The Sunset.

Comments in red.

Biffle1 wrote:The sky is alight. Blazing. The blue of it is almost gone; replaced with pink and orange. My eyes reflect the colour, every shining detail of them. I like the description, but the whole eyes reflect the colour sentence is awkward. Revise.

"Irey, get down stairs now!" Father screams. I can hear his over zealous rage. What a great alarm clock... I think. Over-zealous isn't the right adjective for rage. And you don't need to tell us she heard it. You already showed it, Biffle.
"On my way," I call.
"Now!" I must be in some trouble then. I get down stairs to his purple faced glare. Awkward sentence. Revise. He is holding my back pack in his hands. Crap, he's found it. The one thing I kept secret. I cut some words here so that the sentence will flow better. He opens the zip. My heart skips a beat. One beat is all it takes for his mood to change.
"You are an idiot! Do you think parents are stupid? I know what you are doing!" he screams. You don't need to tag every line of dialogue. The readers can follow as long as you pepper it with tags occasionally.
"D-Dad, I-"
"Shut up! You aren't just grounded, I am condemning you to this house! The only times you are allowed to leave is for school!"
"That isn't-"
"I don't care! Go to your room!"
"Yes, Dad." His icy glare doesn't weaken. I hunch over and jog to my room. He found my knife! I can't believe it! A knife? That's it? Why is he so mad? It's not like the knife is bloodstained. I kind of thought it was crack. >>" My door doesn't shut fast enough as I hear a plate smash.

"Uuugggghhh!" I grunt into a soft pillow on my bed. I hear his loud stomps down on the first floor. My room is a mezzanine floor, barely a third storey.
"That son of a bitch has my knife! Ugh!" This sounds stilted. I know you're trying to portray her as tough but this just doesn't flow with the story. I need it. It's like nicotine or pot. Addictive. I pull up my long sleeve jersey. The almost transparent pink lines cover my forearms. Ah, okay. I see the problem. But her dad didn't even bother to check if she's a cutter. He just found a knife. You didn't show that properly. My golden hair falls down over them. She won't think her golden hair fell down over her arms. You don't think, "My black hair comes out in clumps." Usually you go, "My hair fell out in clumps." An idea sparks in my mind. I jump off my blue bed and run to the ornately framed mirror. I look into my deep green eyes before plunging my fist into the reflective glass. Blood pours from deep slashes on my knuckles.

That would be really loud and conspicuous. Her dad would come. And Biffle, I'm not feeling the emotion.

After fresh cuts cover my arms, I hear the phone ring. I run downstairs, forgetting that dad had left three hours ago. I pick up the cordless headset and take it into the living room.
"Hello, is this Irey Mullling?" a deep voice inquires.
"Y-Yeah... Is everything okay?"
"Well, there's been an accident," he says bluntly. Those five words were all I wanted to hear. I knew it was Dad. He's the only family I got left.
"Where," I say it, but it barely comes out as a question.
"Down in the city."

This feels forced and scrunched. Out of nowhere, in fact.

His directions were barely clear but I found the scene. My heart went into overdrive. I saw Dad's car. A big truck.Why did it have to be a big truck? No need for "I think" because all of this is basically her thoughts, more or less. An officer, probably the one from the phone, walks over. The sunset tried to make everything look relaxed, but how could it in this situation?
"Irey?" he inquires.
"Yeah," I say, "I know, he's been hurt, I might need to-"
"He hasn't just been hurt. Irey, he died." I don't think he would break it to her like this.
"No, he can't have. We, we were arguing. I never... I never got to say goodbye..." I trail off. A little cliche. Hmm...when I went to this workshop I remember the drama teacher portraying a scene to show writers and actors the difference silence can make. Think. If she wails, it's not as powerful as her just going quiet, dropping to the floor, not moving and staring silently, right? So I think in this case you should go with quiet. Or at the very least edit what you put up there.
"I know. He only just passed, he wanted me to give you this." Pause. If he was found alive, then he wouldn't be there. He'd be on his way to the hospital. And what about her bleeding arms? I just remember now. He hands me a little black box. I look, uncertainly, at him. The box makes a faint squeak as I open it. Inside is a little charm. A crystal dove, shining brilliantly in the setting sun. Tears brim my eyes. This is the first gift my Father has ever given me. Never on birthdays, not even Christmas. Not enough emotion so far. I mean, there's a decent amount but not enough. This is a very emotional scene. I want you to drag me through the torment she went through. Make me cry, Biffle.

