Splintered Dreams
(Chapter 14)
Disclaimer : I own nothing and I'm sorry for the long time of no update. Enjoy! :)
"Mum! Please, mum! Snap out of it! It's me Toby, don't you recognize me mum?"
The small child violently wiped the stream of tears that had escaped his eyes. He was trying so hard to act like a man. A long time ago, when he was still at the warehouse, he had cried endlessly. He weeped for what they did to him at night, for the awful food they gave him, and the horrible beatings that he received. They called him a "baby" and was always punished for not acting like a man.
For men never cried.
Toby reached for his mother's hand once more and sobbed when she pulled away. Moments ago, she had screamed at him for not being her "angel." He had felt as if a rusted butter knife had been forced into his tone of voice she had used was so cold.
Hateful.
As if she hated him.
Toby felt another tear escape his eye and once again he angrily wiped it away. The woman before him did not seem like his mother at all. This woman was bathed in blood, screaming hysterics, and seemed as if she was losing her mind. Her chocolate brown eyes were blank, and did not hold the love and intelligence that his mum had once held.
But he would not give up on her. He was her only chance at coming back to how she was, for he was the only one cursed the barber under his breath. He knew Mr. Todd had something to do with this. Hell, he knew Sweeney was the one who had stabbed Mrs. Lovett. The razor on the floor was enough evidence to prove it. If his mum didn't wake up, Toby knew who to get revenge upon. He would avenge his mother's death if it had to come to that.
"Mother, if you can hear me please wake up. Mum, please! Oh, God! Please mum, wake up," cried the child.
The words hung in silence as the baker suddenly froze. She seemed to have blacked out. Toby didn't know whether to be relieved or frightened. As he was moving toward his mother, the baker let out a loud, blood curling scream that surpassed her other shouts. Toby covered his ears and felt himself sob once more. There was too much blood on the floor, and he couldn't do anything about it. She would not allow him to go near her.
If this continued, she was surely going to die.
In a flash, the bedroom door suddenly bolted open, and there stood the demon barber of Fleet Street in all his glory.
At the sight of him, Toby could only glare. The boy's nostrils flared and he continuously clenched and unclenched his fists. The boy's instinct was to run for the blood encrusted razor that lay on the crimson wood. The dark silhouette that stood near the doorway deserved to be in as much as pain as was possible.
Instead, the boy surpressed a yell of hatred and peeled off his jacket. Now that the baker was unconscious, he was going to take advantage of the situation.
Toby scooted to where his mother lay and shut his eyes as he caught sight of all the bodily fluid that his mum had lost. His breathing quickened as he began to feel nervous. He didn't have the slightest clue as to what to do to help Mrs. Lovett. Toby clenched his teeth and tried to steady his breathing.
He was not going to allow the only person in his life, that meant the world to him, die because of his lack of manly strength.
No. She would not die. She would NOT die!
Small droplets of tears entwined with the massive oasis of crimson that surrounded the still figure in the center of the room.
The boy's small fingers hurriedly went into action and he placed his jacket upon the tear of both the woman's dress and skin. He pressed forward and made sure to put as much pressure as he could. While he continued to do this, small whispers were making his way into his mind.
He could hear them.
They were going to torment him once again.! As if eight years of making his life a living hell wasn't enough to quench their sick thirst. As if knowing his fear, Toby began to hear the chants once more. Pussy. Scum. Piss worm. Sewer Rat. Stupid imp. And from the jokers who knew of the god awful things thingsthey did to him at night, harlot.
Toby could feel cold sweat trickling on the back of his neck as well as the bile rising through his throat.
With a large gulp, he went on holding it in.
He tried to block away the voices, but it seemed that by doing that they only came back twice as stronger.
His eyes narrowed as he came to a realization. They were trying to do the same as the monster behind him. They wanted him to fail so that he would lose the one person who loved him. Well they were in for a nice surprise. He was going to show them. Each and everyone of those sniveling bastards. He was not a damn baby. He was not a damn worm. And he most certainly not was a goddamned whore.
Determination pumped his veins as his vision cleared of the misty tears that fogged his sight.
He was a man.