⚠️⚠️ ＷＡＲＮＩＮＧ ⚠️⚠️The following content may depict signs of child abuse,domestic violence, and graphic descriptions.The author does not intend to sensationalize any of it.Remember, everything told here is fiction.Reader discretion is advised.
🫠✒️⌨️ ＡＵＴＨＯＲ'Ｓ ＮＯＴＥ ⌨️✒️🫠No comments.This chapter's kinda long.I'll just say that, not long ago,I had to admit I based it on a storyto understand Teodoro better.That's all I'll say.
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A gentle hand caressed Teodoro.He had fallen asleep, and his memories pulled himsoftly. The days after what happened with his fathermixed with the melancholy of what he had lost…and still somehow kept.
"Mom… —he whispered."
And in his mind, his mother's voice came back, warm and close:
"Sweetheart, my prince, where could you have come from, my boy?You don't have your father's eyes, only mine."
Teodoro, still caught between dream and memory, replied:"Mom, my teacher asked if I was a girl."
"She was surprised when you told her I was a boy…"
"I'm a boy…"
She smiled, stroking his face with her usual tenderness:"My son, people envy you too much."
"Few are born lucky enoughto have the beauty you do, Teodoro."
"Why did you name me that?" —he asked.
"Because I wanted it to be the name of someonewho chases their dreams."
"Teodoro suits your faceand your soul perfectly."
"I love you, Mom…" —he whispered, as tearsdampened his face.The memory faded like a sigh.
Teodoro opened his eyes. He'd fallen asleep after lunch,and the warm, wet tears reminded himthat what he'd felt had been real… even if only in memory.
That memory of his mother would sadden anyone,especially when you haven't seen her in so long.For a few seconds, he stayed still,staring at the ceiling without really seeing it.
The silence weighed in his ears,like something inside him was breaking, slowly.He ran a hand through his hair, slowly,and when he felt it, something tightened in his chest.
His father's voice echoed back suddenly,like a knife that hadn't finished sinking in.His breathing grew heavy.He shut his eyes, fists clenched.
Then, without thinking, he sat up fast,full of rage—furious at himself.Barefoot, he took a few steps forward,searching for air, for something that hurt less.
But all he found was his bed,and he kicked it hard, with everything he had.The blow echoed through the small room.The pain made him fall to the floor,his body folding into itself,as if he wanted to vanish.
He hit the wooden floor over and over,tearing at his hair between sobs."¡I'm not a girl! I'm not, Dad! —he screamed.
Tears streamed down his face, hot and raw.His father's words had cut him deeply.He wasn't usually shaken by what others said—until it came from his own father.
He had never spoken to him that way before,but those insults, piled on top of his mother's,broke something inside him.
"Why won't they let me see Mom?"
"Why won't they?"
"Does Mom not wanna see me?"—he repeated.
That golden ribbon of chestnut hair,those big eyelids, sharp brows,high cheekbones, and red lips…it was hard not to see the beauty in this boy.
Why did the world insist on tormenting Teodoro?Or was he the one tormenting himself? Or both?Maybe being born in that era was a curse,and being blind in it, another one.
The room he was in wasn't even a bedroom,but a storage space. His father had ordered it so.He was ashamed of anyone seeing him blind.If a neighbor or friend ever peeked in,they might find out the truth. So they sent himto that storage room, whose only window,two meters high, served just to air the confinement.
Teodoro lived among shadows, cut off from the world.In that house, only his nona remained—she had gone out to hang more posters,forgetting his father's orders.
Teodoro stayed silent for a long while,his blank gaze fixed on the floor.Though he couldn't see, he knew what he felt.He rubbed his eyes hard and cried again.
Then, driven by frustration,he began tearing his whole room apart.He searched through his flutes—he had three—,through his clothes, shoes, and books.He pulled them out, one by one, violently,as if each page were a screamhe needed to destroy just to breathe.
Because, even though he kept those books,it was his nona who read them to Teodoro.He felt powerless, unable to read them again.
And that's when his hands touched a pair of scissors.They were school scissors—the kind he used in class.
"I'm not a girl, Dad" —he said.
He thought to himself:"Everyone pities me 'cause I lost my sight.Why are they like that with me? I wasn't born this way…"
He grabbed the scissors, holding a lock of his hair tight.He took it close to the root and, struggling, started cutting:
"You'll see, Dad…"
"I'm not a girl."
