Chapter 1

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Lily

It's two o'clock in the morning and I'm wide awake. It isn't that I'm not tired...I'm fucking exhausted. It's the noises and images in my head that are refusing to let me sleep. I have seen countless therapists over the years that have all given me the same song and dance that it will take time to forget. Well, it's been eighteen fucking years, and I still haven't fucking forgotten. So – there's that.

Sure, I've tried several things to drown them out and help me forget – drinking, sex, partying – but nothing works for long. The thing that helps the most – my guitar – isn't an option tonight. It's the middle of the night and I don't want to piss off my neighbors. Hell, for the past six months, there hasn't been much of my guitar anyway. Not because of the neighbors, but because it isn't allowed. Steven doesn't allow a lot of things.

Steven, my boss, is the CEO of a large company located in the heart of Atlanta and I am his assistant. I am also sexually involved with him...and he's a fucking asshole. For those that aren't aware of my past, they blame my insomnia and anxiety, on him. Hell, he's an easy target to blame, especially since some have witnessed the way he treats me. If they only knew what they saw was only half of it, they would find me more pathetic than they already do. I know, because I find myself extremely pathetic.

Fuck, I do not want to think of Steven. Especially with the memories of eighteen years ago already fucking with my mind tonight. My situation with Steven, only makes it worse. He makes everything worse.

Thankfully, tonight, I am alone. He is not around to correct me, to humiliate me, or to punish me. I am free – except for the fucking memories, which I am currently working on drowning. I empty my second glass of red wine and pour another one before standing from my white leather couch to head towards my balcony.

Opening the sliding glass door, I step outside and feel the cold air against my skin, my bare nipples instantly hardening against my tank top. I place my wine glass on the small table to my right and sit down on the lounge chair straightening my legs out in front of me. I look up towards the city lights and take a deep breath.

I fucking hate the city. The lights. The noise. Some people like all this, but not me. I would rather live somewhere where it's quiet and I can actually see the stars at night. Hell, somewhere I can breathe fresh air. But I have no fucking choice. Steven bought this apartment for me, and I can't refuse him. It isn't allowed. Don't get me wrong, the apartment is nice. Beautiful even. It just isn't me, not that I've found any place that I've been comfortable enough to say 'it's me' and that I belong there. 

Shrugging my shoulders at my thoughts, I pull a joint out of the pocket of my sweatpants and light it, taking a long drag from it. I exhale, staring up at the night sky above me wishing I could see the stars that I know are there, but it's of no fucking use. I take a few more hits, until I notice a flash of light coming from somewhere across from me.

Dropping my gaze from the sky to the apartment building, I scan it, wondering if my imagination is fucking with me. I put the joint out and set it on the table when I see it again - a quick, bright white flash - out of the corner of my eye. They're coming from the apartment directly across from me.

I don't hear anything, but it looks like flashes from a gun being fired. I stare at the windows across from me wondering if it will happen again, hoping that it isn't what I fear it to be. Then I hear a gut-wrenching scream, followed by another quick flash of light. It's definitely coming from that apartment, and it's most definitely, gunfire. I know very well what gunfire looks like. I've been around guns my entire life.

Jumping up, I run into the living room grabbing my cell phone from the coffee table and I instantly dial 911.

"911, is this an emergency?" a woman's southern voice asks on the other end.

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