The Pages Between Us

Chapter 1

Kamari POV:

Her stab went right through his leg, the slice was thick in her ears—but his screams; drained into a white noise. She was used to it by now, the process of killing people, she's done it so often she sometimes dreams of it. Waking late at night to the remembrance of a faulty mistake that nearly costed her whole operation.

But there was no mistakes, Ellie kept repeating. No mistake, because there was no going back. She knew no court would listen to her pleas for asylum, especially after killing everyone that had wronged her. It was a list that was checked off in men's blood. Sometimes she wondered how bad it had to get for her to resort to these cruel punishments. She wondered if this truly was overkill. Torturing these men until their flesh and bones were no longer connected. It was almost—

"Kamari get your butt down here right now!" I heard the voice of a not so happy mother. Usually she'd understand not to interrupt when I was in the middle of writing, especially in the very beginning. That is when all the outlining and ideas were forming, and losing them causes many breakdowns she is not willing to deal with—I would know, she's told me every time it occurs.

"Coming mama!" I yell back, saving the half page draft as I close my computer and head down the slippery flight of stairs. I can tell by the scent of lemon and lack of dust on the banister that my mother has been cleaning.

Out of breath from the excessive workout that was the seventeen step staircase, I was met with my mother—stern and pristine as always. Her hair was covered in the hijab she wore when she wasn't home alone, her favorite black one she only brought out of occasions. Then I realized, as she moved her body, that there was two people sitting on the plush white couch I just cleaned earlier.

This makes a lot of sense as to why she told me to clean my room—I thought she just hated the maximalist theme I was going for. "Don't be shy, Kamari, say hello to our guests," my mother urges.

The man and women get up from their seat, abandoning the cup of water in their hand, setting it next to the box of baklava my mother brought out. "Hello," I shake both their hands in an equal, but awkward, greeting.

"Hello, Kamari, we've heard so much about you," the woman says, introducing herself as Melissa, and pointing to the salt and pepper man next to her, saying he is her husband, Landon.

My body immediately stiffed at her words. How much did they hear about me? I've held many secrets, but it isn't hard when your best friend is your mother and attend school almost fully online—except for a class or two that I attend in person on Monday's, Wednesday's, and Friday's.

My smile refrained from faltering as I kept nodding my head hoping for an elaboration. "Your mother told us about the secrets, so don't worry, your secret is safe with us," she mocks zipping her lips, and put the imaginary key in my hand. The man standing next to her just nodded and smiled in an equally joyous expression.

The woman's graying hair had a bad attempt at covering the signs of old age with a mahogany colored dye. Her white pants suit was exactly what you'd imagine someone who had to be important enough that my mother would tell them my secrets—but let's face it, she still has to refrain from bragging to everyone she knows.

"We are aware you are an independent published author, and your first book is self-published, but we'd love to offer you a book deal," her words were premeditated and perfectly picked. She didn't falter in her small monologue, getting straight to the point.