Chapter 3

For Mrs. Lovett the horror didn't seem to end. Turpin was hurting her in the most terrible way, yet he wasn't even doing what she feared most.

She was unable of moving and she couldn't even scream anymore since her throat ached so much.

The baker had never been a religious person. She went to church because it was expected of her, but she had never believed in God and she had never done more than mumble the prayers along with the crowd. But now, she begged Him to end this, no matter how. Even if she'd have to die, she'd rather so that than go through this for one more second.

Because her mind was so far away from what was happening to her body, she didn't notice at first that one of her legs was released. But then, to her bewilderment, both her arms were free too. Someone screamed, but this time it wasn't her. The sound stopped quickly and abruptly.

Mrs. Lovett dared to open her eyes and looked up. Blood was the first thing she saw. It was everywhere. On the table; on the chairs, which were lying randomly on the floor; on the floor itself and even on her.

The source of all the blood was the bodies of the men who had pinned her to the table. Or at least, that was what Mrs. Lovett thought. But when she looked at Peter Turpin (or what was left of him), she realized that most of the blood must been from him. Not only his throat was cut like the others, but his body had been stabbed numerous times.

However, the one who was covered in blood most was the only other living person in the room.

Wide-eyed, Mrs. Lovett watched her savior, not believing that of all people, he had come to rescue her.

"You…" she muttered, overwhelmed with so many feelings at the same time that it was too much to bear.

"Yes, me," was all Sweeney Todd said.

Gently he helped her sit up, pretending not to see her torn clothes.

He wrapped his arms around his landlady. In all other circumstances she would've questioned the uncharacteristic gesture of friendship and trust from the demon barber towards her, but now her life was so upside down that it was the least of her sorrows. Although the worst part was over, the baker trembled violently.

Sweeney comforted her with soft and reassuring words, which were strange to hear from his mouth, but at the same time they sounded very right.

Mrs. Lovett clung to him as if the nightmare would come back if she ever let him go.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly after a few minutes.

She was unable to speak again, but inwardly she screamed no.

He sensed it somehow and just held her small body, which was shaking now that the tears had finally found a way out and her brain slowly but surely started to realize what had happened.

"I'm sorry I didn't come earlier," he said while patting her back gently. "When I heard you screaming, I went here as fast as I could, but…"

"It's alright Mr. T," Mrs. Lovett sobbed against his chest. "If you wouldn't have come, then…"

Another wave of grief hid her and Sweeney kept holding her, making sure not to touch her too intimately.

Minutes later, the tears finally stopped falling.

"Why did you come?" She didn't know why she asked it, but she did. "You don't care for me, no matter how much I want that to be different. Yet, you risked your life to save me… why?"

He was silent for such a long time, that she thought he wouldn't reply.

"It was the scream," he finally said. "It was exactly how I had imagined what Lucy's scream must've sounded like. During all those long hours in the night, I always wonder how…"

He shook his head, as if he wanted to get rid of those memories.

"I couldn't save Lucy, but I can save you," he said, staring to his feet.

The thought that – again – Lucy was the reason behind his actions didn't bother Mrs. Lovett at that moment. To be held in such a way was an incredible relief. The demon barber knew exactly how to hold her and comfort her. She wanted to savour the feeling; even in this situation she realized how unique the behaviour of the barber was. But she was too exhausted.

Lulled by the barber's words and the feeling of his heart beating firmly, she dozed off. She didn't notice how Mr. Todd brought her to her bedroom, helped her to get in bed and pulled a blanket securely over her body. Then he walked out of her room, quietly, to make sure he wouldn't wake her.

Despite the sleep, Mrs. Lovett didn't find the oblivion she craved. In her dreams Peter Turpin and his friends broke in her shop again, forced her down once more, this time not stopped by Sweeney Todd.

She spent the darkest hours of the night restlessly, sometimes screaming in fear or disgust. When the dawn broke, both her body and mind weren't able to handle the nightmares anymore. Thankfully, she allowed herself to fall in black emptiness.

The following day, she woke in the afternoon. For one heavenly second, she didn't remember what had happened, she only wondered why she felt so horrible and why her body ached. But when she noticed the remains of her clothes that fell shapelessly around her, every disgusting detail of the past night hit her, explaining why she intuitively felt so terrible.

Then, she found out that there was someone lying next to her and his arm was around her waist.

Mrs. Lovett screamed, thinking that the memory of Sweeney Todd saving her was only an illusion, created by her desperate mind, and that she was still about to be raped.

