The day continues on like any other day, but as school starts to come to an end, the sky starts to darken. A storm must be brewing and instead of getting to go home like the rest of the student body, I'm stuck watering the plants in the school greenhouse.

It's warm inside the glass structure, so I pull off my hoodie and toss it on a chair stationed in the corner of the room. I take my time, not actually all that bummed about having to stay late. Truth be told, it was my decision. I'm typically the one who volunteers to care for the plants after school because I cherish the quiet. Solitude is my friend.

Watching the dark clouds roll in is oddly comforting. I'm safe inside my little glass box even though the winds are picking up and leaves are being thrown around in the air without a single care. I can hear the whistling of the wind as it blasts through branches and weaves itself around the edges of the greenhouse, but it's only when I glance up and notice the skies darkening into a cloudy viridescent hue that concern starts to gather in my chest.

I need to get home.

Throwing down the water bucket, I slip my hoodie back on and grab my backpack. I tie my hair back into a sloppy ponytail before struggling to open the door against the powerful current. I don't exercise, but the panic shooting through my blood is giving me an unexpected strength. I finally force the door open and step out into the whirlwind.

I can't feel my heart pounding in my chest, or hear the fear in my erratic breathing as I'm too focused on figuring out how to make it to my car. I scurry around the side of the building, but before I can dash across the parking lot, a golf ball-sized hail shatters just feet in front of me. Several follow and I freeze, searching for shelter, but I'm not quick enough. A ball of ice hits my right shoulder and a tight scream tears from my lips. I press myself against the edge of the building in hopes that the roof overhang will be enough to protect me.

My shoulder is throbbing but I haven't bothered to even offer it a glance. Pain is the least of my concerns as my spinning mind fights to figure out a solution. And then the hail stops and the world grows silent. My bones quiver against my strained muscles and I know this is my chance. Carefully, I peer around the corner of the building, my eyes taking in the wall of black, daunting clouds barreling toward me.

I'm frozen. Time has run out. There's not a chance I'll make it to my car in time to outrun this beast, especially since I'd have to run toward it to even get to my car. So I stare, thoughts seeping from my mind as serenity takes over. The peace and stillness is remarkable. Breathtaking.

But that's when everything shatters into reality around me. That freight train blare that us Midwesterners have always heard about with storms such as this is now a reality. This isn't a typical storm—it's a tornado. And it's officially hit ground. It's close. Too close... and I'm out of time and options.

I move to slip back around the corner in search of an open door or some other form of shelter, but my foot slips. The forceful wind takes advantage of my vulnerable state and spins me, smacking me against the brick wall of my high school, and then I'm being yanked backward by the arm. I somehow manage to get my feet under me and force them to follow whatever heavenly force has just saved me from my twisted fate. I run, my breathing labored as I fight to keep up with the figure pulling me behind him.

I stumble once and he slows just long enough for me to regain my balance. Pushing forward, the two of us rush across the soccer fields toward a small shed. I'd forgotten about this shed, too absorbed in the thought of finding a way home to even consider seeking alternate options. The boy dragging me along slows as he reaches the door to the shed and curses beneath his breath when he finds it bolted shut. He slams his fist against the wood but only manages to rattle the door.

Taking a deep breath, he drops my hand and runs both of his through his hair. He's got his back to me but I know who it is even before I hear him say my name. I've watched him enough over the years to memorize his appearance from any angle.

"Follow me," Bryson urges, taking my hand once more and dragging me further down the soccer field.

I chance a glance behind me and wish I didn't. The tornado has already torn through the school and I can barely make out the structure behind the twisting, black cloud of destruction.

"Hurry, hurry," I nearly scream, terror seizing me as I clutch painfully to Bryson's hand.

We come to a wire fence but Bryson doesn't even stop as he twists behind him, snatches me up by the waist and practically throws me over the fence. I fall to my knees, but push myself back to standing just as Bryson lands beside me. Then we're off again, winding our way in and out of a seemingly endless forest. I don't have a clue where we're headed until I spot a small, dilapidated house through a cluster of trees.

The house looks ancient. I can see holes in the side from where boards have come loose and where rot has set in. I can't imagine the place will offer much security, but somehow I still ache to be inside the forgotten structure. Anything is better than trying to outrun a tornado.

Running has become a huge battle, like my legs are getting sucked backwards with every step. But somehow we manage to duck into the crumbling, doorless structure before we get engulfed by the vicious spirally winds.

No words are spoken as we immediately break away from each other in search of a good place to hide. There isn't much we can see, especially with the black clouds hovering in front of the sun. From inside the home, there's no way to tell if it's still daylight or not.

"Over here!" Bryson calls and I follow his voice around the corner where he's holding a door open for me, his cell phone offering a pathway of light.

