A/N: Once again me no own, you no sue.
Tourniquet: Chapter 7- Misery Loves Company
Toby lay in bed with a pounding headache. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as another wave of pain washed over him. He rolled over to his side and looked over the edge of the bed to the floor were an empty bottle of gin lay. He reached down to pick up the bottle and put it on the nightstand so he wouldn't trip over it when, and if, he decided to get out of bed.
This was the second time this week he had finished off an entire bottle of gin in one night. He drank to forget. To forget every bad thing that had happened to him; which was a lot. It did help a bit, but most times it would just leave him with a horrible headache in the morning; and not to mention a bad taste in his mouth. Mrs. Lovett tried to discourage him form doing this. She told him that much alcohol at one time was bad for his health; but yet she still let him do it anyway, knowing that she would be doing the same thing.
Toby let out a deep sigh as Mrs. Lovett walked into his room.
"Good morning, dear, I brought you some breakfast." She said cheerfully.
Her usually sweet, musical voice now grated against Toby's ears. Her boots clattered loudly on the wood floor. Toby turned over to his side and put his hands over his ears.
"Must you be so loud?" Toby asked crossly.
Mrs. Lovett stopped half way across the room. "Oh, I'm sorry darling, did I wake you?"
Toby didn't answer her, and instead pulled the blankets over his head.
"If I woke you up, dear, I'm really sorry." She said sheepishly.
She sighed and set the tray on the nightstand; not very surprised that she didn't get an answer from him.
"Aren't you going to eat anything, love?"
"No." Toby snapped back at her coldly. "I'm not feeling well."
Mrs. Lovett eyed the empty bottle of gin on the table and understood why.
"Well, I'm just gonna leave this here in case you get hungry later, all right." She said.
Once again Toby gave her no answer.
She sighed and went to place her hand on his shoulder, but drew back, figuring that this would just set him off again. She picked up the empty bottle of gin and exited the room as quietly as she could, leaving him to sleep.
Mrs. Lovett sat at the counter in her shop, spinning the empty bottle across the top. She watched as the bottle spun round and round, drawing her into deep thought. She was still a bit heart broken about the way Toby acted; but she was learning to not let it get to her. It seemed liker every day he was drawn into deeper and deeper depression. This was all so out of character for him. He always was a very happy, cheerful child. He was always trying to help her in the shop in anyway he could. Either serving customers, running errands, or helping clean up after the shop had closed for the day; it seemed like it almost killed him to sit still for even a minute. He always had something nice to say to her; which helped even a little bit when she had to deal with the resentful Sweeney Todd. It was nice to know that Toby would always be there for her.
Now though, it seemed like all that was gone. He was now very moody and sullen. Most days he would lock himself up in his room for most of the day, and rarely spoke. It was weeks since she had seen him smile. He had also become quite paranoid; and his constant nightmares and vivid imagination didn't help this fact. I was about four months now since that night, and it still haunted. She knew this was something he would never forget and this was all very hard on him, but she wished that he would cheer up just a bit. It saddened her greatly to see her once cheerful boy so dismal and melancholic. She always tried to act cheerful around him, hoping that this would lift his spirits even a little, but it was no use. She was almost on the verge of giving up. She wiped the tears from her eyes and went to open up the shop.
Later that evening Toby woke up from his nap, feeling much better than he did that morning. His headache was gone and he didn't feel like he was going to throw up any more. He sat up in bed and looked around his room. He was fairly certain that that he had counted ever little flower on the wallpaper and had counted all the patches on the quilt that covered his bed at least a hundred times over. The days and weeks of locking himself in his room was becoming quite dull.
After starring at the walls of his room, the little pink and blue flowers that covered the walls began to become more sinister looking after hours of starring at them. Some how, in his strange psychosis, they would begin to morph into more demonic and malevolent figures; monsters with razor sharp teeth, instead of pretty little flowers. Innocent enough shadows had become demons, slithering in and out of the corners in the slowly dieing candle light; ready and willing to ensnare him as he slept. Sometimes an over active imagination just doesn't pay off. After a while he was starting to question his own sanity. Thankfully, the once enthralling activity of starring blankly at the wall and drowning himself in his own sorrows and way too much gin was becoming quite boring; and he decided to got find something else to do. He climbed out of bed and went to go see what Mrs. Lovett was doing.
As he walked out of his room and into the hallway he heard sobbing coming from the parlor. He quietly entered the room to find Mrs. Lovett sitting before the fireplace crying. On her lap was a skirt she was mending; but she wasn't getting much work done for her hands trembled too much for her to even pick up the needle.
"Mum?" Toby called shyly, but received no answer from her.
He went over and sat next to her. "Mum, wots wrong?" he asked.
Mrs. Lovett just shook her head and put her face in her hands, sobbing even harder.
Toby wrapped his thin arms around her neck and placed his head on her shoulder. He hoped that she wasn't upset at the way he acted that morning.
"I'm really sorry for snapping at you like that this morning, I didn't mean it, I swear. I'm really, really sorry." He said.
Mrs. Lovett wrapped her arms around him tightly. "Oh, it's not that dear, it's not that; and I know you didn't mean it." She said, sniffling.
"Then wots wrong?" Toby asked.
"Oh, it's nothing you need to worry 'bout, love." She said, giving him a pat on the head and then wiped the tears from her eyes.
He hated it when she kept things from him, but he thought it best not to argue with her. He really wanted to know what she was so upset about. If it wasn't him, then what was it? Was it something that happened with one of the customers that came into the shop or, dare he even think, something about Mr. Todd. He shuddered at the thought, but Mrs. Lovett didn't seem to notice.
Mrs. Lovett wrapped her arms around him tighter and ruffled his hair.
"Now, isn't this a nice change from sitting in your room all day?" she asked.
Toby nodded.
"Oh, darling, it makes me so sad to see you so gloomy all the time. I hate seeing you like that."
Toby merely sighed, not knowing what kind of answer to give her.
After not getting any answer from him, she decided to drop the subject, not wanting to upset him any further. Instead she gave him a kiss on the top of the head and hugged him a bit tighter. Toby snuggled closer to her and together they watched as the fire slowly burned down in the fireplace.
A little after midnight, Toby had fallen asleep and Mrs. Lovett decided to head off to bed. She gently placed a pillow under his head and covered him up with a blanket.
"Good night, sweet heart." She whisper softy as she gave him a kiss on the cheek. As she went to go to her bed room, she heard a knock on the shop door.
"Now who in creation is knocking on the door this late at night?" She thought out loud.
She went into the shop and opened the door to see who it was.
"Mrs. Lovett?" said the gruff voice of the stranger outside.
Mrs. Lovett looked hard at the shadowy figure standing at the door, trying to figure out who it was. She placed her hand over her mouth, as if to suppress a scream.
"Mr. Todd!" she gasped.