Redesigning Fate (Revive #1) - A. M. Wilson Page 0,2

visual in front of me and his satisfaction almost hurt more than the physical pain.

“Your purse is on the kitchen table,” he said with a slight smirk. Without missing a beat, he went back to fucking her, effectively dismissing me.

The memory lay thick and suffocating in my mind, and I shake my head vigorously as if the movement will erase my thoughts. That was my old life. The one I finally left behind for a piece of the life I deserve. The one I’d barely had a glimpse of before I lost it in a mess of confusion and pain.

Today is not a day for dwelling. Today is the first day of my new life.

A soft breeze blows across my face from the open bathroom window, bringing with it the scent of warm spring air, and I suck in a quick breath through my nose. I exhale more forcefully than necessary before going back to my makeup. After the quick, nauseating, and heartbreaking end to my three-year relationship, I made some drastic life changes. One of which was moving into a new apartment in a different city, one hundred and fifty miles away. What better way to start a new life than move halfway across the state?

My old apartment resided in a quiet suburban neighborhood—the kind where families raised their small children, nested, and upon coming of age, retired. Where music after dark was frowned upon, and more often than not, the cops were called in for the disturbance. Where every neighbor looked out for the other, unless they thought you were a troublemaker. Then they didn’t look out for you, they looked at you, phone in hand, waiting for the opportunity to call in a squad.

I’m young—not quite twenty-two—single, formerly social and energetic (the last two I’m working on rediscovering; the first one I’m perfectly okay with keeping). I needed a neighborhood more suitable for me. Apartments filled with people my age. Not crotchety, nosey old folks and babies crying at all hours of the night. A small stroke of luck found me an apartment opening near the heart of the city, and I took a blind leap of faith and signed the lease.

With the slight drawback being, I needed a job to afford to live here.

Which brings me to another impulsive life change. Prior to finding an apartment, and before I consciously decided to uproot and relocate, I quit my stuffy job in customer service working for an old, balding, asshole of a boss who couldn’t even remember my name after four years of employment. When my brain caught on to my actions, I threw out applications to any law firm who’d take me and put my recently acquired Paralegal degree to good use. After several full days’ search, I landed an interview for a well-known criminal defense law firm, Brooks & Boulder, LLP, in downtown Minneapolis.

Running the flatiron through my hair a final time, I inspect myself in the mirror. Since the breakup, I’ve been fighting with my self-confidence, but even I can admit that today I look somewhat pretty.

My long chestnut brown hair is perfectly straight, not a naturally frizzy hair out of place. Bold mascara coats my long lashes, and the golden eye shadow dusted on my lids makes my dark brown eyes pop. I throw on a gold, three-chain necklace, which layers from my neck to the swell of my breasts, and slip matching bangles on my wrist. As I finger the small compact on my dresser, my hand shakes ever so slightly; the anxiety I’ve dealt with my entire life constantly holding me in its grasp.

Take a deep breath, Marlena. I walk toward the open window, relishing in the warm, fresh air. The anxiety subsides.

Landing this job is essential to moving on with my life. I have enough money saved up to pay about three months’ rent and bills. Without this job, I’ll be back to square one, which would add gasoline to my burning anxiety. I’m on my own. No family to fall back on. Just the small sum in my bank account and me.

The past three years are haunting me; it’s time I move out of my comfort zone and knock ‘em dead, as my friend Carly would say if she were here. Which she isn’t, because she’s sleeping off last night’s booze-a-thon I had to decline to get a restful sleep.

My cell phone chimes from its place on my nightstand alerting me to my appointment in exactly thirty minutes. I