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She would’ve been beautiful if her eyes hadn’t been shining manically and if her lips were pulled into something other than a sneer. Even a frown would have been preferable.

Her eyes trailed over her “audience” distastefully before resting on me. Her expression brightened marginally.

“Come up here with me!” she said, waving her arm enigmatically. “My Maid of Honor has to stand by me!”

I didn’t bother to point out that she was the one who had brought me into this room in the first place. If she wanted me over there, she could’ve put me over there.

Oh no. She had to go and blame the tied-up girl.

Geez.

No respect.

Grunting in irritation, Whore Bag dragged my chair to where the wedding ceremony was apparently taking place. There appeared to be a podium (though I had no idea how she had gotten that) and even more flowers swimming in their own bug-riddled refuse.

I scrunched my nose at the repugnant sight.

Seemingly satisfied that I was in the right position, Whore Bag smiled at me coyly.

“I’ll be back in a little bit. I need to grab my fiancé.” She snorted. “He’s getting cold feet.”

Well...could you really blame him?

I was momentarily grateful that she didn’t react to my thought. I was afraid my stupid mind would speak aloud again, and I really wasn’t in the mood for another beating.

Smiling up at Whore Bag, I said, “You look positively beautiful. Radiant.”

My compliment seemed to please her, for pink tinged her cheeks.

“You mean it?” she asked, almost shyly. I kept my smile firmly in place, even when my emotions fully settled onto pity. I still felt anger towards her, of course, but that anger was steadily receding. She was mentally and emotionally unstable. She needed help, first and foremost.

I kind of wished I knew her name. Maybe I could do what I did with Tommy: appeal to her humanity, and her need to be loved.

“Of course I mean it!” I replied to her question after an awkward length of time. “Absolutely stunning.”

She let out a squeal of happiness, and then excitedly began chatting about her beauty process. I wanted to point out that she needed to grab her groom so that they could get on with the wedding. I had to find Ryder and get out of here.

I had the distinct feeling I wouldn’t be able to do either until after the wedding was over.

“So...” I began casually. I hoped that she would indulge me with more information, now that her lips were loose. “You’re an awfully skinny girl.” She preened. “How did you manage to get me out of the house?”

That question had been bugging me. She may have been taller than me, but I knew it would’ve been immensely difficult for her to get both me and Ryder out of the house without being seen.

I hoped that she was the stereotypical movie villain, evilly cackling as she revealed all of her villainous plans. A girl can dream, alright?

Instead of answering, she merely glared at me. “I had help,” she answered stoutly.

Okay then. Evil sidekicks? Apparently, a touchy subject.

I watched as she turned on her heel, white dress twisting like water between her legs, and headed down a hallway that I assumed housed her fiancé.

Or a mirror. I still wasn’t entirely convinced that this mysterious person existed.

Alone once again, I allowed my mind to wander.

Why did I always find myself in these messes? It just wasn’t fair.

My head was throbbing, a combination that I was certain stemmed from dehydration, stress, hunger, and my good old bruised face. Blood continually cascaded down my cheeks, a waterfall of garnet. Yeah. Yeah. I know.A cliché. But could you really blame me for not being the most eloquent at that moment?

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