The cold, sharp blade rested perfectly in Roxy's hand.
Under the blinding white lights of the underground room, the heavy metal knife seemed to glow. Roxy stood totally, completely still, staring at the shiny metal table. Her back was turned to the man chained to the heavy chair.
Behind her, the ex-husband saw her freeze. His desperate, terrified brain completely misunderstood what was happening.
He thought she was hesitating. He thought his crying had actually worked. He remembered the old Roxy—the quiet, sweet, scared girl who always tried to keep the peace and hated when people were upset. He thought that weak girl was still hiding inside of her, ready to forgive him just because he shed a few fake tears.
"See? You understand, right?" the ex-husband begged, his voice growing a little bit more confident. He sniffled loudly, forcing a weak, pathetic smile onto his bruised face. "I'm not that bad guy anymore, Roxy. I'm totally clean now. I just wanted to say I'm sorry."
