Caught

A loud pounding sounded at the door to the bake house. I debated getting my razor, lying on the floor a few feet away, and I was tired of killing. I had my revenge, but I'd also killed the two women I'd loved.

The knock came again, this time followed by a voiced command, "Open up! London police!"

I opened the door and just stood there in all my bloody glory.

"Who are you?" one of the men demanded.

"Sweeney Todd. My parlor is above here."

"Why are you so bloody?" the other asked. They both gasped when they saw the bodies strewn across the floor behind me.

"You're under arrest!" I had my arms out before they'd even finished the sentence.

The cell I was put in reminded me too much of the first time I was taken away from my Lucy.

There was a barber and his wife

And she was beautiful

A foolish barber and his wife

She was his reason and his life

And she was beautiful

And she was virtuous

And he was…naive

There was another man who saw that she was beautiful

A pious vulture of the law

Who, with a gesture of his claw

Removed the barber from his plate

Then there was nothing but to wait

And she was fall

So soft, so young, so lost, and, oh, so beautiful

"And the lady, sir, did she succumb?" Anthony had asked of what he'd believed the be a tragic story, but nothing more.

Oh, that was many years ago

I doubt if anyone would know

I had thanked the boy for finding me at sea. I then stalked off to find any friend of Lucy's that might still be around. I had none left.

I had been told by Mrs. Lovett that Lucy had poisoned herself. I had assumed she was dead.

When I'd found the crazy beggar woman in my shop, I'd slit her throat without a thought.

I'd later gone down to the bake house to help Mrs. Lovett with the bodies. She opened the door to the oven and the light fell across the face of the beggar woman.

I recognized that face, even for all the sores. It was my Lucy. My beautiful Lucy.

I'd killed Mrs. Lovett for making me believe she was dead. Her screams had created a dissonant duet with my sobs. Not long after that, the police had arrived and arrested me.

The cell I was put in was all too similar to the one I had been in before. Dank, moldy stone walls. A small wooden bench in the corner. No mattress on the bed, which was really just a wood plank mounted to the wall.

This time, I didn't care. This time, I had actually committed the crimes I was accused of.