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WILHELMINA ANNE BARTON was born in London, England on the fourth of March in 1985, but when she was still a small child, her family moved to the United States — New York, to be specific. The brunette doesn't remember much of London, and the only thing to remind her of her roots is the accent that laces every word she speaks in that particularly flattering manner. For a long time, she considered New York her home, completely in love with the apartment that she shared with her mother Ellen, her father Louis, and her brother Walter. The childhood of the two adorable siblings — the perfect children, really — was built on bedtime stories, trips to the park and cozy little family dinners that always convinced Wilma of how great and complete her family was. But, even if Walter was a lot like Wilhelmina, there were some things that the girl considered her own — for example, the bond she had with her father was a strong one, the foundation formed of fishing trips on his old boat and staying up late listening to The Cranberries, Black Sabbath or Metallica. But overall, what they had was a happy childhood and Wilma felt like she grew up in a good home with a loving family.
This bubble of joy was burst by a fireman who arrived at their doorstep with an apologetic look when Wilma was barely in her twenties — some months before that, Walter had come home with a smile on his face and announced that he was officially a fireman, and the whole family had been happy for him. Of course, no one of them expected him to be announced dead months later, which was why his workmate was there, to inform Walter's loved ones about his heroic, tragic death. He had given his life for work, quite literally, and along with Walter, a piece of Wilma died. Her brother was gone, and it took her a long time to deal with it and the misery that piled up on her breaking heart — not only was Walter her brother, but her best friend, and now, he just wasn't there anymore. That was the first thing that forced Wilma to grow up. Or, at least she was told so, but if anything, this only made Wilma cling harder onto the fairytales she had grown up with.
Indeed, her mother had read stories to Wilma since she was a toddler who barely understood what Ellen was telling her, but that was why legendary characters had stuck with her throughout her childhood to her teenage years and the adulthood she now struggled with. Especially, when things only took a turn for the worst. After Walter's death, years later really, Wilma met a man named Neal Cassidy whilst working in a music store, where she shamelessly made fun of his poor music taste and the lack of knowledge when it came to epic rock bands — it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship, and he supported her through all the heartache that only made its way to her, but there wasn't much he could do when Wilma was faced with yet another tragedy. Her mother was now dead as well, and not just that, but she had been murdered. As if the sight of her deceased mother wasn't traumatizing enough, Wilma also had to find out that it was by her father's hand, and therefore, all those family ties and bonds snapped apart and Wilma felt more lonely than ever before. Her brother was dead, so was her mother, and now her father was labeled a murderer and imprisoned for that.
And their perfect little family came apart.
All this was ultimately leads to Wilma needing a fresh start, and she does so by packing up her few things and jumping into her Iron Maiden — the car her father got her once upon a time — and before she can even find the time to feel guilty about leaving behind everything and everyone, she starts to drive. She isn't sure where she is headed, but she isn't disappointed when she finds herself roaming the streets of a mysterious little town, called Storybrooke.
