Chapter 2
"What?" His voice was a deadly whisper. Mrs Lovett looked on in fondness as the man stood before her paled visibly, the news she had just delivered to him an unexpected blow. His eyes were so pleading, so soft, that she just knew she had to console and comfort him.
"Benj-" she started, before being abruptly cut off.
"No!" he thundered at her, the softness in his eyes having been switched to a stone cold hardness. "Not Benjamin. Not anymore. It's Todd now. Sweeney Todd. And he will have his revenge."
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Her footsteps were heavy on the creaking wooden steps, hard yet hesitant steps following close behind her own. Sliding the key into the aging lock, Nellie pushed the door open. It was strange, being in this room again. She hadn't been up here since that day, so many years ago, when they'd come for the girl. Johanna. When she'd told Mr Todd, he'd frozen. Knowing his daughter was with that man, of all men, was not news he'd expected or liked hearing.
You couldn't blame him. Turpin – that was the man's name – was not a well-liked man, though he was held in high regard, though only for his occupation. Now, though, after the fact of being told this news, the hardness that had wracked Mr Todd's body was only faintly seen, hidden beneath a layer of vulnerability and apprehension.
"Come in." She spoke gently, careful to show she was being comforting, not commanding. He took a tentative step forward, brow creased in thought.
"Nothin' to be afraid of, love."
Sweeney brought his eyes up from the ground and they locked with the large, dark ones before him. Nellie's breath caught in her throat. His gaze was so intense; so lost in thought, yet so locked to the present situation.
Slowly walking into the room, he dropped his eyes from Nellie's, letting them search his former shop. Heart beating against his ribcage, his mind filled with faint visions of faint memories. Lucy, standing in that corner, brushing her hair…
Another faint memory, trying to push towards the front of his mind.
To him, this truly was a haunted place.
While Sweeney was busying himself with haunting memories, Mrs Lovett was searching the floorboards for something, running gloved hands over the dusty surface. Concentrated frown on her face, she rapped twice on one particular board and her face lit up with relief. Uh huh! There it is…
The floorboard came out easily into her hands, revealing a velvet cloth-covered case. Seemingly brought back to the present, Sweeney turned around, staring intently at what was in his landlady's hands. It must be something good…Sweeney thought, noticing how gentle and respectful her touch was.
And then he saw it. Oh God…It was his case. His razors. He knelt down in front of her, reaching his hand out to gently graze the leather material. "I don't believe it…You kept them all these years?" He was forced to look up when she didn't answer, to see her avoiding his eyes, blushing slightly and biting her bottom lip.
"Well…"she started, obviously embarrassed, but feeling obliged to tell him the truth. "When they came for the girl I 'id 'em. Coulda sold 'em, but I didn't." she added, gaining confidence towards the end and looking straight at him.
Realising the deeper meaning in her words, Sweeney lifted his head, staring wonderingly and incredulously at Mrs Lovett. "Coula sold 'em, but I didn't." The words replayed in his mind. She obviously needed the money, not being able to afford meat and all that. But yet she kept his razors; his silver beauties, locked up for fifteen years. Had she expected him to return? Hoped maybe…?
Noticing that their faces were just mere inches apart, his eyes flicked down to her deliciously succulent lips. Had she always been this enticing before I left?
She could feel him staring at her as she fiddled with the case. Feel his eyes raking slowly down her body, his breathing becoming harsh and laboured as his lust evidently grew. Looking up, she subtly moved her face towards his, hoping he just suddenly noticed they were close. He did.
Both slowly closing their eyes as they sunk into their lust, their lips grew closer, about to draw into a passionate and heated kiss –
Just before their lips touched, Sweeney opened his eyes, and they subconsciously rested on the aged, framed photograph. The photograph that showed his glowing, happy wife holding their year old daughter.
What am I doing!? I can't do this! What about Lucy? –
This is it, she thought. What I've waited for for so many bleedin' years is finally here. She moved slowly forwards once again –
Suddenly, unexpectedly, she felt a hand push her roughly away, throwing her onto the wooden floorboards and causing her to fall flat on her backside. "No!" he thundered once again as he pushed her. Staring into Mrs Lovett's eyes, he saw raw emotions pouring forth: hurt, fear, worry and curiosity all in one. He couldn't bear the look in her eyes and couldn't stand the fact of what he'd almost done. The fact that he'd wanted to do it.
He turned quickly on his heel, striding toward the window and running a shaking hand through his unruly hair. "No…" he spoke again, a mere whisper this time and she couldn't help but notice how his voice cracked slightly on the word.
He could feel her staring at him. Her eyes staring painfully at his turned back. She was too close. "Leave me," he whispered.
Staring a few moments longer at his turned form, eyes filling with uncontrollable tears, Mrs Lovett stood up, turning and quickly fleeing the room, already feeling disobedient tears pouring down her cheeks.
Heart beating furiously in her chest, she pounded down the stairs, flinging the door to her shop open and locking herself in her bedroom.
I'd been so close…she thought, squeezing her eyes shut and willingly letting her hot tears stain her cheeks.
