A/N: Oh goodness, thank you for the reviews and the favoriting. I love you all for it! And, just for you, I'm going to try and attempt to write another chapter tonight. :) PS: I have tweaked the ending of this chapter, for my own sake, because I was displeased with how I left it. Not major changes, don't worry :)
Chapter Three
Sweeney Todd strode down the dirty streets of London, his ghostly pale skin clashing harshly with the dark circles under his eyes. His feet splashed robotically in the murky puddles, soaking his shoes and the bottoms of his trousers. Not that he cared. People saw him as something from the dead, they did, always walking about in dark clothing with a permanent grimace on his departed face. He would sometimes stop people in mid-sentence as they'd curiously turn to look at the ghost that past them.
Or, like the majority of London did, he was ignored. His steps and movements were quick and sly, so subtle that he was merely a wave of cold air as he stormed past. And he was almost proud of it. He fondly compared himself to a dark shadow- lifeless and lingering. Sweeney was quite the metaphorical thinker, he'd admit. And he would smoothly nod his head to those who would dare think of him as deceased. But not today, no. Today, as Sweeney growled and turned a sharp corner, he couldn't feel more alive.
Wild images flashed in his mind, making him eagerly indignant. Images and scenes sprinkled lovingly with silver and blood and screams of mercy. Images that, most definitely, all included one hideous man: Judge Turpin.
Words of loathing and fury escaped his pale lips, his body tensing with the strongest rage. However, it wasn't easy navigating himself through these winding streets when his vision is nothing but red. Realizing he had made yet another wrong turn, Sweeney let out a frustrated yell, clutching frantically at his dark wavy hair. He spun, bumping roughly into a few people as the depth of the London crowds increased. Some snapped at him, others turned in a startled manner, not noticing he was there before. Sweeney was blind to their stares and remarks as his hand left his hair and trailed downward to the holster on his belt. His fingers wrapped tenderly around one of his razors, easing him only slightly.
Then, heavenly so, his eyes darkened with a bold finality. He tightened his grip. There, only seven buildings away, was his beloved destination. He began to run with a fierce, unwavering gait, bearing his teeth in his angry countenance. Thank heavens his dear friend was still in it's holster; if the leather bindings weren't restraining him, Sweeney would absolutely be hacking away at whoever was in his way. Nothing could stop him now, he was so close to the gray building. He could see the cracks in the hastily bricked walls, he could see it- yes, now he was running up the stairs- two at a time, grabbing greedily at the doorknob. He was there, the scenes in his macabre imagination growing clearer with every instant-
His eagerness came to an abrupt halt and Sweeney nearly fell over with emotional outrage. The door was locked. The bloody door was locked. He felt his pale face grow hot with unrestrained anger and he wouldn't be surprised if tears were pricking at his eyes. Mrs. Lovett wasn't here to calm him down, not this time. He trembled, fumbling for his razor as he sheepishly slammed it into the keyhole, turning it frantically. He was seething. "Wretched bugger."
"Is there a particular reason to why you are so impatiently trying to break into this fine dwelling, Mr. Todd?" The greasy voice echoed mockingly in his head, and Sweeney stopped fumbling his razor. He slowly turned around, meeting the elite gaze of a Mr. Beadle Bamford, who was leaning ominously on his cane.
Mrs. Lovett was also trembling as she sat in her parlor, stroking Toby's hair. Not out of rage, no. Out of sorrow. She felt so empty, so helpless, and she wasn't very fond of it. She hadn't felt so used and betrayed since the day her parents were killed. She sniffed, shaking her head suddenly. Nellie shouldn't ever compare their death to what she was feeling now. She was much lower than them, their existence couldn't ever equal with her emotional distress. Nor did she want to think about her parents, how they were rotting in the ground right now, breathless and unfeeling...
Hiccuping a sob, Mrs. Lovett gently removed Toby from his snuggled position and stood on shaky legs. Always having been cautious, she stood a moment for the dizziness to ease away. She then moved Toby so he was laying full on the couch, her arms aching as she lifted the small boy. Nellie couldn't see him uncomfortable, though, after all he did for her. Lightly covering him with the duvet, she sighed, leaning down and kissing both of his cheeks. My little knight in shining armor.
Turning now, she blinked away her dreary tears and began to walk slowly to the hallway. Like a gust of wind, a wave of dizziness crashed into her and she stumbled, grabbing onto curtains to break her fall. She let out a harsh laugh, a bit more alert now. Thank heavens I'm not sailing, she thought, I'd surely fall overboard.
