EIGHTEEN

                                    

                                          

                            

                                
                            
                              
                                  
                              
                              
                                
                                  
                                  
                                
                              
                             
                            
                            
                          
                          
WOO-JIN 
Sleep has not been a friend for the past week, and she has been nothing but an annoying little brat. Messing up everything around the house, my couch has a new stain (mustard to be specific), and don't even get me started on the damn wet floors. Either she's dripping water from swimming or her hair after taking a shower. 
How the hell does her hair hold up that much water? 
I almost slipped yesterday and twisted my ankle. First, it was house-harm, but now it's body-harm in some twisted way of hers. The only place left unharmed was my office, which I kept locked at all times, and my room. She didn't dare go inside my room. 
I'm trying to get through my quiet day with a cup of coffee when she starts turning on the damn blender. I narrow my eyes on her but she sweetly smiles and shouts, "This all will be done in a minute, okay? Don't you worry!" 
When the blender turns off, I take a breath of relief but she turns it on again. 
On. Off. 
On. Off. 
On. Off.
On. Off. 
I get up because I've had it and pull out the wire from beside the island. She frowns, "Hey! My kiwis are still chunky." I wanted to throw out the blender but realized I was doing my wallet the harm, "Damn your kiwis! I'm sure they're pulpy with the way you keep turning on and off." She snorts, "You said pulpy." She takes off the jug and pours the smoothie into a tall glass with a straw and leaves the jug in the sink. I just cleaned the damn sink. 
I've had it! 
I take her smoothie and drown it all in the sink. Her jaw dropped and that was some sweet satisfaction. "That was the last kiwi in the fridge." I nod, "My kiwi, my blender, my sink, and my house. Pay your damn dues!" 
"I'm not paying you a penny!"
"Then you're not getting a kiwi." 
"Bitch."
"Brat!"
"What did you just call me?" She stalks closer, so short with so much confidence, "Don't mess with me, Carmelo." I raise my brow, "Or what? You'll go all petty over me? How's that been working out?"
"Amazing. I like watching you fuss over-cleaning. Gets me all hot and bothered." She rolls her eyes with intended sarcasm. I grit my teeth, "You either pay your damn dues or you start cleaning around her." 
"You can't make me."
"Oh, I can. You are aware that I know exactly where your brother is, right? I know where he's living and what he's doing at every given moment. So think, one little tip to the cops about illegal work going down in NewYork by a fifteen-year-old and- poof- he's in juvie." 
That got her. That got her so bad. 
I add fuel to the fire, "Imagine, all that money you earned for him, for his better future, all of it being spent on lawyers and whatnot. All of it went up in flames in a matter of days. Gone. You understand what I'm saying?" Her jaw clenched and I watched her swallow her pride, pick up the rubber gloves, and start wearing them. 
God, this was satisfying. 
I turned around, picked up my coffee cup from the table, and brought it to her, "This one too, sweetheart." She takes it with a low growl but I don't ignore it and walk up the stairs to take a shower. My victory demanded a little celebration.