A/N: So, um…Hi. Long time, no see. Some of you may not even be around anymore. But, this story was always one of my favorite to write. So, since I knew where I wanted to take this from the start, I am giving writing it another chance. Um, if any of you are wondering what I am doing now that I am no longer in this community, I am actually a bookstagrammer. I have convinced myself that I am better reading and reviewing books than writing stories. But, once a writer…you know. You never really stop loving it. Anyhow, forgive me if I read somewhat rusty. I hope you enjoy.
Chapter 15
Heroes need monsters to establish their heroic credentials. You need something scary to overcome. ~Margaret Atwood
Eyes. The doorway into someone's soul, they say. But what if the person who was looking down at her, didn't have a soul? What if, the hands that were resting on her chin were cold because of the lack of soul? What was a soul? Did it exist? Could we actually see it? Could we touch it? If we couldn't see it, did it actually exist?
Beatrice had no idea. She also didn't know why her limbs felt so heavy. Why was there barely any light in this room? The mattress was thick and soft under her back but the covers had been stripped from it. The material felt coarse under the bare skin of her arms and she was cold.
She looked up again and what she saw stopped her for a minute. She had to think. In what possible circumstance would she find herself in such a position with this man? His face was obscured by the dark, but she would recognise that chin and lips anywhere. She blinked hard as she realised that he was just sitting there in his trousers and thin, white shirt. She noticed that his left sleeve was a bit ripped. That tiny hole was enough to jolt her into movement,
Her body gave a jerk but she couldn't move. She blinked again and she realized that he was straddling her thighs, effectively pinning her to the bed. He moved then and his face was visible in the dim light. There was a furrow between his brows. His lips were pursed, betraying his hesitance but his eyes were set. His fingers clenched on her cheek and she shuddered. She tried not to close her eyes but she had to.
This is not real.
This is not real.
Not real.
Not real.
The high pitched sound of a bottle hitting a glass from across the room, froze them both. Beatrice swallowed and she lifted her head slightly.
'No. Keep her in line, barber. You know what I want."
The voice. That voice. She knew it. It was a deep baritone that haunted her dreams.
"Hmm." That single sound had her shivering. The hand on her cheek turned sharp and she felt those fingers, slender but strong, curl around her throat. She was pushed back and her head hit the soft, richly layered pillow. Her eyes widened and then she realized something that she hadn't registered before.
He was touching her. In what kind of dream, or nightmare, would that actually happen? His touch was clinical, only the slight tremor of his fingertips gave away the shadow of emotion that passed through his eyes when their gazes locked. Her mouth opened but his thumb was there, pushing against her lips and she sucked in a sharp, ridiculous intake of breath that had the man in the corner chuckling. His voice was husky and she heard the sound of leather rubbing against the judge's expensive trousers. Dreams never had such detail had they? Was sound and touch so potent in dreams? She wasn't sure. The saltiness of his thumb was absorbed by her gasp and she froze.
Her eyes darted to her left, into the darkness of that corner and then to the barber's face. His expression was that of an expensive marble statue. The paleness of his skin seemed to reflect the dim light and for a moment she was blinded by it.
His hand left her throat and then he touched his belt. There was no tremor in his hands this time but she could feel how coiled his muscles were. His body was ready to pounce, but she wasn't aware where he wanted to pounce. He drew his belt from the loops and she froze when his hands grabbed her wrists. Her legs jerked underneath his bottom and there was a click of the tongue that echoed in the room. It came from the dark corner.
She opened her mouth and his name left her lips but then his palm was there to muffle it.
His eyes widened in warning and she froze. They narrowed and his brow furrowed again. She was mesmerized by it. She felt her stomach turning at her own reaction.
Not real.
Not real.
Not real.
Wake up.
"What did she say?" The judge's voice had perked up and she realized that she had spoken the last words out loud.
The judge was enjoying himself. Actually enjoying himself. She shuddered again.
"Not quite sure, my lord." Todd's voice was deep and she could taste the mocking tone he had dipped it in.
