Paralyzed for Five Years My Wife Kissed the Man Who Destroyed Me

The night before the international race, Nanette Swanson lost a round of truth or dare at her final bachelorette party.

The crowd egged her on: either force three drinks on her childhood sweetheart, Stephen Walker, or cut the brake lines on my race car.

She chose the latter.

The next day, I crashed.

The car spun out of control, flipping across the track, killing three drivers and two spectators. A steel rod ripped loose and punched through my body. The rear wheels rolled over my lower back.

Both my legs were permanently paralyzed. I'd spend the rest of my life with a colostomy bag.

My parents, who'd been in the stands cheering me on, suffered fatal heart attacks on the spot.

Nanette, barely sobered up, knelt outside the operating room begging for my forgiveness. She swore she'd take care of me for the rest of her life.

She liquidated her entire family fortune to compensate the victims, then gave Stephen Walker a sum of money to take the fall and go to prison in her place.

Five years later, Stephen got out. He'd used that money to build a small company. Done well enough for himself.

We ran into each other again in the alley outside my apartment.

Nanette was pushing my wheelchair, quietly asking a vegetable vendor if he could knock a few cents off the price.

Stephen's car pulled up behind us with the precision of something long planned.

The window slid down. Their eyes met by accident.

Both of them went red around the rims.

Stephen spoke first, his voice hoarse.

"Nanette. All these years... you've suffered."

...

Nanette's grip on the wheelchair handles trembled.

She said nothing. She fumbled through the fanny pack at her waist, then lowered her head.

"Never mind. I don't need the vegetables."

She grabbed the handles and tried to leave.

Before she could take a single step, I'd already unscrewed the hot water bottle in my lap and hurled it through Stephen's car window.

White steam erupted across his suit.

He clearly hadn't expected it. He scrambled to his feet, cracked his head against the roof of the car, and hissed in pain.

"You—!"

That voice. The voice that had haunted my nightmares for years. It hit me again like a live wire, jolting every cell in my body.

"You piece of filth!"

"How come you didn't die in prison? I'll kill you!"

I was screaming, flailing, grabbing for anything within reach. My fingers closed around an oversized potato.

Nanette panicked.

She yanked a syringe from her pocket and jabbed it into my thigh, hard.

Ice-cold liquid shot through my veins and straight to my brain.

My arm went limp in the same instant the potato left my hand, sailing toward Stephen.

But it struck Nanette square in the forehead as she turned to shield him.

She wiped the blood away with the back of her hand, then grabbed the wheelchair handles without missing a beat.

"Duncan Henson, it's time for your medication. Let's go home."

A gust of wind swept across us, blowing Nanette's hair aside and exposing the mottled bruises along her neck. Purple and red.

Stephen couldn't hold himself back any longer.

He got out of the car in one fluid motion, caught up, and clamped his hand around Nanette's wrist.

"He did that to you, didn't he?"

"Five years. Even if this is penance, there has to be an end."

"What, you're going to throw away your whole life for him?"

I wanted to argue. Wanted to reach out and put my fist through his face.

But my body sagged like a wrung-out rag. All I could do was hang my head and curse, pathetic and impotent.

"Five years?"

"Even five hundred years wouldn't be enough to pay back what you two owe me!"

Stephen bit down on his lip, ready to say more.

Nanette cut him off.

"Enough."

She stared him down, enunciating every word.

"Sir, I don't know you."

"If you come near my husband again, if you upset him one more time, I will call the police."

After that day, Nanette swore to me that she and Stephen Walker were finished. That she would never see him again as long as she lived.

Her resolve seemed absolute. Stephen watched her walk away, the loss written all over his face. He didn't follow.

I kept my head down, watching her footsteps quicken beneath me, and couldn't help but sneer.