Insane - Who Are You To Judge? (Gripping Psychological Thriller)

Chapter 22 - Avery

Today is a good day.

It's been nine days, 1 hour and 41 minutes since my little run-in with Cinderella, nine days, 3 hours and 32 minutes since I received that peculiar message and nine days 2 hours and 14 minutes since I met Him.

I don't want to speak too soon, but I would say this is so far my best week this year – following what was probably my worst.

To start, I have formulated an airtight plan to correct my slip up last week and since I am the one who has created it there is very little chance of it going awry. I have also heard nothing more from whoever that creep was who put the letter through my door, and I have been going through all my previous indiscretions with a fine-tooth comb in order to identify who exactly Cinderella was referring to when she said I'm not the only one with a grudge.

Finally, I am seeing Him tonight. It's very unlike me to become excited over such a trivial thing as going on a date, but I've got to give it to Him, he's proving to be an addiction.

With everything going on at the moment, my love life would serve me better by remaining dormant. As hard as I tried not to become involved with Him, there is just something about Him that I find elusive. And I am determined to uncover exactly what that thing is.

It seems to have had an abnormal effect on me though. Even the doctors that I have regular meetings with have noticed my out-of-character chirpiness. I can't decide if I like it or find it insufferably irritating.

I bang my forehead with the heel of my palm several times, trying to knock his image from my thoughts, and begin to focus on what is really important – Cinderella's Prince.

Now, I have of course done my research and it seems that Cinders and her little Prince weren't living as happily ever after as you'd think. In fact, having done a small amount of observation, I've discovered that she moved out of his place a few months ago and they haven't spoken in weeks.

Apparently, she was never quite the same after her family died.

This benefits me in two ways. One, he isn't concerned about her lack of contact and so it will take longer for the police to be notified of her body. Two, it means they were having issues. And who is responsible for thirty per cent of all female murders? The husband.

I settle into my six-month old Audi TT and breathe in the cream leather's aroma. One of my old friends dragged me to a car showing and there my baby was – spinning on the platform, perfectly lit by studio lights and finished off with a slick shine. It was an impulse buy, for sure, but it was love at first sight. And I don't regret the £53.5K dip in my bank balance for a second.

I tap the postcode of Cinder's fella's office into the built-in satnav and pull away from the entrance of Southhurst Medical Clinic.

The palace is just outside of town so my journey isn't too time-consuming. The time now is 1.37pm and if I have my facts right, the Prince began making his way back to his office seven minutes ago. He will be pushing the button for the elevator at 2.03pm, giving me just enough time to casually slide in next to him, I am sure we will be in close proximity when all the other businessmen pile into the elevator, hurrying to meetings they are already late for.

Why my sudden desire to be drenched in others' sweat in a claustrophobic cuboid of bacteria? That you'll have to wait for.

I enter his office block at exactly 2pm and immediately catch sight of the three lifts in the far corner of the reception. My heels echo into the high ceiling as they hit the marble tiles and I lower my head ever so slightly, ensuring I do not draw attention to myself, and no one asks my reason for being there.