Disclaimer: I own the rights to Sweeney Todd! In my dreams. But since I am awake everything belongs to ... erm.... who does Sweeney Todd belong to, actually? Stephen Soundheim, Dreamworks, Warner Brothers Pictures... Tim Burton? Gaaaaaah!!! I don't know!!!
A/N Please, do me a favour! Read, review and most importantly of all – enjoy.
Mrs Lovett sank into an armchair in her room, listening to the rain. She liked rain, the smell of it, the feel of it on her skin. It was oddly comforting. The drops would wash the scarlet stains from her hands. The red reminder of what her life had turned into.
Every day she would smile happily at customers as she fed them with the meat pies she had cooked.
Every night she would descend into the bake house and mutilate human corpses, separating the meaty parts from the rest of the body and throwing the tattered remains into the blazing oven. Oddly, it was neither the days nor the nights that bothered her. What bothered Mrs Lovett, was that, no matter what she did, he didn't care.
He. Sweeney Todd. The silent, brooding, tormented man that lived above her pie shop. The man that had changed Mrs Lovett's life.
She loved him. It was as simple as that. He didn't give a damn about her. That was pretty simple too. Except that it wasn't simple. Not simple at all.
A few weeks ago, when Mrs Lovett returned Todd's razors to their owner, she had tried to tell him. To tell him that for him she was ready to do anything. She would kill for him. She would die for him. She would lie, deceive, purloin – everything he required. If only he would notice her, if only he would care.
I'm your friend too, Mr Todd.
But he had ignored her, hadn't he. Had paid no attention whatsoever to the woman standing behind him. In fact, Mr. Todd had no idea that Mrs Lovett was dying. Day by day, a little more of her being drained away, leaving her empty and hollow inside. She was being eaten alive, consumed by longing. Hopeless, stupid longing for his lips, his rough hands, his eyes, his smile...
She dreamed of him every night. Sometimes, they were good dreams. Dreams in which he would take her in his arms and carry her away. Far, far away. To the seaside where they could be alone, sitting side by side and watching the waves coming and going...coming and going.
But sometimes, Mrs Lovett had nightmares. Supposing Mr Todd discovered that his precious little Lucy was still alive? What if he found out that Mrs Lovett had lied to him. He would leave her, of course. Would fade from her life, just as he had done so many years ago. And Mrs. Lovett couldn't lose him...not again.. not now. Sometimes, she would wake up crying.
If you only knew, Mr. Todd.
Slowly, she lifted her head slightly and glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. It was 3 in the morning. And yet, she knew that it would be useless to try and sleep. He was awake too, she sensed it. Standing at his window, perhaps, watching the world with those dark, dangerous eyes.
Mrs Lovett looked at the raindrops, trickling down her window. Then she sighed. A mournful sound, that somehow seemed to include his name.
Ooh, Mr Todd....
Even though several weeks had passed since they had started living under the same roof, Mrs Lovett still had trouble accepting that he was truly here. She would get quite panicky sometimes, and rush to his room under some hastily made up excuse, just to reassure herself that it hadn't all been a dream and that Barker had really found a way to return - something Mrs Lovett had believed impossible. There were times when Mrs Lovett thought that her imagination must be playing tricks on her. He wasn't here! He couldn't be! Yet at the same time he was. She could see him, could hear him breathing, could feel him when she touched him.
And it drove her crazy.
...You're warm in my hand.
She would never forget the day they came for him, dragging him away to a place that she knew still haunted his dreams. Mrs. Lovett shuddered at the memory. Her life seemed to have become meaningless, with him gone. Yet she had been strong. She had learned to cope with the knowledge that she would never see him again. She had even let Lucy continue living in the room above the shop free of charge. Until the silly, little nit poisoned herself that was. And although fifteen years were a long time, Mrs Lovett had never forgotten Benjamin Barker. For a moment she really had believed that she had seen a ghost when he walked into her pie shop. A flood of memories, long since forgotten, had risen up in her and seemed to set her very soul on fire. Her greatest wish had been granted. And she couldn't quite dare believe it.
You've come home.
She had loved him ever since he and his wife moved into the room above her shop. It wasn't love at first sight, not exactly. But after a few days of watching Benjamin Barker as he worked, the way he moved his artists hands, she had felt ... different around him. Lighter somehow, and yet exceptionally nervous all the same. Despite of the fact that she lived with him, Albert seemed to have become a distant memory. All Mrs Lovett thought about now was the barber. So close... and yet so far away.
He had been beautiful, damn it!! He had been so, so beautiful!
Always had a fondness for you, I did.
When Barker returned from exile, however, he had become a different man. Full of spite, malice and hatred. For a while, Mrs Lovett had been naïve enough to believe that things would be wonderful. With Lucy out of the way he might finally notice , might finally fall in love with her. How could she possibly have been so ignorant? She should have realized, should have foreseen the coldness and indifference with which he treated her. With every icy look he gave her she felt as if he was plunging one of his razors deeper and deeper into her throat. Sometimes, she wished he would go on and actually do it. Anything was better than the torture of watching him from the shadows. Pining away in silence.
But she was just being stupid. It was alright, everything was alright! All that mattered was that he was here. The judge had no slightest idea that Mr T. was back in London, plotting...thirsty for revenge.
And nobody would ever discover the secret of their success. She just knew it. There was no way. All the bodies were cut up and made into pies. And Mrs Lovett personally made sure that all evidence of what the barber and the baker were actually doing was destroyed. Nobody suspected anything. Although... Toby never did seem to trust Mr T. But she quickly dismissed the thought. Even if the police would come calling, she would pretend that it was all her doing. It even seemed sort of... fair. She had had the idea after all. No, no matter what, the fact that Benjamin Barker had returned would remain hidden for ever.
