Chapter 12 Double Life – Luna
Wednesday morning tastes like ash in my mouth.
I’m sitting in Advanced Literature, Professor Bennet droning on about the symbolism in The Yellow Wallpaper .
All I can think about is how the narrator in that story is trapped, slowly losing her mind while everyone around her insists she’s fine, she’s healing, she just needs to rest and trust the people who claim to be helping her.
The irony isn’t lost on me.
Leyla Clark sits two rows ahead, taking meticulous notes, her honey-blonde ponytail swaying as she nods along with Bennet’s lecture.
Every few minutes, she glances back at me, offering a friendly smile that makes my skin crawl.
After class, she’ll probably suggest we grab coffee together, or study in the library, or attend some campus event that gives her another opportunity to watch us, to catalog our behavior, to report back to Selena.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I risk a glance under my desk. It’s from Erik.
Breathe. You’ve got this.
He’s three seats behind me, close enough to see my leg bouncing anxiously, my fingers tapping that nervous pattern against my notebook. Close enough to know I’m barely holding it together.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow, we make our first move. Tomorrow, I keep Dr. Moore occupied while Belle searches Selena’s office for evidence. Tomorrow, Max and Erik will either confirm the tunnels are viable, or we’re back to square one.
“Miss Queen?”
I jerk my attention back to Professor Bennet, who’s looking at me expectantly. The class is staring. Leyla has turned fully around in her seat, concern written across her face.
“I’m sorry, what was the question?”
“I asked for your interpretation of the narrator’s relationship with her physician husband. Do you believe he’s intentionally gaslighting her, or is he genuinely misguided in his treatment approach?”
The answer comes automatically, pulled from the part of my brain that still functions on academic autopilot.
“Both. He believes he’s helping, which makes it worse.
The road to hell is paved with good intentions, and John paves his with medical authority and husbandly concern while slowly destroying his wife’s autonomy and sanity. ”
Professor Bennet nods approvingly. “Excellent analysis. The intersection of power, care, and control is central to—”
But I’ve stopped listening again. Because I just described Selena Harpsons perfectly. She believes she’s protecting us, cultivating us, preparing us for something. And that genuine belief in her own righteousness makes her infinitely more dangerous than someone who knows they’re a monster.
The class ends after an eternity. I’m gathering my things when Leyla bounces over, that perpetual smile firmly in place.
“Hey! That was such a great point you made about the husband. Very insightful.” She falls into step beside me as I head for the door. “Are you doing anything for lunch? A bunch of us are eating outside since the weather’s nice. You and Erik should totally join.”
“I can’t today. Study session for my psychology midterm.”
“Oh, bummer. Well, maybe dinner then? Or— Oh! The Halloween planning committee is meeting tonight to finalize decorations. You should come! It would be fun to have your input.”
She’s relentless. Friendly, cheerful, impossible to shake without being overtly rude. And being rude would be suspicious, would indicate that something has changed, that we’re no longer the compliant students settling into campus life.
“I’ll try,” I lie. “Depends on how much studying I get done.”
“Great! We’re meeting at seven in the student center. See you there maybe!” She waves and bounces off toward her next class, leaving me standing in the corridor, exhausted from a five-minute interaction.
Erik appears at my elbow, his hand finding the small of my back. “You okay?”
“No. I’m really not.” I lean into him slightly, drawing strength from his presence. “How do Belle and Max do this? How do they smile and chat and pretend like their entire world isn’t about to explode?”
“Practice,” he says grimly. “Years of practice lying to everyone around them. We’re just not as good at it yet.”
“I used to be better at this,” I mutter. “Like scarily good.”
“Luna.” His voice is gentle but firm. “It’s okay. It will be okay.”
I force myself to straighten, to paste on a smile. “You’re right. I’m just stressed about midterms. I’ll be fine.”
“That’s my girl.” He squeezes my hand once before letting go, maintaining appropriate public distance. “Lunch in the dining hall?”
“Yeah. Sounds good.”
