Francine turned to me, fury in her eyes, and shouted, "Carson, have you lost your mind? It's one thing to get divorced, but why did you have to hurt Evan, too?"
Shaken up, I stuttered, "I didn't..."
My hand instinctively dropped the knife, and it clattered to the floor.
"Still trying to argue?" Francine's voice sliced through the air, harsh and full of anger. "I saw you stab him with my own eyes! You maniac!"
Evan, pale and weak, leaned into her, but he didn't stop adding fuel to the fire.
"Francine, don't blame Carson. It's my fault," he said feebly. "I shouldn't have come to take your things. He saw it, got so angry, and did something foolish. Don't blame him, please."
"Shut up!" I roared. "Francine, listen to me! I didn't hurt him. He stabbed himself!"
I kept explaining, but it was already too late.
With a face frozen in disbelief, Francine grabbed her phone and immediately contacted the authorities.
"I'm calling the police! Someone's been stabbed here! And it's attempted murder!"
The police arrived swiftly, forcing me to the ground, their cold handcuffs digging into my wrists.
Francine stood to the side, her eyes full of hatred as she looked down at me.