Holly Wolfe's Blog - Posts Tagged "excerpt"
The Masochist Excerpts
Just to give you an idea of what the story is like. Please read and enjoy and remember that you can purchase a print copy from lulu.com or an eBook version from Barnes & Noble, the iBookstore, or from lulu.com.
Excerpt 1:
It was dark. I was alone and I was bleeding. I held the knife tightly in my left hand as I watched the blood flow freely from my right wrist. I always found that the left hand cut better and the right wrist bled better. I smiled and slashed angrily at my wrist again. The blood gurgled out faster.
It was a great feeling, one I had first discovered back when I was eight years old and learning how to cook. I had blindly and wildly struck at a piece of pork with a very large butcher knife. Evidently, my wrist had been in the way and the pork became bathed in blood. I scarred Trick for life and freaked my father out so much he didn’t let me in the kitchen again until I was 15. That didn’t matter for I had stolen some cash and bought the very knife I now gripped in my hand.
Trick never asked me about it although he always gives me a disappointing look whenever he sees my wrists. Father turns a blind eye. Who cares what he thinks anyways, I’m 32.
After a few minutes more of my sweet red blood pouring out of my body, I switched the bathroom light on and eased my wrist into the sink I had filled to the brim with warm water. The water bit at the new wounds and pulled more blood from within. Soon the once clear water was a murky red color. I pulled my arm out. The bleeding had stopped. I wiped it off with a brown stained hand towel.
My ritual finished, I flicked the light off and left the bathroom. Trick was snoring in his room thankfully and I tossed the hand towel into the washing machine. He would find it when he did the laundry in the morning but I know he won’t say anything about it.
I looked into the darkness of my room and shook my head. No, I didn’t feel like going to bed. I grabbed my jacket and threw it on before grabbing the keys to my backup car: a dark green Mini Cooper. It’s not a very good car to go racing in but hey, it’s seen its share of victories. . . and defeats.
I snuck out into the garage and manually opened the door so I wouldn’t wake Trick. I eased the car outside and then hopped out and closed the door.
I drove through the night with one destination in mind: the station. I don’t know what I was planning on accomplishing but it was definitely worth a shot, I think.
Excerpt 2:
I sighed and leaned on my hand. I stared out of the window at the rain. My windshield wipers were on full blast and I could still barely see. I wasn’t going anywhere. I was parked on the curb in my Cooper just a block away from Espresso’s safe house. I gulped. Damn why did he have to make me feel this way?
Wait. Was that a siren? I glanced in my rearview. Sure enough, red and blue flashing lights pulled up behind me. I groaned. Great, just what I needed: my 97th time. True, I could’ve gunned it and got away but seriously I was in an apathetic mood. So I rolled down my window.
“Ho, hey! Look what the cat dragged in,” Officer Griffin proclaimed as he shined his flashlight into my face.
I glared at him. “It’s the middle of the day, only an idiot would bring a flashlight,” I commented.
He shrugged and leaned back against my car. “Something wrong?” he asked.
“Something happen with Espresso?”
“You wish,” I growled.
He barked a laugh that was lost in the rain. “Get out of the car,” he said nonchalantly.
“Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I countered. “I’m sorry but I might not care what you do to me right now. I just don’t want to get wet.”
“Oh you’ll be getting wet alright,” Griffin laughed again.
I glared at him. “Look, I haven’t the time for this,” I spat. “Just fight me out of the car.”
He whirled around and slammed his hands on my door. “Tyrant Turner get out of the car now,” he said through clenched teeth.
I cocked my head at him and stared him in the eye. “Make me,” I replied.
In a swift movement, he had his hand curled into my hair. He ripped me towards the window as though to pull me out. “Come on,” he said. “If it were me, I’d rather climb out the door then be yanked through the window.”
He pulled on my hair more. I felt a noise rising in my throat. It was a moan of pleasure. The pain of him ripping the hair on my scalp felt way too good. He cocked an eyebrow and released me. Griffin reached his hand into the car and unlocked the door. He then yanked it opened. He took hold of my arm and gently tugged. I staggered out of the car, being sure to grab my keys out of the ignition and slip them into my pocket.
