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

Chapter 31 - Avery

November 2008

I shaded my newly trimmed fringe with my hand from the raindrops that were catapulting down from the clouds.

I hated London on crappy weather days. It was on days like this that I would notice how truly uneven the streets of the vibrant city were – since every single one was covered in two inches of murky water.

The rain made Londoners, who were already grumpy and slamming into me, the Grinches that stole Christmas. If you want to witness the true bad nature of humans, take a stroll down Oxford Street on a cold winter's day. You would have lost all faith in humanity by the time you reached the end.

I raised my hand, trying to signal the taxi with the yellow sign lit up like a beacon of warmth and comfort that was coming my way. For a moment, it looked as though he had seen me and he was going to pull up next to me, so I stepped one foot off the pavement and into the road.

I let out a high-pitched squeal as the taxi didn't stop next to me, but sped right past, sending the pool of water next to me spraying over me like I was the statue in the middle of the Trevi Fountain.

I was completely unimpressed. My suede boots were drenched – there was no question that they were ruined beyond repair. My beach waves that I had spent seventy-two minutes perfecting that morning were a distant memory and I could feel my makeup trickling down my face as if I was a sorority girl who had just watched The Notebook for the fifteenth time.

I took my anger out on my unlucky palms and dug my nails into them. It didn't go far to calm me down, but it did make my skin tougher. Literally.

I called over another taxi. This time I wasn't so quick to leap out and meet my showery doom. To my delight, the taxi slowed and pulled up next to me.

I lean into the rolled down passenger seat window and address the slender, grizzled man.

"Can I go to Finchley?"

The man confirmed, speaking with an imagined sense of authority and I went to slide into the back seat when the handle was snatched away by another hand.

I wasn't that crazy. The other hand definitely didn't belong to me. I traced the hand to its owner and I found a chiselled jawline accompanied by rich emerald eyes and a thick head of blonde hair swept perfectly to the side, with just the right amount of mess to it.

"Sorry, Buttercup, this is my taxi." He noticed my horrified expression and he simply shrugged. "You snooze, you lose."

He went to duck his head into the car, but I slammed the door back shut before he had the chance.

"I don't flippin' think so," I growled. He seemed shocked by my aggression, but at the same time impressed. I shoved him out the way and prepared to finish his actions for him. "Get your own goddamn taxi," I demanded, "and stay the hell out of mine."

His eyes went wide, as if he was the alpha in a wolf pack and he was being challenged.

"It's each man for himself out here, love. If you can't handle it, don't come to London," he declared and he tried to coax me out the way of the door. I wasn't budging.

After a stretched out minute of a staring match, I was satisfied that he was going to back off, so I turned to get in the back of the taxi. For the fifth time.

All of a sudden, I felt his warm breath on the nape of my neck and an unnerving chill pulsed up my spine. I was paralysed for a few moments.

"You've got a mouth on you, I like that," he whispered next to my ear. "Although, it's very difficult for me to take you seriously when your flaming red bra is showing through your rain-soaked blouse."

When I'd processed what he said, I gasped and threw my hands over my chest. He took this brief moment of me being distracted to slip past me and glide onto the now soaking seat.

"Hey!" I yelled, having realised what had happened.

He simply raised his eyebrows and winked before calling out of the slightly opened window, "See ya, Buttercup."