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Chapter One: A Tragedy Her sadness echoes. Her body trembles under the weight of her tears. Her nails clench into the steering wheel as rage overtakes her. How did this happen? How did I get here? These are the questions Jackie Anthonys asks herself as she prepares for a moment she’d hoped would never come… Here she was, finally alone, her hopes left unfulfilled, her pleas unanswered. The time has come, and from here on out, the woman who’d spent her entire life existing in a world of her own creation where she maintained all control was forced to face reality. This is their moment… their final moment together before she’s lost him forever. “Mom,” Her seventeen-year-old son Mason interrupts her thoughts. He sits in the backseat of her 1990 Jeep Cherokee in his boyfriend Liam’s loving embrace, laying his head down in Liam’s lap. Liam runs his hand slowly through Mason’s dark black hair, comforting the sad boy. Jackie braces herself before turning back, preparing herself for the sorrow she’s about to see on her son's face. Her eyes meet his, a dark brown like wet wood, eyes an inherent trait from her. Mason waits for her to speak, to guide them towards the step, but Jackie says nothing. She can’t. “Mom. I think there’s a storm coming,” Mason finally manages to say. He slowly lifts his head out of Liam’s lap and sits upright. He’s ready. Jackie turns her gaze forthright, her eyes meeting the landscape ahead. She watches as the wind scatters the sand that coats the beach. The sun is receding, taking cover behind the clouds as the storm inches its way closer to them. Jackie eyes a drop of water as it lands on the windshield with a rough TAP. She looks out to the waves. They’d been so gentle nearly an hour ago when they’d arrived, but Jackie’s procrastination had enraged them. They’d become contaminated with her dread, angst, and misery. They violently disseminated against the rocks lining the shore, almost as if trying to pull them in. Destruction was their end goal, attempting to drown everything that lay in their path, there were no exceptions. Mason was right. If they waited any longer they’d no longer have the chance. The window of opportunity was shrinking. Jackie’s pulled from her daydream when her phone begins to vibrate in the center console, she reaches her hand down through the mess of crumpled tissue, napkins, and fast food wrappers to locate it. On-screen reads a name far too familiar: Danny. Jackie silences the phone and tosses it into the glove compartment. “Mom,” Mason says. His tone more serious this time. Another drop of water crashes onto the windshield with a thud. “I’m sorry.” She says. She reaches beside her to the passenger seat and takes his remains into her hands. It’s time… P R E S E N T D A Y 2 0 1 6 Jackie sits at the dining room table; her mind entrapped in the words that line the pages ahead of her. She flips the page, taking little notice of her husband Danny as he paces back and forth around the kitchen. “Jackie,” he calls to her, pulling her attention. She removes her feet from the chair ahead of her and places them down on the floor. She looks up for a moment, giving him her attention. “We should go find her. It’s been three days,” he says. He uses his hands to wipe his pale face. “We’re her parents, we should’ve started looking for her the night she didn’t come home. What if something’s happened to her? What if?” Jackie interrupts him, “She’s fine Danny,” she says, returning her attention to the novel between her hands, “This isn’t the first time she’s gone days without coming home, and it won’t be the last,” she says matter-of-factly. Jackie’s arguments only infuriated and frustrated Danny further. “I’m going to go. I have to look for her. I promised my brother that if anything were to happen to him and Jessica, I’d take care of her and look at what’s happened,” he mutters. He retrieves his coat from a nearby chair and throws it on over his shoulders. “Look at what she’s become, and it’s all our fault.” Jackie’s eyes divert up from her book, encompassed by rage. Celeste’s actions are not her fault; how could they be? She never wanted to adopt Celeste in the first place. She’d told Danny several times that she wasn’t fit to be a mother, but more importantly, that she didn’t want to be a mother. Regardless of how often she’d said it, he’d never seemed to understand. Eventually, she’d begun to believe that he simply didn’t have the capacity or will to comprehend her words truly. She remembers the day of the tragedy like it was yesterday, even though it’d been nearly ten years. It began with three knocks on the door just as Jackie and Danny settled into bed. It was almost eleven at night. “Do you hear that?” Jackie had asked Danny. She was lying in bed while Danny pulled out extra covers from the nearby closet. “Hear what?” “Knocking. Someone’s at the door. Listen” “It’s probably just something hitting the house because of all the wind. Who in their right mind would be out in all this snow? It’s probably nothing.” Three knocks. Each making Jackie’s heart thump louder, and this time, they both heard it. Jackie sprung to her feet, leading