Waking Up to Murder

"You're nothing but bad luck! You're just as vile and worthless as that wretched mother of yours!" My father's roar echoed through the room, punctuated by the sharp crack of his belt. Through my tears, I tried to defend myself: "That's not true! My mom is a good person—she's a police officer!" He let out a cold laugh: "Good person? Your mother was nothing but a slut! How dare you talk back to me!" I turned desperately to my stepmother: "Please, make him stop..." She just gave me a cold glance and walked away. The beating continued until he was too exhausted. When I became an adult, I finally escaped that house of horrors. I thought that by working through college, writing novels to pay off my loans, life would finally get better. But then... I woke up on my neighbor's floor, clutching a blood-soaked knife, with blood splattered everywhere. Had I killed someone? This couldn't be happening... I would never hurt anyone! When everyone saw me as a murderer, when the whole world turned against me... He was the only one who stood by my side. "I believe you," his voice rang out firmly in the courtroom. Why does he want to help me?