Inhale

by minorniners

An unlikely chain of events leads a young Maya Matlin to live with a godmother that happens to be just as rundown as the building she lives in. But how exactly is she supposed to react to an abused Zig Novak living in the next apartment near hers?

1. Prologue: Coffee and Killers

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the fictional characters Zig Novak and Maya Matlin, they belong to the Canadian TV Show Degrassi which I am sad to say does not belong to me either. The only thing I own is Microsoft Word, a pair of fidgety hands, and an overly active mind that thinks of fanfiction ideas in class rather than work- now that my friends is a first world fangirl problem.

Anywho, enjoy the Prologue to "Inhale" (any Author's Notes will be saved until the end of the chapter).

oooooooooooo

Isn't it funny how life can change in just an instant? Thesmallest actions can twist the sensitive fabric of fate, of life, and just… simply break it into two in a millisecond.

Case of point, a man walks into an average café' that claims to serve the "World's Best Coffee"- but in brutal reality, it's probably one of the bitterest cups of shit you'll have the displeasure to drink- and orders a large hot mocha, no whipped cream, and skim milk instead of regular dairy. The waitress, upset and irritated because this man's demand seems too complicated for somebody to go through with at 7:30 AM groggily takes his order to the kitchen and begins to stir a piping hot mug of to-go crap that is half cold by the time it is brought back to you. After minutes of awkward waiting, money and coffee is exchanged and the man leaves the place, not having any idea that this woman got the entire order wrong.

The minute the strong and bitter black coffee meets this man's taste buds as he's driving in his expensive jet black car on the way to work, his mood is suddenly ruined. It's probably one of the most obvious yet ignored things in the world, but whenever one does not get what they want, some part of their good mood is altered. Whether it is as agitating as a fly buzzing by your ear, or as angry as a violent earthquake- something is twitched at up in that brain of yours; it all depends on your temper- or on the amount of antibiotics in your system.

This middle-aged man's drive to work suddenly becomes even more gloomy as he is too late to beat the traffic that jams his way to work- there goes his chance of being early to his meeting that has something to do with something totally useless but means so much to him giving that he is all about his job. In that white collar and red tie with blue stripes, John Doe begins to get more and more impatient as the line of cars seems to move even slower throughout the clean highway. But finally, after what seems like hours, this man is given to chance to step on it and speed to work; possibly make it to his office where that cute new secretary will be awaiting him with more paperwork. Maybe he'll have the guts to ask her out to dinner this time- maybe not, this individual will just have to wait and see.

Knowing that now may be his only chance to hurry his ass up, this douchebag steps on the gas and begins to rush- way beyond the speed limit, and not caring since he's probably one of the safest drivers on the road according to himself. Driving quicker, driving faster, almost more than halfway to his squeaky clean office, a silver Hummer comes out of nowhere- and by "nowhere", I mean it finally comes into his sight range that wasn't focused on anything but his own direction until now. Before this guy can even think twice, or once for that matter, a large commotion is heard; starting from his front bumper, and echoing into the silver vehicle this man has just ran into.

Right before his very eyes, the car is flipped over, onto the side of the road where it makes contact with a telephone pole, still ice cold from the chilling Toronto night. He had just been in his first car crash; this average Joe, covered in his own blood and car glass, is currently blacking out into a temporary oblivion.

Seems very unlikely doesn't it? That a simple mishap at your normal shitty café can cause all of this mayhem? Well, I'm going to tell you this- stuff fucking happens. And no matter how hard you want to convince yourself that it doesn't, it does. And the sooner we all come to terms with reality, to terms with how the world really is and how the laws of the universe work, we'll all be at peace; or close enough to it at least.

And now, you are probably wondering what this is all about. Why I just told you some very unlikely story that evolved from a very likely event, with a whole lot of nonsense in the middle; well, here… I'll simply finish this summary with telling you this:

My name is Maya, and because of some slave to normality- because of some waitress who can't even serve a proper goddamn cup of coffee, my parents are now currently rotting away in a stone tomb. Due to a car accident that took place a good month ago, my mother and my father are now buried a million feet under the ground, with no pulse and no brainwaves. Dead.