"I'm not a girl."
After that, hurting the left side of his hair,he heard a noise in the kitchen.
He froze. He knew if his nona found him with scissors,it'd be trouble. So he tried to hide them.
He searched for a hat—any hat—out of fear.He fumbled near the drawers, desperate.Found one, put it on, and crawled into bed.
Teodoro didn't even know what time it was,but it was four in the afternoon.
As he hid under the sheets, he heard the soundof breaking dishes, then a woman's voicethat wasn't his nona's.
"Shit… no way… what do I do now?" —she whispered."Damn it… it's fine, no problem…"—the other voice said.
Teodoro, trembling, spoke hesitantly:"!Nona…?!"
No answer. That voice wasn't familiar at all.He didn't want to get up. Not even lift the blanket.
But then he remembered his father's words:"You look like a girl."
The echo of that line cut through his mind.At first, fear took over everything,but then he muttered with restrained anger:
"I'm not a girl. I'm not a coward either."
His breathing grew fast.He grabbed his flute like it was a weapon.The terror didn't fade, but shame pushed him to move.
He carefully opened his door.Each step down the hallway made his body shake.He could hear someone picking up broken dishes.And also… chewing on something.
He thought, "It's a thief."And he gripped his flute tight.
"I'm not useless…" —he muttered through his teeth—."I'm not a coward."
Terrified, he stepped up to the doorway.He was ready to call himself a man,to prove his father wrong.
The memory hit like a blade.And, unable to hold it back, he yelled with all his strength:
"I'm not a coward! Who are you?! What are you doing here?!"
The shout echoed through the whole house.The walls threw it back, as if they answered him.
That person, who'd been eating a slice of breadwith jam and jelly, jumped so hardshe hit her chest and screamed, falling to the floor.
One of the broken glass pieces lay behind her,and when she fell, she hit her back on a cabinet.
The intruder was sweating from the scare.More than fear—it was shock and panic mixed.
"Shit! It's you! God… you scared the hell outta me."
"Oh my God! —she said, coughing, gasping,half-laughing in nerves."
Teodoro, still shaking but with a firm voice, yelled:"Who are you?! Who are you?!"
The girl stood up.And Teodoro felt terror. A huge one.Because he heard that whatever had stood upwas even taller than his father.
It's like a sixth sense that tells youhow big the threat is—even when you can't see.
And with every step she took, the wooden floor creaked,as if whatever was walking toward himweighed more than it looked.
Teodoro panicked, waving his fluteover and over, not aiming to hit—just to keep her away.
"Back off, stay away, get out, get out of my house.""This is my house."
"I'm a man!."
"I'm a man."
Teodoro was crying.Because even though he was trying to stand upagainst what he thought was a woman or a man,the truth was, deep down,he didn't even know what those words meant.
He didn't even know what he was saying.The boy was hurt. He just wanted to be accepted.But he couldn't find that, not even in his mother—who once did, but she's not here anymore.
And his father didn't accept him either.The only one who loved him as he was, was his nona.But no matter how hard she tried,it wasn't enough to fill the emptiness inside Teodoro.
Yet when he felt the attacker's hand, he froze.That hand was huge, thick, strong.Teodoro's heart pounded with fear.But then he calmed down—he felt thick lips touch his cheek gently,followed by a whisper that chilled him:
"A handsome little man like you shouldn't kickor hit women. Don't you think?"
Teodoro relaxed.Fear kept him from realizingthat the voice he'd heard was a woman's.
The girl stood up and tried to calm Teodoro.She saw he was crying too.
"Hey, easy now. Don't cry."
And Teodoro started rubbing his eyes hard, saying:"I'm not crying, I'm not crying. I'm a boy. Boys don't cry."
To which the girl replied:"That's not true."
"Don't say that."
"My brothers cried too. Yeah, it's true,men should cry just a little—to impress us girls.But that doesn't mean you can't cry."
"If God gave you tears, it's so you can use them too.Don't you think?"
Teodoro froze.But all that went down the drain when the voice suddenlystarted coughing hard and said:
"Sorry, got any booze? Damn you— coughs —'cause of you I've got half a roll stuck in my throat."