***
The rest of the day passes in a blur of forced normalcy.
Lunch with Erik, where we discuss safe topics—assignments, professors, weekend plans we’ll never actually make.
An afternoon study session in the library, where I stare at the same page of my Psychology textbook for forty-five minutes without absorbing a single word.
Dinner, where Selena makes her rounds through the dining hall, stopping at our table to ask how we’re adjusting, if we need anything, reminding us with that warm smile that her door is always open.
I want to scream at her. I want to throw my plate at her perfectly composed face and demand to know why she’s doing this, what she wants from us, how she sleeps at night knowing what she’s orchestrated.
Instead, I smile and thank her for her concern and assure her we’re doing wonderfully.
By the time I make it back to my room, I’m shaking with suppressed emotion. Terror, rage, exhaustion, all of it churning in my stomach until I feel like I might throw up.
Erik arrives fifteen minutes later. He takes one look at my face and immediately pulls me into his arms.
“I can’t do this,” I whisper against his chest. “I can’t smile at her tomorrow.
Can’t sit in Dr. Moore’s office making small talk while Belle risks everything.
Can’t pretend I’m not terrified that we’re all going to end up like Janet Wilson—dead in a shallow grave with someone else’s DNA under our fingernails. ”
“Yes, you can.” His hand strokes my hair, steady and soothing. “You’ve done harder things than this. You testified against your own parents in front of a courtroom full of people. You survived years of abuse and manipulation. You’re the strongest person I know.”
“I’m not strong. I’m barely holding it together.”
“Strength isn’t not being scared. It’s being scared and doing it anyway.
” He pulls back enough to cup my face, forcing me to meet his eyes.
“And you’re not alone this time. When you testified, you were isolated, vulnerable, carrying everything by yourself.
But now you have me. You have Belle and Max.
You have David working from Boston, Jessica is still on our side, Professor Austin is risking his career to help. ”
Erik’s thumbs brush away tears I didn’t realize were falling.
“Luna, listen to me. Exposing Selena isn’t worth your life.”
“It is, though.” The words come out fierce, determined.
“If we don’t stop her, she’ll just keep doing this.
Keep marking children, grooming them, using them.
How many more Janet Wilsons? How many more kids like Belle and me, forced to believe they’re monsters, forced to participate in horrors they can barely remember? ”
“We’ll stop her. I promise you, Luna, we’ll stop her. But we do it smart. We do it carefully. And we prioritize staying alive over being heroes.”
I want to argue, but exhaustion is winning. The constant vigilance, the perpetual performance, the knowledge that tomorrow everything changes—it’s all crushing down on me until I can barely breathe.
“I need—” I start, then stop, not sure how to articulate what I’m feeling. “I need to feel something real. Something that isn’t fear or anger or this constant dread.”
Erik understands immediately. His gray eyes search mine, and whatever he sees there makes him nod slowly. “Okay. Yeah. I need that too.”
Then he kisses me.
It is hungry and searching, an attempt to reclaim the physical connection we once shared, a desperate desire to feel something besides terror and grief and dread.
His lips are soft, and when he kisses me, he does it with the same focus and intensity he does everything.
The world fades until there’s only him, his taste, his warmth, his body pressed against mine, his hands tangled in my hair.
It’s the best feeling in the world, and I want to stay here forever.
His hands are in my hair, then on my shoulders, my hips, my waist, and he’s pulling me down, down, down.
Down onto the bed, his weight over me, his kiss bruising, his tongue demanding.
My breath comes faster, the anxiety and stress and terror transmuting into something different, something powerful and primal.
Erik pulls back, just far enough to strip off his shirt, and I’m treated to a view of his sculpted torso.
The muscles that ripple under his skin, the dark trail of hair disappearing into his waistband.
I reach out to touch him, running my fingers along his collarbone, his pecs, the ridges of his stomach. His hand grabs mine, and suddenly his mouth is at my ear, his voice a whisper.
“You’re so beautiful. I want to worship and love you forever.”
