Depressed and Demented

I have a plot I believe might fit this story, the girl in the story is the main characters little sister. Here is the plot: the eldest brother of a happy family ran away and everyone thought he was dead and the family went downhill from there, now he has returned needing a place to stay. Please tell me if you think this will work for a beginning for this plot, or any thoughts in general about the plot and the writing below



STORY



         A young girl was seated softly on the dark purple bed set, her feet planted firmly on the floor and her left foot tapping with impatience.  She glanced at the white clock, it was the only thing hanging on the dark purple walls.  The white second hand hit the 12, and once again it was 6:30 in the evening, time to get down to business.  She reached for the nightstand, besides the bed and clock it was the only piece of furniture in the room, she wrapped her fingers around the cold metal handle.

         She pulled the drawer towards her, her heart beating faster as she listened to the slow groan of wood grinding against wood.  She reached in her hand delicately grasping for the familiar coolness and odd shape of the small pocket knife. She held out her left hand palm up and stared at the tiny blue line that snaked through her arm, past her wrist, and into her hand.  Her whole life depended on that thin blue string, without it, her lonely soul would be no more and she would be rotting in but another grave, forgotten amongst the masses.  She placed the sharp side of the cool blade to her wrist, her pale skin tingling under its familiar touch.

         She released the breath she had been holding in one short quick rush, she could feel it now. The small fast vibration sent through the blade by her pulse, her body trying to prepare itself for what was to come.  She peered down at her pale skin, it was so fragile, so frail, with one quick movement it could all be over so quickly, and it was, oh, so easy.  She gently pushed the blade into her wrist to the right of the vein, watching as the slight skin split.  She pulled the knife onward edging it closer and closer to the precious vein, then she saw it.

         The bright crimson liquid streaming from the incision she had made and streaking across her skin like a vibrant ribbon.  Her hands quivered and halted a mere few centimeters from the most vital part of the vein, and she was proven once again a coward.  She stared at the blood, watched as it flowed through the creases in her out stretched hand, as it filled the small lines in her palm and trudged on till it rolled off her fingertips.

         She watched as droplet after precious droplet fell from her long skinny fingers and plummeted toward the newspaper she had laid out to protect the white carpeted floor. Then she felt it, the burning sensation, the stinging, the pain.  It had hidden itself as she watched the bright blood only to relinquish its fury on her all at once. She bit her lips trying not hold back a cry of pain, tears welled up in her eyes but she tried to blink them back. She was successful, well almost, a single tear ran down her face and fell toward the newspaper just as the blood had done. She reached toward the nightstand where a small first aid kit sat, though its supplies were diminishing from over use.

         She fumbled with the opening the  latch, it wasn't very easy to do one handed, but when it was finally open she reached for the antiseptic wipe.  She tore off the paper packaging and threw it down before dabbing at the wound, the winced in pain, oh how it stung.  She reached for the gauze and wrapped it tightly around the cut her fingers trembling as she worked.  Last of all she grabbed medical tape and fastened the make shift bandage securely.  She glanced down at the bandaged hand, again she had failed to complete her abyssal desire.

          She bent down hastily picking up the blood-stained newspaper trying her best not to put strain on her damaged hand she crumpled the paper into a large ball.  She exited the room a frown on her face. She quickly walked to the small bathroom at the end of the hall and tossed the paper into the waste basket that held many more just like it.