"It's only been a week, love."
I batted Mrs Lovett away, unable to properly argue with her.
"Yeh've gotta 'ave a bit of patience, Mr T. The police are doing their best."
"Not good enough," I mumbled. Mrs Lovett sighed, patting my shoulder. I was defenceless against her little pats and embraces. I could not help that she was enjoying my illness and suffering.
"Sure enough she'll be 'ere by the end of the week."
"You're repeating yourself."
"That's because I know what I'm talking about, love."
I did not bother with a reply. I tried to push her away, but my arms had no strength left in them. I could not count how many times I had, in the past seven days, I had looked at my arms in a vain attempt to summon their strength.
"Suppose Yeh'll be 'ungry, won't yeh love?"
"No."
"Yeh need to build up your strength."
"I did well enough without nourishment before even Johanna. I'll survive now."
Mrs Lovett tutted, stroking my hair back from my forehead. It irritated me extremely. Why must she treat me as hers? She knew very well the idea was ludicrous. Or, at least, I myself had made the message clear more than enough times.
She left me for a brief second- one that I absorbed gratefully- and returned soon enough with a bowl of soup and a pie. I turned my nose up.
"You honestly think I'm going to eat that?"
"Yeh need nourishing dear."
"I killed that for you, Mrs Lovett."
She nodded slowly.
"Ah. Never thought of that."
"Of course you didn't."
She smiled still, picking up a spoon from the tray she had carried and trying to feed me. I turned my cheek, closing my eyes.
"Leave me be, woman. I can't stand you pestering me."
"If I didn't pester yeh yeh'd get no better."
"I beg to differ," I said curtly.
Mrs Lovett only chuckled, oblivious to my annoyance. I clenched my fists.
"Must I tell you even one more time?"
"I'm sure yeh will, love."
"Then leave-"
With that, the spoon was thrust into my mouth. I hadn't the reflex action- something that had left me pitifully long ago to defy pain- to gag and splutter, so instead calmly pushed the arm aside. At least, by calm, I mean that I was in control of doing so. I was in a literal sense livid.
"I have told you, Mrs Lovett. Leave me be and do not return until I call upon you!"
The woman blinked twice, as if finally understanding me. Her brow furrowed slightly.
"If that's what yeh want, Mr T."
I growled lowly, making my point known. She left me be finally, yet leaving the supper tray she had brought me sitting on the desk. I looked towards it. Better yet, I looked at the picture that sat beside it. I took comfort in knowing that my Lucy was still looking at me. Soon enough, my Johanna would be too. I knew that all of Mrs Lovett's petty comforts were based on hr own imagination of a happier place, but I could not help but pray that they would become true.
I groaned, leaning up as much as I could in the bed I had been retired to. I pushed the sheets away, swinging my feet off the bed and onto the floor. My hand reached out for the walking stick that Mrs Lovett had placed by my bedside, in case my annoyance drove me to walking. It was a shame I had not before this realised it was there, for it should have made a marvellous weapon.
Leaning against the stick for support, I moved towards the desk, then picking up the photo frame holding my wife. If I could have done so, a small smile would have broken upon my lips, but however much I tried it would not happen. I tried to squeeze a tear for my deceased beloved, but no matter how much I wished for it it would not happen. With a groan of dismay, I placed the frame back onto the desk.
The sun was setting, and I looked out of the large window as the sky started to bleed a deep, bloody red. It almost reminded me of the satisfaction I had after murdering a man. Yet simply watching this sunset did not soothe my cravings for blood at all.
Faint tapping came from downstairs, which I assumed were simply footsteps. I clenched my fist around the walking stick handle, gritting my teeth. The rhythmic tapping was enough to make me enraged. I deeply took breath, letting it slip back through my lips in an almost low whistle.
"It'll do you no good," I said to myself, my voice hoarse and quiet. "Calm yourself. Man may not die until you are well again."
My lips turned up in a cruel grin. Of course. If the Lord was ill, he would never be able to create those who deserved it. If a demon were ill, those that deserved it would never die. I had no choice but to stay as calm and composed as I could possibly manage.
No matter how pure I had been before, I could not allow a world of Benjamin Barkers.
Even worse to allow a world of Judge Turpins.
I looked briefly at the bowl of soup Mrs Lovett had left. I did not even bother looking at the pie.
I wondered how long it had been since I had last eaten. It was obvious I had never thought of the idea since I had returned to London, and I had not even taken a crumb while I was on the ship with Anthony. Australia's prison was not very trustworthy with its food- so I had learnt after a few years.
Anger rose in me again. How dare I be so weak to wish for such petty things like food after such proof that I could survive? No, it was not that I wished for the soup. It was a curiosity. A young child will often take a stick of carrot without need of a parent's coercing, simply because he is curious. I was no child, and this was no bowl of carrots, but the same principles applied.
