A/N: Oh lord, a Sweeney Todd fanfic now? I guess you all had it coming. Don't worry; this will probably be the only one; I just need to get the Sweeney Spasms out of my system. I suppose this is Sweeney/Lucy, though I prefer Sweeney/Lovett, even after the ending. Review?
SPOILERS for people who have not seen the movie!
Disclaimer: Not mine.
I looked down, brushing the dirty scattered once yellow locks away from my dear wife's face.
Lucy; I had killed my Lucy.
My dear sweet wonderful Lucy, now dead, lay in clothes that were meant for the poor. Her skin, once smooth and soft, was now covered in dirt and grime, rough from long years living on the streets. A thin long red cut stretched from one side of her neck to the other, the cut that had ended her life, the cut that I had shed upon her perfect neck. Blood stained down below the cut onto the tattered clothes she wore.
It was too much.
I spent hours, days, months, years, dreaming of seeing my beautiful Lucy; imagining her perfect figure in my mind, the memory of her keeping me alive in those fifteen torturous years of imprisonment. Even after the memory of her started to fade, I still dreamt of seeing her again and even though her figure grew more and more faint every day, I still knew that the blur in my mind was Lucy, my Lucy.
Though I knew naught of what love felt like anymore, back then, before my world fell apart I knew I loved her and now she was dead. The worse part of her death, of all the unfortunate happenings that occurred was that it all could have been prevented, if only that wretched woman Miss. Lovett had told me.
Feeling the heat from the cooker, the scream of her last breath resounded in my mind.
Well, she had deserved it.
I heard the grate to sewers open; it must be Toby. The blasted child was far more clever than he let on. Even with my back to him, I knew as he climbed out that he planned to kill me and the thought didn't bother me. I felt no feelings; I was empty now, the murder of my wife draining me unable to hold any of those bothersome emotions inside. I was a hollow shell; at least when I had been released from jail I felt some emotions; anger, vengeance, resentment. Now it was just nothing.
I tilted my head up, waiting for the child to slit my throat like what I had done to dozens of other people with my razor; my friend. It was slightly ironic I had to admit. I once said that they'd drip rubies, thought I never believed they would be my own.
The instant before the sharp metallic blade was swept across my throat I knew death would be better than the chaotic and torturous world I lived in. At least in hell I would have no one else taken away from me. At least in hell I would no longer have to endure the idiotic insanity of the vermin who inhabited the pitiful earth.
And then I felt it; the metallic blade slide across my throat, the excruciating pain lasting only a second, before the world turned black.