The sky is alight. Blazing. The blue of it is almost gone; replaced with pink and orange. My eyes reflect the colour, every shining detail of them. This sentence repetition makes it much more powerful.

Biffle1 wrote:The sky is alight. Blazing. The blue of it is almost gone; replaced with pink and orange. My eyes reflect the colour, every shining detail of them.

"Irey, get down stairs now!" Father screams. I can hear his over zealous this might only be me, but that doesn't make so much sense at all rage.You could probably put a comma instead of a full stop there, since you are talking about the same thing. What a great alarm clock... I think.
"On my way," I call. It would be better if you add an action of a reaction in this because right now it sounds a bit plain.
"Now!" I must be in some trouble then.You don't really need to say that he is in trouble, because by the sound of his dad's voice it is kind of obvious. I get down stairs to his purple faced glare. He is holding my back pack in his hands. Crap, he's found it. The one thing that I have ever kept secret. He opens the zip. my heart skips a beat. One beat is all it takes for his mood to change.
"You are an idiot! Do you think parents are stupid? I know what you are doing!" he screams.
"D-Dad, I-"
"Shut up! You aren't just grounded, I am condemning you to this house! The only times you are allowed to leave is for school!"
"That isn't-"
"I don't care! Go to your room!"
"Yes, Dad." His icy glare doesn't weaken. I hunch over and jog to my room. He found my knife! I can't believe it! My door doesn't shut fast enough as I hear a plate smash.

"Uuugggghhh!" I grunt into a soft pillow on my bed. I hear his loud stomps down on the first floor. My room is a mezzanine floor, barely a third storey.
"That son of a bitch has my knife! Ugh!" I need it. It's like nicotine or pot. Addictive. I pull up my long sleeve jersey. The almost transparent pink lines cover my forearms. My golden hair falls down over them. An idea sparks in my mind. I jump off my blue bed and run to the ornately framed mirror. I look into my deep green eyes, before plunging my fist into the reflective glass. Blood poors from deep slashes on her knuckles.When did a girl come into the story? Or is that a misspelled word?

After fresh cuts cover my arms, I hear the phone ring. I run down stairs, forgetting that dad had left three hours ago. I pick up the cordless headset and take it into the living room.
"Hello, is this Irey Mullling?" a deep voice inquires.
"Y-Yeah... Is everything okay?"
"Well, there's been an accident," he says bluntly. Those five words were all I wanted to hear. I knew it was Dad. He's the only family I got left.
"Where," I say it, but it barely comes out as a question.
"Down in the city."

His directions were barely clear. But I found the scene. My heart went into overdrive. I saw Dad's car. A big truck.Why did it have to be a big truck? I think. An officer, probably the one from the phone, walks over. The sunset makes everything look relaxed. but how could it in this situation.
"Irey?" he inquires.
"Yeah," I say, "I know, he's been hurt, I might need to-"
"He hasn't just been hurt. Irey, he died." I don't think that anyone would tell someone that one of their family has died in that sort of way.
"No, he can't have. We, we were arguing. I never... I never got to say goodbye..." I trail off.Put some sort of reaction into that, right now, Irey just sound like his puppy has got stuck in a tree
"I know. He only just passed, he wanted me to give you this." He hands me a little black box. I look, uncertainly, at him. The box makes a faint squeak as I open it. Inside is a little charm. A crystal dove, shining brilliantly in the setting sun. Tears brim my eyes. This is the first gift my Father has ever given me. Never on birthdays, not even Christmas.

The sky is alight. Blazing. The blue of it is almost gone; replaced with pink and orange. My eyes reflect the colour, every shining detail of them.

The blue of it is almost gone; replaced with pink and orange.

my heart skips a beat. One beat is all it takes for his mood to change.

Blood poors

Wow. That was really good, Ollie.