Being a teenager, there have definitely been times when I've stayed up literally all night. Last-minute essays to be written, all-nighters with my friends, and once just because I was so caught up in re-watching the second season of Game of Thrones. Those few times that I was awake until the sun began streaming through the blinds went by pretty quickly. When you're so preoccupied with doing something, whether it be fun or tedious, time truly does fly.

Unfortunately for me, this was not one of those times. Earlier in the day, I thought that the clock seemed to go even faster now that I was dead. But all that was thrown out the window when I realized I couldn't sleep. Not only could I not sleep, but I couldn't do anything to entertain myself. Everything I tried to touch or pick up didn't respond to my hand. When I was still living, I had often said the phrase "I'm bored". But none of those times could compare to being dead and very much awake while everybody around you is asleep and there's absolutely NOTHING to entertain yourself with.

I must admit, I'm quite a trooper. It was 4:30 in the morning, and I'd made it that far by re-reading the same page of a random magazine I'd find lying open on my desk. I knew the whole article by heart at that point. If anyone had asked me if I could give them 50 Sex Tricks that will Blow His Mind, I would've definitely been able to help.

I didn't really know what my plan was for when everybody woke up. I didn't even know what my plan was for the rest of my (ghost)life. All I knew was that I would have to have a source of entertainment soon or else I'd go crazy. It was a Sunday morning, which meant everyone would be sleeping in. I still had a good five hours to go until Granny woke up, and then probably another two before everyone else followed.

I stood up from my bed and began pacing the room quietly. If this was how boring the very first night of being dead was, I didn't even want to imagine how boring the next few weeks would get. If I was even still around for a few weeks. For all I knew, I could disappear from Earth any second. And who knows where I'd be going next.

"This is dumb," I whispered to myself. Great. I'd only been dead for a few hours and I was already resorting to talking to myself for the sake of sanity.

"Why am I whispering?" I whispered again. "Nobody can hear me anyways."

"Noooooooobody can hear meeee!" I sing-songed, my voice rising a few octaves. "I'm utterly and completely aloneeeeee!"

I stopped pacing, standing silently in the middle of my room. For some reason, I was expecting a response. Maybe a nightgown-clad Daphne showing up sleepily at my door to ask my what the heck I was doing singing at 4:30 in the morning. Or possibly a distant, muffled "Shut up!" from Puck.

Expectedly, I got no response whatsoever. But that didn't stop me from trying.

"Heeeeeeeyyy everybody!" I shouted, willing myself through my bedroom door. "It's showtime!"

I realize this might seem like a pointless and dumb idea, but I was bored out of my mind and craving human attention. And while singing and dancing in the hallway during the early hours of the morning was probably not the most effective way of doing things, it was pretty damn fun.

"Heyyyyyyyyyy Daphne. Can you hear meeee? I'm your dead older sister talking from her grave! Don't worry I'm not gonna haunt youuu!" I sang loudly, karate-chopping the air in front of my little sister's door.

"Daphnneeeee! Come see my karate moves! I'm actually better than I expecteddd!" I swung my arm around my head wildly. For the record, I have never done nor been interested in karate, but let me tell you: my moves were freaking killer. If there was ever a time to be dead, it was definitely to practice karate. I guess being dead makes you flexible.

"I'm about to do a cartwheel," I said blatantly to myself. I had never done a cartwheel in my life. But there's a first for everything, right?

I thrust my hands towards the ground and threw my legs up in my half-assed attempt to cartwheel down the hall. Ultimately, this did not result in an actual cartwheel. However, this did result in a guttural scream emitting from my body as my legs somehow collided with my head on my way down. I guess gravity still applies to the deceased.

I laid silently on the floor, my body a crumpled mess. I guess I'd gotten a little too over-excited. But sometimes, you just have to try and cartwheel. It happens to the best of us.

Now, if I could've peed my pants, I probably would have. Because out of nowhere, Puck suddenly burst through his door wielding a baseball bat and a look of terror across his face.

"What the hell?!" I shrieked, scrambling up to my feet. He had no idea I was there, but it's easy to forget you're invisible when you're scared half to death.