the charge down the flight of stairs and through the living room towards the front door. Danny had followed closely behind, still unconvinced someone was outside. When Danny had pulled the front door open, he’d taken two steps back in surprise. Outside stood two officers, their hair damp and uniforms glistening with snow. Jackie had pushed open the storm door, which one of the officers had held onto, allowing a whirlwind of brisk air and snow to enter the house. “Mr. and Mrs. Anthony’s?” The first officer had asked. “Yes. That’s us,” Danny had said. “Is something wrong?” “Mr. Anthonys, are you related to Matthew Anthonys at all?” “Yes, that’s my brother.” “Mr. Anthony’s, I’m afraid there’s been an accident,” the officer had continued. In the distance, across the lawn next to the officer's cruiser, Jackie’s eyes caught those of a young girl. She brushed past the officer, still in her nightgown, and sprinted toward the young girl. The snow that’d met Jackie’s bare feet hadn’t even made her flinch. The adrenaline of seeing that familiar young face out in the cold had taken over her body. “Auntie Jackie,” the young girl had said enthusiastically when she’d seen Jackie approaching. She wore a pink coat and yellow gloves. “Celeste, what’re you doing out here?” Jackie asked as her eyes met the blue and red bruises across the face of the six-year-old girl, Danny’s niece. “The cops brought me,” she’d said as she brushed her dark blonde hair behind her ear. “They said I might stay with you for a little bit until mommy and daddy are better.” Jackie eyed Celeste’s messy hair, which was damp and dirty. She pulled a dried leaf from the young girl's hair and released it to the ground. “Come with me,” Jackie had said, extending her hand to the young girl. “Let’s go inside.” When Jackie and Celeste had made their way toward the front door, she’d found that Danny and the officers were no longer there. She’d entered the house carrying Celeste between her arms to see Danny and the officers standing in the living room. The officers had turned to her with a look of both surprise and horror. “We’re so sorry,” one of the officers had then said, “She was still asleep when we were in the cruiser, and we didn’t want to wake her.” Jackie’s attention had then turned to Danny, who had tears streaming down his face. She knew then that they hadn’t survived: Matthew and Jenna, Celeste’s parents. She hadn’t dared look down at Celeste. She couldn’t. What was she supposed to say to the six-year-old girl who’d just lost both of her parents? She put Celeste down on the old brown couch they used to have in the living room that Danny’s parents had given them before making her way over to her husband to comfort him. As she reached her hand out to stroke his shoulder, Celeste spoke. “What’s wrong Uncle Danny?” she’d then asked. Walking over and tugging at his hand. “Why’re you crying? Mommy told me that she was fine. She told me that she just needs a nap at the hospital and she’ll be okay.” Danny had pulled his hand away from Celeste as soon as she’d touched it. He turned around, wrapped his arms around Jackie, and buried his head into her shoulder. Muffled sobs escaped his body. “Thank you, officers,” Jackie had then said with Danny’s head still resting on her shoulder. “Someone from our department will be in contact regarding next steps. Again, we’re so sorry for your loss. We’ll show ourselves out.” “Thank you,” Jackie said, tightening her grip around Danny. “Celeste, why don’t you go upstairs? You can sleep with me and Danny tonight.” Celeste had gone upstairs while Danny told Jackie what had happened. There’d been a drunk driver who’d run his brother, his wife Jenna, and Celeste off the road. They’d landed in a ditch. Celeste had been the only survivor. They’d pulled her out of the car first, and as soon as she was out of the vehicle, Jenna had died. His brother, Matthew, had died instantly upon impact, but Jenna had managed to hold on until Celeste had been extracted from the scene of the collision. Celeste had been taken to the hospital and was very lucky to have only sustained cuts and bruises. “Did they catch him? The driver.” Jackie had then asked. “No.” Danny had told her. Months passed before Jackie and Danny had their first conversation regarding Celeste. Jackie and Danny had agreed before getting married that they didn’t envision children in their future, but it seemed that the death of Matthew and Jenna had changed something within Danny. In just a few short weeks, he’d transitioned entirely from the loving uncle to the adoptive father. Jackie hadn’t known what to say. She’d seen the pain that’d overtaken him, and she didn’t know how to tell him that this wasn’t what she wanted. He must know, right? She’d ask herself late at night. They’d had these conversations before they’d gotten married. She didn’t want to be a mother, and the fact that Danny hadn’t wanted to be a father was one of the things that had drawn her to him. As time passed, Jackie became further withdrawn from Celeste. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bear to mother her. She didn’t have it in her; the guilt from not raising her own son was too much.