Dead… the minute you hear that word, whether it is to describe something you've heard on CNN, or to describe a lost soul who used to be close to you in their living years, it just stops your heart a little doesn't it? Death to some is complex; but when it really happens to you or to somebody who was so close to you, it was as if they were indeed you, it becomes quite simple to understand. You're born, you breathe, and then at one moment or another, you die. It's just the way that it is, and really nobody can change that. Unless you're Jesus in which you have a dad who can bring you to life whenever the fuck you want. Or Voldemort, who has like a million pieces of junk in which he stores figments of his soul so he doesn't die. Quite convenient if you ask me; and convenience something that has never really been in my life.

Inconvenient- that my parents had to die around this time; when I was at the peak of my teen-hood, and my sister was going to be leaving for college. Since soccer was definitely out of the question ever since her little medication mishap, Katie focused on majoring in journalism, which believe it or not (but you'll most likely believe it) she does amazing in. And so, off to Columbia with a scholarship, Katie is currently packing all of her things away. Those plain hoodies and Gap t-shirts, along with those millions of pairs of denim jeans and designer shoes, Katie's wardrobe has been packed for weeks. Though it's been a bumpy road since mom and dad's death, she's been getting through it nicely. Maybe it was because she wasn't the one who had to stay here- unlike me, who was unfortunately being forced to live with my godmother who I really have not seen for about five years. But from what I've heard, Abilene hasn't been doing so well since her husband left her. The only time I've heard her voice over the years is when she calls up my mom (mostly around midnight), drunk out of her mind, screaming from the other line so loud I can hear her from the living room while mom is talking in the kitchen.

I like living with angry alcoholics as much as the next fifteen-year-old with dead parents does, but maybe if I had a choice, living with my grandma or grandpa would have sufficed better. Especially at a time like this when real family is what I crave attention from. But since both of those old adults have been so busy making arrangements in the event of their daughter and her husband's demise, and Katie has been doing triple checks on everything she needs in order to leave for college prepared, I've practically been the only Matlin that doesn't have anything to do. Not that it's anything new, but now I need a distraction more than ever.

Katie once suggested a few days ago that I go hang out with some friends, get out of the house; I told her that Adam went with Dave to Vancouver with his family for the week, and that Tristan has been at drama camp with Tori. Zig hasn't bothered to contact me at all this summer- not that it mattered to me, really. Ever since he and Tori had gotten together freshmen year, I guess he had decided that he already had enough female company, what with Tori being around him all the time… as well as Tristan- but that also counts as girl company, no?

Other than those four, I hardly ever found myself socializing with anybody else. Adam was probably the closest thing I had to a best friend, what with me volunteering to help out with the radio show; he and I had gotten pretty close… I know what you're probably thinking, 'Maya Matlin, liking a boy possibly?' Trust me, Adam Torres is just a friend.

Anyways, what with no company and no plans, I find myself double-checking all the things I've packed. All of my clothes in which I buy at thrift stores for the sake of cheapness and comfort ability, pictures that consist of mostly me and those three goofs I like to call "friends"… a few candid shots with me and Zig chilling at a plastic table while Tori and Tristan attempt to play bowling taken by Adam- as he seems to hang out with us just as often as he hangs out with Clare.

Sighing at all those memories, I drop those photographs into a plastic bag where I'll be storing all my photos for the time being. After shuffling through a few more pictures of me with my "friends", I spot one that I suddenly cannot seem to drop or move away from my eyesight. It's probably one of the only ones of us together- it's my mother, father, looking young and alive, with me and Katie surrounding them. My sister, who had to have been around my age in this picture, has her slender arms wrapped around dad's neck; while I'm simply standing beside my mother, arms crossed with a cheeky grin on my face. Behind those spectacles I used to sport, but have now been replaced with contacts, my blue eyes shine in wit. But now, the same eyes stare at this photo with regret. Regret that I didn't hug my mother like Katie did to father, that I was too self conscious to just let go and show my affection.

