The story I’m writing is one that still affects me today.

I am retelling this story to the best of my knowledge based on the information I have learned since regaining my memory.

I was on a ladder, clearing the gutters of my 2 story home in the densely forested Hinterland in Queensland Australia. The trees would often drop their leaves and twigs in the gutters, causing the water to pool up.

I loved the house, but hated the upkeep. As I tried to overstretch myself to reach the final corner, a force caused the ladder to fall back – and me with it.

I woke up in hospital some 3 weeks later. My wife heard me fall and called for an ambulance. The doctors weren’t sure how I was in a coma for that long, or at all, but it was a miracle I lived at all they told me.

Unfortunately I didn’t know what had happened. All I knew I was, I couldn’t remember who I was, who my wife was and that I was paralyzed from the waist down.

Every time I tried to think of who I was and where I lived, I drew a blank, like a faded memory and I tried so hard to remember.

My wife, who didn’t seem familiar to me, visited me every day at the hospital, constantly checking up on me and helping me through the rehab process. Ever so strong and wanting me to walk again, and for my part to work, she was my biggest supporter.

I couldn’t help but not be attracted to her though, something about her didn’t seem my type. I think she noticed this too and this upset her. I could see it in her eyes. Those angry, fustrated eyes…

Sadly, I didn’t have friends, or anyone I could call on. It was just me and my wife, I guess. I was working in the Business Assurance and Advisory department of a small Accounting firm, so I was always on the road and primarily worked out of my home. Even my colleagues didn’t know who I was in person.

Anyway eventually, I was cleared to go home. I had to keep going back for rehab, but the chances of being walking again was clearly never going to happen after several grueling months.

My wife didn’t handle this well… almost like she was dissapointed… in me…

Unfamiliar with my surroundings, I began to suffer from anxiety and depression. I was prescribed medication for it, but that still didn’t change the way I felt about myself and about my wife. I was frustrated because I was confined to the bottom level of the house, although other things started coming back to me.

Like my car and my job, I took to a fish in water when it came to my house… God I love that house. All the memories of that house, from the vision in my dream, to finding the perfect location and to building it with my an old man, who I presumed was my father… it all came back to me.

I remembered the same routines – how to look after the gardens, how to clean the place – but I still didn’t remember my wife .. at least not this one anyway.
I had flashes of a woman with blonde hair in the garden with me, or on the balcony reading a book with lemon ice tea on a lazy Sunday. I remember feeling the love and warmth of her.

And while I started to remember my wife, who was brunette, while she seemed familiar, that feeling wasn’t the same. That’s why we slept in different rooms. That’s why she slept upstairs. Alone. Away from me.

It was taking a massive toll on her. She would tell me how she came into my life before the fall, how in love we were and how it took her years to open up to anybody, but I was the first to do so.

The hardest thing to deal with more so than the constant pain was knowing she was upset, and being in the vulnerable state I was, I feared that she was losing interested in me.

Our relationship was crumbling and soon she couldn’t even make eye contact with me anymore.

There were no photos of us around the house like a married couple would normally have, because my wife told me I didn’t like to show off. What an ass I must have been. She told me we kept all the photographs upstairs, so I asked her to bring me them. Multiple times.

Each time, she’d break down and remain silent, the guilt ate at my soul.

I thought it was over. I thought that was it for us. Until the night it all changed.

My wife came and saw me in living room while I was watching Supernatural. She apologised for how she had been towards me. The whole thing had been difficult to take but she knew she wanted to resolve all our problems.

I turned around to find my wife standing there behind me, with tears running down her face. Her eyeliner ran down her cheeks. She walked towards me, into the ambiance of the light from the television, and that’s when I saw it.

The kitchen knife in her right hand.

The pain of being stabbed repeatedly is not one I wish even my worst enemy to ever feel. But there I sat, helpless, paralyzed and in my wheel chair, a sitting target – literately.

The look on her face was most horrifying look of aggression on her face. It was pure hatred. She stepped back with the final pull of the knife and I clenched my wounds trying to stop the bleeding, sinking into my chair as I gasped my final breath.

My wife dropped the knife on the floor beside me and disappeared out of sight. I looked around but couldn’t see her anymore. My vision started to blur and I was quickly losing consciousness. I felt my shirt become heavy as it soaked up my blood.

My cell phone was in my pocket and with the last bit of what ever strength I had left in me, I reached into my pocket and placed it on my lap… my hands shaking uncontrollably.

With my bloodied hands, I tried to press on the Emergency. All I could think to myself in that moment was why anyone would design a touch screen, but I suppose it wasn’t designed to be used while you’re bleeding out.

I finally dialed Emergency and begged for an ambulance. I don’t remember much after that but I woke up in hospital under police guard.

While I was out, police had searched the house. Upstairs, they found the photos of me and my wife, but it wasn’t the woman who claimed to be my wife.

My wife’s was body was found in a shallow grave on the property. The cause of her death was from loss of blood as a result of being stabbed over 35 times in the chest.

The woman claiming to be my wife was someone I had met at a company I performed an audit for some years ago. After working with her for those few months, she formed a weird obsession of me and after police had searched her apartment and computer, they found disturbing evidence.

In her browser history, they found my FaceBook profile, my LinkedIn profile, my work’s website, every known associate I’ve ever dealt with, and photos of my wife and I together and that were taken without our knowledge.

Not to mention the search queries for, “how to make him notice you”, “how to not get caught”, “how to cause traumatic amnesia” and “how to kill somebody and get away with it”.

Detectives were able to determine that this obsessed woman killed my wife, caused me to fall off the ladder and cause me to suffer from temporary amnesia by hitting me on the head. What’s even worse is that she thought she could replace my wife.

But it all backfired on her when I wasn’t the man she wanted anymore.

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