Forgive Me, Father
The sharper the knife, the less painful the cut.
Pamela looked down at the tomato on the counter that she had absolutely obliterated with her dull chef's knife. It was all smashed on one side, and the seeds and juice had squirted out. Maybe it was her mood or her overwhelming feeling of guilt, but she thought it looked like a homicide scene where the victim had been bludgeoned to death. She imagined her own face in the carnage, and Sylvia standing over her with a rolling pin.
She closed her eyes and shook her head to rid her mind of the image. She needed to pay for what she had done. A self-appointed penance for her sins. And she had just the thing.
Pamela took out her Smith's Electric Knife Sharpener. She would sharpen her chef's knife until the metal was completely whittled away. She figured it would take no more than a few hours, since the ceramic edge sharpened both sides of the blade equally at the same time. And during that time she would truly reflect on her actions and the pain they had caused the ones she loved most.
What she completely underestimated was the interlocking ceramic wheels that were designed to provide a razor sharp edge while removing less metal. After three hours, her hand started to blister from the rubber hand grip. But even after six, the non-slip rubber feet kept their grip, and the blade of her chef's knife looked brand new.
Still, she did not stop. This was the punishment she had dealt out to herself, and she was going to see it through to the end.