Author's Note: Thank you to those who have already followed, reviewed, and favorited! Please don't forget to REVIEW, and enjoy! (Edited by Chereche!)

Heads up: you should read this! So, I recently decided to follow some advice, and take time to revise some of my previous chapters. This means I won't be posting for a little while, which I hope everyone will be okay with! ;) This will be the last one for awhile, besides updated chapters, which you are welcome to check out once they are out. There are just some editing issues to be addressed, and I'd been debating this problem for awhile now, so this was a great opportunity to do so...Thank you!

BTW: Recently I have had problems with reviews on this website, as it won't show up here, and so then I can't reply to any of them! I apologize if you've reviewed, and I haven't answered. It's not intentional! ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own Girl Meets World, just the story!

Chapter Twenty-Two: Past the Point of No Return

How stupid was she? I mean really?

Maya took a fistful of the page and ripped it to shreds. There was no more sadness or hurt; at least on the surface. What was there was anger, red hot anger. And it filled every inch of her skin and boiled furiously inside her heart. She was going to regret this afterwards. She knew that for sure...yet, she ignored her thoughts and continued her venture.

Maya looked at the painting of a gorgeous waterfall, and memorized its surface for the last time. Then, she took her knife and cut it into pieces...the water and the mossy ground mixing together in scraps on the dirty was almost appropriate it seemed, because she had destroyed other people's paintings, so why not her own? She sure as heck didn't deserve them and they sucked anyway, so why keep them?

Next, was her drawing of Riley in class. She had on a thoughtful expression, and Maya had drawn her with a daisy crown on her head. The artist slit her face in half.

"Maya, what are you doing—" Her mother walked in through the door, and her eyes widened.

The small girl didn't respond, or show any signs that she had heard her. Instead, she reached for the next sketchbook.

"Baby girl, what is this?" Ms. Hart grew extremely worried, and walked over to her daughter.

"None of your business." She answered as calmly as she could manage with the angry volcano daring to erupt inside of her.

"It is my business, and I'm telling you to stop right now." She snatched the knife out of her hand.

Maya turned to her with a dangerous look, that, if hadn't been directed towards her mother, would've scared anyone else off.

"Give. It. Back."

She raised an eyebrow at her words. "I think you forget who you're talking to Maya Penelope," she responded, her tone lowering slightly. "Now, what are you doing?"

"Shut up! It's none of your business." Maya lost control – she was tired of having her actions probed – and screamed the words in her face.

"You're destroying your art work!" Her mother seemed unfazed by the yelling.

"I know. I'm not stupid."

"Obviously you are."

Her mother's retort was too much, and Maya knew that she needed her to leave, and now. She grabbed her mother's wrist, and, quicker than she could react, dragged her to the outside of her door.

"Thanks for reminding me," she snarled, before slamming the door in her face and locking it.

"You open this door right now!"

Maya stalked haughtily to her bed, and began the heavy labor of pushing it towards the door.

"What are you doing?" her mother demanded, hearing the scraping sound the bed made as it moved.

She ignored her mother, and breathed out heavily, trying not to lose her grip on the furniture.

"Do you know how much trouble you're in?"

Maya had almost reached her goal.

"I'm going to get Shawn."

There!

She made sure that the bed was firmly intact against the door before moving her much lighter dresser there as well. Maya wiped her hands off, and surveyed her work. Now, there was no way they were getting through that door.

She turned back to her paintings, and selected an older one. This was trash for sure. Choosing scissors this time, she began the tedious task of cutting it into strips. Sure, it was hard, but oh, so worth it. Well, kind of.

"Maya?" Shawn's voice came from behind the door this time.

"Why are you even here?" Maya asked bitterly, trying to cut through a particularly tough piece of canvas.

"I was going to take your mother out." He replied, sounding irritated.

"I thought I told you she was off limits, Hunter."

"And again, that's not your decision." Shawn cleared his throat. "But, that doesn't really matter. What are you up to?"

"Things." Maya pursed her lips.

"I know that line, and it's not a good one." He started to sound frustrated, and a little worried. "Open this door, Maya. Right now."

"You are not my father." She shot back, cutting a new strip.

It was silent. Very silent...but, only out in the open. Inside her head, there was a raging tidal wave of hurt, anger, and something else; something raw and powerful. As far as she was concerned, she had never had a father. And, what she had for a few short years had not been love. Because if it were love, it never would have died. He would still be here. So, what was love, really? To Maya, it was a mother who was there only part of the time. It was Riley, and it was her friends...but then again, the love of friends couldn't compare with family. That wasn't true love. Not by a long stretch.

"Maya." Shawn said, gently this time. "I know I'm not your father, but I care just as much about you as one. Please open the door."