His head whipped wildly from side to side, his bat clenched in his hands. I felt myself relax a bit as I remembered he couldn't actually see me, and could not hit me with said bat.

Why was he out here? And why did he look like he had just witnessed a murder? I mean, he did technically witness a murder of sorts earlier, but I didn't think that was the cause of his current distress.

I inched up slowly to where he stood. He had dropped his hands, the bat hanging loosely at his side. His look of terror had been replaced by a look of confusion. His head still went back and forth, looking for something that wasn't there.

Was it possible he had heard my scream as I had fell? No, it couldn't be. There was no way he had heard that all the way from the middle of the hallway. And even if he had, it must've sounded loud to him. Loud enough for him to get scared that there was something/someone in the hallway that might need to be hit with a baseball bat.

I watched as he gave one last final look towards where I had fallen. He gave his head a little shake before turning back into his room and shutting the door quietly. He was lucky he hadn't woken anyone up with his little outburst.

I contemplated following him, but decided against it. Who knows what Puck did when he was alone in the wee hours of the morning. Whatever it was, I wasn't about to witness it.

Deciding against returning to my boring old room, I headed downstairs into the kitchen. It was still very early in the morning, so there wasn't much to be doing (not that there was much to be doing anyways), but at least it was new scenery.

I glanced over at an apple sitting on the counter. For no real reason at all, I had an inexplicable urge to try and move that apple. I had already tried moving things to no avail, but for some reason, this apple really spoke to me. In hindsight, I was probably just going crazy due to boredom.

I walked over to that dumb apple and put my hand on it. Nothing happened, as expected. But hey, I was realllyyyy bored. So, guess what I did for the next 3 hours? I tried moving that apple. And it wasn't moving. And I was very, very frustrated.

It was pretty clear the apple wasn't going to move. In fact, that had become clear to me about 30 seconds in. But for some reason, I felt the need to spend a total 3 hours on trying to move it. It had to mean something. Some sort of sign. Or maybe I was just going nutso.

But then, right as I was about to give up, something happened. It was 7:30, and Granny was coming into the kitchen to make breakfast. She swung the kitchen door open, which pretty much scared the shit out of me. So much so that my hand, which had been resting on the apple, somehow succeeded in actually pushing the apple off of the counter. Yep. I actually managed to move the apple. It wasn't even on purpose, either. Granny startled me, and I hit the apple off the counter.

As I sat there, staring in shock at the apple, Granny began cooking breakfast. She obviously hadn't noticed the apple falling, but then again, she was like, 80 years old. The smell of bacon and eggs filled the whole house. It also filled the balloon of jealousy that resided in my heart. How unfair was it that I could still smell and want to eat delicious food, but not be able to?

Slowly but surely, the family began migrating to the kitchen table for their breakfast. As always, Puck was the last to get there. As I watched everyone get situated, I suddenly felt a wave of sadness. That was my family. I wanted to be sitting there with them. I wanted the somber faces to be gone. I wanted to be alive again.

Screw it. I was still a part of the family, dead or alive.

I walked up to the table and sat in the chair usually reserved for me. I noticed how as everybody began eating, they occasionally glanced to where I was sitting. To them, it was an empty chair, a reminder of me. But to me, it felt like I actually was there. They were looking at me. Well, they weren't looking at me, but I wanted to pretend like they were.

As my family began eating their breakfast in silence, I kept a watchful eye on Puck. He seemed distraught. Well, everybody seemed distraught, but Puck especially. He kept glancing at my chair for second before turning his head away quickly again. God, he was such a weirdo.

I sat at the table for a few more minutes before I decided that sitting there watching sad people eat was boring. I got up with a sigh and began heading to the door, but then I heard Puck's voice.

I turned around quickly, curious as to what he was saying.

"Daphne," he started. "Please do not make so much noise at night. People are trying to sleep in this house."

Daphne looked up from her bowl of oatmeal with eyes that had been watery all morning. "I never made any noise. I was asleep."

Puck stared at her. "I heard noise in the hall. You're the only one who has a room in the hall."

"Sabrina has a room in the hall, too," whispered Daphne.

Puck suddenly looked angry. "Well, newsflash: Sabrina's dead! So it couldn't have been Sabrina, stupid!"

