Deeper Wounds [[Chapter 2]]

Hours later, I let myself in the house. No one is home, so I run into the bathroom and lock the door behind me – just in case.
I stand, 5’6, in the florescent light. It rebounds off my skin as I reach into the drawer. I take my pretty razor from its hiding place and press it to my skin. Red bubbles up.
I wince in pain and clean my arm with a dark towel.
My heart swells and crashes against my ribcage. I inhale sharply before carefully poking the razor back into the drawer. I unlock the bathroom door and sprint into my room.
Why am I feeling this way? Usually cutting is a release for me. Not today, I guess.
I sink against my door and cradle my head in my hands. Tears slip down my cheeks.
“Sophia!” Someone is calling my name. I wipe my salty tears, unlock my door and slip downstairs.
Mom is in the kitchen, carefully leaning over a pizza box. She daintily lifts the lid and dodges the grease that floats into the air. She hates pizza.
“Tell Chloe that it’s time dinner.” She orders. I walk into the family room and call Chloe, who is playing with wooden blocks.
“Dinner. Mom got pizza.” I say. Her face lights up and she kicks the blocks. They scatter around the room.
She follows me into the kitchen like a lost puppy.
“Sophia? Did you pick up my medicine from the drug store? I asked you about it last night.” Mom asks. She grimaces at the pizza.
“No. I forgot. I can get it after supper.” I reply, lifting pizza from the box. I shove it into my mouth and grab the car keys from the table.
I slam the door on my way out and face the freezing wind. It sweeps into my coat and cradles my body. I shiver and open the car door.
I hop inside and push the key into the ignition. The car purrs and I turn on the heater.
I speed down the street and pull into the parking lot of the drugstore before the car has a chance to warm up.
I go into the drugstore. The woman working at the cash looks up and smiles warmly. I nod and slip down Aisle Four.
I scan the boxes of medicine. Cough drops… Children’s Advil… Regular Advil… I take a box of cough medicine for Mom and get a box of Advil for myself because my scars are starting to throb.
I quickly pay for the medicine and get into the car. By the time I start the car, snow has started to fall from the sky.
Winter comes early here.

Hey, I caught some things that may help, I'm sorry if I sound harsh, I don't want to hurt your feelings. (:

Hours later, I let myself in the house. No one is home, so I run into the bathroom and lock the door behind me – just in case.
I stand, 5’6, in the florescent light. It rebounds off my skin as I reach into the drawer. I take my pretty razor from its hiding place and press it to my skin. Red bubbles up.
I wince in pain and clean my arm with a dark towel.
My heart swells and crashes against my ribcage. I inhale sharply before carefully poking the razor back into the drawer. I unlock the bathroom door and sprint into my room.
Why am I feeling this way? Usually cutting is a release for me. Not today, I guess.
I sink against my door and cradle my head in my hands. Tears slip down my cheeks.
“Sophia!” Someone is calling my name. I wipe my salty tears, unlock my door and slip downstairs.

In this, I would like to see maybe more emotion and what she feels while she is cutting herself, rather than telling. Also, you say that when she gets home, there is no one there, then someone is calling for her downstairs after it seems like she was home for ten minutes.


Also, the way you explain her getting home, then her getting to the drug store seems rushed. Try and add more detail and what she is thinking to make it more interesting to the reader. Just another thought.


Another thing is that you put many "I" to start sentences. For example, in the sentence you say "I speed down the street and pull into the parking lot...", you could change it to "My foot pushed hard on the gas peddle, and I sped down the street..."
It's not the best example, but you could use something like that.

Overall, it sounds like a good start. I hope I helped in some way. (: