What happens when a medical student that loves fantasy novels decides to write her own book? The birth of Bewitching entanglements.

As long as I can remember, I have loved to watch TV-shows about doctors, including series like Emily Owens MD, and Grey´s anatomy. I never thought that I would become a medical student one day, but here I am, and soon I have finished two years as a student.

I am a avid reader, also on Wattpad, and one day I got a feeling that something was missing in this wide world. I found out exactly what was missing one day when I was on my first dissection class; Stories about medical students, with a dash of fantasy, of course. And that was the day I started to write Bewitching entanglements. It is a story about a medical student named Sabrina, and it is when she dies that her life turns upside down. Enter a neurosurgeon that is making Sabrina hate her own name, a world that she never knew existed, and Sabrina might just have to face bigger problems than her next exam.

Target audience: This is a young adult/romance/fantasy book, and my target audience are females between the age of 15-25. I would like to believe that people who enjoyed reading Abandon by Meg Cabot, or Daughter of Smoke and Bone by Laini Taylor, will enjoy my book too. My book has a dash of comedy, action, a lot of blood, and of course, medical stuff, so there is something for everybody. If you enjoy watching series like Chuck, iZombie or The Vampire Diaries, this might just be the book for you.

Through the lessons here on Skillshare, I have learned that I am a pantser; I only write when inspiration hits me. So when I have time, I have to make a proper plan when it comes to this story. I am pretty proud by what I have written so far (Yes, it needs a lot of editing, and I can improve, but I can be happy about what I have so far :P), and I will do everything to make it better. And the lessons have taught me exactly what I need to do !

Blurb:

"Who knew her physical perfection hid a soul that was not hers?"

An accident makes Sabrina Morrison take the worst decision in her life; Choosing to live.

Unknowingly, she trades away her soul. Yes, she gets her life back, along with all the perks that follows of being a Searcher, but being a Searcher crashes with her normal life.

Sabrina didn't really believe in the supernatural and such, but when she suddenly finds herself doing the dirty jobs of the Great demon Lucyn, she can't help but question her ability to judge.

Now the Undead has to keep an eye open for Lucyn's new Searcher...

No one is safe with Sabrina around.

Not even Sabrina herself...

Comment: I know I can make my blurb much, much better, but until divine inspiration hits me, this would have to do. 

Excerpt:

Every human is capable of doing wrong things. Take murder for example. Everyone can do it. Just one misplaced knock. A swipe with a knife. Or a bullet from a gun.

If every human is capable of doing wrong things, then they are incapable of judging other people's wrongdoings.

I shouldn't be here fuming over something a mere human had done. I knew that humans weren't like the gods many of us had made up; Perfect. We were just humans, incapable of telling wrong from right sometimes. And maybe I should have let go of the man that had made me feel this small, useless, and unwanted.

But no; My stupid mind just refused to do so.

As these sad and pessimistic thoughts were filling my mind, I was pacing back and forth, trying to get my head around what my life had become, and my feelings under control.

My mind did get a little break when an annoying beeping and the smell of coffee filled the humid air around me. The feet that had been pacing far too long for their liking, got a little break as I stopped walking and instead placed my gaze on the dreadful, brown liquid that should be banned from human lives.

If it was one thing a hospital had, it was bad coffee. And if it was one thing a student needed, it was cheap coffee. Or free coffee if you could get your hands on that. That was close to heaven for a broke student.

As doctors, we are taught how addictions are bad things. How it ends up ruining your life. But on the other hand, humans tend to forget that there are different kinds of addictions. I had seen it myself. How people lose sleep because they have had too much coffee. How they use special and illegal drugs to make it through the semester. How people get addicted to make other people look inferior to themselves. They like to make people feel small and dumb so that they themselves can feel better. And I believe that's an addiction.

When I decided to study medicine, I didn't know it would force me to become an addict. I don't think anyone would have prepared me for that.

As I took a sip from the white mug and the bitter taste attacked my tastebuds, I couldn't help but feel a pang of pain leaving me breathless once again. Monica kept telling me how time would heal the wounds that Rikkard had inflicted me, how I one day would be fine again. I had tried to tell myself the same thing. I knew that all wounds need time to heal, but still I couldn't seem to know what I should do with the hurt that left me feeling cold and broken.

It was interesting to see what pain was capable of doing to you. Both physical and mental pain.

I had seen it with patients.

For some, it was a drug. An addiction, something used to forget the everyday life. For others, it was an eye-opener. They found out what they had been doing wrong all their lives, and decided to change. If they were lucky, they didn't go back to their old ways. But humans were creatures of habits, and habits are really tricky to break.

I had never been a fan of coffee. Tea wasn't my thing either. But here I was, trying to hide away from a boss that seemed to go out of his way to suffocate me. It was a good thing that he never came here. This was the place where the low-lives went. People like me.

It was late Monday evening, and I was all alone, leaning against the wall inside the tiny little room that we were supposed to take our breaks.

I only worked on Mondays and Wednesdays. My job was quite simple; I worked a four hours shift, where I sorted out papers, made notes from different meetings, and delievered papers from one place to another.

Most of the people that worked here though, went out to take a smoke instead of coming to this room. Something I found very, very ironic.

Only four days ago we had opened up a human to look at its very black lungs. Let's just say that smoke is not good for you.

But if it was something that was black today, it was my mood.

Only days ago I had been drowning in despair. I had thought that all my dreams were shattered, that I had no future. But my depression hadn't lasted that long. I may have gained some weight, but I didn't care about that. With the exam not that far away, and that bloody bastard coming at me from every turn I took, I couldn't help but want to go back in time.

Where it wasn't this hard.

Where I still was happy.

Living in a little bubble if happiness.

Inside I felt hollow.

Without being aware of it, I found myself playing with the chain around my neck.

And when I finally became aware of that, tears threatened to spill again.

Depression was quick in rearing its head again, and putting the mug with coffee down, I tried to rip the chain off movie style.

I didn't get it off, but only ended up with a little painful bump in my neck...

Then, when I tried to open it up so I could just throw it away, away from my body, it tangled into my hair, and just refused to get the damn out of there.

"Need a little help?"

I snapped my head around to find Scott with one of his hand still on the doorknob, while the other was moving towards his head. Probably to scratch his chin or something. He always did that when he was nervous or felt out of place.

I suddenly became very aware of my harsh breathing and the tears that were streaming down my face.

What was more important; To get the damn chain off, so I could get rid of the remaining physical memory from Rikkard, or make Scott believe that I wasn't bearing a grudge against an inanimate thing?

"You are not on your period or something? Because, if you want to break something, I could fetch something more... I don't know, something that is way funnier to destroy than that gold chain of yours."

I didn't say anything, and the grip around the chain didn't loosen even a little bit.

"It is gold, right?" Scott let go of the doorknob and took a step towards me. His hands was in front of him, as he was getting closer to a dangerous animal.

I nodded weakly.

"Are you going to tell me why you want to destroy it, or should I just help you with taking it off?"

I turned around and pushed my hair to one side, and waited for him to understand what I wanted him to do. I was scared that if I opened my mouth, I would sound like something dying. I probably already looked like a red balloon, and there was no need to make me look uglier.

If I had even one ounce of pride left, it evaporated that instant. My tears fell freely from my eyes, and the fact that I was crying over something that I had already wasted so many tears on, made me feel bad. I mean, people were dying of thirst and hunger, and here I was, leaking useful water.

When the chain was finally off and away from me, my sobs filled the air. Scott remained silent, not sure what to do.

After some minutes, he took hold of me, and I found myself pressed into his chest, his arms safely around me.

He was a good friend. He had been that for the three years I had known him. Right now I was happy that we got this job together, working at the same place.

After he had held me for God knows how long, I had finally found my breath again. He let go of me, and I gave him a weak smile as we made our way back to work.

As our work finished, and I found out that my education could wait for me, I almost forced Scott to go with me to a bar not far from our work.

That was very convenient.

I mean, having a bar not far from a hospital.

Then you could cry your heart out and be lost in oblivion, if you were a doctor that was just happy that your first operation had gone well. Depending on the type of doctor you were, you had to open up living, breathing humans. You never knew when you could suddenly cut over something vital, or when you brain decided to leave you in situations were you actually needed it. So, first operation gone well was something to be damn happy for.

The bar was also very good in situations were you were really, really tired of life. As in, you had lost a loved one, and wanted to forget the pain, even just for a little while.

That's the thing about humans; We hate it when we can't remember certain things, and then again, we also hate to remember other things. Like pain. But pain had the awful tendency to stay, even when you supposedly had moved on.

In my case though, a person that had found out that her boyfriend was having fun with another woman, while you were reading your ass off somewhere.

A little oblivion didn't hurt anybody, so I decided to get drunk that day too. I mean, one Tuesday off from university wouldn't kill me, right?

Scott got surrounded by single women the instant they found out that he wasn't taken, leaving me alone on the dance floor. He had this gravitational force that attracted all the women, leaving me all alone.

I swayed my hips to the music, trying to enjoy it. The loud music pressed out any depressing thoughts from my mind, and the alcohol was already circulating in my system. The deep bass was thudding through my ears, and if the alcohol hadn't been circulating in my system, I would probably notice how the dark walls shook from the reverberation of the deafening music.

Séx and physical contact helped numb the pain, fill the void that was inside me. Or so I liked to tell myself. It could be that I was becoming a nymphomaniac, just like a person that was depressed turned to alcohol and drugs.

But no one approached me today. Desperation was probably oozing out from my pores, scaring away any potential one-night stands. I should probably not even be here. The night with Dan should have scared me away.

When I felt muscular arms around me, I almost let out a hysterical laugh.

Finally.

But just as I slid down my back against his defined chest, he was gone. Just like that.

Letting out a bitter laugh, I continued to dance.

When the sweat was almost dripping down my back, and covering my face, I gave Scott a small signal, telling him that I was going out to take a break. He nodded, and returned his attention back to the beautiful brunette that was now clinging to him.

That lucky bastard. He didn't even have to try.

Outside, the weather was colder than I expected it to be, making me shiver when the wind blowed my way. I regretted not taking a jacket with me. Rain was drizzling from the dark clouds above me. The sidewalks were covered in murky puddles, water splashing everywhere as some cars drove by every now and then. The icky weather really matched my mood, and a smile played on my lips at the thought.

I turned to walk down the road, when suddenly someone appeared out of nowhere in front of me. I stopped dead in my track and stepped right into a puddle. The ice cold water seeped into my shoes and soaked my socks, but I remained frozen on the same spot.

The ironic smile wiped off my face when my eyes landed on none other than Rikkard, and my drunk thoughts were suddenly replaced by very, very sober thoughts.

He looked out of place, and by the looks of it, he hadn't shaved in a while. His normally blue beautiful eyes looked dull, and he had bags and bluish circles under his eyes.

If I hadn't lost my ability to think, I would have thought of him as a zombie.

His once white shirt looked more grey than white now. The wind picked the right moment to bring the interesting scent of Rikkard to my nostrils. If my mind wasn't too occupied of trying to find the best method to bring him pain, I most certainly would have gagged. It was evident that he hadn't taken a shower in days, and his hair was greasy and stuck to his head.

A red stain on the front was a tell-tale for chinese food he had been eating. By the looks of it, most if the food hadn't ended up inside his mouth.

My heart was in my throat, and I could feel it hammering against my ribcage, ready to burst free and run away from the sole reason that broke it on million pieces.

But instead, I wasted no time.

I grabbed him by his shirt and punched him in his face three times.

I wish I could say that he flew backwards and into the wall because of the immense strenght I had suddenly gained, all action-movie style.

But that certainly didn't happen.

"I broke my fingers!" I let out a scream as I looked at my hand in despair. The pain was as strong as one hundred daggers that pierced my skin at the same time, adding and fueling the pain that was already there. I groaned and screamed with anguish, clutching my wrist in an attempt to lessen the pain. My eyes watered with the sheer pain, and my breathing came out in shallow rasps that sounded to loud in the dark alleyway, echoing in the eerie night.

