Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 44304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
“I will wait. Wait for someone to bother coming out here to serve me a lawsuit for spanking your ass.”
He’s probably right, but that’s not going to stop me from threatening him. Threats are pretty much all I’ve got.
“Put your bags in your cabin and come sit for meditation,” he says, as if nothing fucked up has just happened. As if they thrash a woman every day.
Aside from the interpersonal conflict going on between me and asshole one and asshole two, I really don’t feel like meditating. I did notice all the BS about inner peace and meditation on the website when I was booking. I planned to skip all of those parts and just go fish, or day drink, or do literally anything other than sit really still. The idea of being still and doing nothing for extended periods of time is like torture to me.
“I can’t sit down. I was hit with a tree. And then by a man. I’m fucking sore. Sitting’s not on my agenda.”
“You got one stroke of the cane, and a few slaps, you absolute brat,” Soren laughs. I’m glad he finds this funny, because I don’t, and Jason doesn’t either, but for very different reasons. Jason thinks I’m a spoiled brat. I think these controlling psychos lured me to a forest and are now toying with me.
“I don’t want to meditate. I’m not going to meditate.”
“This is a meditation retreat.”
“Nuh uh.”
“Yeah huh,” Jason replies.
“It’s not anymore,” I say. “It’s a fishing and leave-me-the-fuck-alone-until-the-boat-comes retreat now.”
They look at one another. I know for absolute certain I am not worth the extreme waste of time it is going to be for them to make me do what’s on the schedule. Sure, they’re prepared to break out the kinky shit once or twice, but are they going to fight me every step of the way, every hour of the day? I don’t think so. I’ll wear these fuckers down before they know what happened to them. And then it occurs to me. Money might solve this.
“Tell you what,” I say. “I’ll tip fifty percent if the two of you leave me the fuck alone and bring me food from time to time.”
That’s got to be a good deal. They’d be crazy to turn it down. An extra five grand each to just chill in the forest? Yeah. It’s a no-brainer.
They look at one another. That’s right. There’s more money where that first twenty grand came from. I wonder how much it’ll cost to get Jason to kiss my ass.
“No.”
“No? You don’t want a little extra spending money? Buy yourselves some new camo pants and maybe somewhere comfortable to sleep?”
“Aslin. You’re not listening,” Soren says. “I know where you come from paying people off is obviously part of the lifestyle, but that won’t work here. Here there’s just one choice: doing as you’re told.”
Well, fuck that.
“I’m not sitting down. I’m not meditating. I’m not doing as I’m told. I’m not doing anything except what I feel like doing. You can get rid of me, you can call a boat for me, but you can’t make me do anything.”
“That’s where we disagree,” Jason says. “Now. Sit your ass down.”
“No.”
I can’t afford to lose this battle of wills. If I lose this one, I’ll lose all of them. That’s why they’re not backing down either.
“Aslin,” Soren says. He’s about to try to talk some sense into me, I can feel it. “On your application, you said you’ve been told you need to learn to relax.”
That part is true. I saw a doctor before I came out here and he said if I didn’t find a way to de-stress, I was going to have some real issues.
“I know I need to relax. That’s why I brought the fishing rod and a case full of vodka.”
“The fishing rod is fine. The vodka, not so much. We’re here to teach skills that will last a lifetime. You’ll be able to calm yourself in any situation, find your inner peace.”
I laugh a little under my breath, because this guy has no fucking idea about my situation, or how remote the option of peace really is. I know what I said on the form. It was a fraction of a part of a portion of the truth. I keep my truth to myself.
“Sounds great,” I say. I guess I’m giving in, but not because I’m going to do what they want, but because I really don’t want to invite any more conversation about or interest in myself. At least meditation involves everybody shutting the hell up for a minute.
“Alright. Now. Let’s sit.”
I’m not giving in. I’m playing along. There’s a difference. That’s what I tell myself. I cross my legs and sink down toward the ground, putting my fingers in that smug little pose thing...