Author's Note: God, I hate standardized tests. I always finish with an hour and a half left. So this fic is from pure boredom since I don't want to read. Anyways, this fic is from Sweeney's point of view. I really hope I captured his angsty mind well. Please read and review. Enjoy!
He wanted the blood. He wanted to see the pain. The tortured look on he person's face right when he slit the man's throat. That look of horror. That look of fear. He lived off it. He lived for it. That look was really the only thing he had to live for since he lost his Lucy and his turtledove, his Johanna. Whenever he did the kill, whenever he saw the blood, joy actually raced through his body. It didn't matter if Sweeney Todd knew the person or not. When he killed he was happy.
And now, here he was. The man was sitting in his chair, leaned back. The young man's eyes were closed. Their eyes were always closed. Always closed until the last minute. That's how it was for every customer. Always so content until he accidentally slit the person's throat.
Sweeney's slender fingers stroked the man's face. The silver razor, his friend, made all the right moves, shaving the man's face. The cream came off his chin, covering the razor. The man sure did need a shave.
And that's what Sweeney did. That's what he did with all of them. He shaved them, made them presentable for Mrs. Lovett, and then lied. He always told them that he forgot one spot. Then he'd lean over for the kill. The red fluid, the oh-so-beautiful fluid covered his sleeves and splattered his face. Then the person would open their eyes and stare up at him in horror. And with one last breath they'd be gone.
Sometimes Sweeney would clean up their neck, wiping off the dried blood. For this customer he would clean him up. The man had his whole life in front of him. He needed to be presentable. He needed to be elegant.
Sweeney Todd soon finished the man's shave. He cleaned him up and the customer paid. Then Sweeney examined him again and said, "Oh I forgot one spot. Hold on, let me get it." Mr. Todd leaned over and cut the man's throat in one easy motion.
Just like every other customer the young man opened his green eyes and stared up at the demon barber, shocked. He didn't say a word. They never did. They were always too astonished to utter a single word. The last thing his customers saw was Sweeney's bloodied face smirking. He truly did love watching them die. It was so, nice. So comforting almost.
In some cases though it was quite said. Especially now. This poor man had such an ephemeral life, just like poor Benjamin Barker. And just like Benjamin, this man's life was ripped away from him in a terrible way. Still though, Sweeney was diligent.
Once the man had stopped breathing, and bleeding, Sweeney cleaned the lad up. He cleaned the poor bugger's throat and took all the man's valuables. There was a nice ring on the man's right hand and a few golden chains around his neck.
After he collected the jewels, Sweeney sent the man downstairs to Mrs. Lovett. Then Mr. Todd walked over to the immense bay window and glanced out of the sullen night. He was always melancholy. Always. Even though he was a connoisseur in killing, it always left an inexplicable emptiness in him after he did the deed. The barber was only practicing though. But he did love the blood.
Oh, the blood. He lived on the blood, he lived for the blood. And there was only one person's blood that he wanted. He wanted the judge's blood. Sweeney was irascible with the judge. The judge sent him away! He sent Ben away just to get to his virtuous Lucy.
His poor Lucy! Oh, how horrible for her. The judge had annihilated her, forcing her to drink that arsenic. Which left poor Johanna, their darling little girl, all alone.
The blasted judge needed to die. He deserved to die. Well, they all did. But no one deserved to die as much as the judge.
Sweeney turned, his stolid face glancing at the door. Oh how he wanted the judge to walk in there. Oh how he wanted the judge to implore for his life. Sweeney wanted the judge to suffer. He wanted to cut his neck slowly, making it the most painful moment of his life. Sweeney wanted him to cower as he realized who Sweeney Todd really was.
Sweeney was teeming with excitement as he planned the judge's demise. Oh how he wanted to intimidate the judge. He wanted to scare the judge right into death's hands. Sweeney wanted the judge to pay his retribution.
He looked out of the window and down upon the empty Fleet Street. No one was out walking the streets. Everyone, except Sweeney of course, was asleep. The demon barber turned once more and strolled over to the ancient, cracked mirror. He stared at his reflection, studying his sullen face. He was as pale as a ghost, and the dark circles under his eyes made his eyes even more bloodcurdling.
Sweeney looked down at the ancient picture of his Lucy and his Johanna. Lucy was dead now. Dead like poor Benjamin. But Johanna, his sweet turtledove, was still alive. She was alive. But she was with the deplorable judge. His sweet girl would never come back unless he disposed of the judge.
He wanted the crimson blood to run down the judge's neck. He needed the judge to suffer. The judge had made Lucy suffer. Sweeney had vowed to avenge his Lucy. And he was going to do it. He lived to avenge his Lucy and get his Johanna back.
Sweeney Todd sauntered towards the door, planning the demise of the judge, of the narcissist. No matter what it took, Sweeney vowed that he would kill the judge. He would feel the judge's crimson blood on his hands. Soon. Very soon.