Hi, I just want to get three things very clear here:
Firstly, the whole idea of this fic is basically for me to easily post any little oneshots that pop into my head. It's rated T so that I'm not so limited and don't have to change the rating if I 'overstep any limits', as it were. Essentially, for safety.
Secondly, I've only just discovered the amazingness that is Sweeney Todd a few days ago. So please go easy on me? And I apologise if some of it doesn't make sense- it's kind of the way it's meant to be because the idea is it's writted how Sweeney Todd's thinking at the time, so not very clearly. and I know I briefly refer to him as Benjamin. Once again, it's part of the story.
Thirdly, I'm not convinced that Sweeney Todd is in character, but it kind of fits, I think, because he's sort of losing his mind (more so than before, at least). And I think he would see himself and Benjamin as different people, so I had him refer to it that way a lot. It's kind of confusing.
Okay, so enjoy :).
Sweeney Todd dropped his razor in defeat. He felt empty- useless. As though he had no purpose anymore. In a way he didn't.
There were no words to describe the anguish that Sweeney felt as he knelt down and stared at her once-beautiful face, horrified and full of agony. Of course, she was still beautiful to him, even in death.
Lucy…
His precious Lucy- robbed of first her wits and then her life and it was all his fault. Desperately, he cradled her, willing her back to life, trying to breathe some life into her- not that he had much to spare.
Unconsciously, Sweeney began to sing to her, his voice cracking with emotion.
The 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…
A shadow fell over Sweeney and he tilted his head back to see and empty-eyed Toby standing over him, clutching Sweeney's razor to him.
…Naïve.
Sweeney finished his song and rose slowly.
"The razor, son." Sweeney said softly, holding out his hand. Almost mechanically, the boy placed it on Sweeney's open palm. Before he could move his hand, Sweeney's fingers snapped shut and he pulled him closer, unhooking another razor from his belt.
Silently, Sweeney stared into the boy's wide eyes and opened the razor one-handed in a fluent, threatening motion. The boy's eyes betrayed no emotion as Sweeney brought the razor to his throat. He closed his eyes as he drew it across the boy's neck and released his grip.
The thump of the boy's body hitting the floor was too much for Sweeney and he turned away, but found himself looking at the furnace. To one side of him lay Judge Turpin and Beadle Bamford. To the other side of him lay Lucy.
Desperately, Benjamin turned in a circle, trying to find a path that would lead him away from Sweeney, from the monstrosity he had become. He sunk to the floor, clutching at his hair in despair.
"What have I done?" he whispered to himself.
'This is what you wanted isn't it?' Sweeney whispered to him, 'This is your salvation.'
"No!" Benjamin roared. "No- I didn't want this. You wanted this!"
Sweeney cackled. 'You're me!'
"No… you're me. But not for long."
Benjamin's hand snaked to where he had dropped the two razors beside the boy's body. He picked one up. It felt warm and familiar, yet gleamed threateningly, the blade's beautiful shine tarnished by the blood it had seen. Sweeney saw this as heightening its beauty, but Benjamin was repulsed. Disgusted.
Hands trembling, he reached up to his neck and rested the blade against his flesh. He took a deep breath to steady himself. It was the only way to stop Sweeney. His only chance to choke down the monster inside of him.
But Benjamin hesitated too long. Sweeney let his hand drop, choking back the feelings Benjamin had brought with him. He dropped his head, not knowing what to do anymore. He stared down at his blood-soaked hands as they gently caressed the razor, dark thoughts swimming through his mind.
Sweeney was jolted from his reverie by a loud crash coming from the shop. His head snapped up and he clutched his razor, but he didn't move. There were footsteps now, coming down the stairs. Within a moment, the door burst open and policemen rushed in. Sweeney stared blankly at them. He allowed himself to be led away from the bodies.
Time rushed by. Sweeney barely noticed it, but before he knew it, he was sat in a cell, staring at the wall opposite. Now he had time to think, he realised he didn't care for Lucy. That was Benjamin. He had always been there, lurking in the corner of his mind. In the part he didn't dare explore. That didn't stop it bleeding through. Fragments of his past often came back to haunt him.
Sweeney shook his head. That didn't make sense. He had to sort himself out. He wouldn't die without understanding what had happened to him. And he would die. He had nothing to live for- even if he did, he was imprisoned far away from it. It was all so bitterly familiar yet so strange and new.
Benjamin had fought back. Sweeney killed the boy and Benjamin had fought back.
No.
