There he was; the damned barber again. Hazel looked up into his eyes, hovering over her, staring into them through the darkness for the first time since the kitchen incident. She was beaten, she realized, staring into them, hypnotized.
Her mind rushed and died at the same time. She was strong and weak. Alert and confused. Brave and scared, but most of all, slapped, in the face, once more, after looking at his handsome eyes and realizing that, she had lost another person she held beloved to her: Mrs. Lovett. First, her childhood, then her family, now the woman she loved. To this man, and who could blame her; with a face like that? In a way he was the person who had slapped her into this harsh truth, by his hatred towards her from the beginning. She would never be whole, she realized, never be complete. And she would never really be alive.
What's this? He thought. Why are her eyes not glazed at my gaze, her face not paled? Why, does she seem un-surprised?
Before he could make another remark, he was stricken with her words.
"Who are you?" she whispered, never taking her eyes off of his, which now began to shine with budding tears.
He furrowed his brow in even more confusion at her question. The mouse has to be completely batty, he thought to himself. Perhaps she has always been this way, not that I give a damn. But it would bring me a lot of pride to know if I have made her this way.
"Beg pardon?" he frowned, stepping closer in a menacing walk, but she was still un-phased.
"Why do you do it?" she asked again. "Why do you do the things you do? Why do you hate me? Why do you hurt others? What has happened to you?" she whispered more fiercely, tears spilling on her cheeks.
She felt no pity for him yet, but she felt that she had to uncover his motive for being such a terrible human being. She could not live without knowing why this man who she had regretted meeting more than anything was this monster. Yes, all men are monsters, she thought, but this one is different. This man has been shattered, like me. And as she thought about this concept, she realized, at the prospect, that she could very well be a monster too.
His stomach churned at her questions. Did she know? Why was she asking him this, and how dare she?!
He growled, and grabbed her arm in an impulse to hurt her. She was unmoved for once. She just continued to stare at him.
He relaxed for a bit. His expression was still cold.
"What business is it of yours?" he asked her. "Why do you care to know, mouse?"
She heaved a breath. "I love Mrs. Lovett." She cried. "I really do love her. I like staying here, with her. I like helping her and having her around me. I don't want her to be hurt. I want her to be happy!"
He stared.
"But what I don't understand…"she interjected, "is why you are so cold. Why you choose not to show remorse for anyone. I saw the picture, of the woman and child." His grip tightened at this. "Who is she?" she gasped at his hold "Was she your wife? What happened to her? Please-"
He let go of her with a push, and she landed on the bed, her head against the pillow.
He took his gaze off of her and looked at the window, off into the distance. His face had become more morose, she noticed, something she had not seen in him. She didn't know he could have any emotions other than anger.
"I had a wife…"he whispered, still gazing at the window. "a child. She had yellow hair. She was beautiful. And Johanna…"
Hazel dared not move from her position on the bed. She listened to him intently and slightly baffled.
His sentence trailed off.
"You…you can tell me..." she coaxed, scared of the sudden silence that flooded the room.
At the sound of the voice, he averted his gaze to her.
His eyes were of glass, and she thought he was on the verge of tears.
Suddenly it was like he snapped out of a dream. He swallowed and his body tensed once more.
"Go to bed!" he barked at her. "And don't dare go in my room again!"
She didn't say anything or even more as he pounced out of the room.
Sweeney was suddenly aware of the prospect that the girl went through his things. She had looked under his mattress and found the picture of Lucy. And if she had done that that meant she had also seen the blood soaked shirt he had hidden from her. And that, in turn, meant that she would soon find out about his killing rampage and his plan for revenge on the judge.
He wanted to hit himself for what had just happened to him. No one had ever asked him about his wife before. He never really had the option to tell anyone. Talking about Lucy gave him a kind of release, like killing, he thought. And for a moment when he told the mouse about her, he was lost in thought of her yellow hair, and had no worry at all…
But now, that was over, once again. The mouse was getting too curious. She was becoming too much of a burden.
A/N: sorry for the late update. I was working on my other story. Anyway, so the story unravels to Hazel! Review please!