"What do you mean there was nothing you could do?! This is a goddamn hospital!" shouted Uncle Jake, knocking over his chair as he jumped to his feet.

"Calm down, Jake, please," Granny said quietly, a picture of heartbrokenness with her watery eyes and deep crease in her eyebrows.

Jake turned to his mother. "Don't tell me to calm down! My niece is dead because of you!"

"That's enough, Mr. Grimm," said the doctor from his desk, giving him a stern glance. Jake threw his hands in the air and let out a roar of anger as he stormed from the room.

I watched the whole thing silently, partially because nobody would hear me if I spoke anyways. I looked at Granny, who had began crying silently into her wrinkly hands. I found myself getting angry at Uncle Jake. Granny didn't kill me. I killed me.

I left my spot in the corner and walked towards where Granny was seated. I was hoping she would look up and see me as I stopped directly in front of her, but my hope was crushed as she lowered her hands from her eyes and stared right through me at the doctor across from her.

I let out a frustrated sigh and decided to try someone else. I left Granny and went to the small bench towards the back of the room. There sat Daphne, my sweet, young sister who I loved so much. She had to see me. I would make her.

I knelt down in front of Daphne, staring directly into her eyes, which were staring fixedly at a small stain in the carpet. "Daphne?" I whispered. Nothing. I waved my hand in front of her face. Not even a flinch. Maybe if I tried touching her? I hadn't tried to touch anybody yet. Maybe she would feel it! I reached my hand up to grab her shoulder. To my surprise, it didn't do what I expected it to, which was fall right through her body as if I were a hologram. Instead, it sat there, on her shoulder. The only problem, was that she obviously couldn't feel me. She didn't move a muscle as she continued her staring.

I stood up, my hand still resting on her shoulder. I suddenly realized something: not only could she not feel me, but I couldn't feel her. Sure, my hand was visibly (to me, at least) gripping her shoulder, but I couldn't actually feel her shoulder. I tried giving her shoulder a small shove. My hand appeared to smack into her shoulder, but I didn't feel it and her shoulder remained perfectly still. I lifted my hand and held it up to my face. It looked perfectly intact and alive to me.

And then, to once again prove my stupidity, I reared back my hand and slapped myself in the face. "Ow!" I cried, pressing my other hand to my cheek in an attempt to stop the stinging. Alright, so I couldn't feel other people, but I could definitely feel myself.

I let out an angry growl as I moved away from Daphne. Why couldn't anybody see me? I was right there! It didn't make any sense.

I walked angrily back to the corner of the room, stomping my feet childishly. I rested my back against the wall and sank down to the ground until I was sitting, feeling slightly grateful I could at least feel the solidity of the wall behind me. I felt tears prick my eyes and lifted my hand to wipe them away angrily, only to realize there was no wetness. I felt tears in my eyes; I could feel them stinging from behind my eyelids. But there was no actual liquid in my eyes.

Curiously, I opened my mouth and stuck in my finger, giving a small gasp as my finger was met with dryness. No spit either. My tongue wasn't necessarily dried up, but there wasn't really any liquid pooling anywhere. You know how when you let a glob of paint or glue dry partially, but only so there is a layer of "skin" over the liquid itself? And you can gently press on the "skin" and feel that it's not dry, but rather, for lack of a better word, encapsulated? Well, that's how my tongue felt.

I closed my mouth and leaned my head against the wall. It seemed I had no fluid in my body. So I definitely wasn't alive. I closed my eyes, confused as to what was going on. Why was I still able to be here with the living when I was dead? I knew I was dead for sure. I watched as paramedics picked up my lifeless body from the driveway, my head lolling around inhumanly, as if my neck was a spaghetti noodle (I actually found it quite entertaining to watch, but I don't think anyone else thought so).

I opened my eyes and looked around the room. The doctor was talking calmly to my family, all in various stages of disbelief and shock. It was upsetting to watch them discuss me (or my body, at least) and what to do with me. Obviously, there was no real option of an open-casket funeral (unless their plan was to make people throw up), but there was still the debate between cremation or burial. They had to decide quickly, due to the fact that my body was disgustingly mangled and leaking various fluids, leaving no time to let my corpse sit around for a while while they thought about it.

I felt a strange sense of unfairness. It was MY body. How come I didn't get to decide what to do to it? I imagined them stuffing me into a box, the vomit and blood on my body staining the satin lining of the coffin. I cringed inwardly. There was no way I was letting that happen.

Despite the inevitable futility of it, I decided to tell them what I wanted. "I WANT A CREMATION!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. "DON'T PUT ME IN A FUCKING BOX!"

As I expected, nobody turned around. Nobody had heard me. I clenched my fists angrily. "CAN'T YOU HEAR ME?" I yelled. "I. DON'T. WANT. A. BURIAL."

Suddenly, I saw the slightest, but still visible, shift of the head. Unbelievingly, I watched as Puck Goodfellow, who had been sitting silently in a chair off to the side, turned his head and stared at the corner where I was sitting. His brows were furrowed as his eyes scanned the area. I sat there in complete shock. Did he hear me? But even more importantly, could he see me?

