Title: The Better Life
Author: Kayarra Ali
Rating: R for slight drug use/language.
Category: Max/Liz. Some Michael/Maria and little Isabel/Alex.
Summary: Max DeLuca, 17, and Maria DeLuca, 16, are two very rich siblings in Miami. When things crash to the bottom from them they leave and some how end up in Roswell, New Mexico.
Disclaimer: I own the idea, not the characters. The characters belong to Melinda Metz and Jason Katims
Authors Note: Everyone's pretty fucked up in this story, from drug problems to self-mutilation to eating disorders. The only thing I can ensure to you is that they all heal each other. Please back out now if these topics offend you.
The title, The Better Life, is burrowed from the 3 Doors Down album.
Prologue
* * * * *
Everyone
came around here
Everyone else got sick
And watched the clock ticking' slowly
Everyone knew the ending
Opened a bag of tricks
And stumbled over their own
They blew minds away
Sort of the crippling just like thunder
And it's gone today
I'm so happy that it's on
It's the end of the world
--End of the
World, Cold
* * * * *
Paint and pencils were thrown everywhere.
He was pissed.
If there was anything Max Deluca could do, it was draw, but for a reason only known to God, he couldn't.
Usually his paintings breathed life's air. Full of reality, but now everything was wrong.
The shadows were wrong.
The angles were crooked.
He was drawing her again, the girl who haunted his dreams.
Hair and eyes like chocolate skin like olive.
He was intoxicated.
He'd never been able to draw her, recreating her face has proven to be impossible.
His frustration showed in his angry sigh. He tried painting in the dark, but the bright Miami sun made it nearly impossible, the shades hid nothing.
His eyes wondered as he focused on the white powder.
The powder was he demon. His ex, Teresa, had introduced him to it. Initiated him in a world he despised, but couldn't turn away from.
He used rarely, three, four times a month, promising himself that it would be the last.
Nobody keeps promises.
His legs betrayed him as he walked towards his hell. He lined the powder in two straight lines, bending over he wondered, like every other time, if this would be the hit that killed him.
He'd had problems…he knew it. He'd be a fool to pretend that he was perfect.
Perfection was impossible. He tried for everyone to be perfect, but it wasn't possible.
"I thought you said you'd stop using?" A whisper stole his thoughts.
"We made a deal that if you'd stop, I'd eat…but you lied to me. Why did you lie?" Maria wasn't a fool. She knew how hard it was to break addictions…to be normal. Or at least, pretend.
She was sick too. At 5'3 and 98 pounds, it was obvious she was sick. Food was an evil spirit that trailed her mind. It was poison…something you needed to throw up.
She knew it'd be hard to stop, but for her brother's sake, she promised…she promised to stay healthy if he wouldn't do drugs.
"I'm sorry," he told her.
"I know you are," she said calmly before leaving his room.
He moved, preparing to follow her when a white sheet of paper caught his eye. It hadn't been there before. He opened it up, not prepared for what he read.
How much were you willing to riskTo put yourself in this
How much pain did you want to cause
When my innocence was lost
Blood didn't mean nothing to you
The hurt and the pain I didn't choose…
He couldn't read anymore…he knew whose song this was. He knew what it meant too. Anger moved his body as he barreled in her room. Her eyes showed the shock of his intrusion.
"What does this mean?"
"What does what mean?"
"How much were you willing to risk, to put yourself in this." He didn't have to continue. The expression on her face told him she knew.
"Where did you find that?" she asked sharply.
"You dropped it."
"It doesn't mean anything Max," she neared him and grabbed the paper from his hands. "Go away," she continued.
"It means everything and you know it…you wouldn't write it if it didn't mean shit to you, so don't lie."
"It means nothing."
"Stop lying to me Maria. What does it mean?" he pestered.
She wanted to lie to him; after all, he had lied to her about using drugs. She pushed her blond hair out of her eyes.
"Leave it alone Max, just leave it alone." She said, suddenly feeling tired beyond belief. The truth would hurt everyone…she couldn't let him know, she couldn't let anyone knew who did that to her. It would kill him.
"Dammit Maria don't play these games! Who did these things to you? I know what this song means, so don't lie to me! Who did it?" He had finally reached breaking; he just wanted to know who hurt his sister so much.
