Chapter 5
The days passed slowly, tortuously, until Sweeney was almost welcoming the arrival of Lewis and Marjorie, just for a little excitement. The random appearances of Mrs. Lovett hardly fazed him anymore, he had come to terms with his insanity. It was hardly unexpected, given his former line of work. Then again, she hadn't done anything particularly nasty lately. Most of the time, she just darted in and out of his vision, more like a shadow than anything else. Was she planning something? He sincerely hoped not, but that was probably too much optimism on his part.
Sweeney massaged his temples wearily as he paced the small room. Lewis was supposed to be here soon, where was the brat? He glanced out the window, and there he was, alone, strangely, but there was probably some explanation for that. He plodded downstairs wearily to meet the overeager boy.
Lewis was very different from the last time Sweeney had seen him. His face was rough and circles had formed under his red-rimmed eyes. As Sweeney opened the door, they brimmed over with tears.
"Mr. Todd, I won't be needing those rooms," he said, a hangdog look replacing the puppy one.
"Why?" said Sweeney in a bored tone.
"Marjorie...she's..." His voice dissolved in a storm of tears as Lewis clutched hold of the door frame to keep himself upright. Sweeney sighed and leaned against the booth near the door, waiting for his answer. "She's dead. She was hit by a carriage three days ago." Sweeney heard a sharp intake of breath beside him and then footsteps running up the stairs.
"I'm sorry for your loss," he said in a monotone. He knew he should probably offer the boy a glass of gin or something, but he didn't feel like making conversation. So he just shut the door in Lewis's face.
Nellie
Nellie ran up the stairs, trying to keep her sobs inside until she was alone. The minute she reached her old bedroom, she collapsed in a heap of silver and black on her bed, crying like she never had before. She heard the door shut and a brief flash of disapproval crossed her mind, but it was soon lost in tears.
"Whatever is the matter?" soothed her Voice. "Were you really that desperate for company?" Nellie mumbled something unintelligible, but it sounded rather insulting. The Voice retracted in a cloud of displeasure.
Sweeney
Sweeney heard Nellie crying, but he couldn't imagine why. Was she really that sensitive? Oh, well. It wasn't his problem. He pulled on his leather coat and headed out for a meat pie at Mrs. Mooney's. His own attempts at cooking had been disastrous.
A little ways down the street, he realized that Nellie had followed him. She was a mess, similar to Lewis, actually.
"What is it now?" he sighed exasperatedly from the corner of his mouth. She hissed a couple of choice phrases at him. "What did I do?"
"You don't know who Marjorie is, do you?" she said, even as she thought, Well, how could he? I don't even know for sure... He looked utterly nonplussed.
"No..." She slapped him with an insubstantial hand. Far from hurting, it merely gave the impression that Sweeney had just stuck his face in a bucket of ice water.
"She was my daughter." Sweeney stopped. That was unexpected. But in a way, it made sense. That was why she'd wanted Lewis to stay!
"How do you know? You've never even met the girl." She shrugged and studiously contemplated the ground.
"You have absolutely no idea, do you?" Sweeney said.
"I do know! I think I would know my own daughter! But of course, you wouldn't know, would you? Your daughter lives with a rapist! Your spouse killed herself! And you know what? It's all your fault!"
Nellie knew the minute those words had come out of her mouth that she had gone way too far. That was low, even for her, and she had just opened her mouth to apologize when Sweeney ripped his razor from the leather holster on his hip.
Nellie could have insulted him all day long and he wouldn't have cared. But nobody, nobody, could get away with blaming Lucy and Johanna on him. That was unthinkable, his breaking point.
So he screamed at her words the prison guards had used as they abused disorderly prisoners, screamed words he had learned from sailors on the voyage home, screamed words he had just learned from Nellie, words he made up on the spot even, all the while slashing his razor through what seemed to be empty space. Strangers shrieked and tumbled out of the way, bright red lines appearing on several bodies as they failed to get out of the way fast enough. Someone ran for the police, who came up from behind and seized his arms, hitting him roughly over the head, sending him spinning down into unconciousness.