I’ve recently gotten some requests to share an excerpt from one of my novels. So, I thought I’d do that here today. The following is an excerpt from Fill Me In (The Liquid Series, #2), which is currently available to read for free on Wattpad.com, with new chapters added weekly. If you’d like to read the entire series, you can start with the first volume, Empty Me Out (The Liquid Series, #1), also on Wattpad. If you’re already following Kelsey and Mark’s story, thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the time to read. I greatly appreciate all the support.
FILL ME IN: An Excerpt
Anticipation is almost as good as the payoff. When the straightest line of the purest snow lays in waiting, I can already feel the ice-prick tingle. Lena passes me a pipe and I lean over the coffee table, inhaling liberation while my moral scruples crawl behind my skull and hide. I’m here but not all there. I’m hovering outside my body, looking for a place with no memory.
I find it. Right here. In this moment. It’s all I care about. It’s all I need.
Kings of Leon blasts from Brett’s stereo, thumping in my ears before consuming my body in a way that feels like a religious experience. My eyes fall closed as I bob my head manically, channeling my inner rock god. When hysterical laughter erupts from behind, I join in. I’m not sure what’s so hilarious, but I cannot stop laughing. My lids lift until I see Brett and Lena doubled over, gesturing toward my feet. Glancing down, I am riveted to something wet and leaking — it drips in time to Sex on Fire’s opening drum riff, dropping starburst patterns onto the carpet and across the tops of my sneakers. As I admire the splattered works of art, it occurs to me that I must have hit my head on something, but I don’t remember shit. I touch my temple, then study my red-soaked hand. Mesmerized, I watch the blood settle into the creases of my palm — it blows my mind. This sends me into another fit of hysterics.
People fill the room gradually and all at once, joining me on the fast track to fucked-up. When a bag of wacky dust appears on the futon like magic, I stuff it in my back pocket and don’t ask questions. Tupperware containers are passed around and my mouth waters. Grabbing a handful of brownies, I scarf them down as I stand to scan the place for alcohol. The room spins and I collapse to my knees. A brunette wearing a silver mini-dress bends over in slow motion, holding out a plastic cup. Enjoying the view, I take what she offers and knock back the contents. Discarding the cup on the floor, I catch a glimpse of my hand — it’s still dirty red. I laugh my ass off at the discovery. The brunette giggles in response, reaching down to dab at the gash in my head. I laugh even harder when she shows me her bloodied fingertips, until she slips them into her mouth and sucks them clean. I fall silent — and now I’m horny as fuck.
Someone is moaning but my head is too heavy to turn to seek out the culprit. I’m on my back but have no idea how I got this way. I am pinned under something. There’s more moaning. Something is pressing against me — it feels good. The brunette’s face comes into view, and despite the makeup spackled all over her pores, I decide she’s pretty. Her hair smells like strawberries as it sweeps past my nose and tickles my neck. Opening my mouth to laugh, a moan falls out instead. She grinds on top of me, upping the ante with her animalistic grunting. I wish I could take off my pants. As if reading my mind, she pops the top button to my jeans. Her hair hangs like a veil over her eyes, and for a moment I imagine she’s Kelsey.
No. I don’t want to think about her right now.
The moaning escalates and I’m not sure if it’s me, the brunette, or someone else making all the noise. Somehow, I muster the strength to lift my head and look around. The party has organized itself into groups of twos and threes. They’re huddled in corners, pressed against walls, sprawled across the floor, tangled on the futon. One couple is completely naked, the others not far behind. The moaning continues and it hurts my ears. I can’t stop thinking about Kelsey and I become trapped inside my emotions. I need out of here.
“Get the fuck off me,” I say.
Ignoring me, the brunette persists with the bump and grind, but it doesn’t feel good anymore. “Oh come on,” she coos. “I’m just getting warmed up.”
Kicking her off, I force myself to sit upright but the room tilts and I keel onto my side. She snorts and falls back on her heels, pulling her dress over her head and tossing it aside. I think she’s going to try seducing me some more, but instead she crawls toward Brett who is now sitting alone, half-naked, and looking only too eager to give her what she wants.
Again, I push myself up, but a hand shoves me back and I land hard. My head throbs while the ringing in my ears drowns out the grunting that drowns out the moaning that drowns out everything else. Fingernails slip under my T-shirt, raking over my chest as a topless Lena appears like a nightmare.
“My turn,” she mouths, unzipping my fly.
Dry heaves wrack my body as I jump to my feet, knocking Lena flat on her back. Her hair fans out wildly — an over processed mass of tangled straw. Biting her lip, she snakes her hand just under the waistband of her panties, which are a Pepto-Bismol pink. Disgusted, I look away, but not before reading the unmistakable “fuck you” on her lips since I still can’t hear shit. Vomit rises in my throat as I move to escape, but my legs won’t cooperate and I careen into a couple dry humping against the wall. They watch in amusement as I finally give into my churning stomach and throw up all over the floor. My ears pop as the ringing stops and boisterous laughter takes its place.
“Poor fuck can’t handle his shit,” some asshole chides from a far corner of the room.
Straightening, I wipe my mouth with the back of my blood-stained hand, taking in the scene before me. I suddenly think of my parents and what a disappointment I’d been to them. What if they’d seen me like this? I feel myself getting choked up, and I try like hell to hold it in, but I’m too much of a fucking pussy. The entire room points and laughs like I’m some sort of side-show freak. Wiping my cheeks, I flounder my way out of the apartment, vowing never to return.
I half-walk, half-tumble down three flights of stairs, and when I reach the bottom I’m pretty sure my left ankle is sprained. Fishing keys from my front pocket, I manage to make it to my car without falling and tasting cement. I peel away from the curb with the windows down, and the air feels refreshing. Sweat pours off my forehead, dripping into my eyes. Or maybe it’s blood — I’m not sure of anything at this point. I just want to hit the gas pedal until I’m so far away from reality that I disappear.
Night falls as I drive, coating me in its discombobulating darkness. I know I’m on a highway, but I can’t determine which one, or how long I’ve been on it. Stars dot my vision, which pisses me off because I can’t make out what lane I’m in. Squinting, I try concentrating on the lines in the road, but they’re equally confused, blending then curving in all directions. Panic sets in and I slap my cheeks in an effort to sober up, momentarily forgetting to keep my hands on the steering wheel. The car veers across the median just as I realize my mistake.
Horns blare as I grip the wheel and jerk it, avoiding a direct hit with oncoming traffic. Swerving into what I think is the breakdown lane, I slam on the breaks, sending the car into a tailspin. I hear a crack and glass shatters everywhere — it’s in my lap, on my shirt — shards imbed in my face and neck. The pain is too much and I can’t even scream. My stomach drops as the car lurches, and that’s when I realize I’m falling — the plunge is steep and cantankerous, delivering its turbulent beating while my eyes flood with a thickening wetness. I retain one final thought as everything goes black.
I’ve hit rock bottom.
S A Healey, a happily married mother of two, is and will forever remain, a lover of words and a sucker for romance. You can find out more about her novels and other works at http://www.sahealey.com.