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)
It takes an hour for the giggling to wear off and the minutes drip by slowly like molasses. Once I trust myself to walk again, I pick myself up and walk to my bedroom only to find two people I don't know fucking on my bed.
Groaning, I try Mercy and Scott's bedroom, but it's locked.
I'm panicking now. My head hurts, my heartbeat's going crazy, and I feel sick. I desperately need to lie down, but there's nowhere to do it here. The apartment is filled to the brim.
I force myself not to think about calling Raphael for help. Thankfully I deleted his number.
Instead, I head to the kitchen and splash cold water on my face. I groan at the feeling. Everything from my eyes to my lips to my skin burns. I want to crawl out of my own body.
Things get even worse after that. The apartment fills with more people and my dizziness and confusion get worse and worse.
The paranoia sets in a couple of hours after, but it only lasts a while before being replaced with a needy feeling of wanting to come.
I can't help but think of Raphael as my fingers wander down my sweat-soaked shirt. I pinch my nipples, making them stand on end as I imagine him being here with me. I long to call him Daddy again. To feel him holding me while his cock bottoms out inside me.
I can't resist sliding my hand under the waistband of my skirt. I push my panties to the side and gently pinch my clit, making myself moan. My thoughts fill with memories of him and tears slide down my cheeks as I start to get off.
"Jesus Christ, Willa, you little slut."
I look up to find Scott standing above me with a hungry expression. Suddenly reality comes crashing back. I'm not alone. I'm in a room with two dozen other people and they all just saw me playing with myself. A camera flash goes off and I groan.
"You're a fucking mess," Scott informs me as I pick myself up on unsteady feet. Those drugs really fucked with me, and Mercy's nowhere to be seen.
Pushing past her boyfriend, I force myself to walk back into my bedroom. Luckily there's no one here now, though two used condoms lie on the floor, reminding me of what happened in here earlier.
But I can't deal with that right now. I'm so fucking dizzy. I just need to lie down.
Guiltily, I notice the sun rising outside, and tell myself I'll only lie down for a second. I crawl into the bed ignoring the wet marks on the duvet and cover myself up. Tears slide down my cheeks as everything I've worked years to forget comes back to haunt me.
Good girl.
Such a good girl, Willa.
I sob without any tears falling, remembering my stepfather and what he did to me. I try to replace the bad memories with Raphael but they only make me sadder. He's gone now. He doesn't give a damn about me. He's a part of my past, and I'm on my own now. It was my choice to leave, come here, go to school. I'll just have to get through it.
All I know is, I'm never doing drugs again.
"Wills? We're going to grab a bite to eat, you want to come?"
I groan, pulling the duvet up higher over my head. I have a splitting headache and it takes me a few moments to realize where I am and that the voice I just heard belongs to Mercy.
The reality of everything that happened this past month hits me like a freight train. I whimper, pulling myself up in the bed. It's dark outside.
"You've slept all day," Mercy says, sitting down on the bed with me. She seems jittery, and when I look up at her I notice her pupils are dilated and unfocused again.
"Fuck, I did?" I run my hands through my hair. "Why didn't you wake me up?"
She's absentmindedly staring at her reflection in my mirror, ignoring me. Frustrated, I push my feet out of the bed and grimace when I see the condoms on the floor. Fuck, last night really went too fucking far.
"Well, I guess we'll go by ourselves then." Mercy picks herself up and walks out of the room before I can respond.
A sinking feeling of guilt settles in the pit of my stomach. I've really fucked up. I slept through the first day of classes at Parsons. That can't be good.
I take a long, scathingly hot shower before cleaning up my room. Then, I curl up in bed with some herbal tea and my phone. I check the sugar baby app and see I have a request for a private video call.
It's from the guy I've been talking and sending photos to. We've never done a call, though – he's told me he can't meet me and he would prefer not to show his face.