IT'S been two years since everything happened. Almost like it was yesterday when it took place. It just happened to be the anniversary of that day today. It was windy yet the sun still shined brightly. And guilt began to fill inside of me once more.

I walk through the cemeteries gates following the same path I've followed probably my hundredth time now. I hate that I feel guilt. I also hate that I began to live life again knowing that I could've did things differently. A lot could've happened differently that day but none the less it still was drastic. Once I seen the familiar grave, the clouds in the sky began to pull together covering the suns light only bringing grey.

HERE REST

KEVIN KNIGHT

HUSBAND,FATHER

1975-2020

I placed the flowers down in the grown and removed the dead ones from the last time I visited. There was no great or amazing father or husband that laid in the ground; he was still a father and husband though. A part of me wanted to separate my fathers sickness from him but there was no separating the two. I didn't hold a funeral because it's always been me, him, and my mother. And now it was just me. Every time I came to his grave, I stayed stuck in silence.

Nothing good or bad could roll off of my tongue. Just silence. It was like every time I'd visit; every vivid vision came back to me like bringing near him caused me to relive a 10 minute nightmare. I felt that putting down flowers was the least I could do if I was just gonna stand there completely quiet. The first visit wasn't easy.

I spoke, but only with hatred. I spat every word I could find towards the grey cement as if he was there taking it all in. I know that he wasn't but it still felt good. Amazing exactly. Then I realized not one parent was gone but two.

I cried til there wasn't water left in me to produce tears. I even hated myself for crying over him. I couldn't help it because he was my father, and at a point of time he was my rock. When my mother died things changed but the memories of what he used to be never faded, only the memories of what he became got stronger. Over time I allowed it to pass.

The memories still stayed. I walked away from the grave and back to the car, white drove me to see them both whenever I asked. Everyday I try to apologize for being him into my world. He just kisses me and tell me love makes you do things you didn't think you'd do. Like taking a bullet for you.

While running to white my fathers gun went off and I was instantly pushed to the side. Brian was shot in the shoulder. The police were running into the house running for my father and shot him in the chest. He died instantly. The news spread like wildfire: run away girl runs from dangerous father. Many wanted interviews and pictures, but I stayed in bed recapping what took place. I would wake up in tears and shaking.

White would rush in the room and hold me til I would fall asleep. His mother allowed me to stay in her home but on the condition me and white stayed in separate rooms, however when she was out of town we slept together. He healed rather quickly, but his arm got tender once in a while. A year later we moved out while his mothers new husband moved in. I opened the car doors and was greeted to the same blue eyes, the same bright smile.

He leaned in for a kiss and I returned the gesture. Then rubbed my stomach causing our little one to kick back. I was in my last trimester and could give birth any day now. We were meeting his mother for Easter dinner, I just stopped to pay my father a visit. White supported the decision of wanting to see him despite everything that's happened.

We stood in the car for a minute before we both looked at each other. "what would I do without you" we said in sync and laughed. "I don't know Bebita you tell me". White was my prince. He didn't come with a white horse but he was handsome, of course.

He was there to save me from danger.

My prince was there when I needed him.

"I love you Brian"

"I love you too bebita"

THE END.