𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞, Regulus Black

one

[somewhere inside all of us is the power to change the world]

• • •

Velda Alkaid Adams has always wanted to change the world. 

Ever since she was a child there was a tug in her heart that demanded to speak her mind, to speak up whenever she felt that something wasn't right, to use her voice whenever she saw injustice. 

People told her to be quiet, to shut up, to lower her voice and to stop stating her opinion when no one asked for it. 

But she never did. 

She had a voice, so why not use it? 

Velda never let anyone tell her what she was supposed to be and what she was supposed to think. 

From the moment she was born she was told what she should do and what she should not do. People tried to tell her that she could be anything she wants to be, as long it was never her own way. They told her to keep walking straight on the path they had paved for her. Dreaming is for fools, that was what her father used to say. 

But Velda didn't listen, she wanted to walk away from the path, she wanted to explore the world and herself, she wanted to see things that no one has ever seen, she wanted to do things no one has ever dared to do and climb mountains that no one has ever climbed before. 

And after some time she knew that she was right, no one could tell her to walk the same path they did because no one ever has the same path. 

There's only one path for you. 

She grew up in a small village near Brighton, her parents had always loved being near water, ironically she didn't. She was fine with it as a child but with the years she had only grew to despite it more and more. 

Additionally she doesn't like the village she grew up in and couldn't phantom why her parents did. She herself was black, so were her parents and the village was full of old and white people who were apparently still affected by the second world war and other outdated views, deciding to make her life a living hell. 

Her life was painted with discriminating, racist, misogynistic and toxic people who told her that there were different races, a more powerful gender and so on and so on. 

Velda was sick of it, she was sick of being treated differently, she was sick of being told to be less worthy and she was sick of having no power to do something against it. 

That was until an old man with grey hair and beard knocked on her door, telling her that she was a witch. 

At first she was thrilled. There was finally something that gave her power, that gave her an explanation why she was so different all the time. Not because of her skin colour or any other part of her appearance but because of all of the unnatural things that happened to her.