm, nearly touching my face, and stopping on my forehead. I closed my eyes as she passed before them but I felt she was pointing her finger towards the scar on top of my right eyebrow, feeling a cold but not unpleasant sensation where she had brushed against my skin.

"Do you know what this is?" she whispered

This was getting too intense for me. I opened my eyes and took a few steps back slowly so has not to upset her.

"Yeah. I banged my head on a radiator when I was a kid. My cousin was chasing me and then BAM," I answered

"This is a lovely story," she said. "But it isn't entirely true. This is a memory from the second life we spent together. This is how you died."

I was too shocked to say something about how the story of me heroically surviving a radiator attack was lovely.

"Okay I think I need to sit down," I said, my legs nearly failing. I walked to the chair I had woken up in the day before and crashed.

I cleared my throat.

"There are a lot of things I want to ask but I don't know where to begin. And to be honest I don't know if I can believe you."

"I understand Paige. But you have to admit something happened," she said. Her tone wasn't severe, it sounded like doubt, as if she was weighing her words as to not upset me.

"Do...do you think we could try again?"

"No." Yes.

"Oh."

"I mean, not now."

I wanted to try again. I wanted to see the things I had merely grasped. I wanted to know what past lives I had lived - if it was indeed true. I wanted to feel what I had felt when the images were flashing through my eyes. If I had previous lives, damn right I wanted to own them.

But now wasn't the time. And I really didn't want her to know how eager I was to try again.

"I have questions first if that's okay."

She looked like I had taken the weight of the world off her shoulders. I had given her hope but I had to take it away right now. Everything was going way too fast for me. She pretended she knew me but I didn't know her and I really didn't need a stalker-ghost in my life right now. Or ever.

"And I'm not making any promises. You have to know that I can just walk past that door at any moment and not come back."

"I understand," she said softly "I may not have all the answers but I'll try my best. What do you want to know?"

She came closer to me and sat on the floor, in a submissive way as I was higher than her. I slowly, and very awkwardly slid to the floor to be at the same level. I had no idea why I did that - she had offered me to be more comfortable than her, to be able to gauge her and run away more easily, but I felt strange lowering my eyes on her. I was now on the floor too, a few inches from her. She was looking at me weirdly, and in that moment I knew.

"So you love me?"