This was not something I ever anticipated, and as a writer it was something I feared. I stood in a room of those I’ve wronged the most, and I think they were all out for blood.

At first I noticed Evander, the sun kissed immortal love interest, from my only novel I’d ever written. Poor blind Ivor stood beside Evander, suspended in an epic cliffhanger.

I offer a smile, but Evander pulled Ivor closer and sneered.

“Well this is interesting,” I said.

All of my antagonists huddled in a corner. Eulogy, Icarus, Amara. I shuddered as I passed them. I wanted to see her, my first protagonist. Royce.

She stood alone, weeping. Her black dress was soaked, and hugged her body. She looked up at me, and through tears she spoke. “Why do you hate me the most?”

I was taken aback. “No Royce, you’ve got it all wrong. I love you the most. You were my first.”

She returned her gaze to the ground. “It doesn’t feel like it. You never even considered publishing my story.”

I laughed. “Royce, I can’t publish your story. It’s a novella.”