Chapter One: Azula
Azula PoV
These idiots! There so drunk and stupid.
I leaned against the top of the stairs at a wild party. Drunken teenagers stumble and dance sloppily to the constant beat of the music. I have my red solo cup in hand, almost empty now of my mixed beverage. But I don't get intoxicated like these normal people. It's weird, and sad; I can't relax and enjoy it like they can. Still I lean against the railing, overlooking the crowd.
Those who are tossed that attempt the stairs, are hit with a nearly invisible slap of black magic, and are sent flying back down. It's a fun attempt at making use of my abnormal abilities.
Jason, a good friend of mine, approached the railing where I leaned. He almost never drank, but he came anyway to help prank the drunk. This time, he painted a door on a sheet of poster paper and taped it to a wall. The fake door was labeled "Bathroom". Many of the drunks just walked right into it.
"Why so "gloom and doom"," He laughed.
I stayed silent and swished my drink around, then, with a smirk, poured it onto the drunken crowd. Several yells and cuss words are heard, but no one realized it was me. They are too drunk to realize.
I glanced at Jason, his chocolate eyes claw for answers. I don't give him that satisfaction, though. His brown hair has been brushed back, but a few strands flail from their place in rebellious attempts. The worn brown leather jacket he has on make him seem like a badass. And sometimes he is. But I know his life isn't perfect. I know where he comes from, and it's the same place I do.
A group home. Granted, a well taken care of group home. But perfume on a pig doesn't make it smell any better, either.
I relinquish the though and turn back to the crown, brushing a stray strand of black hair from my view. The front door is in my view, as well. Then I hear it with my acute hearing, a wailing of sirens, and I search the auras that approach the door. The cops.
"Dammit! Jase, we gotta go. Now!"
He shoots me a look, confusion, then follows me to the back of the house on the second story. I find the first window I see and fling it open with no time to spare. There are a few cops out here as well, they try to hide in the darkness, but I can see nearly perfect in the dark. If we jump, we could get out, maybe. I don't think Jason could NOT get hurt by jumping. I would be fine; I could float down. But Jason…
He sees my dilemma and shakes his head.
"Go, I can stay. I wont get in that much trouble. But if Mrs. Kirkov sees you in the back of a cop car, yet again, she's gonna send you away!"
By now I hear screams from the police to "get on the ground" in the house and screams from the drunk that are curses of terror.
"Go!" He yelled. I nod slowly and jump. My landing is a soft thud, and three cops rush towards me. Looks like I have to fight my way free. The first cop to reach me is older, and all I have to do is sidestep him, his turn is slow. The second cop stays a yard away from me with his tazar held up. I almost laugh. I move inhumanly fast and dodge his tazar and, with cracks of black power, send the shocking strings back into him. He twitches on the ground for a few seconds then goes unconscious. The first and the third cop both run at me again, I run away this time. I know I can outrun them.
The back wooden fence is close now, and in one inhuman jump, I'm over it. Leaving the cops confused behind me. After that little escapade, I stop by a gas station about a mile away from the house. It only took a few minutes, though, because I flew there. I head straight for the bathroom for one purpose; mirror. The image I am presented with is ratted hair and not a scratch or scuff of dirt on me. My thick lined black mascara still holds its flawless shape around my vibrant blue eyes with the point of the tail still in tact, and my cherry red lips smile mischievously. My black tank top has a single red rose on it, with a few fallen petals. My blue skinny jeans are ripped, though I bought them like that. And my black combat boots are laced up and perfect. I run my fingers through my hair and detangle the knots, then make my exit of the bathroom. I buy a cold coffee before I leave the station.
I begin to walk home. Well not home, more like a place I sleep and get punished for various things, sometimes things that aren't my fault. The giant three story house that I make my way to is huge, and it happens to be four miles away. By the time I see the house, I notice one thing.
Cop cars are parked out front, along with an ambulance, a fire truck, and a random long black van. I look closer and the van has the Lithonwood City seal on it, along with the lettering "Coroners" and various other words.
Someone is dead. I feel a cold shiver run through me. Immediately, I turn invisible and walk into the crime scene. Just as I crawl under the yellow caution tape, a news crew pulls up in a van. Cameras and pictures are the only thing that can see me when I am invisible.
Crap. I run inside before they start shooting their piece for the news.
Inside, the living room houses all of the teenagers and children that call this house home. There is crying and muffled sobs that permeates through the walls. I make my way upstairs, where every investigator seems to go. I slip through a door that another police officer just came out of. I freeze as soon as I enter.
The image is horrifying.
Mrs. Kirkov is strung up against the wall with her arms extended out like a cross. At first I think her hands are balled into fists, but really, her fingers litter the floor underneath her. She is still in her white nightgown, though it is a red now with how much blood soaks her. Her face is twisted in a tortured scream, frozen; her eyes are hazy and lifeless. There are many cuts and stabs in her bodice that I actually believe that I will throw up. I turn to leave, but on the back of the door I see red lettering; Mrs. Kirkovs' blood.
It reads;
Where is she?
I shiver again; I feel like the writing is speaking to me, and me alone. But that's ridiculous. There are plenty of others that stay here, and it could just be someone Mrs. Kirkov knew outside the home that the murderer was talking about.
But even then, why did he leave a message?
I shake any further prodding. Then, from behind me, someone notices me. The shock must have made my invisibility drop.
"Who are you? How did you get up here? Why aren't you with the others?"
I am escorted back to the others I saw in the living room. Some look up when I am roughly shoved in, most don't seem to care. I scan the big room for Jason, but I don't see him. I make my way to the window, and perch myself on the sill. The full force of the scene hits me, and I break down.