Page 19 of Spark

She led me outside the house, with Hank and Blondie in tow, until we finally came to the shore. I realized then what she thought I was going to enjoy. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t ever seen a sunset before. Whoopty-fucking-doo. And then I saw the yoga mats laid out in the sand. I rolled my eyes. How original.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Holly beamed as we stopped in front of the two mats, and she looked out at the sunrise. The same old light pinks, purples, yellows, and oranges blurred with the sky while the sun fought its way up through the horizon to greet us.

“It’s great,” I said dismissively and moved to sit down on my mat. Holly joined me a moment later.

A small white porcelain bowl with a lid and spoon sat on both our mats, along with bottles of water with lemon, cucumber, and mint. I lifted the lid to the bowl to find oatmeal with sliced bananas, strawberries, and blueberries.

“I had our breakfast brought out for us,” Holly said like it was the best idea she’d ever had.

“Thanks,” I said as I picked up my spoon and started digging in. The oatmeal was soft enough to chew without bothering my jaw, and the water was actually pretty refreshing.

“I thought we might start out with some beginner’s yoga,” she said cheerily as we set our bowls aside. I looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Beginners? Seriously?” I was an advanced practitioner, for fuck’s sakes, not some goddamn beginner.

“Yes, since you’re still healing from your injuries, I didn’t want to push you too hard.”

How nice of her.

“Thanks for your concern, but I’ll decide my limits.” And with that, I immediately pushed myself up into a downward dog position and began to stretch out my calves. Holly sighed in defeat and followed my position.

For the next hour, Holly and I practiced semi-advanced yoga. Much to my frustration, my wrist and torso ached whenever I experienced too much pressure. My wrist was mostly healed, but my ribs were still on the mend. Hank and Blondie stood off about twenty feet away, their eyes ever watchful as I tried to pretend they weren’t there.

I was beyond pissed off that I was seriously lacking in my yoga skills. My muscles were tense from their little hibernation, and with every change in position, my joints cracked in protest. Sunrise yoga didn’t relax me as Holly had planned. If anything, it just made me angrier at Darren for weakening me. I wanted to crush him, feel the bones in his neck snap like he had done to me, but I had to get better first.

It didn’t take long for Holly to feel the heated rage coming off me, so she suggested we meditate to clear our minds of all negativity. I tried. I tried really fucking hard to focus on the sound of the rolling waves crashing against the shore, the feel of the warm breeze on my skin as the loose strands of my hair tickled my face, and the smell of the salt in the air; but all I could concentrate on was how my heart beat with a rage so intense I thought my chest would burst.

I wanted to murder Darren. I wanted to violently rip him from limb to limb until he was nothing but a bloody puzzle of human remains. But that wasn’t going to happen… at least not with my bare hands.

After pretending to calm down for a half hour, Holly decided we should get up and move on to the next stupid activity she had planned for me. We walked back into the house, heading toward the sunroom at the south end of the house. The room was all windows, giving everyone another perfect view of the ocean.

Set up in front of the windows were two easels holding large blank white canvases. Trays of colorful paint and brushes were laid out on tables next to the easels. I immediately crossed my arms and turned to Holly.

“What the fuck is this?”

She flinched again but recovered quickly. “Have you ever painted before, Jaden?”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “No. I have no interest in painting.”

“I thought it would be fun. You can paint whatever you want. Whatever is on your mind. Just let the colors speak for themselves,” she beamed at me.

The only color that had any influence at the moment was the red I saw in my vision. What the fuck was this? Some kind of therapy attempt? Fuck off with that shit.

“So, what, you’re suddenly my therapist now? This is supposed to be some bullshit form of therapeutic relaxation?”

“Well, no,” she said, her voice becoming small. “I just thought—”

“You just thought what? That I’d paint you a little picture of the fucked-up shit inside my head so you can see what it looks like?”

“Jaden,” she said, taken aback at my abrasiveness. “I’m just trying to help you.”

I leaned into her, my jaw now aching from clenching. “You can’t help me, Holly. No one can. It’s not allowed. I’m on my own in this.”

“Miss Jaden,” Hank called out to me from outside the doorway, my warning to shut my mouth before I gave away too much. I scowled in his direction before turning back to Holly.

“I am not fucking painting,” I said a little too loudly and turned to walk out of the room.

I made it to the doorway only to stop in my tracks when I suddenly caught sight of Darren standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest as he stared me down. I could feel the icy chill of his glare as it crawled up my spine, warning me to comply. Apparently, I would be painting after all.

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