Nellie took her time now as she edged her way to her petty washroom, never having wanted to bathe so much in her life. Regaining some of her balance, Nellie opened the door, only to be stopped short by the image of herself looking back at her.
Her mirror was something she had cherished, oddly enough, as her beloved Benjamin Barker had bought it for her those many years ago. She could still remember the twinkle in his eye and his bright smile as he handed it to her one amazing evening.
"Well don't just stand there, open it." His voice was like chocolate, smooth and sweet.
Nellie stood still in her newly furnished but appropriately quaint parlor. In her hands was a nicely wrapped, and rather large gift, with a burgundy bow placed in the middle. She didn't move as she continued to stare down at this present.
Benjamin Barker laughed, his voice like magic. "Here, let me help you," he offered, reaching over to the side of the gift. His fingers brushed against hers as he gently ripped the side of the wrapping paper, and she marveled at the warmth of his hands. Never was Albert's hands so welcoming, so soft. Especially as they were striking harshly against her face in the evenings.
Fortunately snapping out of it, Mrs. Lovett fumbled for a response. "What is, well thank you, I guess, here I can do it..." she murmured shyly, her thoughts jumbled. She heard him laugh again and her heart soared. It was amazing what a simple chuckle could do to her. She lifted her hand and gingerly ripped away the shiny wrapping paper, and she found herself gazing into her own pair of wide brown eyes. A gleeful smile pulled at her lips, and she shifted her glance to the other set of eyes found in the mirror's reflection. "Mr. Barker," I wish so dearly to call you Ben, my love, "...you really didn't have to do this."
Benjamin grinned, standing straighter to make a point. "Of course I did. How could I not get a gift for my wonderful landlady, especially when you're nearly finished decorating your parlor?" The sincerity of his warm brown eyes made Nellie giggle. "And how could you not own a mirror, Mrs. Lovett? I might add that you're not too hard on the eyes, even though you denied it earlier."
Mrs. Lovett's face tinted pink at his blunt complement, and she hoped to God he couldn't see. Her Ben had always been so flattering, and even if his intentions weren't romantic...imagining they were wouldn't hurt anything, right? "Thank you, so much-"
Like an angel swooping down from the heavens, Lucy padded down the stairway. Gracefully finding her way to them, she called in her singsong voice: "Bennnnnny! My darling, I'm ready for our night out on the town!" She laughed lightly, her voice too sweet.
Benjamin immediately left Mrs. Lovett and was at Lucy Barker's side with a dreamy grin, wrapping his warm around her waist. "I'm here, my love," he responded in a low, affectionate voice, placing a soft kiss on Lucy's forehead.
Nellie frowned slightly, glancing at the two of them with the utmost jealousy. Not soon afterward, Benjamin completely forgot his conversation with Mrs. Lovett, and the couple headed merrily out the door to their fine carriage waiting for them. Sighing heavily, Nellie looked back down into the mirror, hearing the bells of her shoppe door jingle as the door shut behind them.
"No really, thank you," she mumbled halfheartedly, before sulking back to her bedroom so she could bury her thoughts in her pillow.
The slightly older, slightly wiser, and slightly more insane baker now stood, gripping the sides of her bathroom sink. Those faraway memories of how kind and loving Mr. Todd had been wasn't helping matters. Especially with this shocking sight in front of her. Nellie gazed unacceptably into her reflection.
One thing that stood out the most to Mrs. Lovett were the circles under her eyes. How they darkened in such little time, and oh how she hated them. They had only came about after Mr. Barker was taken away, and even with his arrival they hadn't stopped gracing her delicate face.
They were only a small addition to her now beaten appearance, however. Her hair was out of it's usual clips and pins and they fell to her shoulders. She honestly never liked wearing her hair up, but she believed she looked improper if her thick hair wasn't up in the crazy mess that it usually was. Nellie never did catch onto this contradiction. Another thing that made her cringe was the bandage on her cheek. Hesitantly, she raised her hand to peel back the material, finding that the cut had already formed a thin scar. Well this is going to look down right splendid.
A few light scratches were placed haphazardly across around her chest, and Nellie was glad to find that they were already fading. She wasn't about to go and buy some higher cut dresses, for one. Like her mother always told her: If you've got it, flaunt it. And she had it, alright.
Disturbed by the bruises on her arms, Mrs. Lovett turned away from the mirror and stepped to her bathtub. Turning the silver handle on the far end, a twinge of pain shot through her arm once more. She cursed under her breath, trying to ignore the pain. This blasted wrist is hurting something fierce, she thought impatiently, adding some nice smelling soapy solution to the hot water.
