How is the beginning of my story? 10 points?

Chapter One
It was a quiet day when the woman got the message.
Her eyes snapped open, but apart from that, she didn’t move. After a second, however, she sighed deeply, a smile playing across her lips while she studied her hands, laid out on the dark wood of the coffee table. Her heart beat wildly in her chest, the message still flooding through her from some unknown source.
“There are others.” She said to herself, and with that, picked up the phone.
-*-
“Anna,” My mother said, “You got mud on your clothes again.”
Oh, great.
“Sorry.” I mumbled, examining my jean-clad knees, overlaid with a crust of dirt. Trying to avoid her eyes. Her awful eyes.
“You always say sorry.” She replied, almost coldly, but with a hint of venom. “How many times do I have to tell you?”
I didn’t say a word; just let the freezing pause hang disconcertingly between us.
She pinched my chin between her taut, pincer-like fingers. Her nails dug in slightly, each perfectly rounded and frilled with a smooth white outline. Each left my skin feeling tainted, foul. Like when you brush up against something disgusting. They drove my face up to meet her, and I had no choice but to look right into her eyes, cold and blue and as impenetrable as hell.
My throat locked as I met with them, and she spoke.
“Anna, honey.” The way she said the last word made my throat even tighter. “I’m just trying to get an answer out of you. You want to clear this right up, don’t you?”
Wordlessly, I nodded against her stiff grip, which she the relinquished. I sucked air in, despite the fact that her hold had been on my chin and not my neck.
“I’ll try to stop.” I told her, keeping my voice normal.
“Okay then. You can go to your room now.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. Making sure my pace didn’t look or sound too fast, I left, closing the door of my room when I got to it.
My name is Anthea, not Anna, whatever my mother says.
My Dad named me, anyway, but he’s long gone, so the name just turned into another reason for my mother to hate me.
So, yeah, that was the normal kind of conversation I had with my mother when she got irritable. They didn’t get at me, though, I was fine. I was invincible. Completely fine.
…Oh God was I scared.
I slumped into the hard-backed rocking chair by the window, drifting back and forth slightly as I stared out. Normal, monochrome road of houses and a long, watery streak of apricot coloured sky. It wasn’t bad, not really. Except for the memories, I guess.
Well, how very emo of me.
I stayed there for at least an hour, staring out of the window. Occasionally I would pick up my diary and jot a few thoughts down, but otherwise I just thought. It’s the only thing I’m really good at I guess. Thinking. Not academically or anything- I suck at most school lessons as well- but I can just escape in my own head for quite a while.
“Anna!” My mother’s voice rose up from below, and I marvelled at how every time I heard it my stomach would curdle sickeningly. Every time.
I hurried downstairs rapidly, not shouting back because I knew it would annoy her, and she’d just tell me to come down and get out of the terrible habit of not going to people to talk to them. By the time I’d tiptoed into the kitchen, she was already drumming her fingers impatiently on the immaculate, glossy brown dining table.
“Anthea.” I immediately knew she was going to ask me to do something, just by the tone of her voice. “We’re out of soap. Go get some from down the road.”
“Sure.” I scrounged some money out of the bowl of dull pennies on the sideboard, and, before she could tell me to do anything else, I was out of the house, onto the cracked pavement and walking.
It was good to get out, away from my mother and her eyes. Her eyes. I can’t tell you how deeply they chill me. It isn’t only the cold poison in them; it’s their… clearness maybe. Like water that I can see right into. Water I don’t want to see right into, because underneath all the stuff I tell myself, I know you shouldn’t see that stuff in your own mother’s eyes.
“Hey there, Anthea.”

Chapter Two
I spun round, arms coming up automatically in defence, but they dropped instantly when I saw who it was.

Sooooo. What do you think? I’m 14, but be harsh as you can, I need to improve. xD
I do indent on word, but for some reason it doesn’t come up. Thanks for the proofreading tip, though.

I’m fifteen and I may not know much about writing, but it sound too confusing. Was the beginning like a preface? I was utterly confused when it changed but I don’t know the full story so I won’t judge on that too much. It’s good though and people do write like this. The "House of Night" books have the same kind of style and once you master how to be a little more organized, you’ll be great. But remember, I’m fifteen, so don’t take my advice as a guideline or anything. Ask your parents what they think or a teacher. I have my aunt editing it when I send it to her because she was an english teacher. Try to get as much criticism as you can and no matter how bad they are, learn from them and perfect it. But just one opinion is not enough. If more them, let’s say ten people, say the same thing needs to change, fix it.

Hope I was able to help. Good luck and good writing. =}

P.S. I’d love to read this in the future.