sophia-vw2:

“Fine,” she huffed and turned around so he wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. She sat against the wall and just hung her head and cried. Sure she was upset about the shoes but now her and Gabe had fought which had never happened before. And he was going out to do god knows what because she was mad at him. She felt like she had the right to be upset and the hormones didn’t help. It bothered her that this was his room. It wasn’t their room. She was still living out of suitcases. It was like she was a guest in the house. He was supposed to marry her and he wouldn’t even share his closet.

The shoes weren’t even a material thing. He didn’t understand. She was so self conscious about her height. She had been made fun of for being so short for years. Her heels not only made her taller, they gave her confidence, they made her feel like a beautiful woman, not just the bad seed VanWheele kid. They put her on the same playing field as “normal sized” people and she felt like she could actually stand up for herself and be somebody. It was like if he took them away he was stripping away who she was. He was punishing her. Like a degradation ceremony for soldiers going into boot camp. Strip them of their confidence and individuality, just like the asylum had done to her. It hurt more than he knew. And he was nothing but mad. 

When Gabe reached the basement, he walked past everyone and climbed out the basement window. What the hell did he do wrong? He’d never seen someone get so upset over shoes. He shook his head and walked through the backyard, stopping in front of all the cars there. “Fuck it.” He mumbled, walking over to his old motorcycle. After picking it up and throwing it across the yard, he went into the garage and grabbed a sledge hammer before making his way over to the motorcycle, hitting it as hard as he could.