Chapter 2: Living the Same Nightmare

“Derek, do you think I should get bead implants?”

His voice sounded way too familiar, echoing in our rundown bathroom—chipped tiles, that permanent Pine-Sol smell. Derek was next to me, peeing, waving around a flyer: “Bead Implant Surgery—the best male enhancement.”

My heart stuttered. That stabbing pain in my lower body felt way too real, like a trauma that refused to fade. I glanced down, half-expecting to see blood. My hands shook as I gripped the sink, the memory of my death still fresh.

Marcus—Derek’s actual name, but we always called him by his last—called out again:

“Derek, I’m about to meet my online girlfriend for the first time. She’s loaded. She’s got like a dozen luxury cars on her Instagram, all parked at her mansion. You gotta come with me for this bead surgery.”

His excitement practically bounced off the bathroom walls, but underneath was that same old desperation. Marcus was always chasing shortcuts—convinced he could hack his way into happiness. I pictured her posts: Jersey McMansion, Range Rovers, everything we’d never have with our ramen dinners and SEPTA rides.

A cold shiver ran down my spine. Déjà vu didn’t even cut it. I knew this script—and I knew how it ended. My gut twisted, dread blooming in my chest.

Because in my last life, it played out exactly the same way.