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Sweeney sat on the settee, gently stroking his bandaged head, lost in thought. An hour ago Mrs. Lovett had left for her bedroom, and he still was unable to move, anchored to the settee by a tumult if emotions. What had he done? He couldn't comprehend his actions, couldn't fathom why he hadn't been able to stop himself. And now, what was the difference between him and the Judge? He had reduced himself to the same level, taking advantage of a woman. Yet, he couldn't deny that Mrs. Lovett had wanted it too. The way she reacted showed she enjoyed as much as he had.

Yes, he had enjoyed it. Despite Mrs. Lovett meaning nothing to him, he was drawn to her in a way he hadn't expected. He was supposed to be repulsed, yet here he was thinking about her beauty, her body and the allure that lay beneath her clothes. He hadn't realized how attractive she was until now.

Guilt surged through him, betraying Lucy's memory. He felt disgusted with himself, more so because while he was angry at Mrs. Lovett for her lack of respect for the dead, he had done worse. He betrayed his wife's memory that was left.

The door creaked open, pulling Sweeney from his thoughts. He looked up to see Mrs. Lovett standing there, dressed as if she was going out. Why was she dressed up at this hour?

Nellie froze for a moment, not expecting to see him still sitting there. Quickly, she moved as if he wasn't there, heading towards her shop. A carriage was waiting for her.

"Mrs. Lovett" Sweeney called out, standing and following her. He caught up with her at the door grabbing her wrist. "Where are you going?" His eyes met hers, and he noticed she looked like she had been crying. His thoughts immediately drifted back to an hour ago when they had been in a situation he never would have imagined. Was she crying because of their encounter? Had he hurt her? That wasn't his intention.

Nellie looked up and down, her cold eyes meeting his. "To ma next customer." Her tone matched her gaze. Sweeney released her wrist, shame flooding him. He had no words to say, nothing that could make this right.

Understanding he wouldn't say anything, Nellie walked out and locked the door behind her.

Where was she going? To that young lad? Was she really going to warm his bed? Sweeney stood there with so many questions he didn't know which one tho search an answer for first. How could she be so insensitive, going from him to another man. It drove him crazy that she treated him like any other man. He couldn't accept that she had left him standing there alone. Not knowing where she was and the rumors about her activities at night drove him mad. The memory of her kissing the sailor passionately while he was in mourning only added to his torment. Didn't she have any respect?

He sighed trying to push thoughts of her aside. He had more pressing concerns. There was a funeral tomorrow, and his daughter needed to be saved. Slamming his fist on the counter in frustration, he headed to his shop.

In the carriage, Nellie cried. She hadn't expected that having sex with him would hurt her so much afterwards. She couldn't believe she had allowed it to happen, allowed herself to be possess by the demon once again. She had promised herself she would've give in, but she failed, betraying Alex in the worst possible way. Even thought they had just begun courting, what she had done was unforgivable. She couldn't resist the monster when he touched her.

As the carriage halted, Nellie wiped her tears and stepped out, her feet quickly carrying her to the destination. When the door opened, she burst into tears. "Aunt Bea" she sobbed collapsing into her aunts arms. Seeing the older woman made her brake down again.

"Oh, my poor child." Aunt Beatrice murmured, embracing her tightly and leading her inside. She helped Nellie sit by the fireplace to warm up. It was clear she had been crying for a while, and aunt Beatrice's heart broke for her niece. "You're still waiting for him to come to his senses, aren't you? You're still helping him despite the heartache." She saw the pain she was going trough, and she wasn't deserving any of it. Aunt Beatrice knew all her efforts where for nothing, the barber was a lost cause but she also knew her niece had a weakness for the barber.

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