#Chapter8
As the January rage terrorized the streets of Bouvet, it showed no mercy. The roads were lost beneath fast-flowing rivers, the water level rising, overflowing onto the sidewalks, and the surrounding trees looked in danger of being uprooted. The blackened skies unleashed a web of fury, the rain falling like an army of bullets, tinkering off the bonnets of stationary cars.
If there was even a nugget of common sense in my head, I would have been indoors, wrapped up all warm and snug, watching Jeepers Creepers for the gazillionth time. Or at very least have accepted Blake's offer to drive me. Instead, my teeth were chattering, my feet were soaking fucking wet, and as I huddled away beneath the flimsy bus shelter, glaring at the house across the way, I couldn't bring myself to cross the road.
