Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 61997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
I think about going home a lot, or maybe tracking down Raphael. But how can I? Dove and Nox would be so disappointed in me. I'd never be able to admit to Raphael I lost my scholarship to Parsons. I can never go back home.
"Can I have some?" I mutter at Mercy, but she vehemently shakes her head. "Greedy. Not even a little?"
"You said you wanted to quit," she reminds me, wrapping a hair band around her forearm. "I'm just trying to help, Wills."
I want to believe that's true, but judging by her hazed expression I'm not even sure she's going to remember this conversation in a few minutes once the H hits her veins.
I watch as she leans back once she does the hit, exhaling slowly and grinning to herself once the drugs start hitting her.
"You got anything else?" I'm feeling greedy now, jealous of her high that I'm not able to share.
"Check in the bathroom," she mutters. "Under the creaky floorboard, there should be some pills left."
I walk into the bathroom, pulling down my T-shirt under which I'm just wearing a pair of panties. I identify the floorboard, choosing not to question how long Mercy's been hiding her stash from me. I pull out a baggy containing three purple pills. I swallow them all, gulping to get them down.
I realize taking all those pills was a mistake almost instantly. I retch but nothing comes up. My conscience lets me down, abandoning me to watch my body from above, as if it's not really me at all. Seconds turn into minutes and the hours tick by painfully slowly yet lightning fast at the same time. At some point the darkness takes over, and I succumb to it. I let it envelope me in its chokingly tight embrace, reminding myself I deserve all of this and worse.
Raphael doesn't want me, and I've abandoned my family. This is the result – a year of misery, drugs and barely-there memories of what happened.
"I deserve it," I whisper to myself as my cheek hits the bathroom tile. "I deserve this."
After that, the world goes mercifully dark.
"Man, they're really fucked up. You sure they're going to be okay?"
"Who the fuck gives a shit? Nobody knows we were here, anyway. They're just disposable whores. Exactly Scott’s type."
There's the sound of laughter and my head feels like it's about to crack open as a broken groan leaves my lips.
"Fuck, that one's waking up. Pass me the phone, I want to get this."
I feel the light of a camera flash in my eyes and force them open. But there's another pain on top of my splitting headache – something coming from a different place, a place I'm afraid of.
It's between my legs. And as I open my eyes, I realize I'm bent over the couch. My panties are around my ankles and someone's crudely pinching my nipples. I try to shriek but no sound comes from my lips. My mouth is dry as fuck and I'm desperate for a drink. But I'm still not completely awake. It's as if a dark veil has set over my vision, making me unable to see through the haze.
The pain between my legs grows worse and worse, like something's pounding into me, determined to break me. I turn my head weakly over my shoulder and come face to face with a camera on somebody's phone.
"Smile," someone laughs out loud. "Fuck man, this is like girls gone wild."
My eyes dance over the cluttered living room. Mercy's on the other side of it, uselessly bent over in a heap over a bean bag chair. There's a tall dude kneeling next to her, his shirt pulled up and his cock hanging out. I watch with confusion as he forces his meaty dick inside my friend.
That's not Scott.
The pain between my legs grows and this time when I shriek, a weak sound comes out.
"Fuck, good girl."
Good girl. Those two little words I still only love to hear from Raphael. But this isn't Raphael. It's a man only a few years older than me, wearing a bandana and filming himself as he bottoms out inside me.
"What the fuck are you doing?" I whisper, but I'm too weak to move.
Horror makes my limbs freeze. I can't move, can't crawl away. But the reality of what's happening is starting to dawn on me.
I hear the man groan and then warmth explodes between my legs. He pulls out and I feel his release trickling down the inside of my thighs just as the hot tears make a blazing trail over my flushed cheeks.
"You tell Scott this is what he gets for not paying his debts," the bandana man mutters, roughly grabbing me by the cheeks. "You're still a good fuck, though. Maybe you should be a professional whore. I'll find you again soon, and next time you'll suck my cock."