behind the door || diamond & val {blitz}

It had been years before her mother finally agreed to leave her home alone for longer than a few moments. Why she was so concerned about her daughter being unsafe in the place that, in her own words, was meant to be a safe haven, was truly beyond Valencia. But then again, she should’ve known there was no rhyme or reason to anything in her household a long time ago.

She recalled having to shimmy down the cracked garden lattice at the side of the house after making eye contact with her mother from the roof, wrapping her arms around her in the middle of the street to stop her howling. Someone would return home, one, two, three times to check on her, and Valencia only became more impatient as she shooed them off. It was for these reasons that she came to dread whenever knocking echoed through the house, and the mayoral race didn’t make things any more pleasant.

From her vantage point on the roof, Valencia could hear doors opening up and down the road, cheery chatter rising into the air. Someone was campaigning today, certainly. Hopefully she’d be spared from entertaining whoever it was. Her shirt clung to her back as she adjusted herself where she lay, hot shingles pressing against her arms while she scribbled in her journal. A strange energy had taken over in the past week, and even though she’d put up a ward and strengthened it twice, things still felt askew.

Valencia didn’t realize the knocking was at her door at first. The silence that stretched afterwards, though, made her roll onto her stomach and wiggle forward to peer over the arch of the roof. There, she saw the top of someone’s head floating on the doorstep, and she swore under her breath. She backed away from the arch so she wouldn’t be seen, pondering whether to pretend no one was home. Yet, her curiosity got the better of her, so she grabbed hold of the gutter and lowered herself down from the roof, bare feet landing on the ground with a soft thud. Val walked around to the front of the house, allowing herself to take in the sight of the woman. Blonde. Put-together. Probably some political hopeful.

Valencia maintained a neutral expression as she stepped onto the porch, leaning up against the house. ”Hi,” she said, crossing one leg in front of the other. ”Can I help you?”