15. Lower
Only the most privileged stay at the top of the hole. The rest of the population is left to squander in the depths of filth and poverty. This is a fact Sweeney Todd has learnt the hard way.
Benjamin Barker was too blind to see this. He was a foolish man, whose rose-tinted vision would not allow him to see things for what they really were. He'd thought that everyone had the ability to climb up out of that pit; if they put their mind to it, they could be someone. Not true. Perhaps if he hadn't been so naïve, he would still have Lucy.
Sweeney Todd will always be at the bottom of the pile, a lowly barber. But he has power that the people of London know nothing of: he wields death in his hand, practising a well-rehearsed dance with the baker who lives below him, smiling blandly to the outside world. Of course, this dance becomes a burden sometimes, and Todd can feel the shackles around his wrists biting into his flesh, chaining him forever to Nellie Lovett. She for one doesn't seem to mind this, welcomes the pain of the irons, but Todd finds it distasteful. Wrong. It is one thing to share her bed when times become too hard to forget and he yearns for oblivion, one thing to dance this well-choreographed piece of art, one thing to have her undying loyalty, but another thing entirely for her to expect him to be with her forever. For her to expect him to love her when she knows the heart of Sweeney Todd beats for no one—an organ that just exists in a dead man's chest.
His murders have ensured him a reserved place in Hell, but the thought does not leave him with fear in his heart, like it would any ordinary man. Of course, any ordinary man is not Hell itself personified, like Sweeney Todd is. He does the work of a demon, spilling the blood of mortals, rich and poor alike. There is no difference in the colour of their blood. Wealth sets the classes apart, but the rich still bleed like the poor. Mrs. Lovett—the Devil's wife—bakes the remains of the men into pies while the rest of the city devour each other unknowingly, a devious smile upon her wasted face as she watches. She is as sadistic as Todd himself is, and she will be by his side for all eternity. The thought curls his lip disdainfully. He wishes he could break free, but he can't.
Because his lust for blood is never quenched.
He may be going to Hell for his crimes, may be condemned to burn in the fires of its pits, but nothing in existence can be worse than the pit of London.
He can get no lower.