Benjamin's emotions had fought back. Benjamin was dead- gone. So was that what had happened? Everything Sweeney suppressed had surfaced, certainly, but it was more than that. When he had choked the emotions back and taken control of himself again, he couldn't feel Benjamin anymore. He had gone. But there was something there that he couldn't shake. It was like an annoying fly, buzzing constantly in his ear. And he knew what it was.
It was something he rarely felt. As Benjamin because he never did anything wrong. As Sweeney because everything human was locked away.
Guilt.
Sweeney sneered with contempt at the word. Not because of the guilt in itself, but for who it was for. Mrs. Lovett. As he had concluded earlier- when Benjamin's emotions had died, his love for Lucy had died, leaving Sweeney with a strange hollowness. And he knew why.
It wasn't the loss of Lucy. It was the loss of Mrs. Lovett. Perhaps they weren't a couple, but their bizarre companionship sparked some kind of twisted bond between them that Sweeney could only describe as love. It was the closest he was ever going to get again. And he destroyed it.
It wasn't just that though. Before he killed her. He hurt her. Every day. He ignored her and put her last, only occasionally unintentionally. She had annoyed him. But he liked her. She was jolly and brightened his mood, although he wouldn't admit it. And it was nice to have somebody, particularly when he had been nearly inconsolable with grief and anger.
Angrily, Sweeney hit his head against the wall. It felt good, so he did it again and again with more force each time. He punctuated each bang with a word.
"It. Doesn't. Make. Any. Sense." he hissed angrily. Then he hit his head again, the hardest time. He stopped abruptly, not daring to move after he heard a loud crack. The wall was cold and soothing to the wound he was sure was there. Gradually, he slid down the wall as his eyes closed and he lost consciousness.
"Mr. T…"
A clatter.
"Mr. T…"
Sweeney's eyes flew open and he looked around wildly. He stared, terrified at the figure in the corner before scrambling to the top of his bed with a sharp intake of breath. He hunched up, staring at it stumbled blindly towards him.
It was Mrs. Lovett, horrifically burned and scarred. Her flesh was charred and lumpy. In places the bone showed. Sweeney felt for his razor, before realising it had been taken off him. Still Mrs. Lovett advanced. She moved into the light from the window and Sweeney let out a low moan of horror as her face was illuminated.
Try as he might, Sweeney couldn't tear his gaze from her awful face. Clumps of flesh was missing from her jaw and there was a gaping hole in one of her cheeks. She had no nose- only a misshapen hole. Worst were her eyes, or lack thereof. In one socket sat an almost unrecognisable, mutilated eyeball. The other was empty.
"Mr. T…" she moaned again. She lurched forward, almost upon him. "Mr. T… I'm sorry…"
"G-get away from me!" Sweeney yelled.
"It's alright love… it's me…"
Mrs. Lovett's hand closed around Sweeney's wrist as he shrieked in terror.
And then his eyes flicked open.
Sweeney lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling, chest rising and falling with calming breaths. His hand strayed to his waist, where he hid a razor under his shirt. Of course it was just a dream- when didn't he have a razor? It had been difficult to smuggle one in, but he couldn't live without it, he didn't think.
Ignoring the pain in his head, Sweeney pulled himself up onto the bed. His eyes flicked to the shadows, searching them. He knew what he had to do now. It was the only way he could be free.
"We all deserve to die." he mumbled bitterly, taking his razor from his belt. He held it in his hands a moment, playing every murder he had done in his mind. Surely he didn't deserve this- to die in a cold, dark, lonely cell with nothing but his confused thoughts to fill his mind.
Before he could change his mind, he opened the razor and brought it to his neck. He dug the blade into his flesh, savouring the pain.
No. This was what he deserved. Him and every other low vermin on the planet.
With an angry flick of his wrist, Sweeney rewarded himself with the 'relief' he had been praying for ever since he had taken the boy's life.
As his body tumbled from the bed, Sweeney Todd idly wondered if Benjamin would go to hell too.
Yeah... so I don't think it was the best thing I've ever written, but hey- I had to get it off my chest. I'm begging you to review- please. I've done a ton of other fics and I barely get any reviews and I don't know if I'll post more chapters on any if I don't get many reviews. I know that's kind of needy, but it's nice to know people are actually reading this stuff :). Seriously- even if you just say 'hi' to let me know you read it, that'd be great :).
Sorry. Whinge over. I'm not normally like that, but it's four in the morning and I have school in four hours and I'm really tired... so yeah. Apologies for my mind turning to mush as I type :).
