When the back door clicks shut, I close my eyes, a breath of a whisper desperate to release. “Oh. My. God.” Seven billion people over seven continents and I land on the other side of the ocean in this house with this man. My life may very well end in the presence of the beast of a man who seems to truly hate me.
Why? It would seem, simply because I exist.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Theodore
Another day closerto the end. I make an X on my calendar, and then I stare at the photos and news clippings.
Scarlet.
There is a reason I didn’t ask her name. It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t matter. I don’t want to see her. Hear her. Smell her. How could Nolan be such an asshole to let her move in after everything I’ve done for him?
What is her purpose anyway? All she does is go to the crazy guy’s house for breakfast, take long walks on the beach, lounge on the deck reading books, pray the world’s longest prayer with her nonexistent ass perched on a pillow, eyes closed. It’s probably some meditation shit. But it’s the things she says that drives me to want to kill something or someone—stupid fucking shit that makes no sense.“Sorry, there’s a queue.”What the fuck does that mean?
Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
No job. No real purpose except to piss me off. I should snap her twig body in two and send her to the bottom of the ocean. Clearly she has no one. No one to miss her. No one to suspect anything.
“What the fuck are you thinking?” I mumble, pressing my palms to my forehead. I don’t want to hate her. The truth is I don’t want to have any emotion toward her at all. Emotion is a luxury I gave up years ago. I exist for one purpose and one purpose only: revenge.
There’s a knock at my bedroom door. Great. Can’t she leave me the hell alone? I open the door with enough anger to make the hinges scream in protest. One of her fucking plants is on the ground with a note attached to it.
Theo –
Peace Lilies are one of the few houseplants that bloom. I ordered three. This one is the best. I named her Phoebe. She will remove VOCs, benzene, and formaldehyde from the air. She doesn’t need that much light, but she loves water. Phoebe is my peace offering to you. Don’t eat her leaves, they are poisonous.
There’s still juice downstairs. Help yourself. What’s mine is yours. “Things” don’t really matter to me. I’m only here for now.
~Scarlet Stone
I tear up the note and slap the pieces onto my dresser, then I grab the plant and deposit it in front of her bedroom door at the opposite end of the hall.
Big brown eyes greet me as I turn. They shift from me to the plant. She doesn’t say anything, only nods once, lips set in a firm line. I open my mouth to tell her why I don’t want the stupid peace offering, but I clamp it shut, choosing to not say anything while walking back to my room to get ready for work. She’s already wasted half of my morning.
CHAPTER EIGHT
My name is Scarlet Stone. I was offered useful traits the day I entered this world. I passed on common sense, opting for the-edge-of-a-knife journey.
Scarlet
Seven weeks.
I’ve gone seven weeks without saying a word to Theo. I’m not sure why I thought we could be friends. When he returned my peace offering without a word, I knew he was not what I needed in my life. His rejection doesn’t quell my curiosity but within the pages of my inspirational books, I find ways to at least silence the voice of it.
There’s a monotony to my days, and I’ve come to find comfort in it. Mornings start with an hour of meditation. When I first began meditating, I lasted maybe ten minutes. Now I find peace in nourishing my mind, focusing on the part of myself that is so much greater than my physical body. We are so much more than the sum of our parts. For that hour I don’t see pain and suffering. I see joy and happiness for not only myself, but all life. Wayne Dyer said, “When you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change.”
I don’t think Wayne ever met Theodore Reed.
Nevertheless, the things I look at are changing. With each passing day, I feel less physical suffering and less emotional anxiety. I’m intrigued by the words I read. At university, I thought I knew everything. My grades were perfect. The world was mine, and I thought I had it all figured out.
Now, I question if I trulyknowanything. The assumption that a good education equates to intelligence is not necessarily true. A lot of highly-educated people have been told what to think, therefore, they think they know it all. The other segment of the population has to figure out how to think, therefore they question everything.
“You’re better—focused. Finding peace,” Yimin says as I finish my tea that now goes down without any gag reflex, not even a slight grimace of disgust.
“You think I’m in pain, like Nolan. That’s why you give me this tea and juice every day?”
“I think you’re navigating a difficult journey. Must nourish body on difficult journey.”
