Page 23 of Ward Willing
In my book, Lily, the protagonist, is a poor, struggling human from a rural village who accidentally opens a portal to the underworld with her childhood best friend, Ethan. Of course, to ramp up the tension, Ethan has been in love with her for years—something he confesses pretty early on. While imprisoned, he tries to sacrifice himself to the villain in order to save her. The villain, a demon who is thousands of years old, offers her a sinister deal. Until this point, I had no idea where the story was going, or what the deal would entail.
I haven’t written much of the book, but the world is built, and Lily is about to go on an adventure with Ethan. They are ateam.And yet… there’s something soblahabout their dynamic. It’s like I’ve suddenly had a breakthrough about where the story needs to end up.
Instead of writing, I outline the next scene between Lily and the demon.
Because all of a sudden, it becomessoclear to me.
The demon will let Ethan go, but Lily must agree to become his unwilling queen.
How did I ever think Ethan was a good choice?
I’m so into jotting my ideas down, fueled by pure adrenaline and excitement, that I hardly notice the pouring rain outside. It isn’t until a clap of thunder sends me jumping a foot into the air that I actually look out of my window.
Every muscle in my body goes rigid as the sky lights up with lightning.
Fuck.
My heart starts to beat so fast that my throat hurts, and as another loud rumble rolls through the air, I stumble up from my chair.
I can deal with rain and a bit of wind. But if the thunder and lightning start…
Taking a few breaths, I attempt to calm my racing heart, attempt to rationalize the storm. It’s fine. It’s just a bit of rain, just some lightning, a bit of thunder…
Another boom has me gasping for air, nearly choking on my sobs. Ihatethis. Ihatethat something as simple as some thunder can turn me into a shivering, sputtering mess.
Ihatethat I can’t ever escape it, either. No matter where I go in this house, I will still be able to hear the storm.
I’m dizzy and sick with anxiety, so I sit down on my bed and pull my knees to my chest as my fingers curl around the backs of my thighs. I rest my head on my knees, squeezing my eyes shut and rocking back and forth.
This is different.
This storm isn’t the same storm.
That was a freak accident. Isn’t that what the police said? That they’d never seen anything like it?
Still, I can’t help but feel like I’m drowning in my panic—like the water is filling my lungs, despite being warm and dry inside.
What was it like for them?
Fear and grief prickle the back of my neck as the bedroom lights flicker as another thunderous boom pounds through the walls. I canfeelthe power of the storm shaking the house. There’s nothing I can do to stop it, and it makes me… powerless.
Did my parents feel this powerless the day they died?
My breath stalls as the room goes black.
No.
I quickly jump up, stumbling blindly around my room and looking for my phone. I feel around my bed, but after checking it twice, I don’t find it.
Where is it where is it where is it where is it where is it!
Two quick knocks sound at my door, and before I can respond, Liam shoves the door open, and the room is alight from the flashlight in his hand.
“You okay?” His eyes flick across my face for half a second before he comes rushing forward, pulling me into his arms. “Fuck, Zoe,” he mutters, holding me against his body.
The sound of his voice breaking and the feeling of his bare chest against my body distracts me enough to quell the immediate panic. I manage to take several steadying breaths with my face against his chest, letting his warm skin and smoky, licorice scent calm me. He’s so solid—like a tree. He doesn’t move, doesn’t waver, doesn’t ask questions.
And I’m… safe.
