by D W Marshall
Eclipsed Sunshine
The Seven Chamber Saga
D.W. Marshall
Wicked Moon Penning
Copyright © 2020 by D.W. Marshall
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Eclipsed Sunshine is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-0-9968729-4-2
Cover design by Heidi Dorey
Edited by AuthorsAssistant.com
Printed in the United States
To my husband for being my best friend.
I love you.
Contents
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by D.W. Marshall
Acknowledgments
Every time I complete a book in this series I always say that it is my favorite so far. And I have to say that Eclipsed Sunshine is my favorite book so far in the series. That being said, I have a lot of people to thank.
My wonderful cheer squad of friends and family that keep me excited and encourage me to keep going: Mom, who’s vision of me at the finish line is a constant motivation. My sister-cousin Jamie who is one of the most positive people I know. Renee for your constant and valued friendship, you are a sister to me. Dolly, for letting me run my mouth and just being a great listener. My Girly Pop’s, I just love you guys so much. My boys, Spencer and Jacksen for being a source of motivation for me. If I continue to strive for what I want, you will too. My Uncle Larry and Aunt Debbie for your constant support and encouragement. And lastly, my husband. You are my gold medal, my Oscar, my Emmy. Your hard word inspires me and your support drives me.
To my fans. Oh my goodness, I still can’t believe I have those. Thank you for the messages and inspiring words. The fact that you love my work is a big reason I keep going. To my blossoming beta reader team: Tanisha, Krystal, Jessica, and Larissa, thank you for the love and support.
To my publishing team: The Danielles—Danielle Acee and Danylle Salinas, you two are the toughest editors I have ever met, and Danielle you assassinate my words and challenge me to write better. Thank you for the work you do as my author assistant. To my cover artist, thank you.
Chapter 1
Whitney
“Are you sure it’s not too much?” I ask about my new dress, and the makeup, and the fancy hair. To be honest, I feel like a doll being dressed up, and if I’m being really honest, this whole charade reminds of the place I don’t want to speak about.
All this fuss over me, ensuring that not a hair is out of place, so that I’m the perfect play toy. I don’t want to go back there in my body or mind, but too many little things remind me of the worst year of my entire life. Nothing matters though, I’ve been home for three weeks and most nights I wake up in a cold sweat from a dream so real that it takes an eternity before I realize I am home—I am free.
It could be something as simple as a smell that drifts through the air that brings me back to that awful room with the obnoxiously cheery yellow décor, the oversized bed fit for a queen, and the location of my worst imaginings. And somehow being home, standing here with my two best gals as they pretty me up for dinner with Thomas feels no different. In fact, it’s much worse. I feel like a fraud for trying to forget what happened to me—that the last year was something I made up. My friend’s think tonight is the night that Thomas is going to propose to me, just like they were so sure he was going to before I was taken. But, why would someone like me think that I deserve a happy ending, when I’m so obviously cursed?
Who am I kidding? I stare into the mirror at my reflection. Gone is the fresh-faced girl with the light brown complexion that looked at the world with hope and optimism. I fear I will never be her again.
“This is a bad idea.” I pull the earrings off, grab a tissue and start wiping off the lipstick. Nothing about any of this feels right to me.
I shouldn’t be doing anything but crawling into my bed. I’m always so tired. My gals don’t get it, and I don’t expect them to. Unless they’ve been where I’ve been, they can’t.
In The Chamber my life was not my own. My body belonged to someone else. An entire year can’t be erased with pretty dresses and fancy dinners. Makeup can’t cover up the truth. My friends don't have horrid images burned into their memories. Their faith in humanity isn’t shattered.
When they look at me I know they see a young woman who has a full life ahead of her, who should be ready to face it with a grateful smile. They can’t possibly understand that I’m not that young woman anymore. She isn’t inside of me. I don’t feel her in my rigid smile. My heart that used to beat with excitement and joy, now only beats to sustain my life—I can’t even manage to conjure up enough hope, not even for tonight. I long for butterflies in the pit of my stomach and daydreams about the future.
Chalice and Amaris had the best intentions for tonight, but if they knew what I suffered, they would know that everything about tonight reminds me of that place, my lost year.
Spending hours getting dolled up for a man is the last thing I want to do. But, one look at my friends and I can see it in their eyes—hope. They stand and watch me with hope that I’m okay, hope that things can return to normal for me and for them. They don’t want me to be stuck, and I get it, neither does my mom, or my dad, or Thomas. But they aren’t giving me time.
