The Luna Cure

THIRTY-SIX

The brown, wood wall panels were the first thing I recognized. The next was the fuzzy audio coming from the television.

"—spotted in a hotel in Gilette. Paparazzi also captured Maxwell Abernathy and his daughter entering the same hotel an hour later, along with an unknown woman."

I sat up, glancing down at the dirty, scratchy wood floors. My finger ran along a groove, and it was cold and rigid, and so very real.

My knees folded up into my chest on instinct. No. I couldn't be back. I couldn't be here.

The lumpy, stained velvet couch, a dark green monstrosity, sat directly in front of me, and on it, the very source of anything and everything that was wrong with me.

"Nice to see you back home, dearie." She snarled, her lips turning up in the most cruel, mocking way.

I didn't move. I didn't breathe. Maybe, if I closed my eyes, I wouldn't be here, and everything would be okay.

"You said you'd come down to visit me. You lied, child. So I decided to pay you a visit. On my own terms." She stood up, dusting off her thighs as if something were on them. My head buried itself in my knees. I wasn't here.

"You've found your way on the station, dearie. Do you hear that? Spotted with Maxwell Abernathy, going to see the prince. How ironic you're now on the channel you loved so much."

I said nothing. I couldn't bring myself to utter a sound, fearing I'd hear it echo around the room, and feel just how caged I was for so long again.

"Is this how conversation between you and your prince goes? Damn, he must really love talking to you, then." Her foot slammed into my side, and I sucked in a pained breath, flinching away from her. "You're as worthless as the day I took you. At least I helped your family get rid of a runt like you." She sighed. "I almost feel bad for the Prince."

I felt her lean down, her hot breath melting my face in the already-suffocating environment. I didn't dare look up.

"I think everything about you is ironic, and pathetic. The weakest out of all the niveus girls, the mute one, gets to be the one he's mated to. Perhaps the only of all the girls that have spent their time here, with me, that didn't want to be mated to the prince. You wanted nothing to do with the throne, and you got it. And you, and your weak, worthless life, will never be good enough for it. And you know it." She leaned closer, laughing in my face. The high-pitched sound echoed, like there were multiples of her, surrounding me. 

"You know it so well. I'm so proud of that. Of my accomplishments." A cold, sharp finger pointed into my kneecap. "You are, perhaps, my most successful creation. It took time, but look at you. Frail, quiet, submissive. Perfect. So very perfect for what I need you for. And when the time comes, when you aid me in taking down the kingdom, you'll get the end you've wanted for so very long."

My body was trembling, and it was so hard to breathe. This couldn't be real, I couldn't be back here. I only just got out, I can't do this again. Please goddess, I need to get out of here.

"You can't even fight me on this. When you first showed up, you couldn't stop challenging me. You actually managed to escape. Twice." Her voice lowered. "Did you forget about that?"

I didn't. How could anyone forget such fatal errors? Getting caught came horrible, nightmarish consequences, ones I had long since tried to erase from my memory. And I would wake up for years afterward, feeling the burning and vicious pain all over again. It was endless.

I could never forget about that.

"But now look at you. You're petrified, dearie." She took a slow lap around me. "It gives me a sense of satisfaction. Especially when your mate comes down to try and get me to undo my curses on you. He's not like you. He actually believes he has a chance against me. You're smarter than him, in that way. More realistic."