"Don't say things like that." She reached for a next painting, this time opting to break it over her knee, and watched the dust cloud the room.

"Things like what?"

"You care."

"Maya, we do care! Stop saying that!" Her mother's said, suddenly speaking up. "And if we can't get you to realize that right now, can you at least please stop destroying your art? That is so important to you."

"Not anymore."

They continued to speak, plead, and attempt to open the door, but Maya ignored it all. She grabbed a box of pastels, and began breaking them one by one. Colorful powder littered her room, and it was almost too cheerful for her taste. The only thing that made it better was the littered wood, paintings, and broken pencils scattered all over her room. And with each thing she destroyed, she mentally screamed as she thought of every single thing wrong with her life.

A purple pencil; the stupid fight with Riley.

A drawing of a butterfly; the stupid texter.

Her paintbrushes; Shawn. Her mother. Lucas.

Painting of a sunset; the art museums.

Maya paused her art massacre to walk over to her mirror. She lifted it above her head, and stared at herself for one long moment.

Her insecurity...

She dropped the mirror.

The glass shattered into crystal filaments, scattering in – to her – slow motion. They bounced in between the paintings and pencils, giving the area a look of sparkly ash and dust. Like the leftover actions of an erupting volcano, it left behind embers and smoky remnants of its former destruction.

She collapsed into the glass, ignoring the painful cuts and scratches she felt as she did so. The two adults outside of her room were frantic now, as they heard the sound of glass shattering. It didn't reach her ears though, all she heard was the echo of the cracking, and the rips of old paintings. Now she felt hollow, bereft. There was nothing left, nothing she could do, nothing she wanted. Nothing really mattered anymore.

"Maya?" A voice asked from her window.

Shoot, she had forgotten the window.

If she had the strength to look up, she would have seen the concern laced with panic on the voice's owner's face as they took in the destruction she was sitting in the midst of. The window slid open, and they entered and walked carefully through the debris to her.

"What are you doing?"

She stared at a piece of glass by her foot. It seemed lonely there, away from all the rest of its kind. She started to reach for it, but was interrupted.

"Maya!" The voice's owner gripped her shoulders tightly, sounding concerned.

She knew that voice, but who cared? It probably didn't care about her either.

"You're scaring me." The voice was closer now, as if the person had crouched beside her, careful to avoid the glass.

There was a half of a painting of a purple flower near her left hand. It sure was a pretty color, she thought.

The voice grew frustrated, and she felt her head being turned toward it. Oh, she knew that face, she realised, before dismissing it. He didn't care either.

"Maya, what is this?" Lucas looked deeply into her shattered blue eyes.

"Glass, stupid." She whispered hoarsely.

He brushed his thumb against a small cut on her ankle. It probably stung, but she couldn't tell. She couldn't feel much of anything. And then, he lifted her as gently as he could, and moved her over to an untouched part of the room. Maya stared wistfully at the glass on the floor...she wanted to sit back there again. She felt like she belonged there, a broken piece among broken pieces.

"It's going to be okay." Lucas said softly, and tugged her towards him.

She knew the gesture was meant to comfort, but she couldn't react, couldn't summon the desire to cry, which, she half-thought, he probably expected. There was no room in her heart to. All that was left was anger, hurt, bitterness, and the feeling of being completely shattered. Lucas didn't say anything, just held her, and stroked her hair slowly and comfortingly.

The unease peace they settled into was broken by a sudden harsh sound from the door. It repeated, once, twice, before the sound of wood giving in. It was Shawn; he had broken the lock. the sound of heavy furniture shifting reached her ears. She didn't even lift her head, but Lucas was observing what was happening with some surprise. He hadn't even noticed the bed and dresser blocking the entrance. Shawn's chest rose and fell heavily, but he crossed quickly to Maya, her mother cautiously making her way over as well. The man didn't even glance at the floor but she looked wistfully at every little piece of broken something. It took her awhile: there sure was a lot of it.

"What the hell, Maya?"

Lucas grimaced, remembering he had said those exact words to her before. He also knew it wasn't what she needed to hear right now, but he sure as heck wasn't going to tell such a furious Shawn that.

"Baby girl, why?" Her mother said softly, finally reaching her daughter who still had her face mostly buried in his shirt.

"What are you doing here?" Shawn asked, as if he had only now noticed Lucas, who squirmed a little under his narrowed eyes.

"I came to check on her, and found this." He used his free hand to gesture to the room. "I figured it was best to just come in."

"You thought it was okay to just come in her room?" The older man's voice was full of warning.

"Shawn," Ms. Hart placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. "Not important right now."

He took a deep breath, glared at him one more time, and then turned his attention back to Maya.

