The cup slipped from the man’s hands, and shattered across the floor. The red letters shined in the dark room as they changed from 11:45 to midnight. The glass gleamed on the floor, the only source of light was the moonlight shining through the window. The man leaned against the counter and wiped a hand across his face. The young girl stood on the opposite side of the counter, with her back against it. With backs facing each other, and the silver marble counter in between the two, the girl let out a huff of air.
“Are you going to clean that up?” she said.
“I don’t know, should I?” he said.
“Someone could get hurt if they step on the glass.”
“Do you want me to clean it up?”
“I could if you want.”
The man rubbed his cracked hands together hands together. The girl bit her nails. The fragments of the cup had painting on it. The words love and dad laid at separate parts of the kitchen.
“It’s going to have to be cleaned up sometime,” he said.
“I can’t do it alone,” she said.
“You forget how to use a broom?”
“I wasn’t talking about the cleaning.”
The man breathed out the smell of strong vodka filling the room. She scrunched her nose at the scent of it.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“No you’re not,” he said, finally turning around to look at the unreasonable child.
“I am. I truly am sorry for hurting you, but I am not sorry for telling you.”
“You knew this would hurt me.”
“I was hoping you’d be happy for me.”
“How could I be happy with this choice you’re making?”
The girl’s shoulders tensed at that. She turned around and soon they were face to face, only the marble counter separating them.
“It’s not a choice,” she said, looking him in the eyes for the first time that night.
“It is. It isn’t natural. You should know that,” he said.
“Why would I choose to disappoint you?”
“I don’t know, that’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
“You’re being unfair, Dad. I can’t help that I love her.”
“You just don’t care about what happened to me fifty years ago. She’s going to do the same to you.”
She strode over to his side of the counter. “It’s not the same thing.”
He scoffed at her, as he started to walk over the broken glass, crushing it even further.
“Please, Dad, listen to me for once,” she said walking closer towards him. She stepped on glass and let out a yelp of pain. Blood was coming from her foot. The painted words “i love you” have gone into her foot, now ruined by her injury. He turned around to look at her. Anger tears streamed down her face, and the man had glassy eyes.
  “Dad please,” she said, clutching her bloody foot.
“I can’t help you.”
“Why are you like this?”
He didn’t respond. He just walked over the word dad and crushed it. No salvageable remains to the glass cup anymore.
“Dad, please. I’m still your little girl. I still love you.”
He stopped for a moment then turned to see the girl spilling blood on the glass, tainting it further. 
“You broke the glass.” he said, not saying another word as he walked out the wooden door.
So there the young girl sat, hands coated in blood. The only thing that remained with her, was the glass that was broken. The clear vodka covered the floor, but it wasn’t the liquor that ruined the glass.