Hey. My name is Stellatavia Anastasia Romero. This is my story.
I never thought I'd end up with this. I was always against even the idea. I was afraid. I still am. So many things can go wrong at this point, but I don't suppose it matters. I hope I survive.
I'm sitting in my room, playing Lacrymosa by Evanescence and stomping around the room, when my mother yells,
"Stellatavia! Turn that racket down and come here!"
She is so annoying! Sometimes I just want to tell her to f*** off and kiss my a**. But I don't. I have to live here for two more years so I might as well try to stay alive. I turn off the music and turn around to find myself looking in the mirror. I stare at the girl in the mirror's sharp dark violet eyes, that look like a brooding storm which are framed by her long dark and curly lashes. Her angular face with the high cheekbones, snow white skin, and blood red lips. She has long wavy hair (a lot of it curls upward) that goes down to her hips. She has a mediumly-sized waist and a curvy body that's only about five feet four inches. That girl is me. My mother usually calls my her dark little demon, and I guess she's right. I have the temper of about five drunken men, and when I get mad she says my eyes flash and they turn completely black. Whenever I'm mad it feels like the air is charged with electricity. But she won't let me look at myself when I'm mad. I stomp down stairs to go see what the maternal body wants with me. When I walked into the kitchen I was the prepared for the scene in front of me. My normally strong mother had been reduced to tears slumping in a chair in front of me, while my father leans over her and croons in her ear to get her to calm down. "What's going on?" I say refusing to be weak like my mother. I stand in front of them feet apart, back straight, and hands behind my back. Since my mother is too teary to talk, my father looks up, his face haggard and answers me.
"We need to talk to you about your past."
"What is there to talk about?" I say, my face turning into an emotionless mask.
"Let me start you off by telling you how Amanda and I (*that's the people her in front of her) are not your real parents."
I gape at them, my mouth wide. I remember I'm supposed to be being strong, and the mask comes back.
"That's impossible. You are the only parents I've ever now I have memories of my young childhood with you. You're lying to me."
"Stella, I know this is a lot to take in but you have to understand. Those memories of you as a child with us are real because your real mother and father gave you to us when you were only a couple days old. We were at the hospital because Amanda was giving birth also. At the end of the whole process it was discovered that her baby was stillborn. Your real mother had had you, but said that they were being hunted by-"
"Whoa Whoa. Stop right there. Hunted? What, are my parents tasty looking deer or something?"
"No, your parents are... demons. They are what we would call royalty in their world, and they wanted to keep you safe, so they gave you to us." He said pleadingly. As soon as he had said demons, I had zoned out. Demons don't exist. It's impossible. I was angry now. A cold fire blazed inside of me.
"Why are you making up all these stories? A demon? Really? If you have something to say to me say it now." I said with fury in my voice. He cringed and put a mirror face down in my palm.
"Look at yourself." He said grimmly. I took the mirror and gasped. My hair was swirling around me slithering tendrils like it was underwater or something. MY eyes were two pitch black abysses. The air was crackling and my face was glowing.
"I think you realize now why Amanda and I haven't let you look in the mirror when you're angry. But let me finish. I didn't come down here just to spill what your past is and what you are. Your parents have decided it is safe now and they can come out of hiding, which means you can too. They want you back."
My face is a cold hard mask now. "If they really wanted me they could have kept me. I'm not going with them, and you can't make me." I know I sounded like a petulant five year old but it's true. They can't make me do anything I don't want to do.
"Well, they are coming to meet you tonight for dinner at 6:15 so I hope you will at least get used to the idea of meeting them." He pleaded. My anger flared. How dare they do something like this behind my back.
"Please Stella, for our sake. Your parents have nasty tempers and it doesn't help when they don't get their way." He begged.
"Fine," I said, "but don't expect any enthusiastic behavior. I shall meet them, but nothing more." I replied.
"We wouldn't expect anything else." He said relievedly. I stalked up the stairs my mind whirling unhappily.
"Wear something nice please!" He shouted up to me. Well, let's see what I can come up with. An hour later I had what I was going to wear all planned out. I had black leather pants with rips in them on my bed, a black cami under a tight red Kiss t-shirt, black leather boots, and a cropped leather biker jacket over my t-shirt. For my hair I has going to brush it to silky smoothness and then make it a little crazy looking. For my make-up I was going to put on blood red lipstick with heavy black eyeliner and black mascara and red eyeshadow. I was going to wear my silver dog-tags 'Amanda' had gotten me one time. They were engraved Stellatavia Anastasia Romero on one side, and on the other Dark Little Demon. I had fifteen minutes till they arrived so I painted my fingernails and toenails like a french manicure except instead of clear it was black and instead of white it was red. I had only a couple minutes so I got dressed, did my hair and make-up, and went downstairs to meet our lovely guests. The term lovely being used very loosely. I heard talk and a little bit of laughter in the kitchen and knew they were here.
