What Do You Think Of My Story So Far?

on a scale of 1-10; 10 being pro, 1 being preschool-written
(Please note this is all fiction, nothing I say is real in this story)
Giselle ran her blue hair brush down her blond hair. She glanced nervously over her shoulder; living in downtown Kinshasa was like living in a world of abuse, crazy and hard. There were always at least three shootings a week her on average. Six people had already died this month; two of which were her friends.
Giselle picked up one of her diamond earrings and fumbled with it. Finally pulling off the back of the earring, she shoved it in her ear. She missed the hole.
“Oh shoot,” She whispered angerly, dropping the earring. She could hear the earring fall to the floor. Hardly daring to breath, Giselle realized how quiet it was in her apartment. She cautiosly leaned over and picked up the earring.
Silence. It was horribly quiet in her apartment. She took a step foward, flinching as her high heels clattered against the white linolium flooring.
“Who’s there” She hardly dared to whisper. Louder, she told herself, you have to be louder. She shook her head, no reply.
Giselle looked around the small bathroom franticly. the towel rack caught her eye. She leaned over and pulled the towels off of the rack and set them down gently. She could now hear her heart pounding against her chest. Giselle pushed in the rod, gently sloped it down, pulled it out and held it like a bat. She wouldn’t use it unless if she needed to, would she? She started to breath hard and her hands started to sweat.
“Who’s there? I swear, I’ll hurt . . . ” Something hit her hard on the head.
“Shut up or die.” Someone hissed. Giselle nodded weakly.