Title: Sentenced To Life

Summary: She was nobody when she met him and became somebody by his side. Bygones became bygones and she was soon a figment of his past, but when his future came crashing into her, she was left with two choices- stay or run.

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I do not own the Fast and the Furious or the characters that appear in the movie. All similarities that this story has to any other story or characters are purely coincidental. Everything in this story –original characters and plot- are the fruits of my criminally insane mind.

A/N: This insane plot was created in the middle of a 3 Doors Down playlist- so that should explain everything.

Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Present

They say that the past should be buried but who knew that it could be almost impossible to achieve, with a constant reminder running about everyday.

Amira glanced at the little girl that lay in her bed and sighed. She closed the bedroom door softly and walked into the small living room that came with her run down one bedroom apartment. She stripped out of her stained waitress uniform, throwing it on to the couch and making her way into the kitchen.

She grabbed a bowl, a box of cereal, a spoon and the gallon of milk before heading back into the living room. It was a daily ritual. She would put Samantha to bed, down some cereal while watching the news and then catch five hours of sleep before getting up and ready for another day of work. She fell asleep on the couch that night, the news blaring and her bowl of cereal turning soggy on the coffee table.

Amira woke up the next morning, when she heard her phone go off. It was the alarm she set before hand, knowing that she was prone to fall asleep at any moments notice when she got home from work.

She stood up from the couch, stretching her body out. She had thirty minutes to get ready and then go get Samantha ready. She shut the television off and placed the cereal, bowl and milk back into their appropriate positions.

Amira walked into the bathroom, checking herself out in the full length mirror that hung behind the door. She was currently clad in a black bra and panty set, her jet black shoulder length hair straight. She shrugged and jumped into the shower before it got any later.

Forty-five minutes later, she stood in the middle of the living room a comb in hand. Samantha, a beautiful six year old girl, stood in front of her with a scowl on her face. The little girl was a lighter complexion when compared to her mother's caramel color. Samantha had bright blue eyes, while her mother, Amira, held a pair of intense hazel colored eyes. The two looked nothing alike.

"This hair of yours is getting on my last nerve," Amira said, throwing the comb on the couch and reaching for a scrunchie that was on the coffee table. She swiftly pulled the small girl's unruly hair into a ponytail and winked at her. "You can't tell difference, now go and get your bag or we'll be late," she said, ironing her shirt out with her hands.

Fifteen minutes later, Amira shifted into park across the local elementary school. "Mom, why do you look so different then the other moms?" Samantha asked, taking her seatbelt off. Amira looked across the street at the moms that surrounded the school and glanced back at Samantha.

"Because mommy has class and style. Those Barbies over there are stock. I'm customized, baby," she replied, getting out of the car and waiting for Sammy to walk around the car. "Mom, are you talking about cars again?" The little girl asked, giving her mom her hand so she could help her cross the street.

"It means that I'm original and they just copy each other," she replied, crossing the small girl across the street. "Okay. Love you mom. I'll see you later," the girl said, giving her mother a kiss on the cheek and running inside the school.

Amira watched as Sammy ran inside the school and soon found herself being watched by the other mothers. Okay, so Amira didn't fit the requirements for the mother job. She glanced at the other mothers and scowled, before crossing the street.

She climbed inside her car, a blue RX-7 and turned it on. As she strapped herself in, she thought about Samantha's comment. The other moms drove mini-vans, a car she wouldn't be caught dead in. The other moms wore pencil skirts, shoes and jewelry so expensive that they were about the price of the monthly payments on their mortgages and silk button down shirts tucked in.

She glanced down at her outfit and sighed. She currently decked out in a pair of black converses, black low rise jeans, a white wifebeater and a black beanie. Her makeup was simple- mascara and lip gloss. Her jewelry consisted of a silver thumb ring, diamond studs and black leather cuffs. "Fucking barbies," she muttered, before doing a u-turn and heading back home.

--

Amira threw herself on her bed, taking in a deep breath. It was her day off and she soon found herself bored. Her days were usually filled with tight-as-fuck schedules and no time to even breathe, but Mondays and Tuesdays she was usually lost.