My heart leaps. This isn’t just fucking. Isn’t just an attempt to escape for a moment. It’s a declaration, a vow, a promise.
Then he’s kissing me again, and all thought is lost.
His hands slide under my shirt, pulling it over my head, leaving me in just a bra and skirt.
His fingers find the button, and suddenly I’m naked except for my panties, exposed before him.
He stands and removes the rest of his clothes, and my breath catches at the sight of his thick cock, already hard, jutting out from his muscular body.
Erik’s hands go to my hips, pulling me gently forward, and suddenly he’s on his knees in front of the bed, his mouth between my thighs, kissing and sucking and licking me in the most intimate place possible.
“Oh God.”
My head falls back as he laps at me, the pleasure building until I’m arching off the bed, grinding myself into his face, wanting more, wanting all of him.
He slips a finger inside me, crooking it up, finding a place that makes my hips buck, a second finger joining the first, filling me, stretching me, fucking me.
No.
He’s making love to me.
Erik always made love to me.
He always made sure to treat me well.
“You’re doing amazing,” he murmurs against my core, his tongue never stopping. “You’re so amazing, Luna. So perfect. Come for me, baby. Come on.”
His fingers thrust harder, deeper, hitting that spot inside me until the tension peaks and I’m exploding around him, pleasure ripping through me, making me gasp, my fingers gripping the sheets, my body shaking, his mouth never stopping.
It’s several moments before I can catch my breath, before I can speak.
“Holy shit,” I say, my voice shaky. “That was…”
“Only the beginning.” Erik stands, his cock jutting out proudly, precum leaking from the tip. “Only if you want to.”
I realize that while he may have stripped me, I’m still the one with the power here. He’s waiting for permission, asking if I’m okay with continuing.
“Fuck yes, I want this.”
“Good.”
He leans down and kisses me hard, his hands on my breasts, kneading them, teasing the nipples. Then he’s lifting me, laying me back on the bed, crawling on top of me, his cock pressing against my opening.
“You’re so wet,” he says, rubbing the tip against me. “So ready. God, I want you. I can’t get enough of you. Ever. You’re everything, Luna. Everything.”
Then he’s pushing into me, his cock filling me, and I’m arching off the bed again, trying to take more of him. We stay like that for a long moment, joined completely, him buried inside me.
“You’re perfect,” he whispers, his breath hot on my neck. “Absolutely perfect.”
He begins to move, sliding almost all the way out before driving back into me, the rhythm steady, controlled, building the tension again.
“So tight,” he gasps. “You feel so fucking good.”
“More,” I moan, and he’s pounding me now, his movements becoming erratic as his own orgasm builds.
“I’m close,” he groans.
“Yes. God, yes. Come for me, Erik. Let me feel you.”
And suddenly he’s coming, his cock pulsing inside me, his face twisted in ecstasy.
It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, the man I love so vulnerable, so lost in the moment, the act so intimate.
He’s still thrusting, the aftershocks hitting him, and then he’s pulling out, collapsing on the bed next to me.
For a long moment, the only sound is our ragged breathing.
Then Erik rolls to face me, and I do the same.
“Hi,” he says, brushing a strand of hair off my cheek.
“Hi,” I say, and my voice is so tender, so full of emotion, it feels like it’s bursting out of me. He kisses me softly, and in the aftermath of what we just did, the kiss feels so much more intense, like I can feel the words he hasn’t spoken yet.
“I love you,” I say quietly. “I need you to know that. I love you completely. You make me want to be better, stronger, braver than I ever thought I could be.”
“I love you too.” He kisses the top of my head.
If tomorrow all goes wrong, if we’re caught, if Selena decides we’re too dangerous to keep alive, at least I’ll go down fighting instead of cowering.
At least I’ll have this moment, this night, this feeling of being loved and safe and real.
“Get some sleep,” Erik murmurs. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”
But sleep doesn’t come easily. I lie awake long after Erik’s breathing deepens and slows, watching the smoke detector’s red light blink its steady rhythm. Counting down the hours until Thursday.