Talented

Chapter two

POV Ava 

I knew why the police was here. 

Well, not exactly to the little details, but it was always the same. Something happened in town, and they blame the unlucky ones, the ones with the negative talents. 

I am very high on that list, with my talent being killing. The fact that I also wasn't in town for the biggest part of the day, and no one ever knows where I am after school, doesn't help my case either. 

My father pointed towards me and said: 'That's her, that is my oldest daughter.' 

'I know, we have talked to her before,' said the leader of the group of policemen, who I indeed recognised. The last time I saw him, someone stole a phone, and they immediately thought that I must have sold it after I stole it. The only reason I am not behind bars is because they always bring a truth-feeler with them. Those are people who handle justice, because they can feel it when someone is lying. They themself aren't very good liars either, so at least everyone ends up with what they deserve. 

'What are you charging me for this time?' I asked, pretty sure I sounded bored, but I didn't really care. This wasn't the first time, and it would definetly not be the last time. 

'Murder,' said the man. 

That shocked me. I was charged for a lot of things, but never ever did they think I killed someone. Though my talent is killing, I don't really have one of those faces you would place on a murderer. I am a seventeen year old girl. Not the number one on the list of people you would suspect to kill someone. Well, except for my damn talent of course.

'We don't believe you have done it, but you are seventeen now. We have to count you in, and seeing that your talent stands among the worst there are, we have to count you in a year before you reach adulthood.' 

'Well, I don't know who the truth-feeler is this time, but I didn't do it. I was at the same place as I was during all the other crimes you charged me for.' 

I wanted to walk into the house, when a hand on my shoulder stoped me. It was the policeman. 

'I am sorry, but murder doesn't work like that. When people are charged for murder, they have to meet with a special truth-feeler. The few we have at the office in town here are not trained enough. It happened a few times a killer got away because they could lie so well. We cannot take any chances. You will have to come with us.' 

'How long before I am listened to by the "Special Truth-feeler"?' I asked. 

'Two days to a week. As you might've noticed, our town is a little closed off from the rest of the world,' was the answer I got. 

Great. 

I can be closed up for a week. 

'Why so long?' I asked, wondering. We indeed were closed off, but it couldn't take that long. 

'The leader of the case has to write a report, including the alibis from all the suspects, and then has to send that to the truth-feeler, who has to read everything through, so they know what questions to ask to be sure people don't lie.' 

Have I already told you I hate my talent and the problems it brings? It is the first thing people ask about when you meet them, and the thing most people remember better than your name. I hate it.  

'You can grab some stuff if you want to,' the man said. 

'I will grab my pillow, and then I will be back.' 

'Jason will be going with you, so you can't run through your window.' 

I let out a long sigh. I would be having a babysitter follow me to my room. The only place in the house I could feel at home. 

I walked into the house, my backpack from school still over my shoulder, and walked up the stairs. I slept in the attic of the house. That way my family sometimes could forget I exist. It was a big room, so you would not hear me complain, and the lighting inside is beautiful. 

I went inside my room, that was just like I left it this morning. Some clothes over my chair, the beautifully painted sea on the walls, my white wardrobe and some shelves on the wall. I grabbed some school books, my favourite book series and my pillow, and stuffed them inside a bigger backpack than my schoolbag, though both of them were dark blue with dark purple flowers. I also grabbed my favourite clothes (some of them from the chair, they are so comfy, don't judge me) and underwear. By the last one I was fully aware that Jason was still standing in my room. I also emptied the schoolbag into the bigger backpack, and stuck my phone in the back pocket of my jeans.

I zipped the bag closed and just walked out of the room. There were no things I really cared about in that room. Just the books. The other things were at the treehouse. I didn't have pictures or something like that, because no-one ever cared enough to take a picture with me. It used to hurt, but it doesn't anymore. I just don't have to care about anyone, and no-one has to care about me. I can survive on my own. 

I would have to, because it looks like I will be on my own forever.

I left the house with a wave to my family, and left with the police guys. This is going to be a long week, without training or going to my treehouse.

Rereading this (and correcting mistakes) I realise how sad she sounds XD (It is not funny when people are closed out, but I just didn't know I had this kind of writing in me)