Antique Persian Rugs

Is this opening for my story OK so far?
This is the opening for a story I'm writing, I'm currently trying to think of what to do next in the story, so I thought I might as well just see what some other people think of it so far, lol. Here goes.Quivering on the carpeted stairs was sat what remained of Alicia Sinnett’s childhood-a bony nine year old girl, wrapped in a canary yellow dress and matching hair ribbon. Her head rested on her knees as she hugged them. Her black cat, Pixie, sat one step above Alicia, her tail swaying and her fur shining. She sat like a jet black gargoyle, guarding her owner. The two barely flinched, statues in a warzone. “Alice!” The voice was piercing, but Alicia did not unclasp her arms from around her knees.“Alice!” The voice was beginning to break. It did not faze Alicia. One final cry erupted.“Aaaliiiceee!”“Shut up!”The voice broke alright; it tore open with the most chilling scream Alicia had ever heard. This was followed by a chorus of muffled yells and a series of bangs and clatters. She flinched slightly, but otherwise did not move, rooted to the step where she was perched. Then, her daddy emerged from the kitchen, his face red and sweaty.“Daddy?” Alicia lifted her head.Her daddy turned around with a look of self-defeat written over him like a book-his solemn, watery features, his slumping posture. He looked her in the eye for a good half a minute, before skulking out the door. He said nothing. He closed the door without slamming it, but still the doorframe shivered. Alicia didn’t know why, but in her gut something said she would not see her father Hide rug Skin much more now. She could hear sobs coming from the kitchen. Her daddy had seen red, lost his temper. It wasn’t the first time. Alicia gazed above the mahogany door. There was a small stained glass window that depicted a sunset over the sea. The blue sea was flecked with white and it looked rigid and square. Alicia had seen the sea just once, and she didn’t remember it being blue or rigid or square. In fact, if she remembered, it was a bit rounded and was a weird shade of brownish grey. She remembered that day, in some seaside town, where it rained for the most part of the day. She looked to the stained glass sky-it was pink, and the sun was large and orange. Alicia had seen this sometimes in the evenings from her bedroom window. The wails from the kitchen became too loud for Alicia to ignore. She crept down the stairs, wincing if any stairs creaked or groaned. When she entered the kitchen, she saw her mother kneeling on the floor. She was the very image of a stereotypical housewife-her honey blonde hair tied in a bun, her smooth perfect skin, and her clothes. Her gingham dress fanned out over her folded legs. She was hiding her face behind her hands, and crying.Alicia walked slowly forward. Her mother didn’t even lift her head. Alicia backed out once again, her eyes wide in fear, and she took up her position on the stairs again, only this time Pixie had snuck into the kitchen. Alicia stared at her shiny black dolly shoes, and kicked her feet idly together. She would wait for her brother to come home. He would help her.*Sure enough, after a good twenty minutes, her brother, Mike, arrived through the door. He was eight years older than Alicia. He came in and shut the door so hard that the stained-glass sunset shook. It wasn’t for a reason; it was just how he shut doors. “Hey, Alice. What are you doing there?” he said. Alicia lifted her head, “I think mommy’s hurt, Mikey.”Mike looked concerned. He scratched his forehead, and raced toward the kitchen. Alicia shadowed him. Her mother was lying on her stomach, face down, on the kitchen floor. She reminded Alicia of one of those rugs made from animal skins, complete with heads.“Mom?” Mike said slowly.The pair assumed their mother had passed out. She had only done this a few times in Mike’s whole life, and Alicia had witnessed it just once. “Mom?” Mike repeated, this time with more vigour. The mother-skin rug did not stir.“Mom? Mom!?” Mike shook his mother’s shoulder. Nothing. He rolled his mother over. Alicia peered out from behind her brother. Running from her mother’s throat was a ruby red river of blood.Mike staggered backwards, then ushered his little sister from the kitchen. He said, “Go to your room, Alicia. Do some colouring or something.”Alicia slowly ascended the stairs, and heard the familiar workings of the phone. Then, Mike’s voice, “Hello? Police? I need help! It’s an emergency! My mother is...or, I think she is, dead!”Alicia retreated to her room. She lay on her bed and sobbed. The next thing she remembered was looking out the window to see a concealed body being wheeled out of the house. She shut the curtains, rolled over and cried herself to sleep, baking in the evening sunset’s glow.
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