Second Chance, Final Draft
If I wanted to cut my losses, the only option was to write something new, fast.
I sat down at my desk, cleared my head, and gripped my pen.
The Gemini tattoo on my back started to heat up, like something inside me was about to break loose.
Nothing I could write would be more suspenseful than what I was living through, so I poured everything into the story.
I wove what happened in my last life into the plot.
There was no way Bryan could have lived through the same thing as me.
After a week, I finished an 80-thousand-word novella. I called Samuel over and handed him the manuscript in person.
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