"Mrs Lovett, you're a bloody wonder, imminently practical and yet appropriate as always, as you've said repeatedly there's little point in dwelling on the past!" He was backing her into the wall, a mad glint in his eyes.

"Do you mean it? Ev'rything I said, I swear, I thought it was only for the best. Believe me!" As her back hit the wall, she realised there was nowhere left to run to. Pleading was her only option.

"Now, come here, my love. Not a thing to fear, my love!" But there was.

Nothing to fear? He broke his word already, as he took hold of her hair and dragged her across the room. Mild pain shot through her body.

"Mistah T! What- are- you- doing?" She gasped, as he tightened his hold on her, before pushing her to floor by his feet. She immediately lept up, trying to excape, refusing to contemplate the consequenses if she were to fail. She thought she had loved him, even that time he had threatened her with his razors, she had passed over it, telling herself that he wouldn't hurt her. He needed her, even if he refused to admit it. She realised now that it was a foolish crush, one a teenage girl might have. Any positive emotion she had for Sweeney was now gone, except for a small hope that maybe he wouldn't kill her.

What he had in mind was much worse. He grabbed her shoulder to prevent her escape, digging his nails into her, making her cry out in a mix of pain and fear. It wasn't even that he hated her- he didn't. It was merely amusing to hurt her. Every little pain he forced her through, every drop of blood, every gasp, tear or scream she uttered as a result of his... activities made him happy- exited. He didn't feel much emotion- this was all he had left. Why Mrs Lovett? He had an excuse for her. She had indirectly killed his wife- not that he cared about his Lucy, the pathetic woman. Yet still there was more important reasons for Mrs Lovett. She was always within reach, as his landlady and accomplice. She may be strong enough to climb stairs all day, working on little sleep and through hunger, but she was still weak. He could easily overpower her; he wouldn't want to attack someone who could fight back and possibly injure him. It's just far more entertaining to hurt a weak, defensless woman. Why not give in to saddistic wants? The next reason for hurting Mrs lovett is that she needs taught a lesson. Always talking- about God-knows-what, interfering with everything, acting like she knows it all, never leaving him alone. She's so bloody stubborn, too. Refuses to cry when upset, to scream when scared, or in pain, or to gasp when surprised. He wanted to make her try all of these; to prove that he could, indeed, own her and have his way with her. Above all, he wanted to prove that he could. And that he would.

He forced her to her need, his nails digging deeper into her shoulder, deep enough to draw blood. She refused to cry, though. Surely he would stop, soon, after... after whatever he would do to her? He slapped her across the face with his free hand. She put her hand to her smarting, hot face. the pain of his slap lingered for a few moments. He pushed her over, and began to kick her torso repeatedly, watching with satisfaction as she curled up, her hands over her face, trying helplessly to protect herself. He soon grew tired of this form of punishment, however, and so proceeded to hold her hair from behind her, a razor directly at her neck. "Mrs Lovett." No answer. "Mrs-" he yanked on her hair slightly. "Lovett! Answer me, woman!"

She closed her eyes when she heard her name, feeling the cold razor against her skin, expecting to die. When Sweeney yanked on her hair- again- however, her eyes flew open. "Yes, Mistah Todd?"

"Do you know why I'm hurting you?"

" 'Cause... 'Cause I lied to you?"

"I didn't ask why I'm hurting you, I asked if you know why I'm hurting you! I'll ask again: do you?"

"I don't know!" -At this, he removed the razor from her throat, and, before she even had time to breathe, dragged her to her feet and pushed her- hard- against the wall.

"Then you will have to figure it out!" Even though she never will- at least, not without his help.

"Stay there." He walked to the side of the room where Mrs Lovett kept the clothes of his previous victims- ah, customers.

After hitting the wall, Mrs Lovett fell to the ground. Her head was starting to ache, and she wasn't sure just how far he would go with her. If he was going to kill her, surely he would have done so already. She got shakily to her feet, noticing the door wasn't too far. She tried to run for it- but the door was locked, and she- she gave Mr Todd the key, before, when they were looking for Toby. So much was her desperation to escape that she didn't even notice Mr Todd stalking towards her, quickly, untill he grabbed her left wrist and right shoulder, dragging her back, before forcing her to the ground.

He unlaced her corset that covered her outfit quickly, so he could get at her back properly. Mrs Lovett began to struggle more against him, obviously thinking that he was planning something less than innocent. He wasn't- at least, not what she was thinking of, anyway. His thoughts were revolving more around torturing her, not raping her. He would never- what kind of man would?