The knife was poised, ready. Ready to dig into the soft tender flesh of the exposed neck.

"Velma please. Don't do this. It was all Charlie's fault. Your stupid louse of a husband made me do it!"

Velma twirled the knife in her hands. "Oh, it's a little late for that Veronica. Charlie's already dead."

"No ple—"

The knife went down in one smooth movement, slicing through the tender neck with a sickening squelch.

Blood gurgled through the slit throat, causing the body it poured from to choke and spasm, sputtering against the sheets until the last breath was gone.

Velma smiled sadistically. "I always knew the spread eagle would kill her someday."