His Cruelest Game

For three torturous years, I lived as a ghost in my own life.

Haunted by the car crash I believed killed my sister, Savannah, and crippled her boyfriend, Ethan, I dedicated myself to his care.

He was my tormentor, using my guilt as his chain.

Then, one stormy night, I walked into a honky-tonk bar and heard the laughter.

It was Ethan, boasting to his friends: "Three whole years she's bought it. Wiping my ass, feeding me like a baby, all because she thinks she crippled me."

My world didn't just crack; it shattered when I saw him stand and dance.

His paralysis was a lie.