"Just get out, Sam," Leah screeched, her voice reaching a level of anger that Sam had never heard before.
"Leah, please, I'm sorry," he pleaded, holding his arms up in defense. "I can't control it!"
"Please," Leah hissed, and then she shocked him by picking up a glass vase and throwing it straight at his head. Sam dodged, the vase hitting the wall and shattering little pieces all over his head. "I don't want to hear about it. True love," she mocked, pausing. "With my family, no less."
"I'm sorry," he whispered as his fingers ran along the broken glass.