Chapter 8- the trouble with poet, is how do you know it's deceased?
Benjamin jumped. He had no plan. The great planner of plans was plan less. Benjamin had plans for his shop, plans for his children, plans for his wife, and plans for everything else.
The oven door opened.
Benjamin just went for impulse.
Stop
All of the dead turned to look at him.
It's him.
Collectively the group gasped. Now they began to mutter and talk amongst themselves.
Cut it out. Leave her alone.
Benjamin yelled loudly, his voice echoing back to him.
The apparent ring leader of the group stepped forward. Benjamin recognized him as a man that lived down the street from him as a child. He was the oldest man there, and apparently the others had rally around him because of this.
And why should we listen to you?
Benjamin remembered why he had killed him.
God, I just said that I killed him.
The man was a known seductor and had de-flowered a great many young girls over the years. Only no one did anything, because he was a bobbie, a part of the police force.
They all deserved to die. God, where does Sweeney end and I begin?
Because this is my Hell.
This at least Benjamin supposed was true.
You aren't even solid here, you are all like ghosts. You should go on your merry way. You belong elsewhere. You deserve peace.
Unfortunately, Benjamin realized that he only half meant the last statement.
So if this is your Hell as you say it is why are we bothering her? Am I right gentlemen? Who put us here? He did. Who do we hate?
Sweeney!
At this all the ghosts marched toward Benjamin.
This most certainly backfired.
Benjamin felt them push and hit on him. He tried to push back but his hands went right through.
What? How the heck can they push me?
Benjamin held up his hands. He was getting nearer the grinder.
Stop! What do you want from me?
Suffer! Suffer!
Stop.
They all stopped and turned. There stood Mrs. Lovett wiping soot from her face.
Yeah, and why?
Mrs. Lovett sighed. It seemed she had nothing convincing to say on the matter.
But Benjamin did. A brilliant thought came to him. The truth.
Haven't you ever thought you wanted something that it turned out you didn't later? Or…or tried not to do something you wanted to, but knew you shouldn't? Or wanted to do something, even if you couldn't?
This struck most of the group. Benjamin knew he had them so he continued.
You all deserved to die. So did she, and so did I.
He pointed to Mrs. Lovett, and pointed to his own throat.
This is not about that though. This is your chance to start again.
Even me.
Many of the ghosts seemed to show approval of what Benjamin had said. A few of them disappeared into their bodies, and their bodies disappeared. Unfortunately there was still a great deal of them left. And they were unconvinced.
Before Benjamin had time to think, they were upon him again. Before he knew it he had be pushed to the ground and was now being dragged across the floor by his hands.
No, please no!
Benjamin had lost control of the situation, and had resorted to begging. It reminded him of his arrest 15 years ago.
He was now on the floor next to Mrs. Lovett. She was eyeing them cautiously. It wasn't until she started to back away, that some of them blocked her. Benjamin moaned seeing the only way out was in. The oven.
In they both went.
Benjamin screamed louder then he had in all his life. Or death for that matter as well. Mrs. Lovett was screaming too, and Benjamin saw her close her eyes. She then stood, seemingly unaffected.
You failed.
Shut up!
Just close your eyes and get this over with, I will try next time.
No! I have got to get this right.
Suit yourself.
Benjamin looked at Mrs. Lovett again. He wondered what Mrs. Lovett saw when she closed her eyes.
Maybe you should ask her later.
Benjamin sighed and closed his eyes.