"Don't worry," a voice mumbled sleepily. "It's just me."

"Mr. T?" she didn't know how to react to this new threat. "What are you… why are you in my bed?!"

Only one day ago she would never have dared to ask that question in this situation; she would've been immensely grateful if he finally showed some sign of interest in her. But last night's events had changed things dramatically. Mrs. Lovett didn't trust men anymore, not even the former Benjamin Barker. He was a man after all and that type had gone too far by hurting her in the worst way possible.

"I'm so sorry," he said quickly. "I don't want to scare you. You know I didn't intend to sleep in your bed, but you kept screaming in your sleep. I couldn't stand it. When I was here to see how you were doing, I…"
"You did what?!" she asked, knowing it couldn't be good since he stared at the ground in embarrassment.

"You took my hand and told me you would never let go."

"I can't have," she said firmly, shaking her head in disbelief. "I was asleep."

"Maybe…"

Mr. Todd showed her his forearm, where there were four red lines, obviously caused by digging nails from a small hand.

"But I never…"

"Shut up," he growled, sounding again like the demon barber that she knew so well. "I did this for you. I pitied you. I was watching over you, but only to comfort you, to do you a favour. But I fell asleep in your bed, I couldn't help it. Like you know, I'm a married man. Even though I said my vows more than twenty years ago and my wife's dead, she still is my wife. I won't betray her, no matter what she might've…"

"What did she do?" Mrs. Lovett asked quietly, suddenly curious about the woman who had been through the same things as the baker herself had been through: the only difference was that it had been worse in Lucy's situation.

"It's none of your business," he snarled, obviously mentally slapping himself for mentioning his wife.

Mrs. Lovett unconsciously shuddered at his outburst. Mr. Todd noticed, and his look of annoyance was replaced by one of compassion.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

"Don't worry," she said, relieved now that he wasn't so harsh anymore. "I'd never have been able to sleep if you weren't here, I think."

He nodded, trying to look nonchalant, but there was something in his eyes… Mrs. Lovett had been focused so much on things like this in the past that she recognized the look in his eyes now. Despite the situation, he couldn't fool her.

"You liked it too," she said breathlessly, the realization of this allowing her to forget about what she had been through for the shortest moment. "You enjoyed lying next to me."

She couldn't believe it and she wasn't sure if she wanted to. Sweeney Todd was called the demon barber for a reason and if there was one thing she didn't want, it was being threatened again in the same way as the previous day.

Mr. Todd didn't notice the look of confusion in her face.

"Your warmth…" he said, almost inaudible, before he closed his mouth, realizing he had spoken this thought aloud.

No matter how happy this would've made her in the past, she didn't feel good about it now – besides, she was sure she would never feel good again.

Quickly she stood up from the bed, wanting more space between them. Understanding the hint, he got out of her bed too, revealing he was only wearing his pants; he had pulled of his blood soaked shirt last night and hadn't had the time to find another.

Mrs. Lovett had desired to see him this way in the past, but now she felt nothing but repulse when the memories of Peter Turpin forcing himself on her hit her again.

Bluntly she turned her head away from him, not sensing his confusion.

"Take a bath," was all he said before he picked up his shirt and left her room quickly.
"I can't," she said to his retreating back. "The shop has to be opened."

"Yes, let's open the shop," he said sarcastically, turning around to face her. "Your beloved customers will get hungry when they see the corpses and blood."

"Haven't you…"

She blushed in shame because she had automatically expected him to have removed the bodies from the shop and cleaned everything.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, her cheeks burning.

"You don't have to worry about that," he said, acting friendly again. "The shop is closed. I'll take care of everything. Just try to sleep some more first and then take a bath. You might feel better then."

After that, he left the bedroom.

She let herself fall back on the bed and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the scenes from the previous night that played in her head again and again.

Then the consequences of the massacre in her shop dawned on her. The customers, the furniture, the unsold pies, Toby, the barber shop…

But Mr. Todd had said that he would take care of it and that was very reassuring. He probably only did so to be able to continue killing his own customers, but it didn't really matter. He had saved her and he looked after her now instead of the other way around. Because he was near, she dared trying to sleep again.

"Thank you, Mr. T," she murmured before she closed her eyes again, thinking that he would never hear her.

But he did. The slightest hint of a smile reached his face when she spoke so gently.

Only when he was sure that she was sleeping as peacefully as was possible in her situation did he close the bedroom door while wondering why the ill fate of the woman had had such an impact on him.