"Papá"
The blood in his veins froze. Not his father…not him.
"Papá?" he asked her, willing her to deny what she just told him.
She nodded and he left.
Ran.
The truth hurts.
* * * * *
I can't stop thinking about cutting myself up
Visual bruises can be covered with make-up
But down to the core I'm all bruises
My little whore gives this excuse
How can this be rationalized?
Your brain has programmed all those lies
what do you tell yourself about our situation
How can you look at yourself without having some sort of revelation?
--Bruises, Majandra Delfino
* * * * *
Liz Parker ran to the bathroom of the tiny 2-bedroom apartment that her and her father shared.
He'd hurt again.
His words.
Pain.
She felt it around her, mocking her, waiting for her to bleed.
The tears crashed down her face like a waterfall. She was broken and no one cared.
He always did that to her, made her feel like the lowest shit in the earth. He was her father, but he didn't care. The words he said to her made her glass break.
Crack.
Shatter.
'You worthless piece of shit, you were destined to fail.'
She saw the razor sitting there, waiting.
'Your mother died birthing your ass, I bet she laughs in Heaven at you, awaiting your entrance to Hell.'
She fingered the razor, waiting, wanting the pain that would come with what she was about to do.
'Your grave would amuse me, you deserve to die.'
She would die.
'I don't know what fucking gave you the idea that you could be a dancer you're stupid. You're clumsy.'
The razor pressed against her skin.
The pain came, and she cried.
It didn't compare.
Part 1
He was afraid. His father…his hero had done something so evil, so malicious. He wouldn't allow it to continue.
He had to stop him from hurting her again, from hurting his family.
Max ran until he reached his father study, he opened the door to find his father talking gaily on the phone, not giving a damn about what he had done.
"Father." He said steely to Raphael DeLuca.
The tone of Max's voice shocked his father to the core. Immediately, he knew that something was wrong.
He hung up the phone and put up a false smile. "What is it son?"
"You touched her," he whispered.
His father froze as he realized that Max knew. "Did she tell you that? She lied, she came at me…!"
"YOU FUCKING RAPED HER!"
"Look, keep your mouth shut. What is it going to take you to keep quiet?"
"Nothing, I want you to rot in jail."
"You and I both know that that's not going to happen." His father said with a smug look on his face.
Max knew it too.
His father would get away with everything that he did to his sister, and he could do nothing to stop that. He thought quickly, if anything, he just wanted to get his sister out of there.
"Emancipate us, I don't care how, but I want us out of this house in two hours. And keep our accounts open. If you don't I swear to you that I will tell every goddamned police officer what you did our I will kill you myself."
His father nodded, fear flashing through his eyes that he tried desperately to cover. "Fine."
Max left the office then, glaring at his father the whole way out. Once he was completely out, he hurried towards his sister's room, startling her for the second time that day.
"Pack everything." He said as Maria looked up from her Seventeen Magazine. "Meet me in front of my car in two hours…we're leaving."
Maria looked at him shocked, wondering how he managed to get her through it. She looked at his face, looking for signs of humor. When she saw none she nodded her head and began packing.
Max left to his room and began packing what he needed. He didn't really have anything important but his art supplies, clothes, and some miscellaneous stuff. When he was done he sat and his bed and thought about everything.
His own father did something so terrible to his sister.
Max felt a small tear leave his eyes as he thought of how his sister must of felt…dealing with all this. Dealing with it all alone.
He thought briefly of his Italian mother. She was in Italy with her mother, his grandmother.
He would miss his mother.
As a kid, he ran to her for everything…small cuts, a broken toy…everything. Max figured that he wouldn't leave her without calling. He made a small promise to her to at least call her once in awhile.
Max glanced at his clock and noticed that two hours had passed. He grabbed his stuff and left for his father's office. He slowly walked there, regretting every step closer he made towards the office. He wanted nothing to do with his father.
He opened the door once he got there. His father began talking as soon as he saw him.
"I pulled a few strings and I was able to get the emancipation." He pulled the papers from his desk and put them directly in front of Max. "All you have to do is sign." He finished.