Too scared to show my love in fear of it being outshone by brighter and happier fondness (See Also: My sister Katie and her unintentional habit of constantly being better than me at everything- emotionally and physically)

And again, the same blue eyes began to fill with tears; and I begin to thank myself for not putting on my said contacts despite my awfully screwed up eyesight. The tears streaming down my cheeks are falling so quick like raindrops on a windowpane, I barely have time to wipe them away before they drip down my chin and stain my pastel purple hoodie. Putting down that picture along with the pile of every single one of the others into that bag, I stand up from my bed and wipe my face on my sleeve, sniffling away any sign of hurt. Spinning around, I look in the mirror, covered in scratches and sticky residue from tape that had been stuck onto there for ages until I ripped it all off a few hours ago.

My appearance was slightly messy- my hair which had now grown to a length that reached right above my ribs, was disheveled and scruffy. My face was slightly pink, which seemed to bring out the silver lip ring that my parent's let me get as a "start of summer" present. Tying my hair up into a loose knot as to put the sight before me out of its hideous misery, I wait for a few minutes for my face to drain of its pink color and fade back to that usual milk and honey tone until I hear my door open, and Katie had walks in.

Her cherry red hair had been tied up into a ponytail; she was sporting a yellow tank top and skinny jeans. Along with her plain white socks, Katie looked sad yet painfully optimistic.

"Abilene just called…" She trailed off, her voice sounding hoarse- as if from crying or from lack of using it, "She'll be here in an hour. She said that she's just erm, held up." Katie gave me a small smile, that looked so mournful, it made me want to lunge myself headfirst out of my bedroom window.

"Uhuh… more like treating a hangover." I muttered, walking towards my bed to grab the handles of my floral suitcases, ready to drag them down the stairs and wait at the door for this awful woman to yank me towards her crummy apartment.

"Maya," Katie spoke, her tone desperate. At first I ignored her, continuing to stride past her and out the doorway. The quicker I'm downstairs and out of here, the better. Until her hand met my shoulder, I didn't turn around; spinning on my heel, I made eye contact with my sister for the first time in weeks. "Yes?" I asked, trying to sound like I didn't know where she'd be going with this.

"She isn't so bad, Maya… I mean, I know that she has her problems, but if you knew her like mom did, you'd realize why she's your godmother in the first place." Katie sighed, her grasp on my shoulder still tight.

I want to believe her… I want to believe that Katie is right- that deep beneath, there's a reason why all this is happening, but I can't. I just can't. So instead, something else comes out instead of a simple "Okay." "Easy for you to say when you're the one leaving to college- leaving this damn place. You don't have to live with some liquor driven psycho you don't even know about; I have to live in this apartment in downtown Toronto, and I have to practically do it alone." I spoke, not sounding angry at all though the message was pure rage in itself. Maybe I just didn't even have the energy to be mad anymore.

"Maya, I-" but I just shook my head. "Katie, listen. I don't need assurance, as much as I want to believe it and receive it, it's nearly impossible for me to do. What I want is for you to just not try to sugar coat this- let's both just accept that this is what it is, and that I'll be seeing you in three years… We'll be able to spend time together like real sisters." I told her, biting on my bottom lip anxiously, not wanting to cry in front of my older sister.

Katie's face was intent at first, but it slowly softened into a soft and kind grin. "Since when have you been the smart one?" She teased; and for the first time in what seemed like forever, I cracked a smile. "I always have been," I joked in return, "You were just too high and mighty to notice."

And before we knew it, the both of us were giggling for no reason. It was just a sister thing. When one smiles, the other does too. Like those games we used to play with each other when we were young- when we'd mimic each other's actions and words just for the sake of bugging one another. And I know that times like this were so common for many with siblings, but to me this felt special… like maybe it would be the last time we'd ever share such a great laugh in the light of recent events and future ones as well.

Leaning against the wall, I gave up all sense in proper gravity and sunk to the floor, my butt meeting the wooden floor. I suddenly ask myself why the texture is so solid- and I remember that the carpet that once covered it had been removed and given away as well as about a million other things in this house. It's going to be emptied out and sold to a new family; from what I've heard, they're a recently married couple with a baby on the way. A perfect teenage dream, huh? To get married to a successful man, not have a uterus that kills off babies, and to top it all off, have plenty of money to spend on a beautiful home like the one I won't be living in for the rest of my life in about forty minutes. This happy as hell couple is probably cuddling in a motel room with all of their home items in a moving truck; most likely listening to cheesy jazz music or watching family pay per view TV while he kisses her pregnant waistline and whispers how lucky they both are. It seems quite cliché', but this stuff happens.