I scrambled to my feet and began waving my arms and hands. "Puck!" I shouted. "Can you see me?!"

My hands fell back to my sides as he blinked and turned his head back around, no sign of recognition or that he had heard me at all. I felt the fake tears prick my eyes again. It must've just been a coincidence. I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up.

I sat back down defeatedly. I looked at my body, clad in the clothes I had died in, and wondered what was happening to me. "Is this a dream?" I wondered aloud, pinching my arm. But even as I said it, I knew it wasn't a dream. I was stuck in some strange half-life and now my arm hurt where I had pinched it.

My thoughts were interrupted as I heard a new voice enter the conversation taking place in the room. They were still talking about plans for my body, but I hadn't been listening until this different voice chimed in.

"I think she would want a cremation."

Everyone in the room went quiet as they all glanced at Puck. "What did you say, Liebling?" asked Granny, her eyes rimmed with red.

Puck looked around, suddenly seeming embarrassed. "I don't know. I just, think she would want to be cremated," he mumbled.

Granny watched him for a few seconds before turning back to face the doctor. "I suppose we will go with cremation, then."

Granny and the doctor continued talking, but I stopped listening. Instead, I was staring at Puck, my mind racing. First the staring, now this? It was obvious he hadn't actually heard me or seen me. But why would he say I wanted a cremation? It's not like I had discussed death with him, or with anyone for that matter. So why did he say that?

I stood up once more and crossed the room to where Puck was sitting. I leaned down in front of him and stared into his eyes. I stayed like that for a few minutes, bent over and staring into his eyes, trying to will him to see me. But his face remained blank as he stared not at me, but through me, just as Granny had. I reached out a finger and tried poking his cheek. Same as with Daphne, I could see my finger on his cheek, but it made no indent and merely rested there. He didn't even blink an eye.

I straightened back up and put my hands on my hips, frustrated. It couldn't have been a coincidence. But then again, maybe it had been. Maybe he was also disgusted by the idea of my body being trapped in a box underground, to be decomposed by insects and bacteria over the years. Either way, I was glad he had spoken up.

I jumped, startled as Puck stood abruptly from his chair. I looked around to try and see why, and realized my family was leaving. Granny was packing up her bag, a sure sign that the Grimms were on their way out. I walked over to the door, desperate to get out of the cramped room of sadness.

I reached out and put my hand on the door handle, relieved I could feel it under my fingers. I pushed down on the handle, expecting the door to swing open. Nothing happened. I looked down at my hand, still on the handle. I tried to push the handle down, but it didn't budge. Sure, I could feel the handle perfectly. But for some reason, I could not move it. It appeared that I had absolutely no force in my body. I'm not sure if that's the best way to explain it, but in short, I could not move anything with my body. Everything I thought I knew about Newton's Laws of Motion was thrown out the window.

I stood off to the side and contemplated how I was going to get out of here. I guessed I just would have to wait for someone to open the door so I could walk out. I waited patiently as my family began walking towards the door, but I got distracted by Puck. He was looking at the corner again, the one I had been sitting in when he first looked over there. I watched him intently, trying to figure out what was going through his mind. He gave his head a slight shake and turned it around as he pushed open the door and left.

In my intense state of watching, I didn't even notice that everybody had left and shut the door behind them, minus the doctor still seated behind his desk. I gave out a groan. It didn't appear the doctor would be leaving anytime soon. I shuffled my feet until I was standing a foot away from the closed door. Maybe I could walk through it. I stepped forward and leaned my shoulder against the wood. Nothing happened.

I stepped back again and furrowed my brow. Could I really not walk through doors? Or push them open like a normal human being (not that I was a normal human being anymore)? I squeezed my eyes shut tightly. I will get through this door. This door will let me through.

With a battle cry that rivaled a Spartans', I ran towards the door, bracing myself for the likely event of a crash. To my surprise, I kept running. Long after I would have reached the door. I opened my eyes to find myself running through the middle of the hospital's waiting room. I stopped and turned around, apprehensively eyeing the heavy door I had apparently just ran through. I guess that was the secret. To will yourself through doors. I smirked and swaggered out of the waiting room. "Damn, I'm smart," I said aloud. Nobody heard me, but whatever.

After a slight mishap with the automatic sliding doors (I forgot that you had to be an actual solid being for them to register you), I found myself in the parking lot. I looked around for the family car (you know, the one that ran me over), but I didn't see it. It clicked in my brain as I watched a taxi slowly turn out of the parking lot and take off down the road.

"Wait!" I cried out, jogging after the car. "Wait for me!" I may have forgotten that: a. I couldn't be seen, and b. I couldn't be heard.

As the taxi cab disappeared down the road, I realized I had a long walk ahead of me. But hey, at least I didn't have to worry about being kidnapped from the side of the road anymore.

Sooo maybe not the most action-packed chapter but we gotta establish a plot people!

Tell me what you think! I'm still on the fence a bit about this story, so if you like it (or don't like it) please tell me!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!