VALERIE'S CHILDHOOD felt like a blur of warm memories—until it wasn't.
growing up, things were almost perfect. she had two loving parents, a nice house, friends in the neighborhood, and a life that felt secure. her dad would take her out for ice cream after school, and on weekends, they'd go to the park or have movie nights. he was her hero, always making her laugh, always lifting her onto his shoulders, telling her she was going to be a star one day. everything was perfect—until the day he left.
it was a quiet, ordinary evening when it happened. valerie had been sitting at the kitchen table, coloring, when she overheard her parents arguing in the living room. at ten years old, she didn't understand much of what was being said, but the tone was unmistakable—sharp, angry, full of hurt. she put down her crayons, inching closer to the door, just in time to hear her mother yell.
"how could you do this to us? to her?" her mother's voice cracked, broken with disbelief.
"i didn't plan for this," her dad replied, his voice quieter, but just as tense.
"you didn't plan for this? you didn't plan to destroy our family?!" her mom's voice escalated, shrill and filled with rage.
valerie's heart pounded in her chest as she peeked around the corner. her mom was standing with her arms crossed, eyes filled with tears and anger, while her dad stood near the door, suitcase in hand.
"daddy?" valerie's small voice broke the tension in the room as both of her parents looked at her. she felt her father's gaze soften, but her mom's expression hardened even more.
"go back to your room, val," her mom snapped, her voice colder than valerie had ever heard it.
"what's happening?" valerie asked, her eyes wide and confused.
her dad knelt down, giving her a sad smile. "i'm going away for a little while, okay, sweetheart? i'll see you soon."
"when?" valerie's voice trembled, panic beginning to creep in.
"soon, i promise," he said softly, but the promise felt empty even then.
he kissed her on the forehead and stood up, looking at her mother one last time before walking out the door. as soon as he was gone, valerie's mother collapsed onto the couch, tears streaming down her face.
valerie stood frozen in the hallway, not fully grasping what had just happened, only knowing that something had broken, something she couldn't fix.
the days that followed were worse. her dad never came back. her mom started drinking more, and it was like someone had flipped a switch. she was angry all the time, and no matter what valerie did, it wasn't enough to bring her mom back to the person she used to be.
"you're just like him," her mother would mutter, slamming another glass of wine onto the counter. "those eyes... every time i look at you, i see him."
at first, valerie didn't understand why that was such a bad thing. she had always been told she looked like her dad—same eyes, same smile—but now it felt like a curse.
"stop staring at me with those damn eyes!" her mother screamed one night after too many drinks. valerie had just come home from school, and the moment she stepped into the house, her mom was already yelling. "you think you can just waltz in here and act like everything's fine? you think you're so innocent? you're just like him, valerie. selfish."
valerie stood frozen, unsure of what she had done wrong this time. "mom, i didn't—"
"don't 'mom' me!" her mother shouted, throwing her glass against the wall, shattering it. "you act so much like him, with that fake sweetness. you think you're better than me? well, guess what? you're not. you're just like him. you'll leave me, too. everyone does."
"i'm not leaving," valerie whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. "i'm here. i'm not going anywhere."
"yeah, well, maybe you should," her mom spat, storming out of the room.
valerie stood in the kitchen, shaking, glass shards at her feet. she had no one to turn to except for olivia.
even as kids, olivia had always been her rock. they had met when they were seven, and even then, olivia had this calmness about her, this way of knowing exactly how to make things better. she'd been there through it all—through every fight, every insult hurled at valerie by her mom, every night when valerie would sneak out of the house just to have a few moments of peace.
on one particularly bad night, after another blowout fight with her mom, valerie had climbed out of her bedroom window and ran to olivia's house. when she arrived, out of breath and eyes red from crying, olivia didn't say anything. she just pulled valerie inside, wrapped her in a blanket, and sat with her on the couch.
"i can't take it anymore," valerie had whispered, her voice barely audible. "she hates me, liv."
"she doesn't hate you," olivia said softly, but valerie shook her head.
"you didn't hear her. she can't even look at me without getting angry. every time she sees me, it's like she's looking at him," valerie's voice cracked. "and i can't change how i look. i can't fix this."
olivia stayed quiet for a moment, then hugged her tighter. "you don't have to fix it. it's not your fault. none of this is your fault."
they sat like that for hours, with olivia just holding her, no judgment, no pressure to talk, just being there. it was the only place valerie felt safe anymore.
as the years passed, the dynamic at home never really improved. her mom continued drinking, continued blaming valerie for everything that went wrong. and even though valerie spent more and more time at olivia's house, the weight of her home life followed her everywhere.
she threw herself into music. it was her only escape, her only way to channel all the anger, confusion, and loneliness that lived inside her. she'd sit for hours in her room, writing lyrics, singing until her voice was raw, just to drown out the noise in her head.
but no matter how much she tried to distance herself, the scars from her childhood stayed with her. the feeling of not being enough, of being a constant reminder of the pain her mom carried—that was something she could never shake.
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