A/N: This is just a background for my OC that I will explore in the future. The first chapters are going to be based on Season 6, Episode 10, and after that, Season 7, Episode 2.
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Maia Castellan had never felt silence like this before. It pressed against her chest, heavy and suffocating, as she stared at the empty desk where Melissa Ruiz used to sit. Her best friend. Her partner in crime. Gone. Forever.
The classroom buzzed with noise, but it all seemed muted to Maia. Every laugh and every conversation felt like betrayal. Melissa should have been there, cracking some stupid joke about the end-of-year exams, doodling in her notebook, or complaining about the heat. Instead, she was dead.
The memory of that day had carved itself into Maia's mind. They'd fought. Over what, Maia couldn't even remember anymore, but it had been bad enough for Melissa to storm out of her house without looking back. They hadn't spoken since, not even to confirm their plans to meet up for the last day of school. And then came the party.
Melissa's body had been found in the woods early the next morning, broken and lifeless. The police had ruled it an accident, some tragic misstep that had ended her life too soon. But Maia didn't believe it. She couldn't. Something about it felt wrong, and no one else seemed to care enough to look deeper. Not the school, not the police, not even Detective Felix Ruiz—Melissa's father.
Ruiz had buried himself in his work, consumed by grief. He shut everyone out, including Maia, who had practically grown up in his house. She knew he was hurting, but she couldn't understand why he wouldn't listen to her. Why he refused to even entertain the possibility that Melissa's death wasn't an accident.
Left with no other options, Maia decided to find the truth herself. It started small—overheard whispers at school, fragments of conversation that set her on edge. Peter and Lucas, two seniors who had been at the party that night, were acting strange. Peter, loud and brash, had been bragging to anyone who would listen about how Melissa "should've kept her mouth shut." Lucas, quieter and far less confident, had been avoiding everyone, his eyes darting nervously whenever Melissa's name came up.
It was enough for Maia. She started watching them, following their movements, piecing together their routines. She filled a notebook with everything she learned, keeping it hidden under her bed like some dark little secret. And when she had enough—when the pieces all fit together—she tried to bring it to the police.
But they didn't listen. They smiled at her like she was some overeager kid playing detective and sent her on her way.
That was the moment Maia realized she was truly on her own.
She spent the next week carefully setting her trap. It started with anonymous notes left in Peter's locker, written in Melissa's handwriting. Then, she let Lucas catch glimpses of her outside his house at night, disappearing into the shadows before he could be sure it was her. She knew they were scared—knew they were starting to crack under the pressure. And when the time came, she left just enough breadcrumbs to lead them to an abandoned cabin on the outskirts of town.
She hadn't planned to kill anyone. She told herself she just wanted answers and that she needed to hear them admit what they'd done. But when they arrived, it was chaos from the start. Peter was loud, laughing in her face as he denied everything. He called her crazy, told her Melissa had gotten what she deserved, and dared her to do something about it.
Something inside Maia snapped.
She didn't remember picking up the baseball bat. She didn't remember the sound it made when it connected with Peter's skull or the way his body crumpled to the floor. She only remembered the rage—blinding, suffocating rage.
By the time she came back to herself, Peter was dead, and Lucas was on his knees, sobbing and begging her to stop. Blood was everywhere—on the walls, on the floor, on her trembling hands.
She didn't know how long she sat there, staring at the mess she'd made, but eventually, the sound of a car engine pulled her from her daze. She didn't fight when Detective Ruiz approached her, his face unreadable. He took the bat from her hands, wrapped his coat around her shoulders, and told her to wait in the car.
The next day, Lucas confessed to the crime. Maybe it was guilt, or maybe he was just too scared to tell the truth. Maia didn't care. All that mattered was that Peter was gone and Melissa had justice.
Ruiz never spoke about that night, but Maia knew he'd made the confession stick. He never asked her why she'd done it and never demanded explanations. Instead, he brought her closer, letting her assist him with his cases in an unofficial capacity. He told her she was sharp—too sharp to waste her talents. "Maybe I can teach you to use that brain of yours the right way," he'd said once, and Maia had clung to those words like a lifeline.
Working with Ruiz gave her purpose, something to focus on besides the nightmares that wouldn't leave her alone. She threw herself into the work, determined to prove she could be useful and that she could make a difference.
But some nights, when the world was quiet, Maia would wake up in a cold sweat, her hands aching as if they still held that bat. And she would wonder if Melissa would have recognized the person she'd become—or if her best friend would have been terrified of her.
