New Word

Okay, since my word was so long, I got yet another word. The word is doors. So, here is my chapter. Hope you like it (concrit is much appreciated- concrit=constructive criticism, in case you didn't know).
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Newfound Knowledge:

For a long time now, I have known that most things are much easier to get into than to get out of. I suppose I first discovered this at two years old. I was at my grandmother’s house, hiding in the bathroom. We were playing hide-and-seek, with my grandmother looking for my sister Grace and me. Suddenly, I had the most brilliant idea. No one would be able to find me if I locked the door! I quickly got up and twisted the lock. It was a simple maneuver, just grab the lock and twist it to the side; just one little flick of the wrist, and you are totally cut off from the rest of the world. The perfect place to hide is where no one can reach you. I soon found that I didn’t so much like the remoteness of that locked door any longer. I didn’t really like that seclusion, that feeling of having no connection to the world; of drifting, all alone.
Of course, my grandmother would come and knock on the door eventually. I would not give up my great hiding spot just yet. I’d find some other way to occupy myself, to make my time of loneliness seem shorter and more fun. I plugged the sink and filled it with lukewarm water, putting in my little family of rubber ducks. I swam them around in the white sink, splashing drops of water on the green tile floor and flowery wall paper. The Mommy duck was taking care of the three babies while the Daddy was away at work. The little ducklings always had someone to play with, and they were sometimes naughty and splashed around in the water, slopping it over the edges of the makeshift pond.
Eventually, ducks became boring. I drained the water from the sink and looked at the mess I had made. Maybe I should stay in the locked bathroom for a little while longer, so that I would have time to tidy up before my grandmother came in. I retrieved the paper towels from the cupboard and tried to rip three from the roll. I dropped it, and it tumbled onto the floor, rolling along until it bumped into the bath tub. There were about twelve sheets rolled out, and as I tried to reel it back in, it stayed where it was and more squares came loose. I tried pulling it harder, but it just ripped off at the end. On its way, each paper towel had soaked up some of the water sitting on the floor. I had wasted more than twenty paper towels! Grandmother would be disappointed in me.
I burst into tears, running to the door. I turned the lock, but it would not budge; it was stuck tight, and I was trapped. I cried harder, rattling the doorknob, pushing against the wood with my shoulder, and kicking it, but nothing worked. Still I yelled out to the unresponsive door, even though my throat was getting raw and my toes and knuckles were beginning to hurt from striking the hard wood repeatedly. Suddenly, I heard hurrying footsteps on the stairway and my grandmothers voice; “Just push the lock in and then twist it, Claira, it’s broken!” she called over my hysteria. I tried it, and, low and behold, it worked! That old bathroom with the broken doorknob was so hard to get out of, until you knew the trick, I realized. My grandma came rushing in and hugged me until my sobs subsided. I knew that I could always trust my grandmother to comfort me and to support me, no matter what. I have found over the years that it is very simple to get out of a situation, as long as you know the trick. The hard part is finding what that trick might be.