I woke up to a horrific ear-piercing scream. I had been out earlier in the night getting fucked up drinking henny on the rocks with a few of my peeps. I needed some sleep bad!! But that was disturbed by the scream.

I grudgingly came to my full senses and realized the screaming had ceased. I swore down the scream came from outside my window. I assumed a crack head was being raped in the alleyway, along the side of my house.

That’s when I heard my front door opening and closing. No one lived in my house besides my momma and me, and I was pretty sure that my momma was asleep in her room. Someone was up in my crib without an invitation. I rose out my bed and pulled my 9-millimeter glock from underneath my pillow. I slowly cocked my nine and crept towards my bedroom door. There was a strange eeriness floating in the air, as I peeped out into the hallway. I looked right first towards the living room and the front of the house, than left towards my momma’s bedroom and bathroom at the end of the hallway. I saw no one. “I thought to myself”, niggahs can’t be tryna run up in my crib to rob or kill me. Shit!!! I was considered one of the craziest niggahs in the hood, and everybody knew this shit! Niggahs knew I dealt in murder, that’s how I got the name Killah P. These thoughts made me furious. I was ready to kill ah muthafucka!!!

I eased out my room, while listening at the same time for creaks from walking on the wooding floor in the living room. I heard no sounds; it was quiet and almost spooky. I looked towards my momma’s bedroom and noticed her bedroom light was on. I found this strange because my momma never got up before 6:00am and the clock on the wall was saying 4:30am. I rushed to my momma’s room, now fearing that it was her screaming that woke me up. The room was empty. I ran back down the hallway and into the living room. What I saw as I ran into the living room would cause unbearable pain that would last a long, long time.

Ooh!! No!!! Ooh!! No!! Nooo!!!!! What the fuck!!!!!!! Nooo!!!!! Noooo!!!! I shouted from the depths of my stomach. My momma was lying on her back close to the door, eyes wide open, with a butcher knife stuck in her chest. Blood was slowly running from the side of her mouth. I took slow non-believing steps toward her. My whole body was numb. I knew she was dead. I had seen that wide gaze into space before, from the niggahs I had killed. I knelt down beside her lifeless body, and cuddled her in my arms crying uncontrollably. I ran my hands through her soft silky hair and pulled her face to my face. Why? Why? Momma! Why you? Why they had to kill you? Anybody but you momma!!!

I reached out to hold her right hand and noticed she was clutching something in it. As I pulled her fingers apart, I discovered a silver chain and locket. Inside the locket was a picture of a man holding my momma in his arms, rubbing her pregnant stomach.

I had seen this same man a few days ago, leaving my yard. I asked my momma who he was, she said someone wondering if she knew anything about any apartments for rent in our neighborhood. I gave it no further thought, but now I knew it was more to this stranger and his visit to my house. I also knew that this was the muthafucka that killed my momma. I screamed, you muthafucka!! Umma kill you!! Muthafucka!!!

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