I've got you {Laurinah}

9. Little Monster

Dinah nodded, still looking slightly confused, and Lauren sighed.

"Why do you think fathers 'give their daughters away' at the altar?" Lauren said. "Why do you think boys fight over girls in high school, why do you think girls who sleep around are considered used?"

"Sexism," Dinah replied immediately. "I know that, Lo."

"Yeah," Lauren nodded. "But being used makes things less valuable, love. And that's the worst part of all of it. Because if you think a girl can be used, like a scratched CD or a napkin, then to you, women are just things. And you can own things."

"I don't get what this has to do with the little princess, though," Dinah objected, and Lauren pressed her lips together. "We won't raise her like that."

"My mom didn't raise me like that either," Lauren said. "But I was still treated the same way."

Lauren thought back to her childhood, the princess paraphernalia she'd always been surrounded by, the way the boys kept her out of the more aggressive games because she wasn't supposed to be able to handle them.

For some reason, her mind focused on those cheap plastic high heels made for little girls that she'd wanted to wear every day, slipping them on and prancing around the yard like a performer at four years old.

They'd been purple and cute, closed toes and a tapered heel, and wearing them was the closest Lauren could get to being like the girls on TV, or like the princesses that she loved so much.

Walking in them had hurt her feet, and Chris had always taken advantage of her slowness in them, but Lauren had huffed and dealt with it, because surely, it was worth it to be pretty.

Her mother had hated those heels. Lauren remembered the tense smile on her face when her Aunt had given them to her, how she'd always try to store them in places Lauren wouldn't look and then refuse to give them back. If it hadn't been for her skill at manipulating her Papa, Lauren might never have gotten to wear them at all.

Growing up, Lauren had never quite understood why Clara was so opposed to them. All girls wore heels. Even Barbie's feet weren't the right shape to wear flats.

"Dios mio, mija, Clara had exclaimed once, throwing up her hands, when a six year old Lauren had yelled at her that they made her feel like a princess. "They want you to like them, along with the ball gown, and they want you to stay put and wait for your prince to find you! Estan lindas, pero...mija, they make you unsteady on your feet, and if you can't keep control of your own body, then they can move you around in whatever way they want."

Lauren exhaled softly, her eyes widening a little bit. Her free hand dropped from the steering wheel, resting on her belly protectively.

"What are you thinking about now, baby?" Dinah asked softly.

"Fuck," Lauren said. "I think I understand my mother better, now."

"Yeah?"

"She was right," Lauren murmured. "She was just trying to teach me to be independent, to realize I had power and not let people take it away. I wanna teach my daughter the same things."

"You said it yourself, Lo," Dinah shrugged. "Clara's never wrong."

Lauren sighed, running a hand through her hair, as Dinah's thumb brushed comfortingly over her knuckles.

"Lauren, look at me," Dinah said, her voice gentle but firm.

Biting her lip, Lauren looked over at Dinah. The sunlight was coming through a gap in the tree planted in front of their car, slanting through the windows and making Dinah's face almost glow. Her lips were pressed together as she smiled, her eyes warm and excited, and her hair was catching the light so it looked like it was on fire.