The belt circled her wrists twice and then he was pulling her hands up and hooking them through the headboard. The sound it made as he tied her there had her palms sweating.
Wake up.
She wasn't waking up.
His hands were loosening the fastenings of his pants then her dress was pushed up until the semi cold air of the room raised goose bumps on her skin. Her bare-
She was bare down there. How on earth was she bare down there? It wasn't possible. She wouldn't-…
"Hmm." Again that perked up tone.
She almost vomited as she choked on her own saliva. Her legs thrashed and Todd's eyes flashed with a peculiar shadow. She wasn't sure what that shadow meant. Nevertheless, that didn't stop him. In a swift move he was off her legs and between them and then there was nothing that she could do. Her muscles locked up, her neck bowed at an uncomfortable angle but there was no stopping it. He was there and she was there too. But somehow she wasn't because it wasn't real, was it? But then it was because he was inside and it was deep and it wasn't supposed to feel like it felt because it wasn't like something he would ever, ever do.
It's not for you. Her brain finally worked and she felt suspended somewhere between realization and dread. Because that voice was right and she had forgotten. She had forgotten that it was not for her but then maybe it was because it wasn't supposed to feel like that. Not when he was there, not when her hands were locked together under his leather belt as if in prayer.
She wanted to laugh because the movements didn't speak of the way he now looked at her. She wasn't really looking but she cracked an eye open when his hand flexed on the flesh of her pale thigh. His fingers clawed the skin and she released a small sound that was between a laugh and a cry.
It's not supposed to feel like this. Not when she wanted to disappear. Not when she felt like she would choke with that peculiar feeling of shame and elation.
It's not for you. She repeated inside her mind when his other hand latched on to her other thigh and his breath left him in tiny gasps, gasps that betrayed this entire circus of a nightmare that they were both in. No sound reached her ears. The man in the corner ceased to exist because it was closer now and it was deeper and she felt as if she was suffocating, the feeling coming from that place where they were joined. It climbed up to her chest, up her throat and to her mouth. A small, animal like sound escaped his tightly pursed lips and her eyes opened wide.
It's not for you.
But how could it not be when everything was climbing higher and he went even deeper still-
"Who are those people?"
The shrill sound of a female voice made Beatrice blink. Her eyes weren't quick to adapt to their surroundings and she winced when she realized that she had been staring at the fire for far too long. Her fingers were numb holding onto the glass of red wine. She blinked and shook her head as she turned around. The room was crowded and it was the jolt she needed to get back to reality.
It was a dream. How long are you going to fixate on it?
She cleared her throat and looked up. She froze. The party was in full swing and as her eyes fell upon the peculiar couple that had entered the large room, she had to squint to fully understand what she was seeing.
"Mr. T. Are me eyes deceiving me?" Nellie Lovett was trying hard to conceal her laughter, "And you wanted to come here without me. Heavens, you are daft. Here, dearie." A maid quickly grasped the box the baker handed over and gave a small bow.
"You do realize you are making a fool of yourself, right? You brought pies?" Sweeney Todd spoke as his eyes scanned the crowd.
"Who cares? Half of these people are going to be too pissed to notice in an hour." She grabbed a glass of wine that someone had left on a low table to her right and stormed in like a true hurricane, leaving Todd to fend for himself.
He scowled and Beatrice had half the urge to turn around and hide. But then she couldn't. Because his eyes found hers. She became immobile, her dream still haunting her but then there was a hand on her back and she flinched.
"I do hope you are enjoying yourself, my dear." Turpin's voice was too close and she took an instinctive step away from him. His hand lingered though, his fingers tangling at the ends of her perfectly curled locks. Her grip on the glass tightened and her eyes darted towards the barber on the other side of the room again. He had started walking towards them. She braced herself for more intimate contact from the man behind her but he simply pushed her forward. She nearly fell because her feet got tangled in her long skirts.
"Now go be good hostess. You are the lady of the house, after all." He spoke into her ear and his thin lips pressed a firm but quick kiss to her flushed cheek, "I am going to speak to the lady Todd brought with him. Hmm" That noise again. That bloody noise.
