I wanted to forget the events of the evening, and getting drunk and doing something stupid seemed the best way to make that happen. It was freezing outside. I could tell that from the way my breath formed white clouds in the chill night air. But I couldn’t feel the cold. I was too numb after what had happened. The events of the night kept running through my head—realising what Toby had done to me, and then revealing it to my sister, only to be branded a liar and a slag. So much for opening up. I stepped forwards and heard the sound of car brakes being slammed along with the beep of a horn. The noise snapped me back to the present. I looked up, raising my hand against the glare of the headlights, and realised I’d stepped into the road and in front of a black cab. I’d been so caught up in my thoughts that I hadn’t been concentrating on where I was going. The driver, a stocky, bald man in his fifties, leant out the window, his face contorted with anger. “You got a death wish or something?”
