THE ALBATROSS. rafe cameron

002. a kegger for celebration

WHEN JACKIE WAS 3 years old her mother had gifted her the best gift she could ever receive.

a sister.

lucy hayden was as beautiful as they come, curly blonde hair and big blue eyes, and cheeks as plush as you could imagine.

her best friend was born charged into her life and it was almost impossible for jackie to have loved someone as much as lucy hayden.

too bad she didn't live past the age of 6.

when margo hayden was picking up her youngest daughter from her friends house one night, with her eldest daughter in the front seat next to her.

she had failed to read the warnings of a storm incoming.

the rain came down in torrents, hail battering the windshield, creating a symphony of chaos that echoed jackie's mounting panic.

margo struggled to navigate the slick roads, the wipers working overtime as visibility dwindled to nothing.

jackie, sitting next to her mother, felt the tension in the air. it clung to her skin like the moisture from the rain, a premonition of the horror that was about to unfold.

the noise the steering wheel made when it swerved harshly will forever be engraved into jackie's mind.

her sister and mothers screams as they flipped on the wet road was the last thing she heard before she blacked out.

waking up and finding out she was the only one who made it alive was worse than death itself.

that feeling will be something that lays in the pit of her stomach forever.

the guilt.

jackie hayden cracked open her bedroom window the morning after the hurricane, letting in the crisp, damp air.

the storm had raged through the night, but when the sun finally peeked through the clouds, it revealed that her house had survived with only minor flooding.

no shattered windows, no fallen trees—just a few scattered chairs, dirt caked at the bottom of the pool, and a soggy garden that looked like it had seen better days.

but she smiled, grateful for small mercies. it could have been so much worse.

humming to herself, she skipped down the stairs of her large, airy home, her hand gliding along the smooth wooden banister. the house felt quiet without the usual hum of electricity, but the stillness didn't bother her. after all, power outages were temporary. and besides, the generator would kick in soon enough.

"hi, grams," she chirped, leaning down to plant a kiss on her grandmother's soft, lined cheek.

her grandmother sat in her usual spot by the large patio window, gazing out at the garden where a couple of workers were already busy picking up the rubble left by the storm.

"hi, angel," her grandmother replied, her voice raspy, the edges of worry still lingering.

jackie could feel the tension radiating off her grandmother, the way her fingers absentmindedly fiddled with the edges of her shawl, the way her brow stayed creased even as jackie poured her a glass of water.

"don't worry, grams," she said, placing the water in her grandmother's hand and giving her a reassuring squeeze. "everything will be cleaned up by tomorrow. it's just a little mess. nothing to lose sleep over."

her grandmother took a small sip, her eyes following the workers outside. "it's not the house i'm worried about," she murmured, more to herself than to jackie.