“That’s good,” he purred and shoved me against the Cooper.
I lay my hands against its cold body and spread my legs. The rain had already drenched my hair and soaked through my thin clothes. Griffin set his hands firmly on my shoulders. He stood there for a few moments without moving. Then he moved his hands down to my ribs. They reached out and patted my chest before moving to my hips, where they lingered for another few moments before moving on to grab my left leg.
I almost kicked him. I was so close, my leg muscles had tensed. He held on and moved down to my ankle where he switched over to my right ankle and trailed up to my thigh. He gently rubbed my inner thigh in a soothing motion.
“Just put me in the car already,” I said lifting my left leg and kicking my Cooper’s door shut. “Thanks for ruining my leather.”
“No prob,” he said straightening. He reached around and grabbed my hands, pulling them behind me.
I felt cold steel press against my skin as he cuffed me. “Come,” he commanded gently pulling me away from the Cooper and shoving me towards his cruiser.
I sighed and banged my head against the stone wall behind me. I found myself thinking of Espresso once again. His strong embrace, his sweet kiss, his warm bed. . . I gulped. “Espresso,” I whispered.
“You rang?” Griffin said as he came over and leaned on the bars.
I glared at him. “Go away,” I hissed.
He sighed and unlocked the door. He shut the cell door behind him and hung the keys on the hook. I hugged my knees to my chest as he came over and knelt in front of me. He said nothing only tilted his head as he regarded my tear stained face. Wait, when did I start crying?
Griffin slowly reached out. An icy sensation made my skin crawl as he snatched my wrist in his hand. Slowly, he turned it over so that my veins were exposed along with the scars that had formed from years of making myself bleed. I met his skeptical gaze with a strong harsh steady stare.
“Suicidal?” the questioning breath rasped through his chattering teeth and his hot breath swirled through the air.
“Nah, I just like the way it feels to bleed,” I replied unwaveringly.
He cocked an eyebrow. “That’s different,” he said pulling me towards him.
I fell forward and landed in the soft spot between his legs. I sighed and rested my head on his stomach. He wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on my head.
I said nothing. He said nothing. We just sat there, him holding me.
---------
If you have any questions, comments, etc please feel free to send me a message or leave a comment.
Excerpt 1:
It was dark. I was alone and I was bleeding. I held the knife tightly in my left hand as I watched the blood flow freely from my right wrist. I always found that the left hand cut better and the right wrist bled better. I smiled and slashed angrily at my wrist again. The blood gurgled out faster.
It was a great feeling, one I had first discovered back when I was eight years old and learning how to cook. I had blindly and wildly struck at a piece of pork with a very large butcher knife. Evidently, my wrist had been in the way and the pork became bathed in blood. I scarred Trick for life and freaked my father out so much he didn’t let me in the kitchen again until I was 15. That didn’t matter for I had stolen some cash and bought the very knife I now gripped in my hand.
Trick never asked me about it although he always gives me a disappointing look whenever he sees my wrists. Father turns a blind eye. Who cares what he thinks anyways, I’m 32.
After a few minutes more of my sweet red blood pouring out of my body, I switched the bathroom light on and eased my wrist into the sink I had filled to the brim with warm water. The water bit at the new wounds and pulled more blood from within. Soon the once clear water was a murky red color. I pulled my arm out. The bleeding had stopped. I wiped it off with a brown stained hand towel.
My ritual finished, I flicked the light off and left the bathroom. Trick was snoring in his room thankfully and I tossed the hand towel into the washing machine. He would find it when he did the laundry in the morning but I know he won’t say anything about it.
I looked into the darkness of my room and shook my head. No, I didn’t feel like going to bed. I grabbed my jacket and threw it on before grabbing the keys to my backup car: a dark green Mini Cooper. It’s not a very good car to go racing in but hey, it’s seen its share of victories. . . and defeats.
I snuck out into the garage and manually opened the door so I wouldn’t wake Trick. I eased the car outside and then hopped out and closed the door.
I drove through the night with one destination in mind: the station. I don’t know what I was planning on accomplishing but it was definitely worth a shot, I think.