My older sibling slumps right next to me, her beautiful eyes staring at the peach colored wall in front of us. "When we were at the funeral, while mom and dad were being buried and we threw those white roses into their grave. I saw you, I saw you crying… And I know you hate it when people see you cry. It's a Matlin thing; we tend to have too much pride to show our emotions. But I remember how much I wanted to hold your hand, tell you that it was going to be alright. Those things won't be getting better now or anytime soon, but at one point, whether it'll be in your later high school years or in college- maybe even in your adult life, things are going to shape out to be pretty amazing for you." She mumbled, trailing her hand down to clasp mine.

Releasing my teeth's grasp on my lower lip, I spoke softly, "Do you really think so?" I asked, hoping that I honestly didn't sound like a hopeful child.

"I know so." Katie assured me, her grip tightening endearingly.

Sighing quietly, I look down at my light blue watch. It reads "6:30 PM." I mentally whine to myself, in about thirty minutes, I'll be out the door and out of this place forever. A part of me wants to stand up, explore the house one more time. But the majority of me just can't come up with the strength to do so. And so getting up, I grab my multiple bags again and heave them downstairs, all of my strength being put into it as I finally drop them at the front door after minutes of steps being cautiously stepped on.

"Remind me again why I can't see you off at the airport." I tell my sister as I lean against a couch which may as well be one of the five pieces of furniture left in this house- the rest has either been demolished or moved out to sell.

Katie gives me a sad glance and looks down at the floor. "I leave tomorrow night, Maya- at probably midnight. Abilene works a night shift and doesn't come home until 3 AM. She can't give you a ride. The only time you'll probably ever be in her car is when you are driven to school."

I mimic her actions by looking down and facing the ground, watching the perfectly polished surface in a lost trance, as if it was going to move. "So this is it?" I ask her, looking up, "I'm not going to see you again for four years?"

The girl who grew up with me- the one who was always there whenever I'd be crying over Tori treating me unfairly or over a scraped knee whenever I'd fall while riding my bike, began to shake her head. "Of course not… I'll visit during the Holidays." She negotiated, "Not to mention the endless times I will message you." Katie nodded in agreement with herself. "So no, you'll be seeing me; just not as often as you'd see an older sister."

I began to nod with her; though it didn't sound quite as comfortable as, say, meeting her in the hallway or during lunch for a sister/sister talk, this somehow made up for it… in a way. Though we'd be thousands of miles apart, Katie will still be my rock- and hopefully I'll be hers.

"I love you." I told her, my voice cracking up. Lunging at her, I wrapped my arms around my sister's skinny body in an attempt to show a compassionate hug. A small grin found its way to my face as her arms began to wrap around me as well; but the minute I heard sobbing above me, I was instantly brought to tears again.

"I love you too…" Katie replied, running her hand along the back of my head soothingly.

"I wish we could hug like this forever." I whined, burying my face into her shoulder.

"Me too." Katie agreed, "But we both know that we can't. Sitting here and mourning over losses will just distract us from gaining. We need to be strong- in our hearts and in our minds, and let everything go." She sniffled.

Not knowing if her words urged me to do this, or if my emotions seemed to get the better of me, I clanged on to her tighter. As if I was going to die if I didn't hold on to her tight enough to squeeze out her guts.

I could feel her breathing become more difficult as I squeeze tighter and as a person, I'd let go. But Katie wasn't just a person- she was my sister. My sister whom I will never see again for another four years; I'd have to go my entire high school life without her to hold my hand. Without her advice; Adam would be most likely busy as a Senior, Tori would be hanging out with Tristan and Zig 24/7, and my parents... well, they couldn't exactly keep me company could they? I'm completely alone.

"Maya." my sister gasps, which causes me to release her immediately, and wipe my rosy cheeks with my sleeve. Looking at my watch again, I read "6:55 PM." Out loud, groaning about how five minutes was all it would take to rid this home of myself.

My sister repeats my name, and I look up from my wrist. "Yes?" I answer back, not knowing what could possibly be said right now.

"You're going to be alright." She said to me, reaching out to grab my hand and grasping onto it tightly.

I want to agree with her, but all that I respond with is a nod.

