He clutched her tight and jabbed his finger at me, shouting, "You're the prostitute! Do you not know why I want a divorce? Because of you, because of what you do! Stop talking nonsense!"
For a moment, I froze.
Jasper's words sliced through me, leaving a dull, tearing ache in my chest, like my heart had been ripped into pieces.
Then Joanne's voice cut through, sharp as a whip.
"Katie, my son has treated you well enough, yet you're so unchaste, sleeping with so many men, being a free whore. You betrayed the marriage and ruined my son. What right have you to accuse him? You slut!"
This was the same woman I had cared for eight years ago when her legs were paralyzed. I had bathed, fed, carried her bedpans, and nursed her back to health. Now she stood tall and, with a single sentence, drove an invisible blade straight through my chest.
My mother-in-law's accusations shifted the tide.
The crowd wavered, their gazes sharp and accusing, and suddenly it was me they saw as the whore who slandered others to cover her own filth. Every pair of eyes felt like a knife stabbing into me.
Then Jasper, still acting all high and mighty, grabbed my arm.