The sun came up, but the master bedroom stayed entirely dark.
Roxy didn't open the thick curtains. She didn't turn on the lights. She just sat on the soft, expensive carpet right next to the huge bed, pulling her knees tight against her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs.
Thousands of words were dancing in her head.
How do I survive this?
All my efforts, all the love I poured into my children?
Was it so hard to stay happy?
Should I just die?
Perhaps death is the best thing for me.
It was day one.
Outside the door, the men were also not good. They didn't leave the hallway. She could hear them breathing, shifting their weight, and talking in low, worried whispers.