It wasn't real. It won't ever be.
She shook herself and moved to meet Todd. He had a frown between his brows and she let out a small laugh.
"You look dreadful." His first comment made her pause.
She looked down at herself. Her dress was new, expensive and certainly not like something she would have bought for herself. There was lace down her sleeves and it also covered her collarbones. She placed a hand on her chest, self-consciously, as she cleared her throat.
"You look nice." She said simply and his scowl deepened.
"Have you seen her?" To the point as always. She nearly laughed but she stopped herself. She took a deep breath and as a maid passed with glasses filled to the brim with wine, she grabbed one and extended it to him.
He frowned but reached out for it all the same, "What's the matter with you?"
She took sip and he eyed her from head to toes, the wheels inside his head already turning, trying to analyze her behaviour.
Beatrice took a grip of herself, "I am fine." She cleared her throat yet again, "Mrs. Lovett? Really?" she asked and he rolled his eyes.
"The invitation was for two." He shrugged one shoulder and she raised an eyebrow.
"Where's James?"
He shifted, "I couldn't very well bring a lad here, could I?"
"It depends who you're asking." She said simply and his shoulders tensed.
"What is the matter with you?" He half whispered, half growled.
I am having dreams. They are not real. She repeated to herself.
"I am sorry." She murmured, "I am not well." She swallowed and because her hand shook, she had to step towards the fireplace. She let her glass there and folded her hands in front of her stomach.
Todd's eyes darted around the room but somehow his gaze returned to her. It settled there and she was shocked when he took a step towards her.
"Is there something wrong?" His voice was low and she could she his pulse beating erratically against his skin.
She looked up, suddenly aware that they were attracting attention.
"She is in the back garden. With the dogs." She paused, "I told her to disappear." She murmured and as she looked to the left, she saw a group of men huddled together, their eyes moving towards their direction with interest.
Todd followed her gaze and his back turned ramrod straight. His stormy gaze had the gentlemen looking away and Beatrice felt a sense of satisfaction.
A sudden laugh had the barber turning towards Nellie Lovett and Beatrice realized that the baker was the perfect distraction. Turpin was smiling down at the shorter woman, totally unaware of the barber's murderous gaze upon him.
Beatrice blinked. She grasped Todd's arm and he flinched. She nearly dropped his hand. He hadn't flinched in her dream.
It's not for you. She reminded herself. She didn't release his arm.
"Come." She murmured and the barber eyed her hand. Mouth tightening, he forced his muscles to relax. His arm flexed once and then his hand took hold of her wrist. He pulled her hand through his elbow, and motioned with his head.
"Lead the way." He murmured and her heartbeat quickened, her chest expanding with her shock. With one more glance towards the judge and the baker, she led the way to the library behind them and to the small garden visible through the large glass windows.
As they stepped through the door and Beatrice led them to the windows, she felt the barber faltering in his step. She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. His arm nearly crushed hers and she watched with bated breath as Todd feasted his eyes upon the blonde young woman who was sitting amongst the company of the ferocious dogs that had nearly mauled every single beggar that had dared to step into Turpin's property.
Johanna Barker was a beacon and Beatrice realized that it would never, ever be for her. She herself was a daughter but she was not a daughter that anyone would ever sacrifice anything for.
And when Johanna noticed them and looked up, the few traces of joy were erased from her face. Her back turned ramrod straight just like her father's and suddenly the dogs stopped making her happy. Beatrice didn't have to wonder why.
It was probably because anything that made her happy was usually used against her. There was sheer terror in the young woman's face and Beatrice could feel Todd vibrating with the realization of it. He murmured something but then there were footsteps and Beatrice tensed up. Both Todd and herself held their breath as Turpin entered the room.
"See anything you like, Mr. Todd?"
Beatrice nearly fainted.
End of Chapter 15
A/N: If you have read this far, thank you, Thoughts are always welcome. More to come soon!