To which Teodoro replied:"I think there's some water in the cupboard."
But the girl started searching and found nothing.So she just turned on the faucet and drank from it.
Teodoro said:"We usually boil the water before drinking it.We don't drink straight from the tap."
And the girl said:"How do you know I'm drinking from the tapif you're blind?"
Teodoro answered:"I can hear you."
"Oh really? Hold on...You can hear me drinking from here?"
"Yeah."
"Alright, sweetheart. Tell me more. What else do you know?"
"You've been eating."
"Yeah, true. But that's only 'cause I told you."
"You ate some bread.And from the smell, I'd say you grabbed the jelly.I can tell you used your hands—your hand's sticky.
The girl blushed hard— that was seriously embarrassing.And that's when Teodoro asked:
"What are you doing here?Why are you stealing from my kitchen?
She looked at him and asked:"Why are you wearing that hat?Aren't you hot with that on?"
To which Teodoro said:"Answer my question first."
She sighed."Oh God... I was hungry. Alright? Fine."
"I had a bunch of cash, but... well."
"How do I even explain that while I was makingmy little campfire, a lot of that moneywent up in flames?"
"It burned. So I only had enough for a few days."
"And yeah... that was a total disaster."
"When I tried going to the market, well...It's not like I've got pots or anything to cook with."
"So I just started ordering takeout."
"And... well, I ran out of cognac."
"And now I'm here. I got hungry, sorry.Yeah, I'm starving."
To which Teodoro said:"But you can't just eat my food."
The voice, still chewing, replied:"Of course I can. It's my duty to take care of you.I think food's the least I deserve."
Teodoro asked:"Take care of me? From what?"
The girl paused, swallowing what was in her mouth.
"Teodoro, I don't know if you'll believe this —she said—.But you're the Saint of Ice, okay?"
"God chose you for something important."
"You're the chosen one of a prophecy."
"A prophecy?" —he repeated.
"Yeah, and I'm here to guard and protect you.I'm kind of like a... guardian? Maybe a sentinel?Ugh, I don't know, call it whatever you want."
Teodoro raised a brow."I don't believe in fairy tales."
To which she replied:"Trust me, I wouldn't either...if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes.I get you, completely."
"You do know I can't see, right?" —said Teodoro.
"Sorry, I just... sometimes forget." —she replied.
However, the girl noticed something strange.While eating, she said:
"Hey, why'd you try cutting your hair?""What? I didn't try to cut anything." —he replied.
Still calm, she kept eating and talking casually:
"Look, Teodoro, you're a pretty handsome guy.And I've been watching you through the window for days."
"How do you know my name?" —he asked.
"That doesn't matter. —she said.Then she kept talking while chewing—.You know? I've been watching you from afar."
"From afar?"—he repeated.
"Yeah, from afar. You're kind of a weird guy.You've got a bookshelf full of books you can't read.And I know you like playing the flute sometimes."
"Well… I—said Teodoro, uneasy.
"I don't know much more about you, though."
"Not like I could really dig up much.Honestly, sleeping on the floor sucks."
Teodoro felt a mix of pity and curiosity.
"You've been watching me for weeks?" —he asked.
"No, just one… I think. I don't know.Maybe just a couple of days."
"How do you know I cut my hair? I'm wearing a hat."
"Easy —she said—. One of your strandsis cut to your cheek, and that's not howyou wear a hat anyway."
"Also, you nicked your cheek with the scissors."
"Why cut such nice hair, Teodoro?"
"That's none of your business." —he said.
"Come on, please, tell me."
"What's wrong with you? You could've asked your nonafor a haircut, right?"
"How do you know about my nona?" —asked Teodoro.
"That doesn't matter." —she replied.Teodoro got nervous. She touched his cheeks gentlyand said:"Let's see… let's take a look."
It was the first time Teodoro had contact with a woman.What felt strange was that, even though her hands were cold,they didn't feel like his nona's. Her hands could easilybe as big as his head.
The lady carefully took off his hat and started combinghis hair with her fingers."Tell me… why? Why does it look like you hacked it off?"
"I guess cutting your hair while blind isn't the smartest move."
"That's none of your business." —he said.
"It should be." —she shot back.
"I'm not a serious person. Honestly, I never take thingsseriously unless life's being total crap.
