I find that I now take the time to appreciate the little things I never noticed before my attack. Those small gestures and actions that most don’t stop and think of on a regular basis because life overwhelms us. We spend so much time running from one place to another that we miss most of our day.

For instance, the way the breeze feels blowing against my face through my open bedroom window, as it makes my hair flutter and tickles my nose. The soft, silky feeling of my bedsheets against my legs as I move them back and forth for no reason other than to simply enjoy their softness.

It’s amazing what one horrific experience can do. Not only am I extremely observant of every move I make, but I am also very aware of those around me. I was never a people-watcher before, but now, I find I do it often, trying to decipher between the good and the bad, but the sad part is, evil is masked so well.

Take Zane for example. He was kind and funny. He never once made me feel as if he was capable of such an act, but I was wrong. I was so wrong. He was the epitome of evil. A sick, pitiful excuse of a man. Even saying his name in my head gives me a nauseous feeling. I should have fought back. I should have screamed and done everything I could to escape. But then where would I be? In the same situation with memories more haunting than those I live with daily. Zane wasn’t the type of man to back down. My fighting would have only fueled him, giving him exactly what he wanted.

Control.

I take in a deep breath, pushing away the memories of the monster who invades my thoughts, and I crawl out from the bed. The coolness of the tiles against my bare feet gives me chills, and I bounce across the floor, toward the bathroom. After finding my house slippers that were somehow hidden behind the bathroom door, I move through the apartment I call home and start a pot of coffee.

I live in a spacious apartment in the center of Chicago with Aimee. There’s more than enough room for both of us. Everything has been renovated with new appliances in the kitchen, marble counters, and hardwood floor. It has the most amazing view of the sailboats along the shoreline of Lake Michigan and the city around us. Each day, I start out with simply enjoying the beauty in that view. With a warm cup of coffee in hand, I wander toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the water, and I allow myself to run through all my doubts and insecurities.

Then, I begin to build myself back up, repeating all the reasons I am who I am. I put on the brave face, the outer exterior that I hope portrays me as a bitch. One that will make people think twice before approaching me.

On the outside, I’m a hardened, bitter person, never taking the time to make friends or let my guard down. I have Aimee, and that’s all I need. Everyone else can keep their distance.

When I walk into the living room, I hear the door slowly open, and my body freezes. My defenses go up until the door opens wide, and Aimee walks in.

She immediately notices my pale face. “Oh, shit. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No worries,” I mutter. “Is everything okay? I thought you had a day date.”

“I did.” She smirks and sits down on the couch with me. “We skipped the whole brunch thing and went right for dessert.”

“Seriously?”

“Mmhmm.”

My mood lightens when Aimee starts talking about his “magic cock.” I laugh so hard that I'm holding my stomach to stop the cramps.

"Nice nickname." I laugh. "Will you see him again?

"Nah. He's a great fuck, but that's it."

That's the thing I love about Aimee, she works hard, and plays harder. According to her, right now in this stage of her life, men are accessories and aren't permanent, until she can find one worth showing off.

And I completely agree with her. Since that night, the idea of love drains me. It’s all a lie. An illusion. It’s crossed my mind a few times, but I immediately squash the idea. To find someone who’ll love you and cherish you, bringing your body to euphoria? It’s a lie and the complete opposite of what I’ll allow in my life.

“Well, I’m glad you got the magic.”

“Meh. Enough about me. Are you excited for tomorrow?”

Tomorrow, I’ll be starting a new job. The starting salary is more than I thought I’d make as an assistant. The benefits are amazing, and it’ll be nice to finally use my college degree and be in the corporate world.

I had odd jobs and saved everything I made. I lived on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and ramen noodles after I moved out of Boston. The finer things in life were out of my mind. I had one thing to do, and that was to survive.

When I reconnected with Aimee and she convinced me to stay with her, I took the chance. After I told her about where I was and my job situation, she told me not to worry about rent, and when I landed a good job we'd split everything for the apartment. When I moved in, I gave Aimee a check and initially she questioned me, asking where I got all this money, and when I refused to talk about it, she dropped the topic.

It was hard in the beginning—juggling jobs and trying not to spend over my budget—but I made it work.

Now, with my new job, I won’t have financial stress, and I’ll be able to indulge a little. I spent so much money buying all new clothes, shoes, and accessories. This is my first time at a real job that could lead to a career, so I have to look nice and confident.

“Yeah. I think it’ll be a good start for me and put me in a better mood.”

“I’m proud of you,” she says.

“For what?”

Aimee turns to face me and places her hands in mine. “Because you’re finally coming out of your shell and doing something.”

I simply nod my head and smile. This isn’t a conversation I want to have now, so I change the topic to dinner.

All I need to do is focus on tomorrow and do the best I can.

This new job sounds almost perfect in my opinion. On most days, I'll be hidden in an office, creating and reviewing reports, organizing her emails from urgent to unimportant, and taking notes at various meetings. The best part about this job is that my boss is a woman. The idea of working for some asshole man who would spend more time staring at my tits than my face is nauseating.

Male bosses were one of the biggest hurdles I dealt with over the last three years. It was always the same. Go in for a job interview, and meet the man I’d be working under. Then, he’d give me that look. You know the one. That slow, appreciative perusal that would make my skin crawl. Then, I’d end up saying something that guaranteed I wouldn’t be getting hired. But a woman shouldn’t be treated any differently than a man. I was there to do a job, and just because I had a vagina, it shouldn’t have changed a thing. How hard is it to understand that my eyes are not buried within my cleavage?

Men are so predictable, and it’s shameful.

Personal assistant to the CEO of Powers Financial carries a sense of accomplishment. I'll no longer serve food to unappreciative strangers, and I'll never again make a latte for those standing on the opposite side of the counter, barking orders at me. I have a degree in finance, and I took more than enough classes to make me completely capable of handling this job. Miranda Powers thought so when she hired me after only one interview.

An interview that, after the first ten minutes, felt more like two friends catching up after being out of touch for far too long. She really wasn’t what I had pictured as someone who ran a multibillion-dollar corporation. She was kind and had that type of smile that made one feel comfortable with little effort. It could be why she was so successful. She easily charmed the hearts of those around her.

Her sweet demeanor made my decision to accept the position an easy one.

So, tomorrow, I'll put the past where it belongs and start building my future. Away from the man who hurt me, away from the memories of that evening that haunts me each night when I close my eyes.

With Aimee accepting a prestigious position as a lawyer at a successful law firm, thanks to her high bar exam score, and me working for a financial icon, we will rule the city in no time. We are two women destined for great things.