Nightmare
I tossed and turned, writhing in my bed. It was an awful business lately, getting and staying asleep. Everywhere I looked Sweeney's dark sullen face stared back. Even when my eyes were shut I could feel him glaring straight into my heart. His eyes penetrated me and burned my lungs. I cried from the pain. Rejection throbbing in my stomach, ripping through me like the plague. Why could he not see? Was there something wrong with me? Was I ugly? I didn't think so, on the outside anyway. Morally I was disgusting. I tried every day to make a married man love me, while I lied about his still living wife, and to top it off I willingly chopped people up and baked them into pies. But he couldn't hold that against me, that couldn't be the reason he hated me so, because he was the one who was killing them. No, it couldn't be my moral hideousness, his heart was just as black as mine, only just a bit smaller. Maybe that was it, his heart was so small and shriveled that there was no room for me.
There was something irritating in my eye that even my tears couldn't water out. I clawed and tore at my face but the dreadful bit of dust or whatever was currently occupying my eye wouldn't leave so I flopped back onto my pillows, defeated, sobbing, an utter wreck. I heard my door open ever so slowly. Expecting something that made sense I was surprised when Sweeney's voice came seeping from the gloom.
"Mrs. Lovett?" He asked. I didn't move, just lay weakly in between my pillows. Thinking over what I should say. Nothing came to mind so I replied in the way anyone would at three a.m.
"Sweeney? Is that you deary?" My voice sounded hollow and dead to me. I could see his slim silhouette step forward and then stop nervously.
"Oh, Nell- Mrs. Lovett I'm so glad you're awake. I didn't knock, sorry I really didn't mean to barge in like this I just…you're decent correct?" I sat up, my cheeks burning.
"Yes Mr. T, I'm wearing clothes, pajamas, wot ever it is you call them," I whispered looking away. Sweeney sighed in relief, then there was a long embarrassed silence. I wove my fingers together. Finally after what seemed like hours he spoke.
"I, um," he shifted his weight from foot to foot. Now interested I stood and glided over to him.
"Yes Mr. Todd? Wot is it love?" I asked quietly. He looked down.
"I had a bad dream," he whispered. My eyes widened.
"Oh, do you want to talk about it?" I asked. Sweeney shook his head.
"No Mrs. Lovett, I'd really rather not." I nodded. I'd never want to talk to him about any of my dreams, good or bad.
"Well, why don't you come sit down. We can talk of something else if you like," I put my hand on his back and led my dearest love over to the bed. He sat willingly and I next to him. It was dark so I leaned over him to turn on my little lamp. The smell of cologne mixed with old blood permeated my nostrils and throat. I inhaled the scent like it was oxygen, essential for life, my life. And, in a twisted masochistic way, it was. I sat up and looked at Sweeney blinking away my tears. If he saw them, he would see weakness and I couldn't have that. Shock crossed his face briefly followed by horror. I was immediately self conscious and I shivered as he leaned towards me.
"Mrs. Lovett, have you been crying?" he gasped. I shook my head.
"No love, I aven't," I dried the tears with my hand, smearing my thick makeup. Sweeney folded his hands and placed them gently in his lap.
"You know, it's ok Mrs. Lovett, I cry too sometimes. When I think about Lucy," he replied. I felt a fat tear slide down to my chin. I covered my face, not wanting him to see me cry but my sobbing was much to loud for him to not have noticed. Sweeney stood, I expected him to leave like he always did when I got to emotional for him. He surprised me once again.
"Mrs. Lovett, would you find it socially unacceptable if I hugged you?" He asked. I looked up, Sweeney was dead serious so I stood and walked calmly over to him.
"No Sweeney, I would find it absolutely acceptable if you were to hug me," The demon barber of fleet street wrapped me in his arms. I drank in his warmth.
"Mrs. Lovett, I think I sort of do love you, as a friend," he said into my hair. I pressed my nose into his neck.
"And I love you Sweeney, as my other half," I replied.
"Can we make it work?" he whispered.
"Well life is for the alive my dear, I say we can."