*Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is recognizable*

Hello again! Sorry it took a long time to get this out but my mind moves a million miles a minute and sometimes stories are forgotten for other stories I think up. This is the first part of The One Trilogy. This can be read in two ways: you can read this then the second one (which is already up [Never Leave Me]) or you can read the second part and use the first part as a "fill-in" for info seen in the second story. I promise to work on the third part now that I'm on break. I've got ideas for it so it should hopefully be up sooner. I know the music in this story wasn't really around when they were this age, but it works well with the story so bear with me. Again, constructive criticism is welcome but insulting isn't. R & R as well. Here is the (hopefully) much-anticipated prequel. Enjoy!

I was sitting in the comfort of my own room, drowning in the harsh, hard sound of Linkin Park while reading my Batman comics. I really liked their lyrics. They hit close to home. My parents don't like my music or what I plan to do with my life. I want to work in the makeup industry. I know it's a weird dream for a girl like me, but I like makeup. Even though I wear darker shades, I can pull off a girly look.

My door opened. I didn't look up, the music radiating through my eardrums. Both my parents were in my room. My 'dad' glared at me. He motioned for me to take the earbuds out. I just sighed and put my comic down. I paused my iPod and took the earbuds out.

"Good, now that you can hear us," my 'dad' began, "I thought I'd have you know you'll be staying with your Uncle Matthew and Aunt Ginger for the duration of your vacation."

I looked at him like he was high. Matt and Ginger were two mean, rich mother fuckers. They had a daughter that was just as much of a bitch as they were. "Why do I have to stay with them?"

"Well, we know you'll either stay cooped up in here and read comic books and listen to your music or get drunk at parties."

"I don't do that anymore," I said softly.

"Don't lie to us, we know you do. Anyway, get packed. You're leaving tomorrow so you can meet your cousin at her high school. Their school starts at 8:30, so make sure you're prompt." They both walked out, closing the door behind them. I don't even know why I bother listening to that controlling bastard. He's not even my real dad.

See, my real dad left us when I was 3. My mom was heartbroken. I had taken care of her till I was 14, but then she went and fell in love with Jim, the accountant from a company called Powell's Brothers. I don't know what they're like, but they must've been a pair of stuffy fucks 'cause that's all they hire there.

What sucks even more is I have to call him 'dad' even though every fiber of my being said no. My mom made me. I couldn't say no to her. Before marrying Jim, she was carefree and loved voicing her opinion, now she was the perfect housewife, not caring what Jim said to me. He could put me in a path that'll kill me and she couldn't tell the difference.

I know what you might be thinking and no, I don't cut. That's not really 'my way.' I just drink and smoke. They never know. I'm not around them enough that they could tell. Not like they'd care anyway. Jim wouldn't give a shit unless it would embarrass him and/or my mom.

I turned my iPod back on. I went to "Somewhere I Belong" and pressed play. It's my favorite song by them, well, second to "In the End." It's one of the few songs I like that has rap in it. The messages are what I listen for anyway.

I got up to my closet and began picking out outfits I could wear and placed them neatly in my overnight bag, which was just an oversize gym bag that used to be my dad's. I still thought it was cool even though he stepped out on us. I heard he was happily married with other kids, my mom and I forgotten. That's fine with me. He can be fucking Mr. Brady for all I care.

Once my stuff was packed (I'd finish the rest in the morning after I did my usual routine), I went to my secret stash of Marlboros and Jim Beam and went to have myself some quality time.

After about an hour, I finished my last cigarette. The Jim Beam was halfway gone. I wasn't drunk, but I was feeling a happy buzz. I put them back in my secret area and went to shower in the attached bathroom. The clock read 10:30 and I had to wake up at 6 so I could get everything ready to stay with my 'family.'

I woke up and hit my alarm. I groaned. I usually don't get headaches or hangovers, but today seemed to be one of those days.

I got up and went to my medicine cabinet and took out some Aleve. It's my go-to pain reliever. After that, I brushed my teeth and packed all that crap up. I went back to my room and took out my outfit I had set for today: a Misfits shirt with stressed black skinny jeans and black and white Converse high tops.

Once I was dressed, I went in to do my makeup. I put on some face powder then put some black eyeliner around my green eyes. I smudged it out and went to the black eyeshadow. I put on a little mascara and warmth color. I packed all that up and then went to put on deodorant and brush out my blonde hair. I took one last look in the mirror. I made sure everything was accounted for then left with the packed stuff and put it in my bag.

I checked everything twice, making sure I have comics to last me through the two weeks. It had its own separate bag. I like comics, sue me. I had my over-the-shoulder that'll hold the books I'm gonna bring for today. I have to sit through all my cousin's classes for some stupid reason. But I've learned not to question him or I'd get a swift slap to the face. He always acted like such a dick, even when I came to him with a boy problem. He went on and on about how it was my fault that Lucas cheated on me. He said I wasn't a good enough girlfriend. I told him to fuck off and he hit me. I still didn't think I deserved it. But I turned out ok, right?

I took my stuff and put them in my beat up Mustang. It used to be my dad's. He left it here and my mom let me have it when she was teaching me how to drive, before she went all Stepford on me. The clock on the dash said it was 6:45. I live in upper New York so I better get going. I've never been to the campus, but I know where it is.

Before I left, I heard someone screaming something. "Jamia! Jamia Nestor-Caulfield!" It was Jim. Who else? It wasn't like my mom was gonna spring out of her perfect fantasy. I turned the key and the car went off. I rolled down the window and he came over to me.

"What?" I asked.

"Don't use that tone with me. Just have a good time. And if I get a call from Matthew or Ginger that you did something, I'll be over there quicker than you can say grounded. And you will be, for a long time." He left. I flipped off his retreating figure. What a bastard. With where I'm going, I just can't seem to get away from them.