Lara
This can’t be happening. None of this is real. It can’t be.
But the dead body at my feet is as real as it gets, and the cooling puddle of blood I stepped in even more so. It’s gross, slippery, and wet against my bare feet, and I want to cry and gag in equal measure.
It was dark outside when I got home, and none of the lights were on since all three of my mates were out. There was no need to turn them on, either; I know this house well, and can move around in the dark with no problem. But that’s only if there’s nothing obstructing my path like this dead body.
I’m frozen in shock, and I don’t know what to do. Logically I know I need to call the agency and report this, but I can’t move. I can’t think beyond the blood between my toes and the mass of dark shadows I refuse to look more closely at. I already made the mistake of trying to figure out what it was that was in the way to my bedroom, and now my hands are sticky, all because I mapped out the face of this poor victim and the massive gaping slit across its throat.
I had gagged then.
Suddenly I hear the sound of sirens past the ringing in my ears, and I dare to breathe a sigh of relief at knowing help is on the way.
* * *
Why? Why am I on the floor in cuffs that strip me of my magic? Why are my coworkers screaming and glaring at me?
They know I didn’t do this. They know I wouldn’t, so why am I being treated like a criminal?
I’m yanked to my feet, and I wince at the strain in my shoulders. I’m shoved through my house and out the door, still doing everything I can to avoid looking at the body, afraid to see who was murdered in my house. Afraid to see all the blood, the gaping wound on their neck, and what I assume will be sightless eyes, now that the lights are all on, making their corpse impossible to ignore.
One glance is all it takes, and I curl in on myself, stomach heaving. Joel, the Sinless Agent shoving me in the back, doesn’t bother stopping despite the bile working its way up my throat.
It was worse than my imagination had put together. So much worse.
My feet grind to a halt, and I hurl all over my entryway, much to Joel’s scoffing disgust. I empty my stomach until there’s nothing left, yet still I gag.
I’m shoved out the door, down my walkway, and into a waiting patrol car. My head smacks into the doorframe and I wince, but Joel doesn’t slow until all my limbs are inside the vehicle. Then he slams the door, and somehow, that feels so final.
* * *
I’m not allowed a phone call. I’m not allowed to plead my case. They claim I’m the one responsible for the string of murders throughout the city. They claim the body in the house was just my latest victim, and that I was getting sloppy. Another body was found shortly before my arrest, and they tied me to the scene with a single strand of hair.
Hair.
A piece of my hair somehow ended up on the victim's body.
They all think I did it. That I killed them, and nothing I say changes their minds. They won’t even allow me to see my mates. They won’t allow me to leave the warded cell until the hearing where my magic will prove my innocence. It’s been a long eight days, but the trial will show them all they are wrong.
* * *
No. No. No.
It’s red. My magic is red. But how? I didn’t kill anyone. I didn’t do this. Yet my magic is blood-red rather than the sky blue it should have been.
How?
How is this possible?
Someone must be manipulating it. That’s the only explanation.
My gaze meets the blue of Kelvin’s before landing on Max’s green. They look shocked and outraged, but not at me. Never at me. They know I’m innocent. They know this is a setup, and they want vengeance. They’re standing now, ready to rush to me, but the guards standing in front of them are enough of a deterrent, at least for now.
Everything is so muffled and my vision is blurry. I think… I think I’m going to pass out.
The world is going black around the edges now, and I welcome it.