b2b b2c infomations

i started writing this story about this girl named Alice.
please keep in mind that this is a very little part of the first chapter. there is a ton more.
please tell me the what you think. be honest please you won’t hurt my feelings if you don’t like it. if you don’t like it how can i fix it? thanks
Chapter 1 Worthless
BANG! The door hit the wall as it opened. That was going to leave a dent. “I can’t stand it!” Jimmie yelled. He was exhausted and as dirty as a muddy pig from working so hard on the farm all day. “It’s official” he continued, “Mother is dead and it won’t be long until your fifteenth birthday. You will leave me just like her.” I sighed so what if I never really met my mother? I know most kids would never be able to think of never having parents or even someone to take care of you. But really when nobody ever did things for you when you were little, you learned how to do those things for yourself.
“That won’t happen to me.” I assured him, hoping my face wasn’t giving anything away. “Yeah right,” he answered as if he could see right through my words, “that’s just what mom said to Great Uncle James! You are not fooling anyone with those words.” I huffed with desperation for an answer. What had happened to mom? Why would she leave us, her children? None of this ever made sense to me.
At this time I knew I had to be dreaming. It was obvious because I could see mom and at that point I was one hundred percent sure she had passed. She had bright red hair maybe even too bright for a natural color and wore an angered and desperate look on her face. She turned to Jimmie to touch him. When she did, we both watched him burn to the ground. My eyes were bulging and she smiling with an evil glint in her eyes.
Screaming erupted the room as I realized it was me. I woke up scared to death of the sight I just saw. “Just a dream,” I assured myself panting. I tried not to think of it anymore until I was sure I had a hold on myself.
After calming down, I realized that the dream I had was more then “just a dream.” The beginning anyway was more like history. Mother never actually killed Jimmie physically, but her death and when I ran away was enough to do it. I had left him to take care of himself, but there was a very good reason why.
I sat up and sighed, every morning started the same way as the one before. I heard heavy thuds coming down the hallway. “George,” I said under my breath as an explanation. Would they ever just leave me alone? Yeah, yeah they are ruining my life blah, blah. I know just like any teenager would say. The door creaked as he walked in. I held my breath just waiting for the awful news to show up already.
“The news is good, Alice,” I sighed apparently the bad news was never going to show up. “The committee wants to see you again.” Wow they are getting pushy lately! Why wouldn’t they just give up on me?
I got up and looked in the mirror at my bright red hair that looked like tongues of flame that flowed past my shoulders. I tucked a strand behind my ear. Nobody had a hard time finding me in a crowd. It was like a huge sign over my head saying look here! Look at me!
Finally I looked into my eyes. Knowing they could make someone become lost into their own thoughts just by staring at them, I never really stared at anyone for long amounts of time. It drove me nuts when some guy would take one look at me and boom the that-is-one-hot-girl-I-should-fall-in-lo… look crossed his face. Why can’t these guys have some common sense and realize that I am more dangerous then they know.
I turned back to George, “fine I’ll go, but they better not anger me like last time.” “Yes” he merely answered and stomped out the door. George was a very big man and he was getting his gray hairs. It seemed like his style was always out of whack to. Wearing cowboy boots and some sort of freaky hat was his fashion statement.
I turned back to the mirror. I, however, was flawless and perfect at age 15, forever. Yes, it was true that something was definitely wrong with me. I haven’t aged in ten years. Though it may sound cool it was more closely related to miserable if you asked me.
Really all I am is an immortal girl who can burn things when angry. So many things I had destroyed. Why couldn’t I be normal? But no, I had to be the odd out. The one who makes people get their vision checked just to see if I was really what they were seeing.
Anger filled me. I felt heat pumping up. I meant to just push the mirror away, but instead when I touched it, the mirror burned to the ground. Fire. How weird just a little anger did so much damage. Control was key, but my anger usually took over. It was very powerful and a defensive tool perhaps. But I never found much need. Somehow the committee believes otherwise.
I took one more glance around the room. There was a small bed in the corner with the same old faded blue quilt on it. This quilt was already old when I came here ten years ago. I woul

yes very very good, you need to have it published!
keep on writing!

This story was bloody terrible cuzzzzz booo marrt.

Hi Kelli
If you are between eight and 12 years old, this story shows real promise and I hope you continue pursuing your interest in writing. If you are a teenager, you might profitably think of focusing on other lines of work–unless you are committed to working VERY hard to overcome your obvious shortcomings to become a writer. If you are an adult, forget about writing as a career, or even a hobby. You have a tin ear, plus your spelling and grammar are beyond the pale. Even your first name is misspelled.

I like the efforts you have put in this, thanks for all the great posts.