The party was in full swing. Classily dressed somebody's mingled over horderves and expensive wine. Forced laughs, forced smiles, and forced conversation filled the air.

Ophelia stands against a wall, watching everyone with dead eyes. Judas had touted her around like a pretty little pet all evening and then promptly fucked off somewhere, leaving the young woman to stand about awkwardly and swirl the wine in her glass. She groaned and scowled as a pang of pain shoots along her side from the stab wound she had incurred in her fight with the smiling murderer, and her healing wound did not much enjoy being shoved into spanx and heels.

She jumps when a hand wraps around her shoulder. Judas pulls her close, moving his hand from her shoulder to her waist.

"Could you at least try to look like you're enjoying yourself?" he asks through the clenched teeth of a tight smile. His fingers dance dangerously close to her stab wound and she suppresses the urge to inhale through her teeth. A knot forms in Ophelia's stomach.

She pulls a smile to her face. It matches the other girls' in the room; red lips, white teeth, dead eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm having the time of my life."

"Don't get smart with me, Mallory." she cringes at the use of that name but he takes no notice. "Think about the effect your dour expression could have on our reputation."

'Don't you mean your reputation' She thinks, but keeps her mouth shut. The night was already looking grim for her. "I'm sorry. I'll do better to manage my expressions."

"Good." Judas takes her chin in his hand and turns her head upward to face him. His smile softens, becoming genuine. As genuine as he could be, at least. "You're so beautiful. Far to pretty to frown."

Ophelia toys with the idea of spitting in his face and storming off, but she doesn't. Instead she swallows the lump in her throat and returns his affectionate gaze. "Love ya, daddy."

He kisses her, hand wrapping around her neck in a way that could make a girl swoon, but feels like a vice to the short woman. "I love you too." He pulls her by the neck into a kiss that smothers her. His lips taste of whiskey and cheap cigars. Her arms raise and wrap around his neck and she returns the kiss with as much passion and force as she can muster. She feels like a doll. A soulless husk controlled by someone else. Ophelia wasn't here right now, she was somewhere far away. Somewhere she could pretend this wasn't happening.

Even when he pulls away and looks right back into her eyes, he doesn't notice the absence of light. He lowers his hand, digging his thumb into the wound and causing the girl to bite her tongue until it bled. He lifted his hand to caress her cheek.

"That's a good girl." He coos, placing another kiss on her forehead. "Come sit with me. Have another drink."

Like clockwork she follows. She takes short, stable steps, like a lady. The dress felt constricting and her skin was on fire. She sits at his side, leaning into him, and allows him to slip a pill between her lips. It was for her nerves, he has said to someone who questioned. It numbed her, made her tired and compliant. She preferred it this way. Preferred when her head swam and the feeling dancing across her skin wasn't pain, but pleasure. It made the insufferable praise the bastard requested easier to give up, too.

Judas stewed on it for the rest of the night. Oh, sure, he smiled and talked with the other vapid elites, but in the back of his mind he saw the girl, his girl standing against the wall. Her brow furrowed, her lips downturned. It burned him up inside. She was being rewarded for completing her last task and she had the audacity to not even enjoy it? She would pay for it later.

Ophelia did not start out the night with a limp, but by the time she entered the front door to her house the next afternoon she could barely hold herself up. She winced with every step, her ankle bending unnaturally each time she rested too much weight on it. Mascara stained her cheeks, a patch of hair was ripped from her scalp, and blood cracked and dried on her chin. She collapsed in the kitchen with her back against the wall. Her hands met her face and she allowed the tears to take her.