A Reflection on Dead Man’s Switch

By Stipe Lozina

When I first sat down to write Dead Man’s Switch, I knew it would fall within the genre of thrillers, with undertones of horror creeping into its every page. But from the very beginning, there was always something deeper that I wanted this story to carry—something not defined by genre, but by human nature itself.

This book, the first in the Revenge of the Past series, was never just about suspense or fear. It was about the mind. About the struggle within. About how we survive not just the horrors around us—but the ones we carry inside.

It might seem contradictory: to explore psychological vulnerability through violence and shadows. But isn't that what we do in real life, too? We hide our guilt behind facades. We suppress the truths we're ashamed of. And sometimes, it takes the collapse of the world around us to finally hear the truth that’s been echoing within us all along.

What Dead Man’s Switch seeks to uncover is this: Who do we become when we’re truly alone with our sins?
When the comforts of routine and the masks we wear fall away—when survival hinges not on strength, but on the courage to confess—what choices do we make?

One of the most pivotal scenes in the novel is deceptively simple: a character is told they can walk free—if they confess.
But that instruction isn’t as straightforward as it seems. Because confession isn't just words. It's vulnerability. It's tearing open old wounds and looking directly into what you’ve spent years pretending isn’t there. It's not just saying, "I did wrong." It's asking yourself, "Why did I?" And more importantly—“Would I do it again?”

That, to me, is the true terror.
Not the monster in the dark, but the reflection of the person we used to be.
And perhaps, still are.

In writing this book—and in rewriting it for its revised edition more than five years later—I found myself thinking deeply about shame. About the lies we tell ourselves to survive. About the systems we live in, the power structures we prop up or fight against. In Dead Man’s Switch, there are undeniable themes about societal imbalance, of those crushed beneath the weight of monolithic corporations and those protected by them. But even those safe within high walls eventually find that their fortress is built on sand.

That’s the fragile beauty of this narrative.
It isn’t about revenge in the traditional sense. It’s about reckoning. It’s about standing at the edge of a life you once lived, looking back, and asking—What now?

This revised edition of Dead Man’s Switch is not just an editorial update. It’s a reflection of growth—both in me as a writer and in the characters themselves. The book’s flaws—structural, narrative, emotional—have been addressed. But its soul remains the same: raw, uncomfortable, human.

To those who joined this journey years ago: thank you.
To those meeting these characters and their demons for the first time: welcome.
This story is, in many ways, a second chance. For me, for the book, and maybe for you, too.

So pick up the revised edition of Dead Man’s Switch, now available worldwide through Amazon and other major retailers. Rediscover it—or discover it anew. Because sometimes, starting over isn’t weakness. Sometimes, it’s the bravest thing we can do.

And isn’t that, deep down, what we all want?