𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞: valerie margaret barnes
𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬/𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐬: val, sister barnes, maggie.
𝐚𝐠𝐞: 21
𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭: 5'0
𝐬𝐞𝐱: female
𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫: female ( she/her )
𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 : florence , alabama
𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 : paris , texas
𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫: dark brown / black
𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡: june 18
𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐬: human | succubus ( later on finds out. )
𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: sister | catholic school teacher assistant | part-time nurse
𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: closeted bisexual with female lean
+Valerie Margaret BarnesBorn on June 18, beneath a blood-red moon, Valerie Margaret Barnes entered a world already steeped in darkness. Her mother, a woman consumed by the worship of forbidden gods, had offered her womb to the Devil himself. Her father, though not truly hers, was an unwilling participant in this unholy creation—resentful, jealous, and cruel. He did not see a child when he looked at her; he saw a mistake, a living reminder of his wife’s allegiance to something far greater, far darker, than he could ever comprehend. And so, he despised her. Beat her. Used her Manipulated her. Abandoned her.
Her mother, distant and fanatical, barely acknowledged Valerie's existence. She was too preoccupied with her cult, with her whispered incantations and bloodied offerings, rarely home long enough to play the role of a mother. This left Valerie alone, raised in the eerie silence of a house that reeked of candle wax, cigarettes, and decay. However, the only presence that remained constant was not human at all.
A dark, towering figure loomed in the corners of her vision, watching over her with an almost possessive gaze. It never spoke, never reached out, but its presence was undeniable. When her father struck her, she felt it standing behind her. When she curled up in her room, bleeding and shaking, it was there. Protecting her. Instructing her. A presence she felt more connected to than any living soul.
As she grew older, the darkness did not wane—it thrived. It flooded her home, wrapped itself around her life like a thick, suffocating fog. Her father’s abuse remained relentless. Her mother’s absences grew longer, until she might as well have never existed. The house rotted. The air inside it became heavy with unseen things.
At school, Valerie found no sanctuary. From the first day of grade school, she was the odd one out. Whispers trailed behind her, fingers pointed at the girl who never smiled, who carried an air of unsettling stillness. And yet, she was always there when someone needed help. The smartest in the room, the one who had already devoured every arithmetic and reading assignment before the teacher could hand them out.
High school was worse. Rumors spread like fire—whispers of affairs with teachers, of backroom deals for perfect grades. "Teacher’s pet." "Freak." "Whore." The cruelty of teenage girls knew no limits. She endured it all in silence, unwilling to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. But the voices—they reacted.
The whispers, the ones from her childhood, returned. They slithered into her mind, smooth as silk and sharp as glass. Burn it down. Make them pay. They deserve it. The temptation coiled inside her, waiting, begging to be set free. But Valerie knew better. She was not her parents. She would not become them.
So, she endured. She built a fortress of indifference, a mask so flawless that not even she could remove it. Every taunt, every shove in the hallways, every note stuffed in her locker telling her to disappear—she swallowed it whole and felt nothing. But something had to change.
After graduation, she fled.
She abandoned her tainted home and sought refuge in a Catholic convent. The church, with its rituals and purity, was the antithesis of everything she had been born from. It was salvation. It was there, among the quiet prayers and candle-lit vigils, that she met Sister Paxton. Paxton was warmth. Kindness. Light in a life that had only known shadows.
She was also temptation.
Valerie had never known love, had never understood what it meant to ache for another person. But with Paxton, she did. She never spoke of it, never dared to admit the feelings that simmered beneath her devotion. Homosexuality was a sin, after all. Another part of herself she had to bury. Another secret to choke on.
Now, at twenty years old, Valerie walks a fragile line between piety and something else.
She works as a Catholic school assistant teacher, guiding children who remind her too much of her younger self. She hands out pamphlets, knocking on doors with a gentle smile, urging strangers to find solace in God.And yet, the voices remain. They whisper still, urging her toward violence, destruction, self-ruin. Sometimes, she listens. Sometimes, she almost gives in.
But she is not her parents.
She is not a monster.
She will prove it—no matter what it takes.
And in the darkest corners of her mind, where even she dares not tread…
She wonders if the dark figure is still watching.
And if he’s waiting for her to finally give in.