Slowly, my hand reached out to the spoon, dipping it into the bowl. Once full, I raised it to my eye level. It was a curious thing. I had concentrated in the past few seconds on the idea of eating, and yet I had never seen a simple thing like cutlery up close since so long ago either. Even in the prison we were told to eat with our hands- a hard thing to do with watery porridge and soup, which was almost frozen.
Closing my eyes calmly, I put the spoon to my mouth, and let the warm liquid flow down my throat. There was a moment in which I was soothed slightly, not knowing quite what to think.
Suddenly, I grabbed my throat, the spoon clattering to the floor. I choked on the substance for a moment, and then started gasping for breath.
.
"Mrs- Lovett!" I hollered, my voice harsh and husky. It was a matter of time before she came running up the steps.
"What's the matter, love? Yeh called?"
My breath came haggardly.
"Love? What's the matter with yeh?"
She tentatively moved towards me, a wary countenance upon her due to my state. I leant over my desk, shuddering. The moment she was within my grasp, though, my hand flew at her neck.
"What did you put in that soup?"
"The soup? Nothing, love. It's only vegetables and water, I swear."
"You're lying to me!" My hand tightened, causing a gasp to escape from her.
"I wouldn't, Mr T. Yeh know me well enough, don't yeh?"
Her eyes almost pleaded with me, but it only raised my anger. I felt as if my stomach was caving in on itself, eating away at me. I couldn't stand it. With a groan, my knees started to quake beneath me. My hand slipped from her throat, causing me to fall to the floor.
"Mr T!"
"You've- done- this- to- me!"
She shook her head fiercely, enough so it must by all physical laws have broken.
"No, love, I'd never- yeh know I'd never. Now stop all this nonsense and let me 'elp yeh up."
A pathetic growl released from my throat, but Mrs Lovett took no notice and started to heave me up again to the best of her ability. It was a simple push and she fell to the floor again.
"Just go," I said quietly.
"Yeh need some 'elp, love. Yeh're sweating something chronic."
"I don't need to warn you one more time, Mrs Lovett, do I?"
She swallowed thickly, but pressed on determinedly. Her arms hooked around me a last time, but this time my patience was beyond breaking point. I shrugged her off fiercely and she was lying on the floor again almost automatically, both of my hands around her neck. Her eyes were wide as she looked up at my countenance.
"When I tell you to leave me alone, Mrs Lovett, it is in your best interest you don't ignore those wishes."
"But-"
A yelp echoed through the room as I tightened my grip.
"Do you understand me, Mrs Lovett?"
"Yes," she managed to croak.
All of a sudden, there was a knock at the door. My hands snapped back to my side quickly, and the nausea returned. I groaned once in annoyance.
"Enter."
The door opened slowly, and there appeared the policeman who I had contacted about Johanna. I looked up, the thoughts of all those times I had been spoken to simply because she had still not be found.
"Yes, officer?"
"Mr Todd, I-" The man stopped, looking at Mrs Lovett who still was rather flustered, gasping for breath.
"'ave I disturbed you in any way, sir?"
"No! No, she simply slipped on a rag."
"Yes, 'course, that's it," she muttered under her breath, standing and nodding to the officer. "Do yeh 'ave any more news, officer?"
The man bit his lip, looking at me.
"Well, that's wot I wanted to talk to yeh for, Mr Todd."
I grabbed my walking stick, hoisting myself up to stand. The officer had aged so much over the years that I towered above him with little effort of standing properly.
"Go on."
"Well, we were given some facts about a few days ago, yeh see-"
"Why wasn't I contacted?" I asked abruptly. The officer almost jumped.
"That's wot I mean, Mr Todd. Why we wanted to talk to yeh."
"What was said?"
"Young girl of about yeh're daughters age was seen out near t'other side of London."
"And?"
"Sweet little thing. Blonde 'air and all. Think someone said she was with a lad, not much older, really. Twenty, at the most."
At this, I straightened a little.
"Twenty, you say?"
"Yeah, something like that."
"Do you know anything more about this lad?"
The officer put his hand to his chin, rubbing the bristles. I longed for a moment to offer him a shave, but I shouldn't have found out that which I needed to know.
"As a matter of fact, I think I do. Yeh, came into the station about three months ago, asking about some asylum."
"And?"
"Didn't seem too bright, really."
"Did he give you any details? Any…friends, any…just, anything?"
"I think 'e might 'ave. Lives down by the old Oakley's Spectacle shop. Only 'ouse down that street if I recall."
With that, I grabbed my coat and very nearly pushed the officer out of my way as I charged from the door. The pain that enveloped my usually unfeeling shell of a body was gone, and the strength that enraptured me every time I held my razor to a man's throat. My teeth were gritted, my fists clenched.
This time, I was sure.
She wouldn't leave my sight.
Ever again.