I've been touching on this idea recently. I love the novel The Five People You Meet In Heaven, so this is sort of a x-over, idk. Anywhoo, this chapter is short, but the rest will be much longer. Because you've begun your adventure into my story willingly(unless your reading this at gunpoint...for some reason...), you receive a Goodie of the Day! YEahhh!! today it's cherry-flavored snow cone(in honor of one Sweeney fic I read).
Death. Darkness. Emptiness. Sweeney Todd's heart was gone, and no amount of love or life could fill it. He saw his chaos-his reality-laying before him in the form of his dearly departed Lucy, sprawled in his arms. He felt weak, and his heart sank with grief because he didn't posses the strength to grasp and hold his Lucy close to his chest. She could only lie loose and cold upon his lap, on top of his unresponsive arms. The world around him slowed to a crawl. His senses heightened; all the sounds, smells, sights, and feelings in the world blended together into a whirlpool of confusion, dripping with consequence. He felt the heat from the oven, blazing as it consumed Mrs. Lovett, devouring her into ashes. He smelt the crimson pools of blood that covered the floor, as well as the streams that dripped across his face and hair. He could hear the echoes of screams and the last steps of Mrs. Lovett, fading away into the emptiness of the stone cellar. His breathing was slow and heavy; he seemed to struggle for air. And he felt his Lucy, her limp body seeming to crush his body as she lay helpless and hopeless before him. She bore no expression on her face, only a strangely peaceful, blank, closed-eye countenance, showing him no love, no grace, and no beauty that her life once held. He struggled to cry, for he wanted nothing more than to wash the pain away with pure drops of water down his face. But Sweeney was unfeeling; Benjamin Barker, who Sweeney once was, was the one who cried. Benjamin's eyes were dried up, completely unable to produce the tears of comfort after the first year in prison flew by. After that, those sweet yet salty drops never caressed his face again.
Soft, quiet echoes seemed to form out of the emptiness. Voices, distant and pure, molded, though Sweeney could not decipher their words. They were soothing, yet incredibly haunting; they were death's welcome. He drank up their cries so completely that he barely heard the sound of the sewer grate opening, or the patting of hands upon the stone floor. He did not hear the scratching of his friend as Toby lifted him off the ground. He did not hear Toby's footsteps, or his heavy breathing. Sweeney's heart slowed, almost stopped. The voices died, and the world began to melt into a form of nothingness, everything was indifferent from everything else. He soon felt nothing, heard nothing, and comprehended nothing. His touch was quickly awakened by the sharp cut of the cool, smooth razor as it glided across his throat, releasing a stream of blood, low in pressure from his slow heart. The feeling went away, and soon his smell, and then his sight. The last image he gazed as was his Lucy, his own blood dripping across her beautiful yet damaged face.
And then, nothing. Sweeney Todd was now dead in both soul and body.