Even though Mrs. Lovett wasn't looking forward to seeing the rest of her injured body, she slipped off the nightgown she was wearing, just now noticing that she had been. She clutched it lightly in her hands, her eyes widening. Her face flushed and she gripped the towel hanger on the wall for more support, the obvious finally setting in. Christ, he saw me naked!
There was an eerie twinkle in this Bamford fellow's eye that made Mr. Todd twitch uncomfortably. No wonder Mrs. Lovett always seemed revolted every time he passed. Having already forgotten what the man had said, Sweeney simply stood there, staring at him.
Bamford raised an eyebrow at him, his looking becoming more menacing by the moment. "Mr. Todd, sir. Step aside from the door." Sweeney, still shaking in rage, swallowed and slowly stepped away from the doorway. Bamford tilted his chin up, not moving from his spot in the middle of the stairs, beady eyes shining. He was pleased that he had the upper hand, for once. "Now, answer me, my good sir, as to why you're breaking into these lodgings?"
The idea that popped into Sweeney's head was quick and ridiculous. He gave the Beadle a friendly smile. "Mr. Bamford, sir, I assure you that I wasn't breaking inside. Judge Turpin noticed my handiness as I was repairing Mrs. Lovett's window a few evenings ago, and he asked me if I could be so kind as to fix his doorknob." His husky voice had settled and smoothed into confidence, though Mr. Todd's shoulders were still shaking from his steadily increasing frustration.
Bamford still wasn't convinced as he leaned off of his cane, taking a few steps up the porch. Gripping the beloved cane from the middle now, he pointed it at Sweeney. "Why would Judge Turpin ask you for help if you're the accomplice of that sailor boy?" he snapped quickly, his wrinkled face contorting into a smirk.
This rat wasn't as stupid as he looked, Sweeney concluded. Refraining from rolling his eyes, Sweeney simply sweetened his innocent tone. "And why would the sailor boy matter if I'm not associated with him?" Bamford narrowed his eyes, confused. "It was all a big misunderstanding, you see. Signor Pirelli had earlier been in my shop before Judge Turpin arrived. The sailor boy was looking for him. I despise the both of them, honestly, working against such a honorable man like Judge Turpin." He felt the bile rising in his throat at these words, but this had finally been enough for the interrogating man.
Beadle Bamford smiled slyly and tilted his hat to Sweeney. "Ah, yes, I do recall my lord telling me of these misunderstandings," he lied flawlessly, obviously wanting to look all-knowing.
Sweeney bit back a smirk as his eyes flashed. "If you'd be so kind as you let me inside, Mr. Bamford, I need to unhinge the bolt from the other side of the doorknob." He then shoved his razor into his pocket, knowing that it would of looked odd to fix a doorknob with a blade. "I assume that you are his right-hand-man, are you not? At least these are the whispers I hear from many adoring young women as I pass."
Bamford's eyes lit up, and he nodded. "Tis why I have a key, my good friend." He walked the rest of they way up the stairs, feeling quite dandy, and slipped a gold key into the doorknob. He slowly opened the door and stepped inside, holding it open for Mr. Todd.
Sweeney stepped inside, and with a dark laugh, he slammed it behind him. His glance shifted to the Beadle and Sweeney lunged at him, shoving him against the wall. Bamford let out a grunt, but it was too late. Sweeney had lifted Bamford's chin, and glinting silver was pressed to his flesh. "Don't mind me, Mr. Bamford, repairing this doorknob won't take long at all." With that said, Sweeney dug his stunning blade into Bamford's neck with great force, and his victim let out a nasty gurgling yell. The most rewarding shade of red poured out from his neck, staining his finely pressed collar. Most of Bamford's life had left his eyes and Sweeney gave one final thrust into the flesh, finishing the straight line.
Covered with blood, the Beadle twitched one last time and fell limp to the floor. Sweeney grinned and wiped the blood from his eyes, staring down at the pathetic body. Mr. Todd was glad to find that he was breathing much more at ease, the murder calming his nerves. He lifted the spewing body and conveniently threw him in the nearby closet, closing the door gently. His right arm pulsated with bliss and his hunger for Turpin's death escalated once more. Sweeney didn't want to wait any longer. He was done with waiting. Even if it were to be the last thing he did, Judge Turpin would die under his hand. His time had come. Todd's gaze flicked to the stairs and he smirked.
A/N: Well, I got that out of my system. I hope you enjoyed this cliffhanger ;) Now, I'm off to bed. I will surely write more in the morning! Please review!
-passes out-