— Let's take a taxi, aunt, I suggested.

She nodded in agreement.

For the first time, I saw a black taxi and was enchanted. 

— Look, aunt, how cool! A black taxi, let's get in it.

She suddenly froze, as if she were paralyzed.

— No! Not a black car!

— Alright... I'm sorry.

Clarice sighed and said, "I'm sorry, dear, it's not your fault. I just don't like black cars."

She took my arm and was trembling; it didn't seem to be from the cold.

After a long time on the way home, admiring her, I remembered that the last time I saw her, she was wearing pants and a long-sleeved shirt, and I knew she hated that kind of clothing. She used to say it made her too hot. And here she was, in a long black dress, with long sleeves and a high collar.

Returning to the present moment, she was taking a shower. 

We were alone at home; my mother was at my grandmother's house, and my father was out somewhere.

I grabbed her dress to hang it up to dry and could smell a sweet scent coming from it. It wasn't perfume; it was her scent. Ahh, it had been so long since I had smelled that amazing fragrance.

I could no longer hear the water falling from the bathroom, so I rushed to hang the dress before she thought I was a pervert.

— Nana, bring me your mother's clothes," she asked. 

I ran and got a skirt and a cool blouse. I couldn't deny that I wanted to see her skin.

She opened the door and only put her hand out to grab the clothes. Out of respect and nervousness, I didn't even look at her hand.

— Dear, doesn’t your mother have pants and a long-sleeved shirt?

— ...She does.

— Bring them to me, please.

She returned the clothes, and I couldn't help but look at her hand and arm.

— ...What is this, aunt?" 

Startled, I grabbed her arm and gently ran my thumb over her scars.

She quickly pulled her hand away.

— Aunt, did you try to—

— Just bring the clothes!

— But, aunt...

— That's none of your business, she replied coldly.

My sweet aunt tried to take her own life? How? Why? What happened to the joy of living she once had?

I brought the clothes and knocked on the door for her to take them.

— Bring my dress.

— But it's soaked.

— I'm leaving.

— What?! You can't!

— Hurry up," she insisted.

— It's still raining outside; at least wait for it to stop. Please, aunt," I pleaded.

— ...Do you promise you won't tell your mother what you saw?" she asked, her tone filled with concern.

— I promise! I swear!" I replied quickly.

She opened the door and took the clothes. Thank God she decided to stay.

When she came out of the bathroom, she looked a bit awkward, placing her hands on her neck.

— Come to the couch, aunt. I brought a warm blanket.

— Thank you, dear.

Finally, I was recognizing her smile. That smile.

She sat down, and I took the blanket and carefully wrapped it around her. It was as if she were a porcelain doll. Well, to me, she was a porcelain doll.

— Are you still in those wet pants? You're freezing!" she said, touching my arm with a stern look. 

— Go take a shower now!

Since it was daytime, there was no need to turn on the living room light, but because it was raining, it was a little dark. And I don't know if it was my imagination, but it seemed like her neck was bruised.

— Hurry up; at this rate, you'll be the one getting sick!

I was quick; I couldn't stand being away from her for even a second.

While I took my shower, my mind couldn't stop thinking about the suffering she had faced, to the point of trying to take her own life. If only I had known sooner, I would have made that man pay, tortured him, mistreated him, maybe even taken his life.

Before I knew it, I had finished. I rushed to meet her.

She had fallen asleep, at peace. It seemed that, for the first time in a long time, she was able to rest, without fear, feeling safe.

I couldn't help but admire her, feeling drawn to her presence.

"Dylan, Dylan..."

I woke up to gentle shakes and a sweet voice calling me.

I had fallen asleep on the floor next to her.

— Dear, sleeping like that, you're going to be all sore!

She was right, but her presence made the pain feel insignificant.

— Go to bed.

— What time is it?

— Almost 3:30.

Look, does your mom have a hairdryer?

— She does, I'll go get it.

— I'm sorry, dear, I fell asleep without realizing and ended up wetting the couch with my hair.

— It's okay, aunt, it will dry soon.

I found the hairdryer and asked if I could dry her hair.

— Thank you, dear, but go to sleep; you have to wake up early for school, right?

— Tomorrow there are no classes for the third years.

It wasn't true; I just didn't want to be away from her.

— Really? Okay, then let's hurry up because I can see the sleep in your eyes.

— It's nothing.

She sat on the bench in front of me, and I turned on the hairdryer, making her blonde strands sway gently, as if they were dancing.

The feeling of touching her hair was incredible, so soft. 

A sweet aroma spread. Is all of this a dream?

I love you, aunt.

As I carefully dried her hair, I noticed a purple bruise on the side of her neck. Without thinking twice, I positioned myself in front of her and bent down to examine it more closely. It looked like the mark of a hand. Quickly, she covered her neck with her hands.

— Again, you're seeing what you shouldn't! — she said desperately.

I turned off the hairdryer and knelt in front of her.

Aunt, I swear I won't tell anyone, please tell me what happened to you, please — I said while looking deeply into her eyes, desperate for her to trust me.

As I pleaded, I hugged her.

Tears began to fall from her beautiful green eyes. Slowly, trembling, she removed her hands from her neck and hugged me back.

It was Caio — she said in a trembling voice.

I tried to comfort her, telling her that he could no longer harm her.

Suppressing my anger towards that demon.

After a few minutes, she calmed down, and I took her to my room.

— Where are you going to sleep?

— In my mom's bed; you can make yourself comfortable.

— Alright.

I stepped away from the bed to go to the room I would be in and felt something pulling me.

It was my aunt; her eyes were pleading with me to stay with her.

— I'm sorry... Goodnight.

She let me go, surprised.

It seemed she wanted to ask me to stay, but couldn't.

I grabbed a storybook and sat in the chair at my desk.

— I'm going to tell you a story to help you sleep.

She laughed, surprised.

— I can't believe you still have that story and are going to tell it to put me to sleep, hahaha.

This story is my favorite because it was the one she always told me to help me sleep.