She glanced at the laundry in the corner of the room and shook her head softly. "Tomorrow," she whispered, throwing an arm over her face and sighing. Just as she was beginning to fall asleep, her phone started beeping.

She rolled over, grabbing her cell phone off the night stand and flipping it open. It was a text message and when she opened it, it read an address. Her address. She frowned, not understanding the message.

The system was that when there was a race going on, you would text her the address and she would be there in ten minutes, but it was the middle of the day and she lived in a residential neighborhood.

She checked the number that the text came from and called it back, but got the voicemail. Amira thought about the address and thought worse of it. She walked over to her closet and began rummaging through some shoe boxes. She pulled out a black one and walked over to the bed. She pulled the top off, revealing a 9 mm handgun.

She pulled it out, loaded it and cocked it, tucking it in the back of her waistband, not sure of what to do next. For the next fifteen minutes, she sat around the house, moving around every second or so, nervous. Amira didn't know what to expect. She didn't live in the best neighborhood, but those that had her cell number were privileged people that she knew.

She got up and went into the kitchen for a drink of water. When she brought the glass to her lips, she heard a soft knock on the door. She walked over cautiously to it, glancing through the peep hole, but finding no one there. She stepped away from the door and leaned against the wall next to it. A minute later, she heard a knock but only harder this time.

Amira reached into her waistband and pulled out her gun. She turned off the living room light before unlocking the door and opening it slightly. The door opened slowly, a head sticking through.

She pressed her gun slowly into the intruder's temple, taking a step. "Move your right hand slowly and turn the light on," she ordered, her voice cold and even. The intruder did as told and Amira gasped when the lights were turned on. Vince.

She dropped the gun and shook her head softly. "What the fuck are you doing here?" She asked, pulling the intruder into the apartment and shutting the door. "What the fuck are you doing with that gun?" He asked, taking a seat on the couch. "Vince, you taught me how to take care of myself," she replied, placing the gun on the coffee table.

"Yeah, but I didn't tell you to go around and shove it in people's face," he barked, throwing his feet on the coffee table. "Yeah, like you're any different. What the hell do you want?" She said, matching his tone, word for word.

"Can't an old friend come by to visit you?" Vince said. Amira stood in front of him and scowled. "Last time I saw you was over six years ago and you told me that you wish I would die. So cut the bullshit and spill it," she said, slapping his feet off the coffee table.

She sat on the edge of the coffee table and took a good look at him. His arm was in a sling and he looked worn out. Vince searched for words to explain the events of the last 36 hours but decided not to. "I'm in some shit and I need out really quick," he muttered, shaking his head softly.

"Listen Vince, I'm not the same girl as before. I don't just cut loose like you and me used to do back in the day. I have responsibilities and shit," Amira said, shaking her head. Vince sat up rapidly, making her jump. "Shit, I'm sorry Ami. I'm really in some deep shit and there's no one else I can turn to," he whispered.

"Where's the Toretto gang now? And what the hell did you do that's so bad?" She asked, walking into the kitchen. "Where have you been for the last day? Have you not seen the news?" He said, following her into the kitchen. She shook her head and drank down the glass of water that she had served herself earlier.

"Cops are looking for me. I just need a ride past the border and I'll be out of your life forever," he whispered, coming face to face with her. "How bad?" Vince shook his head, clearly frustrated. "Bad. I mean deep, deep shit, Ami. Just drive me past the border. I'll pay you back with interest," he said.

Amira cocked her head to the side and glanced up at Vince. "How much we talking about here?" She asked. "15 thousand if we make it across the border safely, 5 if we don't," he said. She glanced around the broken down apartment and nodded her head. More money meant less shifts at the crappy ass diner and more time with Samantha.

---

Vince sat low in the passenger's seat and glanced at Amira as she brought the car to a stop. "I'll be back, let me go get something," she said, shifting into park and exiting the car. Vince sat up in the seat and stared after her as she ran into a building that looked to be like a school. He shrugged and slumped back into his seat.