"But I can tell when someone's not okay."
"Maybe you've got your weird sense to tell if I'm eating or not,but I've got mine too."
She looked at him calmly and added:"And don't lie to me. I know you cry a lot."
Teodoro went quiet for a moment."It's just that I'm not a girl" —he finally said.The girl raised a brow:
"That's obvious from your voice and from your room."
"No… I look like a girl" —said Teodoro.
"Who told you that?" —she replied.
"Who said that crap?"
"Who was the jerk, the jealous one?"
Teodoro stayed silent for a moment,and his tears began to fall. She froze,realizing she'd hit a nerve.
"It was my father. He said I looked like a girl,and he didn't wanna see me with long hair again."
She took a deep breath. She totally got why Teodoro cried.It hurt to see him bite his lips every time he heard "father.""I don't know what your dad's like.Actually, I should've told mine to screw off."
"He bailed when I was born. So did my stepdad.""Never had a good thing going with men."
"Or with fathers."
"They always wanna boss you around and run your life."
"They're never wrong, right? And they say we girlsare dramatic and useless."
"Fathers are jerks to me —she said sadly—.They think they own you, your mom, your siblings… everyone."
"Then they have kids just to ditch them later.Great example, huh?"
"And on top of that, they hit you when they're drunk.When they handle money, it's always for booze or weed—"
"not saying it's bad, but not to the pointof leaving us starving."
"I get you, Teodoro. Maybe your dad's not like mine,but I swear I hate that word "dad."
"To me it means bad luck."
"If he weren't such an asshole… maybe my brother…would still be alive."
Teodoro froze hearing that.
He felt nervous but also this weird empathy."I feel the same as you —said Teodoro—.Please don't tell my dad."
The girl laughed:
"Please. If you think your dad's trash… wait,you do think your dad's trash, right?"
"Yeah" —Teodoro answered."Alright then."
If you think that, I'm right there with you."My dad's a total piece of garbage.I had to hold my family together 'cause of him."
"He left us broke, and we couldn't open our little stand."
"What a bastard… well, wasn't even my dad—it was my stepdad."
Teodoro kept remembering how his mom used to touch him.Maybe the way that girl held his hands made him feela bit of that same affection.Trying to hold on to that feeling, he said, nervous:
"What's your name?"
She smiled, felt accepted by him.With a soft voice, she said:
"My name's Helena."
Suddenly, the door opened, the latch gave way.Teodoro panicked, let go of Helena's hand.
"Helena, I think it's nona. You gotta run…But Helena was gone from the kitchen."
She vanished the moment she heard the door,slipping out through the kitchen window.When nona came in, she found a weird scene:a lock of Teodoro's hair cut off,
broken dishes, bread and jelly everywhere.Food scattered, cereal spilled, and the wine—gone.Any caretaker would've lost it.Nona scolded him and started hitting him.
It was "corrective," like a mom's slap when you mess up.While that happened, Helena tried to hidebehind the bushes outside the house.
"Shit, damn it… now I feel awful."
"I'm sorry, Teodoro, I'm such a coward"—she whispered.
Once she reached her hiding spot, she sat down.With an inward scream full of emotion, she said:
"No way, I touched his face! God, he's gorgeous—
even more up close."
As she drank, she felt the wine calm her down."He hates his father… interesting…" she thought.Each sip loosened her chest a little more.
"Oh, Teodoro, what am I gonna do now?At this rate, I can't keep watching over you."
"I'll have to keep stealing from your house,and that might get you in trouble."
"God, I'm such an idiot" —she muttered.Staring at the sky, her thoughts grew fuzzy:
"Galton, I don't know if I can handle this mission.This is boring and exhausting."
But the calm broke when the air began to whisper.The breeze was warm, not cold.The trees turned darker, and the atmosphereshifted with a burst of power.
At that moment, an angel appeared beside her.Helena raised an eyebrow—she was tipsy already.
"Well, after seeing so many of you in Brazil,I'm not shocked you just pop outta nowhere."
"Either that or I'm drunk and seeing a lighthouse" —she said.The angel spoke in a serene tone:"Helena, we have a new mission for you.""A mission?" —she asked.
"Yes, my child —the angel said—.God has given you a mission meant only for you."