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

Chapter 27 - Avery

Not an expert? Me, not an expert? I play the cop's harsh words on repeat. Being objective, I know that it's an advantage that they think Cinderella's killer didn't know what they were doing because it significantly reduces the possibility that they would ever think they and the Grimm Reaper are the same person.

But I can't always be impartial – I have feelings too. Quite frankly, this hurts them. And my ego. It almost makes me ashamed of myself. I, dubbed the Grimm Reaper, have fallen so far that they consider me no expert. As if I were just anybody off the street.

I sense a pressure on my shoulder and a distant voice calling me.

"Avery...Avery."

I turn to face Him, expressionless, as if I were sleepwalking. You know what they say – never wake a sleepwalker.

"I thought I'd lost you for a moment, there," he jokes, but I am still staring vacantly.

Not an expert...not an expert

His face begins to morph into the cop's and my jaw locks. I really want to hurt him. I can't believe he belittled me like that. My eyes narrow and my nostrils flare slightly.

He nudges me again, this time with a more serious tone.

I break out of my trance and rub my fists into my eyes several times. "Sorry. I'm so tired, I think I keep drifting off." Once I gather my bearings, I try and focus on our conversation. "What were we talking about?"

He laughs at me with a glimmer in his eye, finding me amusing.

My stomach does little somersaults and a tingling shoots up my spine as I watch Him. I'm unsure of what exactly this foreign sensation is, what it means and why I feel it. However, as much as my reason hates things she can't understand, some part of me likes this unknown feeling.

"Clearly nothing too interesting if you can't remember." He shuffles around on the sofa. "But anyway, what do you want to talk about?"

I sigh, unenthusiastic about his question. I glance around his lounge and my eye catches the window. "The weather?"

He chuckles again. "Do you want to be any more British?" I shove Him playfully and he says, "Tell me about yourself."

I'm thrown off by this. People don't really ask me anything personal. I usually engage in small talk about what job I do or what university I went to. My conversations with people rarely go beyond this, I'm in new territory.

How much am I comfortable with sharing? How much am I expected to share? Does he want to know my favourite colour or the ins and outs of my entire childhood?

You're probably thinking that I've never had a relationship before, since it's normal to have long-winded conversations about your insecurities and all that crap. You'd be wrong. Of course I've had relationships before, but they were all mostly physical. I've always preferred to keep the friendship aspect strictly with my girlfriends. Which I do have, by the way. I know you haven't been introduced to any of them but they aren't relevant to this tale and quite frankly, it's my story, I can choose what I do and don't show you.

I realise that I have remained inside my head for too long without responding to Him and he starts to notice. "Well," I finally begin, "my name is Avery Blake, I'm thirty-one years old but to the rest of the world I'm twenty-seven. Um..."

I kill people

"I work as a pharma rep."

I kill people