Never Alone

Exclusive Chapter For Panic Premiere!

Author's Note

In celebration of Amazon Prime Video's newest series Panic, I am thrilled to be teaming up with Amazon Prime Video and Wattpad to write this exclusive chapter that puts my characters from this story into the world of Panic!

I hope this chapter intrigues and inspires you to learn more about Panic. Visit the #PanicWritingContest on Wattpad for the chance to put your creative writing chops to the test and learn more about the show!

To find out more about the contest, prizes, and how to enter, check out the #PanicWritingContest here: wattpad.com/AmazonPrimeVideo

Don't forget to watch the series premiere on May 28th, only on Amazon Prime Video, here: http://primevideo.com/

We'd come a long way for me to watch him die in this small town.

The old truck creaks in protest as we pull into the dirt lot at the edge of the swim hole. Loud music blasts from the other cars as teens spill from them like warm beer from a kicked-over can.

"Stay close," Marco says as he glances at me and then the others via the rear-view mirror.

The vibe seems lively, but we're outsiders in a place like this. I watch Marco's hand grip the door handle before he turns and gives us the nod to head over to the epicenter of this chaos. We unload from the truck quietly, taking in the whole scene.

"I don't understand why Ken wants to be a part of this. You think he's still trying to prove he's the best athlete?" Aideen asks, her eyes landing upon the other teens as she tips back her hour-old, warm diet coke in the can.

The car ride had been a long one and my muscles cry out as my feet hit the hard-packed dirt near the water's edge.

"Maybe," Damien answers. His arms are tight around his body as he weaves through the crowd, careful not to allow anyone too close. I can see the sweat forming on his brow even though it's a little chilly with the gentle breeze snaking its way through the brush around us. "But there's a real risk of the Naegleria fowleri amoeba in this water. It doesn't look like it moves much and given the temperatures of this area during the day and at night during the late spring—"

"Really?" Aideen follows the question by throwing her arm over his shoulder and pulling him in for a side hug. "I see you still haven't learned to just relax. It's water. Maybe not the cleanest, but none of these small-town kids care." She gestures with her Diet Coke in a sweeping motion around the large gathering of kids knocking back booze and clearly behaving questionably.

"Good point," Damien says with a nod.

"I think the ledge is over there." Marco points to a small dip in the vegetation on the red clay, raised bank. It's only visible under the glow of a jumper's flare. A small line of teens is making its way up the side of the mountain, sizzling road flares in hand to jump and earn their points. The image of them scattered along the various trails reminds me of the end of a cigarette, red-hot embers tucked here and there into the black ash.

"That's him!" I can't help but shout as the bright glow of a raised road flare pulls the attention of the crowd to the highest peak. My stomach drops somewhere below my knees, and I feel the quick whoosh of blood rush from my head, out of my heart and into my legs, planting me exactly where I stand. I can't move. I can't even breathe.

We promised we'd always be here for each other, but I didn't think I'd be asked to watch him make an attempt on his life. Sure to the crowd it's just some big, strong, former high school football hero running off adrenaline and testosterone hoping to score big points in the stupid game. But to us, he's a survivor who has always walked too close to the ledge of leaving forever, and I don't know if he plans on coming up from that water.

"Breathe Koralee," Shima says from beside me. "What an epic way to go if this is his choice. Trust that he's in a good place." Her hand slips into mine, her fingers curling between my own until they're clasped tightly. She tugs, pulling until my feet are forced up uproot themselves and follow along behind our group.

The crowd begins to chant as Ken moves forward until the tips of his toes are no longer anchored to the ground beneath them. I remind myself to pull in air, to be present in the moment and not worry about tomorrow.

Marco moves in behind me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and leaning in close to my ear. "There are no ribbons. Not on his truck, not on his suit, not at his place. He's ok Koralee. Just a dude being a dude."

Ken scans the crowd, his feet quickly switching his weight as the nervous energy exudes from his body. He reminds me of a dead man walking. A prisoner awaiting execution before the crowd. But when his eyes find us, his face lights up. Those movie star teeth peek out from beneath that large smile, and his feet still beneath his Adonis-like frame. The condemned becomes the executioner.

His strong arm lifts from his side and he points to our group as if to say, "I knew you'd come. I've been waiting." Then with all the grace of a summer Olympian he dives from the cliff without a moment of hesitation.

You know how they say the world stops for a minute? Well, I believe it. I swear I can tell you what every second of this fall looks like as my mind snaps a million mental pictures. I watch for a sign he isn't going to make it. I watch for distress or disaster because that's what I've learned happens to good kids like us. And when his body hits the water, I feel my heart shatter. It might be his skin that slaps the surface, but it's my soul that stings.

I don't listen for the crowd or wait for anyone in my group. My feet take me to the edge of the water before I have time to even consider what's happening around me. It's a game to them, but to me it's my best friend. I push through the bodies, my limbs tangling with theirs as I lunge forward desperate to get to him.

Finally, his head emerges from the water as the crowd around me erupts in screams and celebration. My heart pounds in my chest, a reminder that I'm alive—that he's still alive. I know this because I'm watching him through the small windows of space between the dancing arms of those around me. His smile is bright and innocent, his joyous laughter plays in my head even though I know I'm not really hearing it through the noise of the crowd. I just know it, much like the way I'll always remember the details of my childhood room long after I've left it. I guess there are still bad thoughts and memories that live inside my head, but the beautiful ones live there too. I close my eyes and focus on his laughter.