Chapter 3

Joy's face froze for a beat, then slid straight back into pain and grievance.

"What I mean is... he was always playing the nice guy, always hovering around me."

"He obviously liked me."

"It's because I turned him down. That's why he left me there to die on purpose!"

The words came easier and easier the more she talked.

Like she really had rehearsed this a thousand times in her head.

I stood where I was and looked at her.

The last shred of doubt in me was gone.

Joy had been reborn too.

She remembered the last life.

Remembered that I broke my legs for her, remembered the abuse I took online, remembered my parents dying.

Joy knew the truth.

She understood better than anyone what I'd given up last time to save her.

What this woman hated wasn't the truck. She hated that I hadn't died for her a second time.

Some people treat other people's kindness as a debt owed to them from the start.

The officer handling the case turned to me.

"Mr. Henson, she says you pushed her at the time?"

I answered him.

"Officer, there are cameras at that intersection."

"Whether I ever touched her, the footage will show it."

Joy stared at me.

Both hands gripped the bedsheet tight.

I leaned in a little closer.

"Joy."

"You'd better pray you learn how to tell the truth in this life."

She shrank half an inch under the blanket.

Joy understood.

I remembered too.

That night, someone posted a long entry on the campus forum.

The post went straight to the top of the front page.

"Harassed and Then Revenged On by My Suitor, I Ended Up Paralyzed."

The poster was Joy.

In the post she was a victim without a single fault.

Paragraph after paragraph claimed I'd been pestering her since high school, that I'd kept badgering her in college, and that Joy had held her tongue all this time only to spare a classmate's face.

Then came the fabrication about the day of the accident, how I'd stopped her at the intersection and forced her to accept my confession.

And how, after she rejected me, I'd struck low and shoved her.

At the very bottom of the piece was a photo from the hospital room.

Joy lay in bed, face pale, tears at the corners of her eyes, a brace wrapped around her neck.

The caption read: "I don't know what I did wrong. I just turned down someone I didn't like. Why should that cost me my freedom for the rest of my life?"

In one short hour, the post was pushed to the front page of the campus forum.

After that, local accounts started reposting it.

The comments section fell fast.

"This guy is terrifying."

"Revenge because he got rejected? People like this should go to prison."

"The girl's paralyzed and they still haven't arrested him?"

"No wonder it's hard being the campus beauty. She's probably been stalked by a creep like this for ages."

Someone even dug up my name, my class, my dorm building.

People sent me abusive messages.

People posted "Steer clear of Paul Henson" on their feeds.

Someone said on the school's anonymous wall that just seeing me made them sick.