Death, it suddenly occurred to me, was something I hadn't really thought about before. It registered in my brain that one day I was going to die of course, from natural causes or some freak accident. But I didn't think it would be the latter, much less at fifteen. I imagined myself sitting in a creaky rocking-chair, with a worn out checkered rug throw over my knobbly knees, sitting beside my husband, my one true soul mate. Preferably someone like Jones Tanner. Jones Tanner. I was supposed to meet him and his friends with Sarah and Luce at the skate-park. I didn't know what day it was, so I didn't know if I had missed it. I didn't know where I was, or how I got so disoriented. So many questions were buzzing in my head that I felt dizzy. If this what feeling dead felt like, it was no rest in peace. I felt so alone, and afraid, that I started to cry. Except, no tears fell. That was strange. I reached up to my cheeks. They were completely dry, and surprisingly smooth. My skin was always flaky, yet oily, and plastered with pimples. I touched my hair. It was... silky? What? My entire life my hair had been a wild tangle of brassy blonde hair, and many tears had been shed trying to tame it using my only weapon: a brush. In a blast of mad curiosity, I attempted to rise from where I was. Then, the penny dropped. 

Where was I? I wriggled my shoulders, they felt stiff and rigid. I tried opening my eyes, which for some reason I hadn't attempted before. Maybe because subconsciously I knew I didn't like what I was going to see. My eyelids felt heavy and it took a lot of will power to pry them open. I don't know what I was expecting, some flash of light, some familiar vision. But all I could see was darkness.