It looks like a black hole. I could almost convince myself that through that doorway is the end of the world and if I step through, I'll never stop falling. But I don't have time to stand around freaking myself out with possibilities. The tornado will be right on top of us in seconds, and then it won't even matter what's on the other side of the threshold.

Chills run up my spine as I hurry toward Bryson and hastily descend the steps of darkness as he shuts the door behind us. I know the stairs are rickety and old, but I can't even hear the squeaking of the old wooden planks as I feel my way down each step. It's as if the entire world is vibrating and rattling in restraint, not willing to give up its roots for the destruction-hungry monster prowling the skies.

I know I've reached bottom when the dirt floor meets my shoe and I nearly loose my footing on the unexpectedly pebbly ground. The place smells of mildew and soil, but no complaints flitter into my head as I wait for Bryson to find me in the dark.

I'm suddenly being pulled into the furthest corner of the room and shoved, not so gently, into the corner. Bryson is hovering directly in front of me, his breath fanning my face and causing goosebumps to skim across my arms. He's acting as a shield to me, his arms circling me as he pulls me as close to his chest as physically possible.

I'm both acutely aware of Bryson's proximity and the storms'. But as the noise outside grows stronger, my mind wanders to the roaring winds circling toward us. This place is weak, unsteady, bringing about images of the walls being sucked into the sky... along with us. This could very well be my last moment alive and I'm spending it in the arms of Bryson Andrews... And yet, I barely notice him. For the first time, my heart is pounding for a completely different reason than the fact that I can feel Bryson's heart throbbing against my own chest. In any other circumstance, I'd find it romantic; how hard he's trying to protect me.

But right now, all I am is scared. Really scared.

The noise billowing around us is deafening, the sound of our breathing being swallowed up into the monstrous chaos as I listen to it approach. And then it hits. I think I'm dead already. The cracking, banging, and shear volume of the beast has me digging my fingernails into Bryson's back.

"Bryson," I scream, hoping he can hear me above the noise. When he tips his head down and his eyes meet mine in the darkness, I know I've got his attention. But words fail me. I can't think above the chaos. All I feel is sheer terror. This is my last moment and I find myself so regretful of the ways I handled my life.

How will people remember me? Will they even know who I am? I wasn't popular or known for my kindness. I was just another face amongst hundreds of others just like me. I didn't go out of my way to make people feel comfortable or accepted. I just watched the world and wished I could be different... but I never was. I was always just me. Boring, ungrateful Everly.

"I'm sorry," I yell, vocal cords straining above the noise. "I'm sorry for always being so afraid. I wish I'd been able to talk to you the way I always wanted to. I wish I'd been honest with you."

"Honest about what?" he questions, his voice soft but firm, a big contrast to my own desperate one.

"About how I feel."

Several seconds pass as we watch each other, only a smidgen of light seeping in through the cracks of the floor above us. There's no awkward silence between us as Bryson watches me, eyes curious. Serious. He looks so serious.

"And how do you feel?" His question is soft, like he's concerned or maybe curious. I'm not sure. I can't read his expression well enough in the shadows to tell what emotion is tied to his words, but he doesn't sound disappointed.

Taking a breath, I prepare to take the plunge. "That I like you. Like, really like—"

The sound of wood splintering severs any further explanation of my feelings and my chest plummets in disappointment as I mentally sigh in relief. The timing is wrong... even if it is my last chance to confess. This isn't the time. Because I should be thinking about my family. My friends. The life I was supposed to have.

Instead, I'm thinking about a boy.

Suddenly the planks of wood above us crack apart as chunks are practically inhaled by the twister. In the darkness, I swear I can actually see the swirling, violent winds of the demon itself as it hovers above us, pulling screams from my lungs. It wants dirt, and life, and blood. Anything to feed the hungry pit in its stomach. Unlike me, this creature has no regret. It's taking exactly what it wants without any remorse.

My arms circle even tighter around Bryson as he grunts against the force that's working to rip him from my arms. I don't notice my tears, only aware of the pain in his voice that makes it sound as though he's hurt. And then, suddenly, his arms are no longer around me. He's moving away. He let go! He let go and I can do nothing but watch as his body is sucked backward, his eyes pinning me in place as he disappears into the darkness.

And then the overhead floorboards give way completely, plummeting down around me as the world goes quiet.

---

Let the drama begin!!! Muah ha ha!!! 

Seriously though, some good stuff is about to happen. BUT... as I've mentioned to some of you already, I have no clue when I'll be able to upload more regularly. I'm due to have a baby this week, so life's about to go from crazy (with 2 kids) to absolutely nuts-o (with 3). Ahhh! Please stick with me. I WILL finish this book. It just might not happen super fast. 

But as always, Inkitt has several more chapters already available (though not edited). The link is in my bio if you find you really can't wait for updates. Lol