Thanks for reading! I really want to know what you all think, so please review. I might continue this into a longer fanfic.

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Maya started drawing at the age of five. Those drawings were made on crayon and construction paper. They looked like any other kids's drawing: a chaotic mess of scribbles that barely resembled anything. She continued to draw, on her own.

At age six, Daddy had already left, and Mommy had been very upset all the time. Maya drew pictures of herself and Mommy holding hands, without Daddy in it, because her mom told her that Daddy had "gone on a long vacation."

She didn't draw at the age of seven. She met Riley Matthews and Riley took up a lot of her time. Maya spent a lot of time with Riley's family as well, and Riley's one year old brother.

Maya realized her dad wasn't in her life anymore by the age of eight, when it had been two years since he left. She accepted it. Her mommy had started dating new guys but they never stayed around. She drew pictures in her room, and she started to paint, with the paint set that the Matthews had given Riley. Riley didn't want it, so she gave it to Maya. Maya loved it, although she didn't show anybody her work. Her mom was too busy trying to pay for the both of them.

At age nine, Maya's mom explained why Maya didn't have a daddy. It was because her mom chased him away. Maya got a little angry at her mom, but she was still confused about everything. Maya was happy when she was around Riley, though. That was why she liked Riley's house better than her own. She smiled a whole lot more when she was over there.

She hadn't done much art on her own from age ten to twelve, except for the occasional doodling in class. She felt bad that she and her mom didn't talk that often, but it wasn't like she was ever home.

Maya hadn't shown anyone her art until the age of thirteen, when Farkle caught her in the act of drawing the sky in the library.

She started taking art classes in school, mostly because it was a beginning of the year requirement for seventh grade, and she realized that her art changed with her mood.

She was older, she was better, and she was able to express herself easier. When Maya was in school, when she was around Riley and Farkle and Lucas, her art was bright. It was full of hope and shades of colors like purple and pink and orange and yellow: happy colors, colors that resembled what she wanted in life. It consisted of big solid shapes, colorful ones that essentially resembled hope.

Maya also did art by herself, at age thirteen. She had set up a studio in her room, which consisted of a sketchbook, a couple canvases and an easel (which she got at yard sale), a paint palette, red, blue, yellow, black, and white acrylic paint, a soup can for water, and five paint brushes. She spent hours in the middle of the night when she couldn't sleep by mixing colors, rich bright, screw-you colors, like dark blue and magenta and lime green, ones she could sink her hands into and feel between her fingers. This art was aggressive. It was how she dealt with her feelings. The anniversary of the day her father had left her: she painted. The days she went home from school, without a curfew, because her mom was too busy trying to make money to supervise Maya's adventures around the city: she painted.

These paintings were different than the ones she made at school. There was harsh mark-making, and dark colors like black and navy blue and red, and portraits of herself with her organs falling out and with her fingernails digging into her skin. She hid all of these in her closet: no one over went in there. There were probably about twenty to thirty pieces from over the years.

She honestly didn't think anyone would see them; she didn't want them too. It was embarrassing. She was just painting what she felt, but she didn't want anyone to know she felt that way. She couldn't identify her feelings by herself.

The summer between seventh and eighth grade, Maya was organizing her art on her bed, all of her hidden pieces were splayed out everywhere. She was going to use them in a portfolio for a summer program she was applying to at the local college, for incoming high schoolers.

That's when everything went to hell.