American Assassins

Chapter 26: Kimberley

I crawl under the bed covers and turn off the TV.  I sit there in the room looking around the room.  Huge, is the only word that I can describe it with.  My bags are all piled up on the right side of the bed.  Only one is open with clothes around it.  That’s the one I unpacked to find comfy clothes to wear to sleep. 

                I sigh taking in the new atmosphere, then I grab my laptop off the bedside table and open it.  I google Outcast tribes Zack, Cale and Lizzie.  Searches come up with many outcast tribes.  I click on one and scroll down to the names of the new members.  No, they aren’t here.  I search on another one.  No.  I search on each one but they aren’t there.  I feel the tears come swell up in my eyes.  I don’t hold them back.  They soon start to fall down.  They’re dead, just accept the fact Kimberley!  I think before I shut my computer.  I set it back on the table and lay my head on the pillow.  Then I fall instantly to sleep.

The sun’s rays that make their way into my room because of the window shades that are open.  I try to hide under the covers but the suns light keeps aggravating me to get up.  I moan in frustration and look at my clock 7:28.   I growl throwing the blankets off me.  I make myself get out of bed and stretch.   The air around me freezes me to the bone.  I fall on my knees next to my bag and rummage through it till I find a pair of blue jeans, a black turtle neck and a brown leather jacket.  I don’t want to get undressed.  I want to crawl back in my bed and fall back to sleep.  Also it’s still cold in here.  But, again, I demand myself to take off my pajamas and put on the clothes. 

                I walk into the bathroom and wash my face, brush my teeth, and throw my hair into a simple high ponytail.  I look at myself.  Just yesterday I got up in my bed, at home, with my family.  Now look at me.  I’m here, in a place I do not know, a place that is not my home.  Away from my family. 

                I close my eyes wishing to go home.  But I wipe away a tear and walk out of the bathroom.  I pick a pair of tall black combat boots to wear and lace them up.  I grab my phone and walk out the door.  I make my way down the hallway and down the stairs.  I get my baring’s and remember where the kitchen is.

                I walk in finding the cook. Kathy, remembering her name, is putting food on the wooden table a few feet away from the kitchen countertop.  Jama sits at the end of the table his hands folded and his eyes closed.  He wears a blue plaid buttoned up shirt with tan pants.  His shoes are leather and match his white socks.  He seems deep in thought.  Even when I wave my hand in front of his face he doesn’t even move. 

                “Uh, miss, I wouldn’t do that!”  I take my hand away and look at the cook.  She is laying down a plate of cinnamon rolls and a bowl of fruit.  She has short blonde hair with a chef’s hat on.  She wears a short red bandana around her neck and a white, buttoned up chef’s outfit.   “Mr. Jama is deep in thought.  He prays every morning before breakfast, must not be disturbed.”

                “Why, what does he pray about?”  I ask looking at her confused. 

                “No one knows.  He just sits there for a long time and doesn’t say anything or move.  He never tells his servants what he thinks about, he just does it.”  Her voice is high pitched.  It gives me a headache but in a way it’s cute.