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You've Lost a Lot of Blood
You've Lost a Lot of Blood
You've Lost a Lot of Blood
Ebook199 pages2 hours

You've Lost a Lot of Blood

Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

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Each precious thing I show you in this book is a holy relic from the night we both perished-the night when I combed you from my hair and watered the moon with your blood.


You've lost a lot of blood . . .

LanguageEnglish
PublisherEric LaRocca
Release dateMar 11, 2022
ISBN9781088014202
Author

Eric LaRocca

Eric LaRocca (he/they) is the Bram Stoker Award®-nominated and Splatterpunk Award-winning author of the viral sensation, Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke. A lover of luxury fashion and an admirer of European musical theatre, Eric can often be found roaming the streets of his home city, Boston, MA, for inspiration. For more information, please visit ericlarocca.com.

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Reviews for You've Lost a Lot of Blood

Rating: 3.670886075949367 out of 5 stars
3.5/5

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  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    The novella was terrific, but the Martyr sections really interrupted the flow and I found them just generally a bit pretentious
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    The first book I’ve read of LaRocca. Brilliant. Fun. Very mild compared to everything else he’s done. It’s a mix of “Triangle” and a little “Oculus”.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    The time loop thing was so good! How it all connected at the end was incredibly well done. It was eerie and disturbing, and all around beautifully written!

    1 person found this helpful

  • Rating: 1 out of 5 stars
    1/5
    This isn’t a book it the first three chapters of a novella

    3 people found this helpful

  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    4.5 stars

    I need this as a movie, immediately.

    The novella-within-a-novella was so creepy and unsettling, I'm shook. Didn't really care for the Martyr sections but the novella was A+

    1 person found this helpful

Book preview

You've Lost a Lot of Blood - Eric LaRocca

You’ve Lost A Lot Of Blood:

PART ONE

[The following text includes the first three chapters of a novella, You’ve Lost a Lot of Blood, that Martyr Black had published by Carter Hill Press in October of 2018.]

Tamsen

Chapter

One

Tamsen, her face twisted in horror, releases a scream so agonizing that it surprises her. A young woman in agony. Filling every inch of the idling car.

She lunges forward in the driver’s seat, white knuckling the steering wheel. Screeches until hoarse, her eyes wet and shining.

Just then, her eyes snap to the rearview mirror. She sees her reflection—drenched in black oil as dark as blood. Head to toe.

She glances in the passenger seat: empty cans of motor oil and gasoline. Beside them, a small lighter.

She can scarcely believe it. What had she intended to do?

She straightens, remembering. Panic returns.

Presley, she says.

Her head jerks to the backseat. There, she finds her brother—a cherub-faced eleven-year-old boy.

He glistens, drenched with oil and stares at her with panic.

Tamsen chokes on quiet sobs, trembling. Eyes dimmed and glassy—forever lost in the nightmare.

As Tamsen’s car idles in the breakdown lane of the abandoned roadway, she wipes her face with a rag and circles the vehicle.

She pops open the trunk.

In there, she finds the splintered remains of a wooden pine tree carving. Face scrunching, confused, she tosses it aside.

Finally, she uncovers what she’s been looking for—two suitcases. She unzips one of them and then grimaces, greeted by a sparkling gold lamé tuxedo suit. Tosses it aside. Reveals a pirate costume.

She spies Presley through the backseat window.

Shoulders slumped, he cleans his face with a rag. His eyes dart to her, concerned.

She waves both costumes at him in the air.

Pick one, she says.

After driving a few miles further up the road, they come upon a small park and a public restroom. Tamsen parks in one of the empty spaces, passes the gold lamé suit to her brother, and then sends him into the men’s restroom to wash himself.

Once she’s cleaned herself as well, Tamsen meets her reflection in the grime-covered bathroom mirror. She scans her body—from her auburn pixie haircut to the tattoo of two black ribbons wrapped around her ankle.

She twists the rust-eaten faucet. Brown water sputters. She lurches back, disgusted.

Grabs a bottle of hand sanitizer from her bag. Douses her hands with it. A nervous habit.

She winces. The screech of metal against metal pulsing through her head. She doubles over and vomits.

When she’s finished dressing in clean clothes, she returns to the car parked out front and starts scrubbing the leather seats clean.

After she’s finished cleaning the seats, she rinses the black juices from her washcloth and tosses it aside.

She leans against the car, whips out her phone, and begins to scroll through her missed messages.

Tapping on the screen, she holds the phone to her ear.

The brittle-thin shriek of the woman’s voice greets her on the other end. She flinches at the

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