Three minutes left….

"I promise that I'll visit and skype with you whenever I can."

"You better."

Two minutes left….

"Maya, I need to tell you something." My sister says out of the blue.

"Now? When I'm just about to be taken away?" I reply to her, securing the zipper on each of my suitcases.

"Yes." She tells me bluntly.

"Okay." I say to Katie, all of this suddenly sounding sketchy.

"You know how mom and Abilene have had a…. rocky relationship over the past few years? Well, there's a reason." Katie begins, sounding very reluctant and guilty.

"And that reason is…?" I trail off, wanting to know this answer as soon as possible so I could keep it in mind always.

There's silence… regret… as if Katie wishes she'd never told me this.

"Spit it out." I urge.

One minute left….

After a few more seconds of quiet, Katie opens her mouth to speak again. "Just be careful when Abilene is around." She bites on her bottom lip; while she and I both know there is more to this than just being careful.

"What's wrong with her?" I ask, the anxiety about living with her growing stronger already.

But Katie shakes her head, refusing to say anymore and just storms towards me one last time and embracing me in a firm hug. It's more protective than any hug I've ever been given; it's filled with warning, love, care… It's everything that needs to be said on our last goodbye for a couple of years.

It's time to go now.

As if on cue, there is a knock at the door. And as I inhale a shaky breath, I pull away from the warmth of my older sister and turn around, walking forward and twisting on the knob of the door until it is pulled open.

There, on my doorstep, clad in an old red v-neck and jeans with more rips in the fabric than the amount of beauty marks on her body, is Abilene. Her lotion and body glitter covered olive skin and lips painted a dark red; her eyes caked in ocean blue eye shadow along with mascara that probably weighs as much as the massive neon pink rubber purse she had strapped around her shoulder- she looked… well, young. Like a teenager from a club district. With her hair that had been dyed completely black with tangles very visible in the strands tied up into a messy ponytail, and heels that seemed to be an inch taller than her fake bedazzled nails, my god-mother didn't look like a god-mother at all. She looked like a god-sister, or that slutty god-auntie that hogs all the potatoes during family reunions in those bad Tyler Perry movies.

I can already feel Katie's disapproving mood shadowing over the crown of my head- but really, there's nothing I can do about it to fight it off. Abilene's Gucci-ridden lips curl into a smile, revealing her teeth that seemed to be washed with bleach and Jack Daniels. "Maya." She cooed lovingly, lunging forward and embracing me in a hug so unyielding that it's almost unbearable. The smell of her "Romance" by Ralph Lauren perfume and compact is overwhelming as it fills my nostrils and my eyes begin to tear up; I pull away and give this stranger a small smile. I start to wonder why the hell my mother was friends with this woman in the first place- could it possibly be, when dinosaurs roamed the planet that she worked with my mother in the lawyer's office back when she had the ability to walk properly? And at one point she just turned into something out of Desperate Housewives meet Jersey Shore in a 1-hour Special on MTV? Maybe.

"So…. Traffic is getting bad." Abilene tells me, acting as if Katie has no existence within the room. "I think we should get going before it gets worse and I may be late for work again." She tells me, enthusiasm in her tone as she walks past me, her heels clicking as they meet the bamboo covered floors and picks up both of my suitcases by their handles and carries them out to the already open trunk of her car.

I spin around, giving Katie a hopeless glance. And she returns it; but along with that is a smile of hope that seems to tell me "Good luck." I reply with the same look before Abilene's hand clasps around my shoulder and she practically drags me out the door, only to slam it shut behind her and hauls me towards her navy blue car. I glance at it as I'm playfully pushed towards it; paint is chipped on multiple edges of her car, and one of the front light seemed to be slightly jammed in. There's a dent on the bumper, and in the rearview mirror on my side, a crack can be easily distinguished.

