Chapter One

Alone.

There was no other way to describe what he was.

Simply...alone.

Sweeney Todd stood at the window, staring out of it. His dark eyes showed no expression, nor did his pale face. In his gloved hand he held a razor. The same razor that killed his Lucy.

He hated himself for it. He hated Mrs Lovett for lying to him, for telling him she had died. He hated Judge Turpin and the Beadle, for driving his Lucy to her state of madness he found her in. He hated Antony for taking his little lamb away. He hated Johanna for leaving him. But none of this hate could match the hate he felt for himself.

His fist tightened around the blade, and a sharp stab of pain went through his palm. Mildly surprised, Sweeney dropped the razor raised his hand, watching in wonder as the blood trickled down the palm of his hand, travelling down to his wrist and staining his white shirt. His blood...he was intrigued. Was this how his customers felt as he slit their throats? Did they live long enough to actually feel the pain? Sweeney continued to stare at his hand, his razor lying forgotten on the floor.

The door opened, but Sweeney's eyes did not leave his hand. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the figure of Mrs Lovett approach him.

"Oh Mr T, what 'ave you done?" She tutted. Without waiting for an answer, she continued. "Come on, we need to get that bandaged."

Sweeney slowly lowered his hand and turned his attention to Mrs Lovett, who was standing behind, a concerned look on her face. She often wore that expression now. That and one of fear. She had every reason to fear him. He could kill her in an instant, should his anger and hatred take over him. The idea often appealed to him, but not yet, he'd say to himself. Not yet.

"Mr T, we need to put a bandage around your hand, love. It's bleeding," Mrs Lovett said gently, as if she were talking to a young child. Sweeney continued to stare at her. Sighing, she put her arm around him. "Come on, you." She muttered, pulling him out of his shop and downstairs. Toby was sat in one of the booths in the shop, but jumped up the minute he saw Sweeney enter. A surge of pleasure went through Sweeney; the boy should be scared. He tried, and failed, to kill Sweeney. Yet another thing he could not forgive.

Forgiveness...

What was that? Sweeney didn't know anymore. All he knew was hatred. Hatred and sorrow...

"Excuse me, m'am." Toby muttered, practically running from the shop. Mrs Lovett watched him leave, almost wistfully, before gently pushing Sweeney into a nearby chair.

"Wait 'ere. I'll go get some bandages." She murmured before leaving. Sweeney waited, his bleeding hand resting on the table. He couldn't help but snort in contempt. Mrs Lovett was such a foolish woman. Bandages could not help the pain he was going through, physically and mentally.
As he waited, Sweeney's thoughts unwillingly wandered back to the day he discovered the mad beggar woman was in fact his Lucy. There was no words to describe the way he felt. He could have done anything that night, anything, but that damn Judge was running up the stairs and there was no other option. He just had to kill her.

Sweeney remembered how satisifed he had felt, watching the blood pour from her throat, knowing that Judge Turpin would soon be suffering the same fate as her, and felt disgusted at himself. He had taken pleasure out of killing his wife. Pleasure.

"Here we are, Mr T!" Mrs Lovett said brightly. She stopped as she saw Sweeney. "Mr T?" She asked hesitantly.

Sweeney looked up at her and realised he was standing up, his chair having fallen to the ground, with his fists clenched. His angry and violent expression slowly faded, replaced by one of confusion. He couldn't admit it, but he felt...lost.

"Sit down, Mr T," Mrs Lovett ordered. Sweeney barely heard her as he sat back down, his hand once more on the table. She sat opposite him and carefully examined the cut. She couldn't say it out loud, but she enjoyed the feel of having his hand in hers...knowing he was in need of her help.

A small smile played on the corner of her lips as she wrapped the bandage around his palm, grateful his eyes were distant.

"There we are, good as new!" She announced brightly. "Now, hows about we have a good tot of gin?"

Sweeney didn't answer. His eyes were still staring into the distance. Mrs Lovett sighed again and stood up.

