Hey there, it's me. This isn't my first fanfic, so don't be too worried. I thought this storyline was a pretty good idea, for those few Jiley fans left out there. Anyway, I hope you enjoy :] Review if you're feeling it it.

To be invisible. No one wants that. Sure, you've considered the cons, the ability to go anywhere and not be perceived, to have free reign of all spaces without the inconvenience of being seen. But what about when you want to be noticed? What about those times when you have something to say and no one is listening? When you have a desire to be a part of something and make a difference. What about those times when you feel you've done everything you can to get their attention but they just don't seem to notice? They just don't seem to see you, to hear you. All suddenly this once incredible power has turned on you. It's no longer fun. You've gone from being someone to blending in with the wallpaper. How do you get out? How do you escape? What do you do? What do I do?

He doesn't see me. He can't see me. How do I make him see me? Will he ever see me? Does he even want to see me?

I ask myself this every day. Each time I picture his face, I imagine his voice. I don't even think about it anymore. I just do. I think of him. Living his life without me. Without her. What did I ever do? What did she ever do? Whose fault is it? Mine? Hers? His?

"Norah, honey, wake up. It's ok, baby, wake up."

It was a dream. A bad dream. An awful dream. He was there again. He's always there. Each time I wake up screaming. It's horrible. She hates it. It kills her. It's killing me. I hope it's killing him.

"It's going to be alright. You're safe. Shhh, it's ok."

She holds me. I don't want her to let go. Did he ever hold me? If he did, he let go. He let her go. He let us go.

"I love you. Norah, I love you. You know that."

Of course I know it. I've always known it. That's how I survive. She loves me. I love her.

Does he love me? I hate him.

"Mom?"

It's Saturday morning, which means no school. I live for these days. I get to sleep in then spend the whole day doing absolutely nothing. Well, at least that's what I tell myself. Mom usually has some big project planned.

"Yeah honey?"

She's pouring herself a bowl of cereal. We never cook. Mom says it's not original and we shouldn't conform. I cook when she's not home. She hasn't found out yet.

"Tell me about my dad?"

I can tell she's been dreading this moment since the day I was born. She's never mentioned him to me before. It took me until first grade to find out that I was lacking something that most other kids had: a father-figure. I thought it was normal to just have a mommy.

She sets the cereal down. The expression on her face is completely blank, but I sense a hint of sadness. Her eyes loose the shine they usually held. I instantly regret bringing it up. It's quiet for almost a full minute.

"He left, honey. He's gone."

"Jake. Jake. Jake?"Each time I said his name, my voice became more frantic. Where is he? I roll over only to discover that his side of the bed is empty. Cold. He hasn't been here all night. How did I not notice he never came in?

"Jake! JAKE!" I'm panicking now. I can't control myself. I'm scared. I'm alone. My fingers shake as I dial the phone.

And that was it. She didn't go on, she didn't expand. It was if that was all I'd ever need to know about him, like she'd answered every question I'd ever had. I wouldn't let her go that easy. I want to know. I need to know.

"But why? Why did he leave? Why isn't he here? Why…"

"Where is he? I want him to be here. Daddy can't you go and get him? Call his cell; he never answers the home phone."

"Miley, honey, we tried everything. No one can reach him."

I can't believe it. I can't understand, I don't understand. Where is he? He was here only yesterday. He can't have gone far. He knew it was any day now.

"I don't want to talk about it right now Norah," she stares at me. I can't look away, yet I long to forget the hurt look in her eyes. What have I done? No, I can't let myself fall into this trap. I have to know. I need to know.

"But we never talk about it. I need to know who my father is…"

"You don't want to know who is Norah, you don't need to know, you don't get to know," with that, she leaves, retreating up the stairs to her bedroom. The door slams shut and I'm left alone with my Frosted Flakes. I push around the soggy pieces until the tears stop. I throw the remains down the sink. She still hasn't come back down.