The sun had long dipped below the horizon when the world of Ebony Gomez shattered into an unbearable silence.
Her daughter, Aiyonna Clarice Barrett, 18, full of life and promise, had been found dead, along with the child she carried.
The discovery came on a quiet Sunday evening, around 8 p.m., inside a car parked on a dirt road, hidden away near South Gaines Street.
The police had yet to release the exact cause of death.
All that was known was that the young woman and her unborn child were gone, leaving behind a gaping hole in the lives of those who loved them.
Ebony Gomez could not comprehend the cruelty of it all.
“Why did you take my baby? Why was she left alone to die there by herself?” she asked, her voice trembling with anguish.
Her mind raced through memories of her daughter’s laughter, the sound that once filled every corner of their home.
She thought of the little kicks she felt during the pregnancy, the way Aiyonna had shared her dreams and plans with a sparkle in her eyes.
Aiyonna had been on the threshold of adulthood, a senior at Southern Lee High School in Sanford after transferring from Richmond Senior High School.
She had dreams that stretched far beyond the hallways of her school.
Her maturity and independence were remarkable for someone her age.
“She had it all set up,” Ebony said quietly, tears sliding down her cheeks. “She had her own place. She had a car. She was working. She was enrolled in community college.”
She had been preparing to embrace life, to step into her future with determination and hope.
And then, it had all been stolen.
Family members clung to memories of her warmth and light.
Her sister, Brianna Gomez, remembered how Aiyonna’s smile could brighten a room.
“She definitely had a glow,” Brianna said. “She was smart, funny, and outgoing. Everyone who met her felt it immediately.”
Her aunt, Operdealla Wilborn, spoke of her niece’s radiant spirit.
“She was just a wonderful child. A beautiful girl, beautiful heart, and beautiful spirit,” Wilborn said, her voice breaking. “When she walked into a room, it lit up.”
The news of Aiyonna’s death spread like a silent storm through the community.
Photos on social media revealed her baby bump, and friends spoke of her excitement and anticipation.
Her child was due in early May, a full-term baby, brimming with life that would never be.
The joy of impending motherhood had been transformed into unbearable grief.
Police upgraded the investigation from a “suspicious death” to a homicide, but released no further information.
Southern Pines Chief of Police Bob Temme expressed his condolences, emphasizing the department’s commitment to justice.
“On behalf of the Southern Pines Police Department, please accept our deepest sympathy on the unexpected loss of Aiyonna and her child,” he said.
“The Southern Pines Police Department shares the pain and sorrow felt by all. Please draw comfort in knowing that the entire Southern Pines Police Department has pledged an unwavering commitment to the relentless pursuit of justice for all concerned.”
Authorities indicated that Aiyonna’s death did not appear to be a random act of violence, and there was no known threat to the community.
“At this time, there is no indication that there needs to be any heightened concern for the community, and we are not asking that they change in their daily lifestyles,” Temme added.
Still, for the family, the world had irrevocably changed.
Each day became a battle against memories that cut deeper than any knife.
Ebony replayed the moments when her daughter had shared stories of her life, the dreams she had yet to achieve, and the future she had hoped to embrace.
She thought about the little life that would never take its first breath, the tiny hands that would never grasp hers, and the laughter that would never echo through their home.
“We were supposed to welcome a new life into this family,” Ebony said, her voice barely above a whisper. “They took what was supposed to be such a beautiful moment, a blessing, and ripped it apart. My daughter didn’t just die. Her life was taken in a brutal way.”
The family found solace only in memories.
They remembered her laughter during simple moments, the joy she brought to family gatherings, and the way she could make strangers feel seen and loved.
They remembered the dreams she held close to her heart, the independence she cherished, and the love she had for her unborn child.
Grief became a companion, constant and heavy.
Yet, even in sorrow, there was a determination to honor her memory.
Brianna and Operdealla spoke of keeping Aiyonna’s light alive, through stories, through smiles, and through acts of kindness in her name.
They wanted the world to remember the vibrancy she had brought, the hope she had embodied, and the love that could never be extinguished, even in death.
“Life is too short,” Wilborn said. “You never know when you wake up in the morning what is going to be. You just don’t know.”
Those words hung in the air, a quiet reminder of the fragility of life and the urgency to cherish each moment with those we love.
The investigation continued, but the family’s focus remained on remembrance and healing.
Every memory of Aiyonna’s laughter, her intelligence, her humor, and the small gestures of her love became treasures to hold close.
Though they could not bring back their daughter or the child she carried, they vowed to carry forward her legacy.
Aiyonna’s story became a testament to the light a young life could bring, even in the face of unimaginable darkness.
Her dreams, her spirit, and her love would endure, preserved in the hearts of those who loved her most.
And though the world had lost her, to her family, she would always shine brightly, a reminder that even in tragedy, the human spirit can illuminate the shadows.
“I Just Want to Go Home” — The Final Moments of Little Athena Strand.2303
She was seven.
Seven — an age of pink shoes, storybooks, and laughter echoing down hallways.
An age when monsters belong under the bed, not behind the wheel of a truck.