Excerpt 2:
I sighed and leaned on my hand. I stared out of the window at the rain. My windshield wipers were on full blast and I could still barely see. I wasn’t going anywhere. I was parked on the curb in my Cooper just a block away from Espresso’s safe house. I gulped. Damn why did he have to make me feel this way?
Wait. Was that a siren? I glanced in my rearview. Sure enough, red and blue flashing lights pulled up behind me. I groaned. Great, just what I needed: my 97th time. True, I could’ve gunned it and got away but seriously I was in an apathetic mood. So I rolled down my window.
“Ho, hey! Look what the cat dragged in,” Officer Griffin proclaimed as he shined his flashlight into my face.
I glared at him. “It’s the middle of the day, only an idiot would bring a flashlight,” I commented.
He shrugged and leaned back against my car. “Something wrong?” he asked.
“Something happen with Espresso?”
“You wish,” I growled.
He barked a laugh that was lost in the rain. “Get out of the car,” he said nonchalantly.
“Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I countered. “I’m sorry but I might not care what you do to me right now. I just don’t want to get wet.”
“Oh you’ll be getting wet alright,” Griffin laughed again.
I glared at him. “Look, I haven’t the time for this,” I spat. “Just fight me out of the car.”
He whirled around and slammed his hands on my door. “Tyrant Turner get out of the car now,” he said through clenched teeth.
I cocked my head at him and stared him in the eye. “Make me,” I replied.
In a swift movement, he had his hand curled into my hair. He ripped me towards the window as though to pull me out. “Come on,” he said. “If it were me, I’d rather climb out the door then be yanked through the window.”
He pulled on my hair more. I felt a noise rising in my throat. It was a moan of pleasure. The pain of him ripping the hair on my scalp felt way too good. He cocked an eyebrow and released me. Griffin reached his hand into the car and unlocked the door. He then yanked it opened. He took hold of my arm and gently tugged. I staggered out of the car, being sure to grab my keys out of the ignition and slip them into my pocket.
“That’s good,” he purred and shoved me against the Cooper.
I lay my hands against its cold body and spread my legs. The rain had already drenched my hair and soaked through my thin clothes. Griffin set his hands firmly on my shoulders. He stood there for a few moments without moving. Then he moved his hands down to my ribs. They reached out and patted my chest before moving to my hips, where they lingered for another few moments before moving on to grab my left leg.
I almost kicked him. I was so close, my leg muscles had tensed. He held on and moved down to my ankle where he switched over to my right ankle and trailed up to my thigh. He gently rubbed my inner thigh in a soothing motion.
“Just put me in the car already,” I said lifting my left leg and kicking my Cooper’s door shut. “Thanks for ruining my leather.”
“No prob,” he said straightening. He reached around and grabbed my hands, pulling them behind me.
I felt cold steel press against my skin as he cuffed me. “Come,” he commanded gently pulling me away from the Cooper and shoving me towards his cruiser.
I sighed and banged my head against the stone wall behind me. I found myself thinking of Espresso once again. His strong embrace, his sweet kiss, his warm bed. . . I gulped. “Espresso,” I whispered.
“You rang?” Griffin said as he came over and leaned on the bars.
I glared at him. “Go away,” I hissed.
He sighed and unlocked the door. He shut the cell door behind him and hung the keys on the hook. I hugged my knees to my chest as he came over and knelt in front of me. He said nothing only tilted his head as he regarded my tear stained face. Wait, when did I start crying?
Griffin slowly reached out. An icy sensation made my skin crawl as he snatched my wrist in his hand. Slowly, he turned it over so that my veins were exposed along with the scars that had formed from years of making myself bleed. I met his skeptical gaze with a strong harsh steady stare.
“Suicidal?” the questioning breath rasped through his chattering teeth and his hot breath swirled through the air.
“Nah, I just like the way it feels to bleed,” I replied unwaveringly.
He cocked an eyebrow. “That’s different,” he said pulling me towards him.
I fell forward and landed in the soft spot between his legs. I sighed and rested my head on his stomach. He wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on my head.
I said nothing. He said nothing. We just sat there, him holding me.
---------
If you have any questions, comments, etc please feel free to send me a message or leave a comment.
