Moving as quietly as possible, Sweeney Todd made his way through the sewers, clutching his knife as tightly as his shaky fingers could. He had to get away. He had to leave Paris, if not the entire continent.
It was all that damnable Lovettes' fault! She had lied to him, used him, taken in that traitorous boy...
Made him kill his beloved Lucy...
He stumbled slightly, a wave of grief and realization hitting him with enough force to make him fall against the nearest wall. He clawed at the stones, keeping himself on shaky feet for a few more minutes so he could compose himself.
But it was useless, and he knew that now. All was lost; he was a broken man, hardened by prison and uncontrollable rage. Lucy would never have taken him back, even if she had been sane and their daughter had not been snatched away. If he had been there, none of this would have happened. His loved ones were gone. He was all that was left.
The next wave knocked him off his feet and he fell to the ground, sobbing like a child. He screamed and moaned her name, wishing with a dying mans prayer that all could go back to the way it was. He knew the police would be in the sewers by now, looking for him, but he didn't care. He continued on like this until he felt his throat tear. After a few hours of this, he slumped forward and curled onto his side, prepared for death to take him.
Instead, a gloved hand began stroking back his hair. He shook from the cold and from a fear he wished wasn't there. He should greet his death with open arms, but... he wasn't truly ready to die and that alone was enough to make new tears slip.
"Such an unhappy soul." was all the unknown man muttered in a deep, soothing voice. Before Sweeney could think on it, a pair of strong arms had lifted him up, cradling him against an equally strong chest. As Sweeney looked up at the dimly lit and perfectly formed face, he vaguely wondered if this was his angel of death before slipping away.
Return to Top