Paper Thin

• 118: Enough is Enough •

Melody

"Meeeeeel-oooooooh-deeeeeeeeey!" Margot split my name into distastefully drawn out syllables as I jogged down the stairs and towards the kitchen.

I felt bad that I left Carson up in my room, but this way felt better. I carefully entered the kitchen to see glass shards across the floor. Margot was sitting on a counter with a fresh glass of wine. She was in her obnoxiously furry housecoat and wearing matching slippers.

"Yeah... clean this up," Margot said dryly. She lifted the glass to her lips and took a large swig. I stared at her incredulously.

"This isn't my job," I said, folding my arms across my chest.

"You don't want a matching mark, do you?" Before I could respond, she threw her head back and cackled. "I'm joking! But seriously, clean it up. Now."

I reached under the sink and grabbed the dustpan and hand broom, then knelt down and began cleaning up the broken glass. As I swept, Margot swung her feet back and forth.

"I hope you never leave the house when your hair is like that... It isn't cute," Margot said smugly. I pretended I didn't hear her and kept sweeping. "It's frizzy and not even brushed."

"I'm going to sleep soon Margot, it doesn't matter what my hair looks like," I said glancing up at her.

"Oh dear! Your face is looking a little, well, puffy too," she added leaning towards me. I rolled my eyes and hurriedly swept the last bit of glass off the floor. In my haste, my hand slipped off the hand broom and dragged the side of my palm across the jagged stem of the wine glass.

"Ow," I hissed. Margot laughed and took a large swig of her wine.

"You're soooo dramatic. Throw the glass away and leave me alone!"

I stood up and tossed the glass into the garbage bin and tossed the dustpan under the sink quickly as blood was starting to rise to the surface of my skin. I turned on the tap ready to wash my wound and Margot turned the tap off immediately.

"Ugh. Do that upstairs; this is where people eat Melody," Margot said.

I sighed and grabbed a paper towel then pressed it to the cut before leaving the kitchen. I stormed up the stairs and into my room, hating the stinging feeling in my hand.

"Melody?" Carson said from my bed.

"I just cut my hand don't worry," I said quickly, walking into my bathroom. As I ran cold water over my cut, Carson came to the doorway.

"How? What happened?" he asked.

"Nothing, I was cleaning up a broken wine glass. It's not a big deal," I said.

"Did she do this?" Carson insisted.

"No! I mean her hurling insults at me didn't help but I did it to myself," I replied, turning off the tap. Carson grabbed a fresh towel and walked over to me. He began drying the wound on my hand, which turned out not to be as big as it felt.

"Insults? You know what? Enough is enough!" Though his tone was angry, his touch was gentle. "I'm going to say something."

"No, you won't!" I snapped, pulling my hand away from him. I bent down and reached into my cabinet and pulled out a bandage. Carson gently took it from me and put it on my cut.

"She can't keep doing this," Carson insisted.

"My dad doesn't pay attention to me. I doubt he'd believe a word I said to him. And if you say something, you're only going to make it worse."