"You know, Mr T, buisiness is doing rather well. I was thinking, if we could get someone to manage the shop, not Toby obviously, the poor love, we could maybe go on holiday! To the beach, perhaps. You know, like we planned?"

Sweeney's eyes suddenly met hers, and Mrs Lovett immediately regretted speaking.

"Holiday?" Sweeney asked, his voice dangerously calm.

"Or maybe not. Maybe we could just leave it for a while and-"

"Mrs Lovett, you are a bloody wonder," Sweeney continued, cutting through her nervous babble. He stood up and slowly walked towards her. "My wife is dead. My daughter has left me. You have been lying to me since I arrived to this shit hole, and you expect me TO GO ON HOLIDAY WITH YOU?" He yelled in her face. Mrs Lovett flinched and stepped back.

"I'm sorry, Mr T..." She murmured, looking away from his murderous gaze. Sweeney continued to glare at her before turning on his heels and storming out of the shop, slamming the door loudly as he left. Mrs Lovett watched him go, then sunk into a nearby chair, hiding her face in her hands.

How could she have been so stupid? Out of all the things she had to say, it was a holiday plan!

"Are you ok, Mrs Lovett?"

Mrs Lovett looked up to see Toby standing next to her, frowning in concern.

"I'm fine, deary. Just being silly."

"He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No! No, of course not, darling." Mrs Lovett said quickly. Toby hesitated before nodding and hugging her.

"Good, cos I made a promise and I ain't breaking it." He told her.

"What promise was that, love?"

"Nothing's gonna hurt you. Not while I'm around."

Mrs Lovett sighed. Poor Toby. He was too young for this. There were so many things that could hurt her, and him. The biggest one was Mr T...but no, surely if he wanted to kill them, he'd have killed them by now. Mrs Lovett wasn't sure whether to be pleased with this or not. Did she want Mr T to kill her? Of course not. She still loved him, with all her heart. All she wanted was for him to forgive and forget, two things that were impossible for him. But Mrs Lovett had convinced him not to kill before. Maybe she could do it again. But when Mr T was in one of his rages...his bloodlust did get the better of him...

A shiver ran down her spine.

"Are you sure you're ok, m'am?" Toby questioned, looking up at him. Mrs Lovett gave him a small smile.

"I'm fine, deary, absoloutely fine." She whispered, hugging him close. The two of them sat together, each of them gazing up at the ceiling.

Sweeney Todd paced back and forth. How...stupid was she? She was that ignorant that she actually believed she was going to go on holiday with her? His fists clenched once more as her words rolled around in his mind.
Sweeney stopped in his pacing and sat down on his bed that sat in the corner. His eyelids felt strangely heavy, and kept shutting. Sweeney sighed. He was tired. He was tired of it all.

He slowly lowered himself down onto the bed, as if scared of it, and closed his eyes, not knowing what to expect.

He was Benjamin Barker once more, walking along with Lucy, smiling down at Johanna in her pram. He was so happy...they all were...

Then the scene changes. He's at Judge Turpin's ball. He can hear Lucy's screams, but no matter how fast he runs, he never gets closer to her. Judge Turpin stands over him, smirking triumphantly. Sweeney cradles Lucy, now dead, in his arms. She suddenly disappears, and he sees Johanna.

"Johanna, please..." He begs, but Johanna pushes him away.

"NO!" She yells. "LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Everything goes black, and Sweeney thinks he's about to wake when he sees a small figure skipping towards him. It's a girl, no older than fourteen. Her long black hair cascades down her back, framing her pale face, and her dark eyes meet his.

Sweeney shot up in his bed. His heart was pounding faster than it ever had before. Panting, he looked around almost frantically. He was still in the shop...

Sweeney stood up slowly. What had just happened to him? Was that...was that his dream? His imagination had taken over him, replaying his memories, taunting him with them. He never realised it could do that...

Someone suddenly rapped at the door. Sweeney quickly composed himself before opening it.

"Ah, come for a shave, have we sir?"