Very sad cry , and for your sake, I hope it is not a true story.
I noticed some tense errors as well as some spelling/typo errors. I hope you don't mind, but I rewrote it with what I think is correct but sticks to the original a little less than word for word. I don't know if it'll be helpful or not, but here you go anyway. I'm guessing the killer in the end was your father? I don't say that, but I'm curious.
Broken Glass
When I was a young girl, my mother had this beautiful glass vase that my grandmother had given her. I never knew my grandmother. She died when my mother was only seventeen.
The vase had been as clear as the blue water in Hawaii, and every Monday my mother would put fresh flowers in it making the house smell of springtime year round.
I would sit on the chair next to the sweet smell of the fresh flowers and my mother would walk by and say, “Madeline, get away from there now, do you hear me? I don’t want you breaking that old thing.”
Still, I stayed in that old chair looking at that beautiful, long-lost, glass vase. It was not until I was much older that I realized why I loved that old thing. It was not so much because of the clear blue color of the vase, or even the sweet smelling flowers that my mother placed in it, but more because I saw a reflection of myself in it being so fragile and peaceful. My mother would always wonder why I sat there from when I got home till when I went to bed.
Then, one night when I was about fifteen, I came home to go and sit in my chair by the vase, but it was not there. I looked around, sadness and feelings of fright overtaking me. I was confused, but most of all I was mad.
I ran up the stairs to find my mother, but when I reached the top of them I heard a scream at the end of the hall where my parent’s bedroom is. I ran toward the room shrieking, “Mom, is that you? Mom, are you okay? Mom, hold, I’m coming!” as I reached the room with tears down my face.
I pushed forward the already cracked open door only to see my mother covered in blood from head to toe. All I could do was scream at the traumatizing sight in front of me, but as I did I heard a crash and instantly I knew it was my mother’s killer dropping the vase I had loved so much to the ground behind me. I was frozen, contemplating if I could turn around and face the animal that had ripped my life out from underneath me. I dug deep down to try and find the courage to do what I knew must be done.
Slowly, I turned around knowing that doing so would most likely seal my death. I meet him eye to eye and fall to the ground realizing who it is. I begin to laugh hysterically as I realize that I am not going to die, but my life will never be the same…
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