Author's Note: Yes, I know there are a lot of these kinds of fics already, but bear with me. This has been in my head for a while, and I needed to write it. What if Sweeney Todd found a girl that was a victim of a crime similar to what happened to his Lucy? Kind of testing the waters of being realistically OOC. Not sure if I can do it, but I'll try. If it gets bad, tell me to stop writing.
Prologue
It was dark. I weaved along the sidewalk on my way home. I had been out with some of my friends, and though it wasn't ladylike, I have to admit I had been drinking, and was more than a little tipsy. Now and then I'd stumble as my foot slipped off the curb. Now and then I'd giggle at some remembered joke. I may have drunk more than I intended. Perhaps the innocent drinks had been spiked with something a little less than innocent. I giggled again as I stumbled against a wall along the sidewalk, and continued on my way home. I was so drunk, I wasn't even sure where I was going. Maybe I should have stayed a little longer, until I had sobered up.
The night was cool, and windy, the breeze blowing my dark black hair around my face. I'm sure it wasn't helping my unsteady appearance as I wobbled around. I really should have stayed until I was sober, or better yet, not have drunk at all.
"Hey miss, need some help?" a male voice called. A shiver ran up my spine. I never stopped to talk to anyone at night.
"No, I'm fi-" my reply broke off in a yelp as a rough hand grabbed my wrist and pulled me into an alley to the right of the sidewalk I was weaving on. I stumbled as I was slammed against one of the walls. I couldn't focus on anything, I was too drunk and the night too dark, but I knew enough to be scared.
"I think you do," whoever-it-was growled, pinning my hands on either side of my head, so it was hard to move. I could feel my heart pounding viciously in my chest.
"Let me go!" I begged, pulling furiously at my arms, trying to pull my wrists free so I could fight back. But before I could get myself free, my attacker pressed his lips against mine. My eyes flew wide, and I fought harder. NO! This wasn't happening to me! I used the only defense I knew, a standard knee-to-groin, and when he doubled over in pain, I tried to run for it. But in my intoxicated state, I didn't get far. I stumbled over the hem of my dress and fell, breaking my fall with my hands. I heard footsteps behind me, and knew I was nowhere near out of danger.
As I tried to push myself up, something hit me with force on the back of my head, and a split second later, my head met stone, pain exploding in my skull. I was stunned for a moment, but then tried to get up again, only to get the same results. After the third time it was just instinct telling me to get up, and I lost count of how many times I was kicked in the head. All I knew was there was blood trickling down my nose, my face, and dripping from my forehead onto the ground beneath me. Finally, I didn't try to push myself up again.
There was breath at my throat, then lips brushing against it. I was so out of it, I could hardly see anything. I was flipped onto my back. Then whoever-it-was's lips met mine again, prying my lips open to slip his tongue in. I felt like I was going to throw up. I knew I was going to pass out; my head hurt so badly! I squirmed, trying to free myself again, and a fist met my jaw, causing my head to jerk back and hit the stone under me. Blackness was covering my vision.
I was flipped over again, and I felt his hands on my back, struggling with the lacings on my corset dress. No! I struggled again, very weakly, a pathetic twitch of my hands and a squirm. Never the less, I knew something bad was going to happen when I heard him walking away from me, and then back. I couldn't hold in a shriek of pain as something hard and blunt smashed into my head. Darkness swallowed me as I fell into unconsciousness.