Please? Would You Read My Story?

Please tell me if it sound crappy. Rate it from 1-10.
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“Hey dad.” I said. “Morning.” He replied. The Daily News and coffee was on the table. I made myself waffles with some orange juice and sat with him. He mentioned, “In the news, it said two people have been missing since last week. So be careful.” I nodded my head and ate. “Are you going to do anything to keep you busy Amber? You can’t keep watching TV and going on the computer all the time. You finished your summer homework?” He said. I nodded. “I posted letters saying I’ll baby-sit and clean houses’ No one has called me yet.” He kept looking at the paper, gave me a hug, and went to work.
I did laundry, bought some groceries, cleaned my room, and took a nap. About four hours I wasted and it was noon. I changed into a Capri, black shirt, and black sequin sneakers. Nothing to do! Another four hours went by and my mom came back from work. She went straight to bed. I already had like three meals in two hours; your supposed have three a day. I ate half of what I bought and went back outside to buy more groceries. Someone called me to be at their house at six o’clock pm. Like about an hour it took me to find the house. On the left handle of my bike were my cleaning supplies. Keys in one pocket, cell in the other. A guy older than me answered the door, maybe five or ten years. Maybe twenty-six. He stared at me for two minutes. Weird. “Babysitting or cleaning?” I asked. “Oh I’m sorry, I was thinking of something else.” He said. After I put my stuff on the counter, there must have been at least five locks on the door. All the windows were shut and covered. Almost all of the house was covered except for the flashing of the TV. As he was about to turn the light on I swear I saw a knife. Something shone in the moonlight, something silver. He turned the light on, “My keys.” He replied. His blue eyes shone in the dark, but his black hair camouflaged. Nothing major to clean in the kitchen. He came in and said, “Nice work.” My golden eyes sparkled with pride. “What’s your name?” He asked. The sparkle faded.
“Amber.” He smiled. “Amber means joy and happiness, fascinating. Your eyes match your name. Brown is soft and nice, just like your hair.” Kind of uncomfortable here, but was that a compliment? “Thanks. Anything more?” He told me to clean some of his living room, nothing bad. He kept watching me. Awkward! Snap! My scrunchy broke and my caramel hair flowed out. I put my hair behind my ear. “Anywhere else?” I asked. “Basement.” He replied. He showed me and I think he went back upstairs.
As I waited for the machine to stop, there were footsteps. His eyes were sinking into my back. “I need to leave by eight and to call my parents.” He watched as I dialed the number. “No reception.” He said. A knife slid out from his back. I ran towards the stairs, but he blocked me, I watched the knife, and kicked his knees. He dragged me down by the ankle; I tried to hold something, and kicked his face. Snap! I broke his nose.
I locked the door and put a chair against the door. He shouted my name. His hands were coming out of a hole in the door searching for the knob. He shouted my name and I called the cops. Twenty minutes I had to distract him. “Amber!” An angry voice shouted. I hid in his closet curled into a ball, my black shirt making me invisible with my hair. My eyes would sell me out. The knife shone through the moonlight. He got out and saw my eyes. Just perfect. It’s like me shouting, “I’m over here!”
He pulled me up by the arm. If he tightened his grip on me, I bet I’d loose my circulation of blood flow. “Run again and you’ll regret it.” Like I don’t regret coming here in the first place. There was a red, white, and blue light coming from the wind. “You called the cops on me? You’re way quicker than those other two.” Fear crept in my mind reminding of the two people who were missing a weak ago. A knock on the door, he put his hand around my waist and the knifepoint to my back. If I made a mistake, he would pierce it.
The officer saw how uncomfortable I was and asked, “Ma’am, are you ok?” I nodded. He forgot the knife that was to my back and turned around, the officer saw it. Quickly, he put the knife to my neck; the officer backed off and went outside. Something wet streamed down my face. My ribcage started hurting, I couldn’t breathe. I stopped fighting. Everything seemed fuzzy and I collapsed.
The pain went away. There was a hand to help me, but the wrong person. I watched the knife; again I kicked him, but hard to the chest. He fell backwards and crashed into something, I rolled over and ran, then looked back. Where is the knife? There was a pain in my thigh, I fell and limped outside. A trail of blood followed me as I struggled to move faster. The police were outside and helped me into an ambulance. My parents were running towards me. I put