Aunt Becky was my best friend and my biggest comfort person. She was like a mother to me, since I never got to know my real one. Aunt Becky told me a lot of things but she refused to talk about mom. And I never asked questions because I felt good and I didn't wanted to ruin anything between me and her. Sounds stupid, right?
Now it's all just a memory. People aren't who they seem. And I'm not even sure if I know who am I and what's my purpose in life.