My whack at a modern "Southern Raiders" fic. Feel free to review, give constructive criticism, and offer me ideas.
LIAR, LIAR, PANTS ON FIRE
Katara was well loved, and she knew it.
After her mother had been murdered, they had moved from Alaska to California. Sokka had stuck to her as if they were twins and kept her spirits as high as he could, and her father often laid a comforting hand and hugged her when he sensed her mood was as bleak as smog. At first, Katara had hated the heat of her city and that there was no snow where they had decided to live, but she grew to appreciate the soft heat that tanned her skin, the convenience of biking to the store or to read at the local bookstore, the friends she had made, and her boyfriend, Zuko. She was very close to him, considering he lived on what her father called "the multi-millionaire mansions" villa area on the other side of town. His father and sister did not appreciate her at all, but Zuko considerably brightened up when she invited him away from his home.
Said boyfriend and her had split for the day after a study session, and she was just toweling off from her warm shower when the news station on the radio caught her attention.
"The case of Kya Snow, a middle-aged woman in her early fifties who was abducted from her home in Alaska nine years ago, is now experiencing a positive turn in events. Detectives have traced the abductor, Yon Rha, a Mafia leader, as the prime suspect. His whereabouts are unknown, as are his reasons for his motives, and the investigation is still now underway—"
Katara froze in her tracks as the reporter talked about Yon Rha in general and how people could help the search, but she wasn't paying attention. Her mother was...missing? Why had her father and brother told her that she was dead? Was to because they thought she couldn't handle the truth? That she'd worry every day about whether her mom was alive or dead or being tortured or God only knows what else? How could she not have known? Was that why they moved? She clutched the towel around her body, wondering what her mother had—no, was—enduring while she had been kissing Zuko, having a hot shower after a hearty meal, or having a short nap. The memory of what her day was reeled her in shock. Everything was so normal, so ordinary. But for her mother? And her! Why had no one bothered to tell her after eight years 'By the way, your mom isn't dead. She was just kidnapped'?"
"Katara?" Her father was walking into the kitchen. "Honey, you should put on some pajamas; the windows are still—" He, too, went silent as the radio concluded with a reminder to call a certain number if Kya Snow or Yon Rha was spotted in an area near them, and Katara watched as Hakoda's face paled when he looked at her.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded, her voice shaking. Her father had the gall not to answer, but looked at the floor and fidgeted his fingers as if playing a piano.
"Eight years!" she exclaimed with anger and passion. "You never told me when I mourned that Mom could be alive! You never told me when I asked if Mom was happy in heaven! You never told me when I cried over Mom's murder, and how I never got to see her body! You never told me anything! Does Sokka know? Is that why he didn't cry as much? Is that why he found it easy to contort me? Did you give him a gag order? Why did you tell him and not me that she was alive?"
"Because I was worried you'd be like me!" Hakoda finally exploded as he snapped his neck up to look her in the eye. "Worrying and praying every night to God, thinking of all the things she could be going through! Wondering if she could last torture, if she was better off dead and resting in peace than being..." Katara flinched as her father began to clench his fists in thought. "I know it was wrong. I know I should have told you, but—"
"I would have preferred knowing than thinking Mom was dead!" she interrupted furiously. "I love Mom! I had wished her alive for so many years, and now I know that she is...but away from us. Missing. For eight years! What would have happened if she had escaped and came knocking here? What would you have told me? What would have Mom said!"
Her father sighed heavily. "Katara—let's talk about this calmly. I would have told you the truth—"
"How long would it have taken if I hadn't heard the news story? Tomorrow? A month? A year? More? When I moved out? When I got married? When I have had children? When, Dad?"
Her father looked pained. "I—"
"Forget it!" she raged, going to her room and slamming the door. "I'm going out. Don't wait up."
She stripped herself of her towel and slid into fresh clothes, grabbing some money as she began to rush out the door.
"At this hour? Katara, where will you go?"
"Somewhere where I know that I won't be lied to!" Katara replied, before slamming the door. Her damp hair did not stream behind her dramatically, nor did her cheeks burn bright with anger, but she knew that she felt a mixture of emotions churning like a tidal wive rolling and smashing inside of her chest.
"I will find Yon Rha myself."