Swiftly opening the passenger side of the car's door and slipping in, I look over the dashboard to see Katie peering at me from the living room window; I wave at her one last time, mouthing "I love you" as the car drives out of the driveway. It's funny, how in this very moment I'm being driven away from a building I've lived in for sixteen whole years- in which I will most likely never set foot in again. But all I can think about is where I'll be going. I've never been to Abilene's home, but from what I know, downtown Toronto isn't exactly similar to the neighborhood I was born and raised in. Sighing at this revelation- about how quick this all seemed to be going by, I finally begin to observe my surroundings in this car. My knees are currently being pressed against the glove compartment, which is stained with a sticky substance that looks like spilled Coke. On the floor below my converse-clad feet are plastic mats covered in soda and alcohol stains as well. Her vehicle smells like cigarettes, which I'm certainly not surprised about since the bleaching of her teeth and covering of her yellow nails with bedazzled baby blue plastic indicate that Abilene is a smoker who just hates her appearance. As the car hits a bump in the road, I hear the clanking of bottles in the backseat. Turning around to look at what the noise was, I notice an assortment of empty glass bottles that have miniscule remainders of alcoholic drinks swishing along the glass surface, evaporating slowly over time as light hits it. You can see it all- Smirnoff, Jack Daniels, Boones, Vodka, Whiskey, Booze, the works.

Probably seeing how uncomfortable I begin to grow, my new "mom" taps on my shoulder, and one hand still on her steering wheel. I turn to look at her and smile lightly, not knowing exactly how to start conversation. "You're so pretty." She commented, looking at my face intently. I begin to shift in my seat, not knowing how to take this compliment. "Thank you." I mumble, looking down at my lap.

"So, you're fifteen?" She questions, and I nod. "My birthday was a couple months ago." I tell her, looking out the window as we pass by numerous cars. "Oh, so… this means you're going to be a sophomore?" She asks me. I respond with a "yes."

"Well, sophomore year was a big year for me." She giggled, sighing in a reminiscing tone. "That was the year I lost my virginity." The older woman winks down at me, and I'm instantly speechless. Is she really talking about sex with me? Lady, you've been my official mother for fifteen minutes, the Birds and the Bees talk is about seven years late right now.

"Oh." Is all I could muster, "That's um- that's cool?" Looking out the car window again, I observe as the peachy city signs and cute buildings evolve into vandalized walls and chipping cement houses. Even over the radio blasting the latest hits on the charts, you can still hear the distant barking of dogs and people drunk at seven in the afternoon screaming at each other like maniacs.

"We're almost there." Abilene states in a somewhat giddy tone. And in about five minutes, her car comes to a halt in the run-down parking lot of some weird apartment that looks almost as bad as all the rest.

Sighing to myself and getting out of the car, I walk to the back and open up the trunk; only to find my suitcases next to more bottles of beer. "Nice." I mumble to myself sarcastically, carrying my bags out of her car and slamming the trunk shut.

I lug them across the parking lot and towards the flight of stairs that begin near a row of doors that are either guarded by rusty screen doors or are left wide open for air to come in. Above me, I see a few balconies painted yellow and covered in grime due to years of no care. In many areas, I see piles of glass bottles similar to the ones in Abilene's car just sitting there, rolling along the road as the wind blows them away. We walk up the stairs; about five flights are passed until we reach a stopping point. Looking to my left, there is another row of doors identical to the ones downstairs; screen doors and black wooden ones being guarded by the rusting metal. Those doors face a balcony that sprawls its way from one end of this floor's outdoor hallway to the next, until it stops at the opposite wall. I'm positive that it is like this on every other floor, but I'm much too lazy to find out today.

I follow my god-mother to a room with the number "45" above it in large black tarnished metal numbers.

Abilene opens up her blinding purse and takes out a shiny silver handbag; fiddling with its contents, she pulls out a bunch of keys attached to a hot pink key ring with a charm of a heart on it. She puts the key into its matching hole and twists until the screen door opens. Doing the same thing with the other door, Abilene opens it up and I'm quick to step inside as to not let any cold air out.

It's a lot cooler in here than all the other rooms seem- but the smell is no different from her car: cigars, coffee, and alcohol. I look to my right, where I see an indoor hall that reaches only about seven feet away from me. At the end of it is a door which Abilene says is a bathroom- the two rooms on either side of the hallway are bedrooms. The left door is my room, while the right one is hers. To my left is a small kitchen the size of a laundry room; and right in front of me is the large living room. It is made up of one couch and two armchairs- a somewhat large TV stands alone in the front of the room. I'm guessing that my godmother seemed to have left it on before the left- for I can hear Snooki complain about her love life at the moment.