Never you fear, Mr Todd.
Mrs Lovett's thoughts wandered back to the day when she had told him that his wife had poisoned herself. His reaction had been devastating. He had appeared so broken, so hurt, so lost. Like a kicked puppy that had been left outside in the rain. For a moment, Mrs Lovett had actually considered telling him that Lucy was still alive. But what good would that do to anyone? Lucy was completely mad. Mrs Lovett doubted that that woman even knew her own name. And she would surely not recognize Mr Todd. He would end up looking after her, trying to find the girl he loved still residing somewhere inside the insane beggar woman. It would destroy him.
Sometimes you had to lie – it was only for the best.
And she hadn't even really lied... not exactly. Technically, all she did was leave out a detail or two. Was that really so unforgivable?
Besides, what could Lucy give Mr T. that Mrs Lovett couldn't? She loved him just as much, did she not? And unlike Lucy, Mrs Lovett would stand by Mr Todd, no matter what he did. No matter how many men he murdered, she would always be there beside him. Waiting. As long as she was there, Mr T. could always keep coming to her pie shop. As long as she was there, he could always call this place home.
You can move in here, Mr Todd.
Of course, life wasn't really as hopeless as she thought. He was here, wasn't he? What's more, he would stay here since he had nowhere else to go. Maybe, if she waited just a little longer things might change. Yes! She would wait. All good things came to those who waited, after all. And when Mr T. had finally gotten the revenge he so desired, his mind would be free to think about other things.
A smile lit up Mrs Lovett's pale face. She looked peaceful, almost asleep as she leaned against the back of her armchair. She remained like this for a while, eyes closed, letting her imagination run away with her.
Yes, one day he would love her. One day...
Splendors you never have dreamed all your days will be yours.
Outside, a lightning bolt illuminated the sky, cutting into Mrs Lovett's daydream. With a start she jerked back to reality. A bitter, cruel reality that she didn't want to contemplate.
The truth was that to him, she was no more than an accomplice. Convenient, but otherwise unimportant. Oh, how she yearned for him to see her as something more. If not a lover than at least someone he could confide in, someone he could trust.
I'm your friend!
Mrs Lovett felt like crying out in agony. It seemed as if the pain was everywhere. Coursing through her veins like poison. She was drowning. She was burning. She was bleeding. She must be because there was blood on her hands and the fact that it wasn't even her blood didn't seem to matter. Nothing mattered! Nothing except the knowledge that he was still here and she was still breathing.
And one day he would he hers. He was hers already! He had to be!!
Mrs. Lovett clenched her fists as if she was trying to hold on to something. In fact, she was clinging on desperately to the lie that was all she had left.
Now you're mine!!
With a visible effort, Mrs. Lovett forced herself to calm down. Eventually, her pulse slowed and her breathing evened out. Everything was alright, she assured herself. Everything was fine.
Once again, her mind wandered to the man directly above her. What could he be doing? Was he asleep by now? For a moment she was tempted to go upstairs and check.
Then, in spite of herself, she smiled. She couldn't just go barging into his room in the middle of the night. The very thought was ridiculous. Anyway, he was probably just sharpening his razors again. Mr T. was obsessed with his razors.
Mrs Lovett couldn't even understand why. He polished them day in, day out, until they shone mirror bright. Until their side was so smooth that it reflected all the surrounding gloom. Then he would stare at them for hours on end.
What did he see reflected in them, Mrs. Lovett wondered. Did he see a remnant of his old life, maybe, when everything must've seemed so bright? Or did he imagine droplets of the judges blood trickling down the sides? Shining like rubies.
Don't they shine beautiful.
Mrs Lovett sighed. She knew, that even if by some miracle Todd finally got his revenge and came to love her in return, she would always be second best. For Mr T. would never forget his Lucy. Lucy. The foolish, ignorant, weak, little thing that had given up the moment life had started to get difficult. Mrs Lovett pitied her and despised her at the same time. What had Lucy ever done to deserve him. She was good for nothing, really. All she did the whole day long was sit around looking pretty. Still, somehow, Lucy was Todd's everything. She was gold, while Mrs Lovett would only ever be silver.
Silver's good enough for me...
A few weeks ago, Mrs Lovett had tried to tell Todd everything she felt about him, as he gloated over his razors. But, of course, he didn't even pretend to listen.
"Look at me!!!", she had wanted to scream. Instead, she had leaned over his shoulder, until her face was inches from his. Closing her eyes, Mrs Lovett simply knelt there beside him. Please, just look at me, she thought.
...Mr T.
Then, finally, he had turned around, his cold eyes locking with hers. "Leave me", was all he had to say.
Ever since that moment, no matter where Mrs Lovett was or what she was doing, these words were always with her. They echoed through the house she inhabited, hiding in the shadows, whispering tauntingly into her ear.
Sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me. Whoever thought of that saying was an idiot. Mrs Lovett knew that beyond the shadow of a doubt.
And as she sat in her armchair, listening to rain, she heard them again. Two words that hurt her more than anything else ever could.
Leave me.
A/N I can't believe it!! I finally finished writing this! Took me ages. :D
I found this picture of Mrs Lovett on the Internet a while ago and I fell in love with it. Besides, I thought it fit really well to my story. The link is below. Check it out!
.com/art/Mrs-Lovett-74461098?moodonly=1#comments
I want to make writing my career and I need feedback. Through this oneshot, I was trying to experiment with emotion. So please, please, please post a review and tell me: How did this make you feel?