TO LOVE OR TO HATE?

Chapter one.

Have you ever felt that everything you have been told was merely a lie? A façade to conceal what could possibly change all that seems logically right? Welcome to my world.

For months I have been feeling these conflictions, sensing that my parents haven't been completely honest with me. Though then again, I never tell them all the specific details, however, how could one inform a reasonably normal couple that their daughter is capable to do the impossible with a single thought? That's what I say; makes the guilt all the more bearable to think that if she would find out the truth, your own mother would throw you into a mental asylum without a second thought.

I am not a typical ten year old, that was evident from the moment I was introduced to other children. They bullied me for being abnormal, like normal childish banter. Though as I said: I am not normal. Are average children able to make objects move without touching them? Are they capable of preventing clumsy accidents from occurring before it has even happened? Most of all, are they able to cause severe pain from just the resentment of their thoughts? No, they cannot. This is hence the reason why I was, and remain to be, an isolated outcast. Not that I mind all too much, as I discovered at a remarkably young age that the enthralling, metaphorical twists and turns of books are much better company. I took solace in my imagination, ignoring the aforementioned and becoming a quite, yet confident young girl. Their comments never bothered me. Apart from one, horrific time

It was solely an accident, and I remain ashamed to this day. It is the reason that I am no longer targeted, but avoided.

Anyway, back to my deceitfully loving parents. As I walk down our tranquil close where our homely house resides, I contemplate how I go about confronting my mother. She is kind and fragile, and I detest having to trample on her emotions, though her lying has gone on for long enough. If being resilient and harsh is what is needed to get the truth out of her, then so be it, however, it will be a last resort.

Walking through the door, absently throwing my woollen fleece onto the coat rack, I slipped of my shoes and entered the living room. My mother was sitting on our miniscule leather sofa while sipping her traditional cup of evening tea, while my stepdad, David, was positioned at the dining room table, typing almost manically on the laptop.

"There you are, Anabela. How was your walk?" My mum inquired casually. Her current placid and comfortable persona making my anxiousness increase.

"Fine," I replied, just as calmly, "a little chilly, but peaceful, I guess. Is there anything you want me to do before dinner?" Foolish, Anabela, Foolish! If I play the innocence up to much she will suspect something! The "can I do anything for you" has got to be the most cliché phrase in getting what you want, she will see right through it. Not like I don't help around the house, on the contrary I aid quite a bit, but if mum is lying on the sofa, everything must be done and dusted.

I held my breath as she replied; "no, but could you set the table? Dave, clear your God forsaken stuff away! Don't just put it on the draws, I only just cleaned the house this morning!" She exclaimed as David went to put his work things on the newly polished ottoman. Damn it, her getting agitated is the last think I need. So me being the omnibenevolent daughter, I rushed to take the folder off my stepfather, earning a grateful smile from both fronts.

"Thank You, Bel" Dave said as he passed me the other set of papers from the table.

"No problem, Gibbs" I responded, a non-harmful smirk falling into place. To be honest, Dave and I were not like your archetypal stepdad and stepdaughter, despite him being the only father figure I have ever known. If our relationship was anything it would be that insufferable, though friendly(sometimes) sibling rivalry.

Still holding one end of the folder, Dave bent over ever so slightly, nearly unnoticeably, to my height, the exchange of his work making it look casual. "Whatever you want to say, Anabela, you better ask now while she is in tolerable mood." He muttered in my ear.

A grin identical to mine appeared on his face as he watched my once gleeful expression contort into one of both surprise and horror. He inclined his head towards the kitchen, indicating me to carry on with my performance.

I glared at him as I opened the utensil draws and pulled out three pairs of knives and forks without really knowing what we were having. The aroma of pasta bake evaded my nostrils and I internally groaned, despising the burnt texture that my mother's cheesy tuna pasta bake always took. Clenching my teeth, I turned back towards the dining room table and began laying the necessities.

The thunderous sound of rushing blood distorted my hearing as my heart pounded in my ears due to the building apprehension of the inevitability of my question. At that moment I had officially experienced deafening silence. It was now or never.

"So...It is my birthday next week." Suddenly the silence became silent as the impact of my statement took effect. My mum visibly tensed, the hand holding her mug contracting with such ferocity that I was surprised the cup didn't smash. Dave's face lost its smile when he realised what monstrosity of a subject he had encouraged: my birthday.

"Yes it is, Sweetheart. Want anything in particular?" Despite the question being innocent enough, the slight quiver in her voice indicated her distress.

"How about the truth." I threw at her, all the anger of being lied to mixing in with my urgency to know this big 'secret'. She wasn't getting out of this, neither of them were. This tale is something I have wanted- no needed for a long time, and when humanity need things to survive, they are as determined as crazed beasts to get their share. And I have just clenched my teeth around my prey.

Hello guys, as you see I have decided to completely re-write my previous story. Apologies to those who preferred the old one, however, I was no longer satisfied with the way it was directing. So I chose to write this instead. Don't threat, it is not changing entirely; just a slightly different characterisation and manipulated plot. I really wish you all enjoy this update of the new and improved (hopefully) "I'm Voldemorts Daughter and I May Love Harry Potter": "To Love or to Hate?"

Eliza.