After she points this entire apartment room out, I nod in understanding. It's all very easy to remember. There's enough space for two people, and that's all that really matters to me.

"Okay, so why don't you go unpack? I'll be in here," she pauses and points at the living room couch, "If you need me."

I give her thumbs up, and bring my bags into my "new room". The door is painted white; and it's probably the only thing here with paint on it that hasn't chipped off. Pushing open the door, I trudge in and am greeted with the sight of a simple small room. The walls are a faded aquamarine color- the floor is covered in white carpet. In the corner is my bed; a mere mattress with no bed stand. This is honestly fine, actually, since I'd probably fall off if there was anyways. Looking around, I notice a periwinkle dresser with empty drawers and nothing on the surface. My room… it's plain; it's what I need. I unpack my things one by one from my underwear to my clothes. Ever since the school rule for uniforms had been lifted on the last day of May, I found it great that I could now go in regular clothes and not in that dreaded polo. After a few minutes of assorting and pulling out my polka dot bed sheets to cover up this bare mattress I was given, I assured myself that my room was made. And that over the months, I'd customize it; but right now, nothing but exhaustion was overtaking me. It had been a long and emotional day, and school would be starting in three days. I needed to get my sleeping schedule back on track. Deciding that I should alert Abilene about this before doing anything else, I walked out of my room and into the living room.

"Abilene?" I call, looking at my auntie as she's sitting herself down on the worn-out dark green couch. In her hand is a cup of clear liquid that I know for sure isn't water; as she drinks it amorously and licks her bottom lip in enjoyment, the woman looks at me, urging me to go on. "It's been a long day." I tell her, picking at the fabric of my hoodie, "I think I'm going to sleep early."

To my surprise, the woman in front of me begins to laugh hysterically. It's probably the alcohol.

"No." She tells me, shaking her head and giggling some more. "You kn-know what I've noticed about you Maya? You get fidgety so easily. And I don't think that I can live with having a fragile child under my roof." The woman breaks out into a fit of chuckles, causing me to get slightly afraid.

"Is there something wro-" But I'm cut off with her voice.

"You need to toughen up." She points a finger at me, and reaches into her back pocket, digging for something.

"I don't think that necessary." I tell her, starting to feel extremely uncomfortable.

"Please," she scoffs, "You're definitely a virgin- which surprises me. With a face and an ass like that, I'm shocked that a guy hasn't tried to jump your bones yet. And judging by the way you eyed my stuff in the back seat, you've never even had a drink."

I open my mouth to snark at her, but I keep it shut. She's right, her judgment is correct.

"So here," she pulls out a tiny white box and tosses it towards me. Catching it in my hand, I begin to eye the more than half-empty box of cigarettes tossed my way. "I want you to smoke those. Smoke them until the entire box is done. Then you can come back in and go to sleep."

My entire body is shocked from surprised; did this 39-year-old woman seriously just ask me to smoke? Seriously, god knows this woman needs help. But I didn't think she'd force feed me smoke.

But I couldn't fight against her, I couldn't tell her "No." She may make me do something much worse than smoke. I nod obediently, and the woman smiles proudly, tossing me a hot pink lighter. "Have fun, kiddo." She chortles, turning her attention back to MTV.

Sighing and walking outside, I close the door behind me and study the lighting device. I've seen people use this before- on TV and in real life. But never have I ever actually tried to use one for this kind of purpose. Sighing and holding the tip of one cigarette to the lighter, I flick the tiny compressor and light it. Deciding that I really do have nothing to lose, I hold it to my mouth and inhale bitterly. Unpleasant warmth fills my mouth and not knowing what to do, I attempt to swallow it and exhale it through my nose. But being as stupid as I am, my throat tightens in fretfulness and just rebounds the smoke comes back into my jaws again. Quickly coughing out the smoke, I punch my chest and feel my eyes tear up for the millionth time today. The nicotine begins to intoxicate my throat; I can feel how bad it's affecting me and I don't like it one bit.

But I don't stop; I keep going. I keep holding it to my lips, inhaling, exhaling with difficulty; but as I continue on to my second one, I get the hang of it easier. Though it doesn't feel relieving in the least, I'm determined to get rid of these as fast as I can so I can go to bed.