Max pulled out a pen and signed his name on the blank space. After a second of thought, he signed Maria's name too.
"What are you doing?" his confused father asked him.
"I don't want her to have anything to do with you, ever again." He said his voice dripped with acid.
His father nodded, then reached for two fat envelopes. "I thought it would be easier if I just emptied out your accounts." He handed the envelopes to Max. "A hundred thousand each." He said.
Max nodded and turned from his father and prepared to exit out of the room and never look back.
"Goodbye son." His father called.
Max didn't know what went through him…what made him turn around and punch his father hard across the face.
"Fuck you," Max spat out at his fathers pain withered form, before leaving the room.
Max grabbed his bag and went out side the house to his silver Seabring. "His baby" was what he liked to call it. He saw Maria standing out there beside the car with five luggages.
He put their stuff in the trunk and backseat and went around to the front seat, and started the car after Maria entered the passenger's side.
He handed her money. "A hundred thousand…use wisely." He told her.
Max started his car and drove to his friend's house.
Maria looked around the familiar surroundings. "We're staying here?" she asked him.
"Nope," Max responded. "I have to talk to Marco, then we're leaving Miami." Marco was his best friend since high school started…they had gone through a lot of shit together and he felt as though he owed his some kind of goodbye.
Max got out of the car and walked up to Marco's flat and knocked on his front door. Marco soon answered him.
"Hola Chico, Buenos dias," Marco greeted him.
Max nodded at the greeting.
"Hola…Estamos salindo de Miami…nos ceraioramas de que nada sucede a mi madre. Guarde su caja fuerte." Max spoke to him, his Spanish tongue exploding fourth.
Marco nodded to him. "Claro que si."
"Adios el amigo." Max said, he grabbed Marco in a man-hug and turned and walked back to his car.
"Adios," Marco replied before turning around and closing the door.
Max hoped in the car. "So, where do you want to go?" Max asked Maria who had waited patiently the whole time.
The possibilities rolled around her head. There were so many places she wanted to visit.
"Well…" she started. "I want to go to L.A, and don't laugh or ask, but I also want to see Roswell, New Mexico." She said, feeling foolish. "We can go to Roswell, then go to L.A."
Max gave a little laugh. "Sure…but don't expect me to be the only driver. That's going to be a hell of a long ride."
* * * * *
A day later, at the edge of Texas and New Mexico, they stopped to get gas at the station. The car trip had been exhausting and they planned on this being the last stop before they entered Roswell.
Max shook his head and let out a little laugh at the absurdity of going to Roswell. Of all of the things his sister would of suggested, he surely hadn't thought of Roswell.
He shook Maria awake from her slumber. So far he had driven the whole way. 'So much for shared driving,' he thought to himself.
Maria woke up, looking at her surroundings disoriented.
"Bathroom break." Max told her.
Maria nodded her head and yawned before leaving to the station bathroom.
Max put his gas card in and proceeded to fill the tank, as he held his hand on the nuzzle he began thinking about everything he had yet to think about.
School.
Living arrangements.
Jobs.
A hundred thousand lasted a long time, but not enough to start a whole new life. Max supposed that he and Maria could stay in a hotel until he could find an apartment. Last, but not least he thought of school. It shouldn't be too hard; all he had to do was register into one of the local Roswell schools.
Max gave himself a pat on back, he was proud of himself for figuring out all the answers.
Soon Maria came back and he finished filling the gas. It was around ten o' clock in the morning and they were both wide-awake.
They sat in silence until Maria turned on the radio.
If ever you had
said to me before
That I would live this life that I am
Living now I guess it's all so strange
To feel the way I do inside but
Have so much that I could feel some
Pride for in my life so why is it that
I feel like this
Maria turned to Max, asking him a question that had been on her mind for the past hours.
"How did you get dad-Raphael to do this?" Calling had gotten to painful, so she just referred to him as Raphael now.
"I threatened to kill him." Max told her flatly. There was no emotion apparent in his voice.
Maria nodded while playing with her earring. "Well, thanks." She meant it. He had removed her from her hell and she had deeply appreciated it.
"What about mom?" Maria asked him.
Max shook his head. "I don't know." He said, his voice stoic. "I don't know anything anymore."
TBC