“Stop. What are you doing?” Amaris says, her warm island accent soothing, even in frustration, as she runs at me to grab the tissue from my hand. “I put a lot of work into making you look like heaven and you’re wiping it all to hell.”
I flop onto the edge of my bed. I can’t tell them I don’t want to go out. When Thomas set tonight up, I was excited. The idea that he has welcomed me back into his arms knowing everything I’ve been through is an answered prayer. And when my gals and I went dress shopping yesterday I was floating on a puffy cloud. Grateful that after everything I’d suffered I can come home and have all of this, this, normal. The icing on the cake is a date with the man whose love helped me survive my year in captivity. Maybe, I’ve been lying to myself, and I do deserve a happy ending.
Last night, I stared at my little green dress and imagined sitting across from Thomas and his amazing smile. I envisioned him proposing and of course, me saying yes. Thoughts of how tonight would go kept me up all night, a
nd let’s be honest, it was much better than the thoughts that normally plague me.
“I can’t do this. I need to call and cancel. I’m really tired.”
“Don’t be foolish. You have to move on with your life, sweets. Thomas waited a whole year for you. How long do you think he will continue to wait?” Chalice asks.
I shrug my shoulders. I have no idea how long. I know if I loved someone I wouldn’t implement a time limit, and I would want them at their best. I certainly wouldn't rush them after something so traumatic, but that’s me. Maybe three weeks is long enough. I mean, I don't want to lose him. What Chalice is saying is harsh but true, and I’m smart enough to know that everyone will scatter if I continue to walk around with a dark cloud over my head. What else can I do? Three weeks is all they’ve given me.
Ignoring all the contrary feelings coursing through me, I glance around and note that this is my bedroom, not the yellow room that haunts me. In fact, there isn't a stitch of yellow in sight. My room is so different than that place. Thankfully.
Missing are the elaborate and ornate furnishings, the sex toys, a bed big enough for four. Gone is the groomer who tended to all my needs. In its place my best gal friends who love me and everything that is, or was, simply me.
“You’re right. I have to try.” I hand Amaris the tube of lipstick and she begins reapplying. While she goes to work, I think about my Thomas. We have been spending a lot of time together in the weeks that I’ve been home. He is everything that I remembered him to be—kind, patient, and loving. Having him to come home to lessens some of the pain from the last year. I can do this for him and for us. And if I’m lucky, tonight will be the night I dreamed it would be, the night that was stolen from me a year ago.
I stand up, walk over to the mirror and gaze at myself. It takes everything for me to not feel like I’m preparing for an entirely different night. “Thomas said dress to impress,” I say in a soft voice.
“And you, my dear, are dazzling,” Amaris says.
Okay, Whitney, you can do this. You are not locked away in a gothic castle. You are home in your beloved Barbados. The sun is always shining, and you are free, I say to myself as I stare at my reflection.
Amaris could work in The Chamber, she’s that good. I shake my head to douse the errant thought.
My makeup is natural, just like I like it. My green dress shouts spring glamour. The hem rests about a foot above my knee and the dress clings to my curves. I feel naked. Since I’ve been home, I have avoided anything that makes me sexy. Baggy and loose has been my modus operandi. Standing here in this dress, I feel almost Chamber ready, and I hate myself for it. My heart is hammering in my chest and my stomach is queasy.
“What’s wrong?” Chalice asks.
I don’t answer her. The lump in my throat makes it hard for me to speak. When the tears spring forth from my eyes, I crawl onto my bed. My gals share the silence with me and climb onto the bed. “I don't think I can leave the house dressed like this.”
“You look beautiful,” Chalice says with a question in her voice.
“That’s just it. I don't want to look that way,” I admit.
My friends don’t say anything, but I know them well and they want to.
“I know it sounds insane. But the man who took me said he loved to collect beautiful play things. Maybe if I didn't wear sexy things he would have never noticed me.”
They squeeze me tighter. “How can that be true? I’m much sexier than you, sweets, and he didn't take me,” Chalice teases, and it’s just what I need because I burst into laughter wilted with tears.
“Seriously, though. If you change every part of who you are because of that evil monster, then you’re letting him win. He already took so much from you. You can’t let him have it all,” Amaris says.