Daphne's lips started to quiver and the tears that had been in her eyes all morning began to spill out. She jumped out of her seat and bolted out the door. I contemplated following her, but what use would it have been? It's not like I could comfort her.

As I turned my head to glare at Puck, I realized I was not alone in my actions. If looks could kill, Jake would have murdered Puck there on the spot. Puck had his gaze fixed on the wall, refusing to look at anyone.

"Why would you say that to her?" said Granny, her hand clutched to her throat in shock.

"I don't know. I'm done with breakfast." Puck stood abruptly, knocking his bowl to the ground and causing oatmeal to spill out slowly across the floor. He grit his teeth as he stared at the mess before storming out the door. This time, I decided to follow.

I left behind the now-crying Granny and the ever-so-furious Jake and followed Puck up to his room. He nearly slammed his door literally into me, but luckily, I managed to slip in before it shut. With his clenched fists and his wild eyes, he was beginning to scare me a little. I mean, I had no reason to be scared, but I'd never seen him like that before.

As he paced his room furiously, I began thinking back to what he had said at the table. He told Daphne that he had heard a lot of noise in the hall. Could he have meant me? It would explain why he bust through his door with a baseball bat at 4 in the morning. But there was no way he could've heard me. He could barely hear me when I screamed right in his ear, let alone in the hallway outside his room.

My thoughts were broken when I suddenly heard yelling. I looked over at Puck, expecting him to be fighting with Jake or something. But he was alone. He was yelling to himself. I stepped closer to him, keening my ears to make out what he was saying.

"WHY?" he shouted. "WHY HER?"

I put my hand to my mouth. Was he talking about me? He had to be. But what did he mean "why her"?

"I WASN'T READY."

He wasn't ready for what? My death? Well, I guess that made two of us.

"IT'S NOT FAIR."

I nodded my head in agreement. It wasn't fair. He was right. But why did he care so much? I know we were sort of family, but he had never acted like he cared a bit about me. I mean, this was no love confession, but he was obviously going through some crazy shit in his head.

I watched him pace for a long time. It was quite depressing to watch, I must admit. He kept lifting his head up to the ceiling, and I think it was to try and hold tears back in his eyes. Puck crying was not something I was used to seeing. He had yet to cry for real, but the quivering chin and continuous efforts to hold back the tears told me it would probably happen in the very near future.

"Don't cry, stupid. You're not a stupid baby. God, stop crying!" he was muttering to himself. I shifted uncomfortably. I wasn't really sure why I was still there. It felt like an invasion of privacy. Scratch that-it was an invasion of privacy.

I backed towards the door slowly, unsure of why I couldn't take my eyes off Puck. He was crying now; not hard, but there were definitely tears there. He was crying over me. I was his arch-enemy and yet, he was crying over me. Suddenly overcome with overwhelming awkwardness, I turned and bolted from the room, not giving a second thought as I glided through the door.

What I missed was Puck's head turning towards where I had just been, the look on his face suggesting he just might have known I was there with him.

Hello everyone! Happy Monday!

So, just a quick little note, if you've been to my profile recently or anything, you might have noticed I took off all the information regarding the names of my husband and my daughters. I've also been trying to go through and take a lot of personal info that I might have accidentally given in AN's and such in my other stories. The reason for this is because, although this was not done with malice or anything, somebody from this website did happen to somehow find me on my personal Facebook that has all my photos and information on where I live and such. This person was not trying to cause harm or anything, but it was a bit strange to know that a complete stranger managed to find me on Facebook and proceeded to tell me that it was "such hard work but they did it"! This just goes to show you can't really put out a lot of information on the internet and not have consequence. I used to have a fake last name on here (Stock), but that was fake and this person made sure to tell me I didn't fool them (really? come on). So please, even if it may seem like you know me because I post about my personal life, you are a stranger to me and I am a stranger to you. Just keep that in mind. I'm not mad, it's just scary.

Sorry for that long, heavy little speech, but just please do not try and find me and my children and our personal info because it's just kind of weird. I hope this doesn't offend anybody, it just freaked me out a bit.

Anyways, please review! Thanks for reading!