Maia

Prologue

A/N: Kia Ora, a few years ago I started writing this story, although I never actually finished it, I did however publish a few chapters. So some of you may remember it, if not or you're new, welcome. I hope you all enjoy it!

I am in the process of editing the the old chapters so it might take a little bit longer to publish them. All publish ones are edited and the final version.

The MC and her siblings are both Māori and Italian, therefore some words will be in Te Reo and some in Italian. The father is Italian and the mother is Māori. I will add the translation above, although it may be Incorrect due to Google Translation. If you want to hear the correct pronunciation for Te Reo, the 'Māori dictionary' is great for that. The story's location is set in America.

WARNING: There will be talk of abuse, drugs etc.

Māori
Whānau = Family
Pāpā = Father
Māmā = Mother

Enjoy!

☽☾

I was six years old.

It's been ten years since then. Ten years since I left my whānau.

I remember feelings of happiness when I lived with my Pāpā and siblings.

That feeling soon left as we did. By we, I mean my Māmā and I.

I remember going to bed that night, all of us had just eaten chocolate ice cream. I wanted to watch my favourite Pixar movie 'Cars' with my whānau. Before the film finished, I had fallen asleep. I vaguely remember being picked up by my pāpā and taken to my bedroom where my teddy moose awaited me. I was tucked in and kissed on my forehead before I fully drifted off to sleep.

In a matter of hours, I was woken up by my māmā. Her gentle touch and the bright light coming from her torch startled me awake. She quickly silenced me by soothingly rubbing my back. She had my backpack to her side, filled to the brim with clothes, shoes, books and toys. Another bag was packed behind it, which was much bigger, I could only assume it was hers.

She helped me change into warmer day clothes and my favourite sparkly shoes. We moved through the house quietly, careful not to wake anyone up. I remember questioning why it was just us, it was a surprise māmā had said.

The excitement of sneaking around with māmā woke me up fully. As we left the gates of our house, a black car pulled up. It was parked on the other side of the road. Although I couldn't see who was in the car, I smiled as it looked just like pāpā's car.

Māmā had led us over, shoving me lightly into the back. I frowned as I saw a strange man, even through the darkness of the night I could see a long scar that ran down his cheek. He had smirked when he caught me looking. I felt unsafe, I wanted to go back inside with pāpā. Māmā had started talking to him, giving him directions. I watched as she reached into her pocket, handing the stranger a big rolled-up stack of money.

I buckled up, just as māmā did. I felt a jolt of power when the car started back up and the man drove off. I looked back at the house, seeing the lights turn on. That was the last thing I saw, it was my last memory of my whānau.

Today I can't recall my whānau's faces, how many siblings I have or even their names. The colour of my sheets, the smell that lingered in my room and the toys I would've had are all erased from my memory.

All I know is how māmā and I jumped from train to train, bus to bus, city to city until we finally landed in a faraway state. We soon arrived in a small town, with very few people living there.

During the first few months, we stayed in a beat-up motel. It consisted of a single bed with dirty sheets, a brownish-red bathroom and a small kitchen with a broken sink. It was barely livable. Māmā had tried to make it look nice, she had cleaned as much of the stains off as she could, although the dark-coloured stained bath didn't change much. She had brought new sheets and made the place a little more homely. But I knew it wasn't our home, our home was with pāpā and my siblings.

Māmā had landed a job waitressing at the small diner down the road. Only making enough money for the rent but if we were lucky she had enough for the power and water bill. The odd time she could buy us a proper meal but we mostly survived on small but cheap snacks or leftover food from the diner. Māmā couldn't afford a babysitter and I had no friends to play with so, therefore, I was mostly left home alone. It was strange to be alone so much as a kid but I became used to it. To keep entertained, my māmā had brought home books from the library after each shift. I would read and read and read until either she got home or I fell asleep.

After a year or two she was finally able to secure a one-bedroom apartment for us to live in. This apartment was much cleaner than the motel, the walls were white for once. She had set the room up so we had our own spaces. We mostly found furniture on the side of the road or cheaply at a thrift shop. We managed to get a bed each and one dresser to share. I loved it much more, I was beginning to feel happy since the separation from our whānau. That was until māmā met Jacob.

How to describe Jacob, well to simply put it, he's an asshole. A drug-addicted, ugly, wife-beating asshole. He had met māmā a year into the new apartment. He came to her work and they clicked. He got her into heavy drugs, partying and dealing alongside him. She fell in love. We had soon moved into his place, within 5 weeks to be exact. Although his place was larger, it wasn't as nice. It always had a lingering stench of cigarettes, alcohol and pot. The floor and walls were like the motels. I lived upstairs, in a small bedroom.

Rules became strict. I wasn't allowed outside unless I was shopping for food or alcohol. I lacked the basic knowledge of the school's teaching, considering I never went. I learnt everything from library books which I would sneak into the house each week when I went on Jacobs's errands. Food and water access became less and less. I lost a decent amount of weight. But this was only the start.

Soon both māmā and Jacob turned to abuse when they were either bored, angry or when they felt they couldn't control me. The violence first started when I was 11. It used to only occur once a week or every second week. Mostly just hitting or the use of Jacob's belt. Soon they occurred more frequently, each hit turning into punches, broken bottles and knives. The abuse became the norm and every day was turned into a survival game. My old life was forgotten, this was it now.