The struggle is real.
I’m only two books into my library of “fifty inspirational books everyone should read before they die,” so I have yet to master the skill of peaceful coexistence.
Ask.
If he says no, go to bed.
You won’t starve, Scarlet.
Theo glances up at me for a brief second as he lines up the tile on the saw. It’s like he can read my thoughts. I already feel the stomach-wrenching “NO” ready to bark from his mouth.
He flips down his safety glasses and turns on the saw. The noise and his deep concentration on the blade spinning toward the tile is my chance. I seize it. Slow at first, I creep toward the worktop, watching him the whole time. The second the banana is secure in my hand, the noise evaporates.
Theo looks up, pinning me with a scowl.
Gulp.
“Run, Forest!” rings in my mind. That’s exactly what I do, not wasting even a backwards glance to see if he’s chasing me. It’s a stupid banana. Why would he?
“Ahhh!” I scream. My heart catapults into my throat as a strong hand shackles around my ankle. The banana tumbles toward my bedroom door as I fall forward on the landing.
Theo is the killer. I’m the innocent victim. The banana is the gun. Flailing and kicking, I wriggle from his hold on my leg, sacrificing one of my shoes.
Banana.
Door.
Slam it shut.
Lock it.
With my bum on the floor, back against the door, knees to my chest, and breathless—I peel the banana. I should be freaked out. The man is possessive of his fruit but as he jiggles the doorknob, all I can do is grin. I feelalive. That might classify me as my own breed of crazy.
“Don’t come out—ever,” he grumbles.
CHAPTER FIVE
My name is Scarlet Stone and the reasoning behind most everything I do is—because I can.
The sun.
After a long night of fighting sleep, reading, and fighting more sleep, I shower then throw open the curtains.
“Well… shit.” I laugh at the ridiculousness of yesterday’s charade with Thor—Theo.
The curtains don’t cover windows; they cover French doors leading to a small, private balcony andstairs. He ‘locked’ me in a room with another exit. The white noise of rolling tides in the distance greets me as I step out onto the deck and ease into the sun lounger with a faded-red seat cushion and a small round table next to it. A thin layer of sand and salt is caked to the top of it.
“Well done, Nolan,” I whisper. This place is exactly what I need.
Here I can justbe.At least that’s what Echart Tolle and Wayne Dyer have been inspiring me to do. Everyone should stop their forward momentum long enough to contemplate the words of these great spiritual teachers. It really doesn’t matter where we’re going—it’s about where we are. I hope here, on this deck or somewhere along the miles of sand emerging from the ocean, I’ll find clarity, acceptance, and… peace.
Too bad Zen wasn’t an “in” thing years ago when my dad presented me with long lists of jobs.Sorry, Oscar… this is my meditation day. I’ll be busy all day nurturing my spiritual health… in a chair… by the pool.We didn’t have a pool, except in my dreams.
If everyone spent more time doing that, I believe we could achieve world peace.
However, contemplating life is not an easy task. For me, it’s overwhelming right now. It feels like a game that I don’t knowhow to play. Is it all luck? Does skill mean anything? What are the rules? And what happens when it’s over? I close my eyes and let those thoughts play in my head while seagulls cry in the distance.
“Scarlet Stone?”
