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Maya Hart pulled open the unlocked door to her house, throwing it closed behind herself. Today, unlike most days, Maya had decided not to go home with Riley to the Matthews's house, but take some time to herself in her own, unfamiliar feeling house.

Maya breathed in a tiny breath of the air around herself and hopelessly called out, "Hello?!" She unsurprisingly received not even a creek of the floor in response, causing her to feel as if a familiar mist of loneliness clouded her thoughts and vision.

Maya didn't expect her mother to be home. She wasn't hoping for anybody to be there, standing behind the kitchen counter, waiting for her to arrive home with a giant dinner, or a batch of freshly made cookies. Maya was aware that her living situation hadn't adjusted during the seven hours that she was rotting away at school, though she still managed to call "hello" through the empty house and she stepped inside.

While Maya trudged throughout the messy walkway and into the kitchen, her black, leather combat boots clinked against the wooden floor, echoing against the walls of the hollow home as if it were a game of ping-pong.

She reached her destination of the refrigerator and yanked it open carefully, allowing the chilly gust of air to refresh her from the heated house.

As usual, Maya's broken blue eyes skimmed the empty refrigerator shelves, knowingly examining the lack of foods and beverages. There was just about nothing left for Maya to eat, not satisfying her recent hunger.

She kneeled down slowly and reached for a small apple that sat alone in the back of the tiny fridge. Maya softly closed the refrigerator door and sighed heavily, beginning to reconsider her choices in life, and what led her to this. Maya wasn't even sure if the situation she was currently in was her own fault, but she knew that she couldn't fix it now, not on her own.

She strolled back over to the worn out and torn apart leather couch and plopped down on it, tired because of the long walk from John Quincy Adams Middle School to where she lived.

She leaned her head back against the stale couch cushion and took a bite of the apple, which led to three more swift and hungry chomps, alerting Maya that she was starving.

Maya moved the apple away from herself, surprised by the person she was being. She sighed for the second time, then let herself begin to devour her snack again, but this time in a more controlled fashion.

Maya sat up straighter and placed the apple down on the table, aware that she would probably never remember to come back and dispose the fruit.

Leaning her left arm on top of the couch's built in arm-rest, Maya inhaled heavily and started to offer herself some time to think. She repeated this process almost every day, while home alone. It was the time that she could sort her inner-battles out and keep herself in the right mind.

Maya mentally debated whether she should've went home with her best friend, Riley Matthews, or have done what she rarely did, and separated paths with Riley to walk home on her own to her real house. Her lonely, empty, alone real house.

If Maya was to journey off to the Matthews, then she would've been greeted by the warm welcome of Riley's mother, Topanga Matthews, containing a hug and a friendly smile.

Auggie would've maybe speeded up to the feet of the two teenage girls, his sister and her best friend, and would have given them a hug or probably would have had made a silly and childish request.

Cory Matthews, Riley's father, would have cracked a lame or sarcastic joke, but would still be just as welcoming and close to Maya as the rest of that large, delightful family.

It appeared to Maya that her own house didn't exactly feel like a home to her. The furniture and scent of the air was unfamiliar and new to the young, confused girl.

Maya's mother, Katy Hart, was only home for sections of time during the week, and wasted her life away serving people meals at a low-paying diner. She wasn't very close to Maya at all, for sure not as close as she was a couple of years ago, when Maya was too small to move or say a word.

Maya's mother honestly never asked her about her day, or gave her any compliments. She didn't take Maya out shopping, she couldn't bother to find the time to pack her teenage daughter a school lunch, let alone give her a loving hug. The most Maya Hart would ever usually receive from her mother was mindless hello, as if they were strangers jostling past each other through the crowded streets of New York City.

Katy Hart had her moments, though. The last time Maya felt close to her was a couple of months before, on her fourteenth birthday. Maya's mother had lovingly worked overtime in order to pay for the golden locket that Maya wore around her neck day after day. This locket was an extremely valuable treasure to Maya, and she made sure to keep it close to her heart. It was the most she ever had; the locker contained love, family, passion, and beauty.

Maya lifted her right hand up slightly and stroked the surface of the locket with her thumb. She took a small breath and closed her eyes, remembering the day she was rewarded that locket like it was only yesterday.