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🧪 four. the beginning of the end..? ☆ ⊹ ࣪.⋆༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚
Valeria did not get along with her parents as much as her siblings did.
As mentioned before, she wasn't abused or assaulted, but she often withdrew from them despite their attempts to make her sociable; dragging her along to picnics, showing her off in photos taped up with foam, magnetic alphabet letters on the pristine white refrigerator. None of it worked so they gave up and let her be. Valeria didn't mind it thought because she would much rather be in the background than be front in center like her dysfunctional group of siblings who all stood out with their perms, their flashy clothing, while she stood back. It wasn't like she was Wednesday Addams with her morbid somberness because she wasn't fucking weird like that, but Valeria had embraced the fact that she was sorta weird.
Just a teeny smidge.
Her parents lived in an elegant house located in an elegant neighborhood with elegant neighbors — if you didn't count the Ibarras. Her mother was rarely mad which was unnerving to anyone if it weren't for her dark chocolate curls that beautifully framed her face and her light brown eyes that could light up any room. She was calm, looking like a woman who could call up a favor from the mayor if she wanted to. For a woman who has a big family, she was like a fashion drawing in real life with her thinnish body features and her youthful facial features that she lathered in expensive creams and green tea masks. Valeria remembered when the kids in her middle school called her mother a vampire before she punched them square in the jaw and then she was sent off to the principal's office.
Valeria couldn't remember much details about her father because he died of a drunken accident when she was around a teenager and she remembered having to work some fast food jobs in order to help out with bills. She could remember some things whenever her siblings told stories that painted her father as a war hero, but she couldn't really see it. Her father looked as if he could've killed a man — he probably did because he was in the military.
Still, her mother was wealthy. Wealthy enough to be labeled as independently wealthy because her great-great..great grandfather made a fortune by being a rum-runner.
So wealthy, in fact, that the Windsors house lived up to their last name — elegant. It could've been mistaken for an expensive New York City home with its trimmed lawns and how many people came over: housekeepers, friends, family members, neighbors, tutors, socialites who were friends with her mother had sometimes dropped by with their mysterious coolness for an afternoon coffee with little sugar or tea with low-fat almond milk. Their sand wool perfumes still lingered in her nostrils whenever she visited her mother with Marva or any other family.
