Strawberry Angel

chapter 10

  IMARAs POV

9:00am

I wake up feeling energized and rested. It feels heavenly. My bed hair is all over my bed spread out and is glowing in the morning sunshine through the huge window in my room. I get up and decide I need to shower. Badly. But first I'm hungry. I head towards the kitchen where I'm betting Liliana is.

I enter the kitchen and see that she's not there. Weird? Liliana is an early bird.

"Liliana?" I lightly yell

No answer

"Liliana!"

Silence.

I leave the kitchen and head towards her room. Inside I see her book in front her face and her wine on the beside table. I see a little bit of drool on her chest and chin. I giggle. I walk over to her bed and take the book off her face. I close her curtains to make it more dark and take her glass of wine. I smile and walk out the door. I'm gonna make her some breakfast today, before she wakes up.

I know I seem useless but I'm actually more useful thank you think. And I'm pretty smart. Throughout my school years I kept my perfect gpa and finished best in my class. I had the best test scores in the state and in my last year of private school I had hundreds of top universities lining up for me, from Harvard, brown, Columbia, Yale, UCLA, Stanford, Oxford, Cambridge, and Princeton. I wanted so badly to go to Columbia and major in writing but my mother and father said I couldn't go to college. They said it was useless and a "waste of my time." It wasn't. Not to me. So I did what any teenage girl would do.... I started a blog.

At first I did it out of anger and wanted to rant about the things I feel and let everyone know being rich and powerful wasn't all that good. I suppose people liked that. It blew up and next thing you know I had 400,000 readers. I was shocked at first because who would have thought people liked hearing my ideas and feelings. Not me. I started to write more and more and eventually people started emailing me whether it was fans, people that wanted an interview or famous papers like the New York Times wanted to write about me. They wanted to know who was behind the famous 'All Good Girls Go To Hell' blog. I went under a fake name called  Anastasia Spark.

So far during my trip I haven't wrote which is not unusual, I sometimes go months without writing but I plan on posting about my trip to New York. I'm not gonna make it to detailed but enough to make my readers happy to let them know I'm real.

My parents don't know I'm very talented. Nobody actually. They think since they've kept me locked up I don't know how to do anything but I can. I can kick a good freaking roundhouse, (I don't know how to fight but that enough to knock someone right?) pick locks, have very strong photographic memory, I know how to cook and write.

But no one seems to know since I've never gotten the chance show it except that time the man tried to.. me in the booth. I shiver. But to be fair I was in a bad position. I couldn't roundhouse him.

I take out all the ingredients for the eggs and waffles I'll make. Some oil, salt, eggs, and batter later they're being served onto a plate when I hear someone walk in.

"Morning sunshine" I say in a happy voice

"Yeah, yeah.. Good morning, I guess."

I laugh and pass her plate. She eats it and compliments me on it.

"Thanks. So...are you gonna tell me what happened now or.."

She looks back up and smiles.
She's out of grumpy ville

"What do you want to know" she winks

"Not the thing your implying." I say disgusted. She laughs.

"What happened after I left?"