Could you critique my short story? PLEASE DON'T ANSWER UNTIL I PUT THE

[FeelingSorryeee]

END IN THE ANSWER ? I can't believe I'm doing this. Is all I could think as I walked into the building. The air was frigid and windy, my nose and ears were freezing and red. I thought as I saw myself in a window reflection. I always seem to see myself in the reflection of windows and stop and see how I look. I guess I'm just very vain. I walked throughout the rows of books. I had gotten there a little early and I always found the sight of books very comforting. I don't know if it's because there were always books around my house but they just remind me of warmth and happiness. I like to flip the pages and feel the shuffle of the pages. I found the room we would be meeting in. Ms. Bernstein was already there. I went into the room. I took my coat off and rested it on the chair. I sat down, and immediately got the chills. I looked out the window and saw all of the cars. The people. I love to watch them, they are always moving and turning. They act like they are always rushing somewhere even if they are not that's why I don't like adults. My eyes turned back to the room. *Ms. Bernstein had finally realized I wasn't going to break the ice and speak first so she said "Good Morning, Stella." I always hated my name it just sounds devious like the name of one of the evil stepsisters in Cinderella. "Good morning," I said in a monotonous tone. "How are you?" I don't know how to answer this question, I never know. You want me to pretend say I'm good! I'm not good! I'm bad! I'm terrible! I'm the kind of terrible that terrible thinks is awful! So I say "Fine," Which is a neutral answer. Ms. Bernstein is a plump older woman around 55 or so. With thin brown hair and weird sweaters that she wear everyday. I hope I never look like that. Of course I've never even dreamed of being alive after the age of 27. "So I understand you scheduled this meeting to discuss your mother." she said with a tone that said she didn't really care. "So I understand there may have been some... Things going on in your family."
the tone continues throughout the whole sentence. Things? Abuse, drinking, screaming, anger. Yes, many things go on at my house. "Can you please describe them to me?" I don't know what to say. My thoughts drift to the window. I give in and turn my head to face the window. I see people getting off a bus. An old woman, a college student, a woman with a crying baby. I feel like I'm always looking for somebody to listen to me, to love me to teach me how to be happy because I never learned. Suddenly my silent thoughts are broken by Ms. Bernstein's nasal voice. I turn back towards her. "I can wait," She took out lipgloss and put it on her lips. Suddenly, I'm pushed into a different world. A third grade world in a car, with my Mother. The colors are more vivid than when I actually saw them with my eyes. But I'm not remembering this to see the colors. "Are you wearing lip gloss?!" she screamed. "Yes Mom just a little I thought it looked pretty." I said quietly through muffled sobs. Suddenly he
Suddenly her hand came down and smacked me twice. She forced me to get out of the car. "Go to your piano lesson!" she screamed. I'm thrust back into present time. I realize I'm sobbing. Suddenly I can't breathe, I feel like my heart has stopped and I start to make a strange noise. Ms. Bernstein looks alarmed. "I'm sorry! I've got to go! I can't do this right now!" I run through the hall weezing and gasping tears pouring down my cheeks like rain. I bumped into a janitor but I just kept running. Until I reached the bathroom. I ran to the sink and splashed water onto my burning hot face. I went into the stall and ran my fingers over the rows of cuts. My breathing started to slow down,so I walked outside to get some air. The frigid air is more comforting now than it is bothersome as it was before. I took some deep breaths. I heard steps behind me. It's Ms. Bernstein she comes over and gives me an awkward hug. "I'm sorry, Let's go back inside Hun I think we need to talk a little more." I wa

Hun I think we need to talk a little more." I walked back inside with her in a complete daze. We went back into the library but instead of sitting in the formal, rigid conference room we sat on the reading chairs*and she got me a tea from the teacher's lounge. When I came back from my strange dream she said "Honey, what happened before. Tell me what it was like." I took a sip of tea and a deep breath. "Well to start I felt like I was having a heart attack... Sorry for running away I was just so scared." I said as sincerely as I could. I'm not sorry for anything. I still want to run away. Ms. Bernstein can't help me she'll just call child protection service and I'll just be hauled off to some foster home. "Stella, what happened though. Panic attacks like that don't just happen out of nowhere they need to be triggered. What was triggered what happened?" I tried to condense my thoughts into a few sentences in vain. "Your, well it was your lip gloss that made me do that. I get flashbacks o

[MaxwellIngram]

The story is interesting because I feel like there are a-lot of people who can relate to it. However, the way you structure your sentences is just kind of un-appealing. Keep writing and you will work the kinks out. It sounds good so far, but I would like to see where you are going from here.

Pleaaseeee read my short story. It's only a chapter so far.

[MaxwellIngram]

The story is interesting because I feel like there are a-lot of people who can relate to it. However, the way you structure your sentences is just kind of un-appealing. Keep writing and you will work the kinks out. It sounds good so far, but I would like to see where you are going from here.

Pleaaseeee read my short story. It's only a chapter so far.