"Let me take you to the hospital," Rikkard said. And even though tears had started to stream down my face, I couldn't help but laugh. Blood was seeping from his broken lips, and he tried to give me a reassuring smile, even though I was laughing as a maniac.

His smile made him look like the Joker.

Adrenalin was still pumping throughout my body, and so I did whatever my body wanted to do; I ran. I ran as fast as my feet could bear me in the direction I knew I had parked my car.

If my mind hadn't been hazy, and I didn't have a mental ex-boyfriend in my heels, I would have thought twice over what exactly I was setting out on.

Somehow I managed to get to my car as I held my useless hand against my chest. It hurted like hell, and my tear ducts were undergoing some serious malfunctioning.

If I didn't stopped crying, I would have to see the doctor to get rid of the dumb tear ducts.

And for some odd reason, I found myself laughing again.

I had always had a weird humor. And to be honest, studying medicine hadn't done me any good. I actually found people with weirder humor than me. But then again, maybe it was a form of armour or shield that we built around ourself. After all, we had to deal with a lot of things. Like cutting up dead people, being responsible for people dying, making mistakes, lose sleep because we thought partying was more fun than studying (who doesn't think that?) and of course, learn latin. Oh, the pain was real.

But it was different with us soon-to-be doctors. At least, that's what our professors told us.

From the very first day as a student, we have professional obligations placed upon us by the public, the law and each and everyone that we will meet throughout our life as a student and in our working life.

1. We can't go all ballistic in public.

I had done that, just some minutes ago. If punching a guy in the face, and break some fingers in the process isn't called going ballistic, then I don't know what is.

2. You should have some serious listening abilities, and genuinely like and be interested in people.

As Rikkard banged on the window, and I gave him my finger (with my hand that was still cooperating with me, that is) I knew I had broken another rule.

3. Stay calm and think.

I turned the keys, bringing the engine to life, and pressed my foot on the accelerator, making the car lurch forward. And within seconds, I was speeding away from there as soon as possible. If I drove of Rikkards foot, it would have pleased me immensely.

Let me just tell you something; Never drive when you have alcohol running in your system. And especially don't do it when one of your hands isn't working properly.

I only had to time to yelp as my eyes fell on the black cat that was walking over the road as if it owned the damn thing.

Maybe if I had thought through it all, I had at least not tried to stop the car by fúcking pressing on the accelerator.

But I did, nonetheless, and let's just say that even though the cat came out of it alive, my story was ready to take another turn.

Wrong turn.

I shouldn't even be sitting in the driving seat. I should be back at the bar or probably already having a fun time with some stranger.

But I wasn't.

I only had the time to think that this was it. I was going to die before I got to actually operate someone, before I crashed into a three.

If someone had heard the crack that come from my neck, they would have been sure to say that I was dead meat.

And I really was.

My neck had broken, and I stopped breathing.

As future doctors, we are told to humbly accept death as an important part if life. And talking to other people, it is quite easy. But to accept that you yourself are dying, is not as easy. And I didn't even have time to get my head around the fact that I was going to die, before I was long gone.

There was no light. No tunnel of light getting closer.

It was just death.

And regret.

Then there was only silence.

Darkness.

My life did not flash before my eyes. And even if it had, I feared that most of the moments would be of me, either reading my ass off or crying my ass of.

I did that a lot.

And that's what worried me... That I used so much time and braincapacity thinking and worrying about things I couldn't do anything with, when I should be focusing on something else. Like how I would die... And what I would use my time on if I had known that tomorrow would never come.

You spend so much time on thinking about your everyday troubles, when the real troubles never even cross your mind.

You see, I felt a little bit cheated.

I had given myself the illusion that even though my life sucked, I was someone special. That death would somehow ignore me, that the grim reaper would favour me somehow. But that was just another human silly thought.

I was as dead as the man I had opened up some days ago. I was as dead as the fishes that I killed with a hard blow from the back of the knife on their heads.

But then, I saw light...