Sweet Vengeance
By: Flameora
Benjamin Barker sat in a dark corner of his prison cell, sobbing softly. There was no one around to hear him, thank God. He felt so weak for crying like this, but at this point, what else was he to do? He felt like he should commit suicide, but he couldn't, he knew, because if he did, what would happen to his Lucy and Johanna, the only souls that mattered anymore in his small, empty world? He sat there in silence and reminisced about what his life was like before he was sent to prison. A simple barber with his wife who lived on Fleet Street, London. It was a simple life, but an absolutely perfect one, he thought. A humble barber and his wife and child. And she was so beautiful…
But then both of their lives were turned upside-down one day, a day when heaven turned to hell and all hope was lost for both of them. It was a lovely day in the middle of London, he remembered. They were shopping in the marketplace when, suddenly, he showed up: Judge Turpin. Judge Turpin, who had yanked Benjamin from his wonderful life and sent him to an eternal damnation for some unknown reason.
No reason, he realized. I was given this living hell for no reason. The more he thought about it, the more his sorrow gave way to a torrent of anger. What had he done to deserve this kind of torment? What did I do to be cursed with this fate? He ran through his memories to try to find some sort of crime he had committed, but nothing came of it. Had he trimmed an extra inch off of a client's head? Did he say something offensive? He kept asking himself this over and over as he started growing angrier and angrier. He began to loathe Judge Turpin for what he had done.
It was then that he heard it: a soft, sound voice whispering into his ear. Benjamin turned to his right and saw a faint specter with a man's head and torso. It looked just like him, only with dark, ebony hair and matching eyes. Barker had seen it before, and he knew it well. It had shown up many times throughout the six years he had been here, but he lost count of the number of occasions, which were gradually becoming more common. Though he had to admit that the spirit gave him the creeps, he often thanked it for being kind enough to come to him when no watchful eyes were around. It was creepy, yet strangely kind to him. In the late hours of the night, it held him in its translucent arms and whispered sweet nothings to him, serving as not only as his only source of comfort, but also as his only friend.
"It's his fault, you know," it said. "What a bastard. If you ask me, that man doesn't deserve to live." Barker noted that there was a streak of white in the spirit's hair. That was new.
"You understand what I'm telling you, don't you?" Benjamin nodded, turning away from the ghost. He thought for a moment, wondering if it was right. Then the realization occurred to him and he narrowed his eyes in disgust.
"Yes," he said slowly, "he does. That bastard ought to die." He then looked down at the floor and muttered, "There's a hole in the world like a great black pit, and it's filled with people who are filled with shit, and the vermin of the world inhabit it."-A small smirk stretched across his face- "But not for long…" The spirit smirked as well. It spoke once again, its voice sweet but evil. "Rest your eyes, my friend, and just leave it to me."
"What's your name?" Benjamin asked it.
"Todd," It answered. "Sweeney Todd. Rest now, my friend, and just leave it to me." Benjamin was unsteady at first, but soon found himself to tired to fight anymore.
Todd, he thought. Sweeney Todd. That's a far better name. Yes, that sounds nice, and he will have his revenge… He finally laid down on the cold floor and fell asleep, muttering to Sweeney his submission. Both of them grinned wickedly. Like a mighty phoenix rising from the ashes, Benjamin Barker had gone, and Sweeney Todd had risen instead, and he had plans for Turpin once he got back to London.