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

Chapter 56 - Avery

I've decided to surprise Him. I don't know what's got into me, I've never done something like this before. It gives me a thrill of excitement.

I finished work early today and I know he's going to be finished in thirty-three minutes.

I walk into the estate agents and I am greeted by the receptionist.

"Hi, welcome to McKenzie's Southhurst Estate Agent, can I help you?"

I wave her smile off. "Oh no, it's okay. I'm just waiting for someone," I assure her.

"Okay, if you want to take a seat in our waiting area, then."

I comply and head over to the leather sofas in the corner.

I've never been at his workplace before. It's a lot more aesthetically pleasing than I thought an estate agent's would be.

It has a very precise grey-purple colour scheme. The sofas are grey and are complemented by an array of violet cushions. It also has antique grey vases, filled with fresh lilac orchids. The walls are decorated with black and white photographs with one painting located in the centre of the far wall. The painting is of a ballerina in a violet leotard, with her hair tightly secured in a high bun. She is in the midst of doing the classical pirouette, from the way her body is soaring through the air, weightlessly carried upon a single toe. Although her body is elegant, her face tells a completely different story. She isn't looking up to the sky, but glancing down at her feet. The corners of her lips are ever so slightly turned down and her cheeks are drained of colour. It's as if she tries so hard to make her body beautiful, that she is unable to keep her true feelings from seeping through in her expression.

I check the time. 3:42pm. He'll be leaving in eighteen minutes.

I tap my foot impatiently, searching for something to turn my mind to until he is here. I spot a pile of magazines under the coffee table and so I grab the first one I see. Not that it makes much of a difference as they all appear to be the same issue.

As I flick through the magazine, I skim read the articles until I find one that interests me – even a little bit.

Freddie Mercury Tribute performing this Saturday at Southhurst Arena

There's something about the headline that sparks a déjà vu. I swear I've seen it before, I just can't remember where. I shake the feeling from my shoulders and settle on the article. I've always been a big fan of Freddie – he was my childhood crush. My interest piqued, I look for the date of the issue to see when the show is.

To my disappointment, the issue is from the beginning of March. I think I've definitely missed that tribute.

The other side of the page is full of local ads. Just a bunch of second hand car for sale, and two bunnies looking for a good home. Which is strange to have such different products on the same page, if you ask me.

There is only one ad that catches my eye.

In the top right-hand corner, there is an ad reading, for sale: Rotary Lawnmower. Only used twice, great condition. And below it is a picture of the lawnmower.

I place my finger over the ad and flick the page back over to the Freddie Mercury tribute. My finger lines up with the 'F' of Freddie. Or of Fairy tale.

I slap my hand over my open mouth, not wanting to believe what I have seen. I rack my brain for every possible excuse I can find, it must just be a coincidence. Yes, it's just a coincidence.

But as my reason loves to remind me, I've never believed in coincidences.