Minutes pass, and I'm finally on my fourth cigarette. One more to go and I can probably get sick over it and whine about it after I wake up on that mattress tomorrow.

As I breathe out a sigh of smoke and relief, I hear the clambering of dishes and fists meeting skin from the inside of an apartment room that has the number "46" boldly plastered over it.

"We don't raise you to be such a disrespectful piece of fucking shit!" A harsh male's voice screams from the inside of this room; and I'm quick to back up against the balcony rail.

"Well, you're a total asshole so I wouldn't be surprised if I ended up like one someday." Another voice snaps back. It's higher in pitch- so I suspect that this is a son yelling at his father.

But my heartbeat accelerates as I begin to recognize this voice- it's familiar; on the tip of my tongue. Except I already know who I'm thinking of, I just don't have the capacity to believe it.

Holding the cigar to my lips as to bring myself back to the fact I'm here, not at Degrassi, or anywhere else. I can't possibly live next to him out of all people- I cannot possibly see him here.

But as the noise inside gets louder, and the words "Get the fuck out!" is yelled, the wooden and screen door is pushed open and a body hauls out.

Wearing a normal All Time Low band shirt and skinny jeans is the exact person whose voice I've recognized. His brown bangs plastered over his eyes in a shaggy manner, freckles etching the bridge of his nose, and hands clutching his knees as he bends over and breathes heavily. Visible on his arm is a large bruise, and on his lip is a dripping bloody scar which is probably the result of a punch in the face.

The boy stumbles up to the rail I'm leaning against, still oblivious to me being there, which I'm not shocked about since I'm barely making any noise. I'm just standing there, with a cigarette hanging limply between my index and middle finger, the smoke emitting from the tip in a slow motion. This kid's breathing begins to calm, as his heaving chest begins to fall at a normal pace, and he looks to his right; then to the front, and finally towards the left in my direction. And I swear I've never seen a boy more scared as he jumped about a mile when he saw me standing there.

"Fuck." He cursed sharply, eyeing me for a moment. "H-how long were you standing there? What did you see? What did you hear? You better not tell anybody or I'm going to…." He trailed off, realization dawning on his face- as if he hadn't ever seen me before. "Maya?" He asked with disbelief in his tone.

"That was my name, last time I checked." I told him, wit lacing my voice.

"How did you even get here?" He asked, his eyes traveling down to the cigar in my hand, the lighter, and the box it came from. The guy looked shocked, but he didn't say a word.

"I um, I live here now." I mumbled, not knowing if my words were coherent enough, but hopefully they were. I didn't feel like announcing in a proud tone of where I resided now.

"Oh." He replied, looking down at his feet.

I nodded along, not really knowing how to respond to this.

It doesn't seem likely that my parents were killed over a cup of coffee- or that my new mom looks like a Barbie doll; it isn't very likely that I'm forced to live here, out of all places. But it's not much likely for Zig Novak to be my next door neighbor for the next three years. But like I said, though it may be often repeated, it's as truer as it is constantly said: this stuff fucking happens.

oooooooooooo

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Alright, now I'd like to cover a few things before I end this Prologue.

First of all, 13 pages and 7,800 Words! I never ever write things this long; but I guess this will be one of those "Rambling" Prologues that may or may not make up for a possible short first chapter. I hope that you read throughout this whole thing despite it being immensely long since practically every detail will be of some use in future chapters.

Second, a few plot holes in the picture: Yes, the Matlin mommy didn't have her muscle problem in this fic. Both their father and mother were in perfect health condition until that stupid black coffee ruined everything. Also, I'm aware of how sudden Maya was to leave Katie without much closure but I really needed to get to the ending quick enough. This Prologue seemed like the only chance I could use to get straight to the point so you guys have the main idea.

Third, apologies. I apologize for any possible confusion about this story- I can understand how puzzling it can be. So if you need any explanations or anything about this fanfiction, just Private Message me and I'll reply with clarification!

Fourth, reminders! Please Review; those things really boost my writing confidence and my motivation to finish up the chapter with love. Even if it is criticism, that's totally welcome. I'd love to make my stories enjoyable for every single reader.

Remember to keep reading!

-Jordy