DOA-Devil Or Angel

TWO

Present...
   “Ana, eat up your food,” she says. Meanwhile all he does is scowl at me, before returning to his soul crushing world of virtual reality also known as the smart phone. One of the useless, immoral gadgets I declined having, even after offered to me by the people who claimed a false title of parents to me. Documentarily, they share the same DNA with me. Genetically, they are these unfortunate, unfruitful bastards who were so unlucky as to have picked me up from my slow but steady misery called life, and invited me to be a permanent member of their unfortunate family.
    Okay, let's cut to the chase. My name's Anastasia Zaitseva. My hobbies are sleeping and doing nothing at all. I like nobody and enjoy absolutely nothing...except sleeping, that is. Raised in Moscow, Russia, I presently base in Massachusetts, USA. Aged 17 and usually referred to by peers as gothic, I have taken a like to nothing, attachment to no one and given my heart out to nobody at all. I'm 5'6 and naturally horrific by nature. I grew up from the devil's point of view and learnt, the hardest way possible, not to trust anyone, leaving me to my own distinct world with one cast only: yours truly.
    “Eat up your food!” The sound of precisely manicured hand slamming against the table jolts me out of my reverie. I have to hide my vicious smirk rudely invading my face. I love it when she gets angry. 
    I look at the food boastfully sat in front of me and wonder, just for a split second, what would happen if I flip it over, earning a shatter and a definite scream from her side, an angry growl from his side, then an intense punishment from a teamwork of both their abilities. This causes a forbidden chuckle, which in turn earns a scowl from both their sides.
     “Well since you're clearly not hungry,” she says wistfully. “Why don't you go up to your room, Ana.”
   Obliging her command, I silently stand up, the sound from the wooden chair briefly eloping the silence in the room, before smirking my way up to my room. Went just as planned. As if on cue, I hear the rattle of keys before the firm clank, notifying me about my newly locked door, as expected.
   I jump on my overly huge sized bed and close my eyes, wishing myself to sleep....
  A sleep that never quite comes. Instead, I take out my ancient and equally efficient typewriter and do the one thing that brings me comfort, writing.
In all actuality, none of my series of books have successfully been published but the devil would actually be dumber than I thought if he thinks that that fact would actually deter me. I reread the last paragraph, swallow up a breath of air through my nostrils, then begin typing.
   The best part about being a writer could factually be described as building up your own world. Every single cast, event, plot, theme, setting, are all little bits of your own imagination. The eloquent display of the characters are only the metamorphosis of the writers thoughts, the writers world. That alone is what keeps me going in my own personal world.
The thick forest replied to her movements as she jungled through the crispy grasses. Little did she know, it was too late. Never had she felt so scared, desperate and alone. However, she refused to give up, having enough dare to look death in the eye. The disgruntled sound from the creature was muffled up by the lengthened grasses which did nothing to affect the adrenaline pumping through her veins. Suddenly, she came to an abrupt stop. Soft, hastened breath was all she heard before her total blackout...
  The soft rasps on my door brings me out of my short trance. “Ana,” it was her again. “Your father and I are stepping out for a bit, are you sure you don't need anything?” I refuse to reply her.          Soft whisperings comes before a mumbled, “Your loss, then.” The high pitched clinks of her overly priced heels alerts me of their departure and a weight lifts off my shoulder almost instantaneously, even with the knowledge that the door hasn't been unlocked. I can use the spare key I had stolen years ago, but opt not to. It wouldn't do me good anyways.
  I return my only valued gadget back to it's table before laying restlessly on my bed, waiting for sleep to make a move on me.

Author's note
  Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Make sure to catch on with the next :-)