The story I am about to tell you is not assured to be true. In fact, there may not be a single word that relates to any factual information. History books would turn their noses up at the following story. Or, they may praise it; the outcome, I do not know. All I know is how to put a pen to paper and write the story of Virginia Rose.
Her name isn't truly Virginia Rose; this I know for sure. Her true name is Virginia Maria Fawcett. However, a young Virginia Maria did not like the name Maria; it was too 'common' for her palette. Instead, she opted to be called "Virginia Rose" instead. The name had stuck, much to Virginia Rose's pleasure, and the name "Maria" was no longer. Her mother, Elizabeth Maria Fawcett, was unhappy with this sudden decision. Her family name was in jeopardy because of a young girl. "She's just a girl!" Elizabeth Maria would shout, outraged. Virginia Rose would march upstairs and sit in her room, leaving the mother in silence.
"You were right, mother," Katherine Margaret, Virginia Rose's sister, would always say, pouring a hot cup of tea for Elizabeth and herself.
Virginia Rose's story isn't truly anyone's. Virginia Rose may not even be a real girl. Her story may be completely fictional, her true identity non-existant. Everyone that has told her story tells it differently. If she was or is real, Virginia Rose may be completely different than how the story explains her. She may be smiling as she reads this, or, maybe, what I'm writing never happened. Either way, a story is a story, true or not.
One of the most controversial parts of Virginia Rose's life isn't the one that people made up, but it is, actually, the one people all tell the same: her childhood. I shall start our story there.