I nod; she’s right. That’s one of the things my therapist has been telling me in both my group and private sessions, and it feels right to hear it. Sometimes I feel like I’m on the path to getting back to the old me, and I want it, I need it. But then other times, when I’m not in the company of my therapist or fellow trauma survivors, it’s an entirely different scenario. When my friends and family are with me, I feel so different, not like myself at all, and what’s worse is they all look at me differently too. I don’t think they do it on purpose; I don’t think they can help themselves. Around them, I’m bare. I don't feel empowered. I don't feel strong, and I’m afraid all the time.
What if he takes me again? What if someone else does the same thing? How can I be me again? The old me? That girl is so far gone I wouldn't know her if she was standing right in front of me.
“I’ll try.”
The three of us sit up in my bed and share a group hug.
“I love you guys.”
“We love you, too.”
Amaris wipes my tears. “We’re here for you, and we’ll help you through this, okay?”
I nod my head and smile. But her words make the tears fall harder. I know I’m too emotional for all of this, but Thomas is so worth me trying.
“You’ll be safe tonight. Thomas is tough. If there are any bad guys out there, he won’t let them near you, sweets,” Chalice says.
My friends are right about Thomas; he loves me and I know he can keep me safe. He has been taking things slow with me, not to the point of treating me like glass, but close. I have been as honest and transparent about what I suffered as I can.
As much as I want to forget, Thomas won’t let me; he says I need to speak about it so that I can heal. As resistant as I am, my therapist says he’s right and if he is someone that I can trust and open up to, it will only help me in my healing process.
Recently, Thomas confided in me about his own struggles. I think it’s his way of showing his vulnerability to me. Thomas is a very proud and shrewd business man, so him trusting me with the knowledge of his recent financial woes and unemployment had to be very hard on him. He has never made our time together about him, but his honesty has made confiding in him easier—a little. He is attentive to me and my needs and promises me that we will both be okay. But I can’t help but feel responsible for what he has lost. He has never come out and said that it was my fault that he lost so much, but in some way, I have to believe if I hadn’t been kidnapped he’d probably be as successful as he was before I left. I can only imagine how hard it was for him while I was missing.
I almost told him about the money twice. Knowing about the four million dollars I received from Mason wouldn’t just lift his mood, he could actually bounce back and return to the amazing business career he had before.
But I haven’t told him; I haven’t told anyone.
Even when I think I might be able to, I can’t fix my mouth to say the words. Knowing how much I could help the people that I love makes me feel even more guilty for keeping this to myself. But to speak it makes what happened to me more than real.
The money makes me feel dirty.
When I do get the courage to tell him, I hope he is happy and doesn't look at me differently. This is the man I hope to spend the rest of my life with, and I plan to do everything in my power to help him—I just need to tell him when I’m ready and that isn’t right now.
“Come with me,” Amaris says and pulls me to stand. She sets me in the chair in front of my mirror.
She goes to work fixing my makeup. “You can do this. You deserve to look beautiful for your fiancé,” Amaris says.
“He isn't my fiancé, Amaris.”
“He will be after tonight, sweets,” Chalice says and mists me with body spray.
I roll my eyes at them both. “I wouldn’t be so sure,” I say under my breath.
The doorbell rings just as Amaris finishes retouching my makeup. My stomach hits the floor.
Daddy knocks on the door and pokes his head in. “Baby, Thomas is here. You ready?”
I slip on my matching heels and follow my dad out of my bedroom door and down the hall, my girls on my heels.
“Baby, you look beautif
ul,” Daddy says.
“Thanks, Daddy. I wish Mom was here.”
He shakes his head. “She does, too. She hated leaving when you just got home. But she called today and said your grandmother is doing much better, so she will be home before you know it,” he promises and gives me a kiss on my forehead.
Thomas stands up from the sofa to greet me. He is stunning. His dark brown skin looks divine in his ocean blue suit that is tailor-made for him. “Wow, Whitney. You take my breath away,” he says and takes the short steps to me. He acknowledges my gals and reaches his hand out for me. I take it. Can he feel how moist my palms are? If he does, he’s too much of a gentleman to react to it.
“Thomas, take care of my baby,” Daddy says.
“Yes, sir, I will.”
Chapter 2
The Chamber, Week One
“Are you ready for tonight?” I ask Violet.
She shakes her head. “I don’t think it’s possible. Are you?”
I let out a long sigh and take a seat next to her on her bed. The way she has her red hair tied in a high ponytail, revealing fresh freckled skin make her appear much too young to be in a place like this. Not that my twenty years qualifies me. No person should be subjected to this horror.
