The Rightful Luna

Chapter 5 Welcome Home

**TRIGGER WARNING**

This scene contains vivid details of physical, s****l and emotional abuse.

Carina POV

The rattling of locks at the door is my signal. I quickly sit up, tying my ankles and hands before closing the lid. I have been in this coffin for two days and two nights, but my good Samaritan was right. The worst is over.

Even though they have not beaten me again, they kept me in this coffin. Three times a day, I would receive a dry bread roll and a cup of water. Each time I was drenched in water and belittled by Cybil.

Every night, the girl returned with more food, Gatorade and a bucket. She removed my ties and gave me new ones. I got to stretch my legs and find relief from the unbearable wood against my skin. If it were not for her, I would have lost my mind.

The lid opens and I am yanked out unceremoniously. The floor is cold and hard under my hands and feet.

“Get up,” Cybil snaps.

I do not even bother to obey or to respond – again – that I cannot since I am tied up. A guard picks me up and attaches me to the hook. Panic threatens to overcome me. This should not happen! Mason is coming back today. There will be marks and he will have questions. Except … except if he approves of this.

“Your dearest husband will be home soon,” Cybil strides towards me. “And he is expecting a healthy, happy bride.”

Her eyes glide up and down my naked body.

“You’re disgusting,” she spits on me. “And you stink.”

“Clean her up,” she looks at one of her lackeys.

The man brings a bucket with soapy water and tosses it over me. I grind my teeth when he uses a rough sponge to wash me. I close my eyes in humiliation when he washes my breasts and between my legs. No man has ever touched me there, and I certainly never thought it would be a filthy guard to do so.

“I will report to Mason that you were a good wife,” Cybil continues as the guard hoses me off with a bucket of clean water. “And you shall tell him that you spend your time reading and watching television.”

I only glare at her with hatred. Everything in me urges me to scream at her that I shall not obey. To challenge her, but I keep my mouth shut. This is so close to being over, I can remain quiet for a few more minutes.

“You think I don’t understand your silence,” she raises her eyebrows. “You think you’re the first one I bent to my will?”

“Guard,” she looks to the man next to me. “Eat her.”

What does that mean? I wonder as fear grips my heart.

The man kneels and removes the ties around my ankles. I gasp for air when he opens my legs and rests them on his shoulders.

In utter disgust, I feel the man settling his face between my legs and I scream in horror when his tongue licks my clit*ris. I wiggle and squirm, trying to free my legs to kick him away but the three others join and keep my legs in place.

The man continues to lick and suck on me while I scream and wiggle. I do not care that Cybil can hear and see my fear and repulse. I only want to break free.

“Enough!” Cybil commands and the man lets go of me.

“See?” Cybil grins victoriously. “I can bend anyone to my will. You will do as I say or …” She painfully flicks my n!pple. “He won’t stop next time.”

I am a sobbing mess when they remove me from the hook. They wrap me in a blanket and carry me to the East Wing. There is not a soul in sight, and I assume Cybil has commanded everybody to a chore to keep them from seeing what is happening.

“Make yourself presentable,” Cybil snaps when the guard drops me on the floor in my room. “Mason will be here in an hour.”

I curl into a bundle on the floor and allow the sorrow and pain to take over. I cry until I have no tears left. Only then do I master the strength to walk to the shower. The so-called sponge bath I was subjected to only made me feel dirty. I vigorously scrub until my skin is red and glowing, but I still feel dirty.

I royally apply lotion and put on clothes. Despite the heat, I pick jeans and a turtleneck jersey. If I could, I would have worn a jacket. I want to cover and shield every inch of my skin from anybody’s eyes.

Three applications of foundation later, I managed to conceal the dark circles underneath my eyes. But there is no cure for the deadness in my eyes. With a sigh, I style my hair into a braid.

There is a soft knock on my door and my heart starts beating wildly with fear. Pull it together, I reprimand myself. Cybil will not knock.

“Come in,” I reply, trying to keep the fear out of my voice.

“Good morning,” a familiar voice says, and I look stunned at the woman. “I’m Eloise, and I’m …”

“It’s you!” I interrupt her, jump up and pull her into my embrace. Shamelessly, I cry and cling to her. “I will recognise your voice at any time.”

“Luna, compose yourself,” she whispers while gently rubbing my back.

“I’m not the Luna,” I cry.

“You will be,” she pushes me gently away. “And you’ll always be mine. Please, stop crying before somebody hears or sees. You survived; you’ll be okay.”

“No,” I sniff, shaking my head. “I will never be okay again.”

“Luna,” she looks intensely at me. “Did something else happen?”

“I should get ready,” I ignore her question. “Mason will be here soon.”

I turn my back on her and walk to my dresser. Never, for as long as I shall live, will I be able to share with anyone what happened to me this morning. It is much too humiliating.

Mason POV

Exhaustion has consumed every fibre of me. Seeing Dad this sick is breaking me. The doctors said the treatment is working but I cannot see it. Not between his difficulty eating and throwing up when he does.

I still cannot get hold of Erica. All I need is to hear her voice. That will be enough to keep me going. To remind me for which I am waiting.

I take a deep breath before entering the house and walk to the East Wing. I have no desire to see Carina now, but I do not consider myself rude. I will greet and inform her of my arrival before I retire to my office. With Dad’s illness and my absence during my so-called honeymoon, there is much to be done.

I knock on Carina’s door, and Eloise opens it.

“Welcome home,” she smiles at me, opening the door wider. She turns around and gathers the laundry from the floor before scurrying away.

“Thank you, Eloise,” I nod and turn towards Carina. She is sitting in a chair staring at the garden.

Shock rips through me when I walk towards her. How is it possible for a person to lose weight in three days? She looks at me, and I swallow the guilt growing in my heart. Am I responsible for the lifeless look in her eyes? Or did boredom do this to her? It has only been three days and she looks as if she is ready to jump off a cliff.

“Are you okay?” I ask softly, taking a seat next to her.

“Yes,” she smiles stiffly and looks away.

“Carina,” I clear my throat. “I was thinking … maybe … would you like to come and work for me?”

“What do you mean?” She looks at me, and I do not miss the fear in her eyes. What the hell happened to her while I was gone?

“Well, I need a personal assistant,” I shrug. “With Dad being sick, my workload is more and I’m going to need help.”

“I don’t know anything about the entertainment business,” she replies dully and looks away.

“You’re under no obligation,” I exhale deeply. “I just figured; we already share a home. It would be convenient for both of us to work together. We’ll go to work together, and come home together and if I need to …”

“Yes,” she replies, standing up. “Anything not be alone in this house.”

Stunned by her cold demeanour, I watch her leave.