Libby's sisters Lydia and Frieda were kind hearted girls, dressed in second hand clothes, and extremely ignorant and naive.
Lydia was 14 years old. She was slim and tall. She had long, wavy auburn hair, that reached it to her diminutive waist length. Her amber eyes matched well with her light pastel skin tone and hair colour.
Frieda was 15 years old. She had a slender figure, and she was couple of inches taller than Lydia. Her thick, and slightly wavy blonde hair was too long that her mother braided it in a peasant laced style. Her deep big green eyes were very captivating, complementing her peachy tone skin.
Their mother Anna was 42 years old. She took great care of her daughters, and raised them well despite of their difficult situation, and all their limitations. She was a very kind lady. When her husband temper flared, she endured without opposition in word or deed.
In spite of having given birth to three, she still had a shapely figure. Her hazel eyes were like emeralds burried in dirty, flecked with brown and gold in the sunlight. And her lush, sunrise-gold hair, soft and curling in the day of the sun.
Tonya, the young sister of Libby's father, was strong woman, who only listen to her own instincts and made her own decisions.
She never married, in fact she had not dated or shown interest for any men. The thought of meeting someone as horrible as her brother, upset her.
Tonya was 33 years old. Her long chestnut golden hair fell in loose waves past her shoulders, dazzling her fair-skinned tone. Her light blue eyes were transparent as a cloudless sky.
She was kind to her nieces and sister in law.
But her mother and brother were a couple of demons. They were very aggressive, heartless and cruel.
Bernard Fletcher had an Aloof personality, he was cold and distant. He was thoughtless. He did not show any affection or compassion towards his wife or daughters.
He was two years older than Anna. Tall and strong man. His eyes were of a deep brown hue, like the velvety brown of a stag's throat. His tanned skin went well with his dark hair.
His mother Hilda was a machiavellian old lady. She was very quick-tempered, grumpy, mean, inconsiderate, and domineering.
She became a widow when her kids still young.
Her husband was a burglar, swindler, a vagrant clochard drinking in doorways. Either drunk or sober he made an embarrassing spectacle on the street, and when got home he beat her up in front of their children. It was a horrible scene to see.
Until one day that he was found dead, lying on the pavement in a pool of blood with his head smashed using a concrete block.
No one saw his murderer, except Hilda who was the only witness, at least that was what she thought.
After that event Hilda changed, from a frightened woman she turned into a wicked one.