I wipe my tears; going back to cleaning the floor once again. Why won’t it be clean? Please, I want it clean. Words won’t come out of my mouth but strained sobs do. At 4 years old I shouldn’t feel this way. Why can’t I say something, nothing comes out except blurred vision and not from my tears running down my face. I’m embarrassed. I clean the rest of my throw up and just look at the mess I created. I cry even more, my princess sock is ruined. I’m ruined. She ruined me. I look up at my aunt and see the pure eyes of hatred and annoyance. But all I could think about is how she made me clean my own throw up with my princess sock because she didn’t want me to use her towels. I am sockless on one tiny foot and in the other I have a dirty sock from the hoarder house she has. I have to put on my shoes without a sock-on and I have to wash my princess sock. My mom bought me these because I’m her little princess so I should have princess socks.

Why 

Don’t

I 

Have

My

Princess

Sock?

I hate that house. It always smells terrible and there are bugs always crawling around my hair during the early mornings. There is countless amounts of trash and I’m embarrassed by it, why doesn’t she clean the house? She has no work, my mom cleans our home. Why can’t she? Oh, right, she always brings that man to her house whenever my uncle isn’t there and he’s working. He always brings my cousin and I chips before they lock us in the overly crowded room. I have enough space through the door and I can see what’s going on. Peaking my head out the small gap I see my blankets covered around them. I don’t like it when they use my blankets to do whatever they do. It makes me feel disgusted. Once again my mouth doesn’t move to say that I don’t like them doing that. Spending my afternoon when my parents aren’t home yet from work is terrible. But I get to see my uncle! He made me laugh because he didn’t see his dog and almost sat on the dog! Sofia was okay though. I still remember when he would lift me up, and throw me up into the air. I felt on top of the world. He is the best uncle that I have, ten-times better than my aunt, she scares me. I leave their house with a natural high because she can’t hurt me when he’s there, I get to play with my cousins without being scared with her there. It’s all okay because he will always be there in the afternoons. I love the afternoons. One day I did make my aunt angry though, she blamed me for losing her keys in her dirty house, but I never touched them. I don’t touch what’s not mine as my parents always taught me. She screamed at me for hours, even yelling swear words at me, I cried. Like always, she left me mute, I couldn’t speak. Time stayed frozen in that house when she was there. I see her towering over me and grab me by my hair. She pushed me to the door and slammed me into the hard, cold door. Ow, she hurt me. Why does she hurt me? What did I do to her? I’m only 4. My cousin watches as she hurts me and he stays frozen, he can’t do anything because that is her mother. He has to do what his mother says to do. She throws me back to the door and continues to search for the keys she lost. He helps me look for them, my siblings get out of school and no keys. I am upset and scared because she might hurt me again because we have to walk 10-minutes to reach the school. My siblings ask me why I weep. She answers for me because I can’t speak. I don’t understand. “She fell.” That’s all she says. Why do you lie? I will never have the courage to speak out about this, why bother lying. I hate that house. I hate her even more… I grow up as time passes by and she can’t hurt me anymore because I have found a tiny voice; not ready to speak about her but, if she does something I will try. May 7th, 2017 the last day I see that person at the flea market. What a coincidence, we never see them go shopping. They like to be a humble person when it comes to buying stuff, they spend it on the people they love and food for their loved ones as well! What a kind person. Who knew that would be our last greeting.

I

Miss

You

Come

Back

Please.

May 10th, 2017. Mothers day for us. The day my sister flies off to D.C for a school trip. My mom took me to school! I was so happy, she rarely does that. It’s going to be a great day. School passes by on a breeze. My brother picks me up and I go home. May 10th, 2017, 9pm, my dad gets a call from my mother, I think we are going to pick her up from work today! I wondered why. I take my travel-size whiteboard and bring it to my dad’s truck. I drew a picture of my mom to surprise her. I see that we didn’t go to my mom’s work but rather, my aunt’s house. I see a big police van. Why is their door open, and why is my mom here? My dad hops out in a rush with my brother. Matter of fact, why is my brother there with us if we’re visiting? I set my picture aside and head into the house. I hear my aunt hysterically crying outside while my dad is trying to comfort her. I enter and see my cousin and mom there. But, my aunt’s mistress also sits there comforting my cousins. Why is he here? Get him out of there. I stand confused. I hear my dad speak to my aunt “Was he on any drugs?” or “Did he take alcohol?” It dawns upon me.

NO

no

nO

It’s

My

Uncle

Why?

How?

When?

Where

Who did it?

I sit down in defeat and once again in that terrible, God forsaken, house I lose my voice and freeze. My uncle is gone, why was he taken away from me so soon. I needed him, my dad needed him, his kids needed him. Whywhywhywhywhywhy. All those memories will now be turned into bitter-sweet moments that happened in this house. I am not blinded by fear anymore I am angry and incredibly sad. 

I

Fall

Into

Depression

I don’t recognize myself anymore. He was the one person I didn’t know I needed so much. I feel like I lost a piece of myself, all those years gone to waste forgetting why I loved going to that house. For the afternoons. Years pass…I grow up again.

As I write this at 2:40 am I realize how I lost myself and didn’t realize how much my uncle's death affected me. I always felt this yearn for him, like I can’t put him to rest. I still need him. I see how bad his death affected my dad and I personally. My dad went through hell and back with my uncle being the only relative here in our state. That was the first and probably the last time I’ve seen my dad cry, at his funeral. I am glad I left that place and found a voice that it’s almost to its potential. But, I am filled with doubts at night. All those sleepless nights thinking about him and my aunt still haunt me. I will never truly recover from his death and the permanent effect my aunt left me with. I despise the nights that I lay awake thinking about the awful memories and the happy ones that make me cry from my uncle. I still remember my sister getting back from Washington and visiting his body. I was the last or second to last person to see him in his casket before being shipped off to Mexico. I still remember the scent of death and I think of him as funerals pass by us. I don’t think I will ever recover even after treatment. I find myself full of doubt and not the little girl from 5th grade anymore that has a lot of friends and a social butterfly. I fill myself with anxiety and MDD now, I am insecure of everything in its minutia form. I blame my aunt and believe that I will never truly forgive her for what she’s done to my uncle and I. I wish he was still here, I think about him almost everyday; more at night than day. I have zero contact with my aunt I think my mom still does, but I haven’t until recently, found myself a little of blame thinking that if I found the courage to tell my uncle the things she did to him with a friend of his, he would have left. But, my mom tells me that he probably already knew and was staying for the kids. I have so much respect for him for being a humble, kind, and unselfish man when the whole world was against him. He was too perfect for the world and it never deserved him. I want to put him at rest and stop thinking about him, I’ll try. I want him to be at peace and if that means trying to put everything that happened to me in my younger days then so be it. I want him to be at peace after years of torture. If he was here I don’t know what I would say first but, I do want to say

I am sorry for everything, I love you, and I miss you.