"Kid, you got like 3 seconds to explain."

She didn't want to. It was comfy and safe with Lucas, and he hadn't yelled at her which was nice. Wait, since when had Lucas become a safe place? The thought jolted her back to reality, and Maya mentally cursed. She had let him in, and she hadn't even realized it...just another mistake to add to her mental list.

That was what gave her the strength to pull herself away, and face the two angry and concerned adults standing above her.

"I have nothing to say," she said, unaware that loneliness was clouding every part of her face.

"You better," Shawn declared and crossed his arms.

"Shawn." Her mother sounded on the verge of tears. "This isn't helping."

"I'm sorry Katy," he said, "but I get a little worried when someone I care about is acting like this!"

She leaned into him. "I know. She's my daughter, remember?"

"Sorry." He glanced down apologetically at the woman beside him, then down at her daughter.

Maya looked away from their conversation, and back up at Lucas. He didn't smile, but held her a little tighter.

"Aren't you going to yell at me, now?" she whispered tiredly.

"Not yet, Shortstack," he said quietly.

She wasn't sure if he was joking or not, but was still mildly comforted.

Shawn took a deep, calming breath before speaking again. "Let's try this again...what did you do, Maya?"

"I destroyed stuff."

"Why?"

"Because it doesn't matter to me, and I don't deserve it."

"Why?" he asked again, more concerned now.

"Because that's the way life works, Hunter." Maya was starting to feel the sting from her multiple cuts, and she shifted, uncomfortable. "The sky is blue, the grass is green, and life sucks for Maya Penelope Hart."

"That's not completely true." Shawn sat down on the edge of her bed, pulling her mother down beside him. "You have so many good things in your life."

"Like what?" She asked bitterly.

"You have a roof over your head, a wonderful mother who loves you, amazing friends, a talent for art, and those are just a couple of things."

"I don't have all of those."

"Why not?"

"My roof leaks, my mother isn't around half of the time, I'm in a fight with the one person I thought I could count on, and I haven't been able to paint for the last 3 months," she listed.

"Maybe your real problem is you," Shawn said bluntly. "You have to stop looking at all the negatives, and find the good, because as it hidden as it may seem it's there."

"I'm not a sucker," she spat. "I'm not going to waste my time trying to be some happy-go-lucky person."

"You don't have to be that," he explained. "But you need to stop wallowing in self-pity like this. This Maya?" he said, gesturing to the mess around them. "This is you going too far. I warned you, didn't I?"

"Didn't ask for your warning, but thanks anyway," she said sarcastically.

"But," he said, ignoring her words and looking at her pointedly. "You can just as easily pull yourself back up again. I'm not saying it's going to be that easy, but it's a very manageable feat, and one I know you can accomplish. Aren't you at all tired of hiding and running away?"

Maya tensed, refusing to herself show any weakness despite his words. "No."

"Liar. Will you please stop for a minute, and just let people help you? Just let yourself have something good? Stop this pity party, and get over yourself."

"It's a little harsh," her mother said, glancing at Shawn, "but it's the truth, Baby girl. We've watched you fall to the wayside for the last couple of months. You won't let anyone in Maya, but you need to realize that the person who's hurting the most in all of this is you, and you can stop that sweetheart. Just let it go. I know you can try better, and live up to your full potential."

Maya swallowed deeply before answering. "I'm not good enough, and everyone knows that. You guys are all just saying that so you can get this problem out of the way." Maya shook her head, and brought her knees to her chest.

"Maya, look at me." Lucas requested, speaking up for the first time in a while. Reluctantly, she did. "You are one of the most capable people I know, and if I had to bet my money on anyone to succeed, it would be you. They're right, just stop fighting and stop letting fear and anger rule your life. I don't want this for you, and as your friend, it hurts to watch you pull away from everything and everyone."

Lucas' words only reinforced the vulnerability that had started to rise the more Shawn and her mother spoke. Maya's whole body – inside and out – felt raw, open, and cold. She felt so exposed, but at least she felt something. Was that going to be enough, though? Would it live up to her friend's expectations? Maya looked around at their faces and bit her lip...was it time?

"Okay," Maya sighed and looked down at her feet. She was tired of this. She would give up, at least for a little while and see what came of it. In that moment she saw the relief and happiness on everyone's faces, and automatically she knew she'd made the right decision. As long as they were happy, she would be okay, right?

Okay was such a small word, one that wouldn't have meant much to anyone, but to everyone in that room it represented so much. They had finally penetrated her mask, even if it was only a little, and now there was hope on the horizon. Maya even thought that she could see a glimmer of it, although it seemed to be hiding behind something disastrous. Something she'd have to get through first…if she could.