Today marks ten years without her. I brought flowers to the grave no one knows about.

Everyone thinks that my momma, Charlie Elaine Bronx went missing on a hike on September 20, 2001, but the truth lies between me, momma, and the drunken piece of shit I call a father.

Momma always wanted the best for me, she pushed me to be the best possible version of myself and taught me that I am strong. She always made the best of every situation no matter how bad it was.

Daddy liked to drink his problems away. I wish he could understand that he could stop before he saw the bottom of the glass.

One night he had a few to many and stumbled to the bedroom where momma and I were talking. Daddy was yelling about " hearing his damn name come out of someone's mouth."
Both momma and I were confused because we hadn't even acknowledged him at all throughout the conversation.
Momma stood up to walk me to my room so she could tuck him in for the night and he could sleep it off. She had gotten about two steps in, and in the blink of an eye a shotgun was in daddy's hand. The end of the barrel was pointed at momma.
She was trying to calm him but he yelled over her. He had heard his name out of someone's mouth and he wasn't leaving until he found out who.
At the end of the bed stood my momma with her curly blonde hair stuck to her cheeks, wet with sweat, her eyes glistened with fear as she looked at the barrel of the gun.
She looked at me and said "I love you baby girl." With a forced smile. She had just finished the sentence when he pulled the trigger.
My momma dropped to the floor with a slump. Her blood and guts all over the wall are forever etched into my mind. You will never forget seeing someone you love die. Especially at the tender age of seven.
I ran to my room and hid for the rest of the night. When I woke up I followed the trail of blood to the edge of the property. There was a newly covered grave beside the red fence; my mommas.

I made a vow to myself that day, I would never trust another man.