Chapter 3:
Newfound Friends
The show soon came to a close, and Mrs. Lovett turned to confront Mr. Todd, Tobias holding onto her hand, almost for dear life. "Mr. T! Now, what was that all about?!" she shot him a most disapproving look, and with a hand on her hip, added, "What are ye goin' ta do if that poor man comes in wit' 'im?". Mr. Todd was silent for a moment. He drew a hand back out from under his jacket, and placed it lightly on her shoulder. Finally looking her in the eyes with his dark and brooding face, he answered, "It is your choice to distract him, Mrs. Lovett. Remember that.". Tobias shivered on hearing this, but managed to keep himself from saying anything about it just yet.
Sweeney then began to make his way through the bustling crowds ahead of them. Mrs. Lovett sighed audibly, with a look of slight agitation on her face, and began to follow, with Tobias keeping up, albeit a bit unwillingly, just behind her. Tobias had truly wanted someone to save that man, but not Sweeney. Anyone but Sweeney. As a matter of fact, Tobias had spent a good few minutes already, trying to come up with a way in which he could free the man, before Sweeney had invited the carnies to his shop. "'E's gonna kill the man, ah jes' know it, marm!" he half whispered aloud to Mrs. Lovett, looking lost in contemplation and concerned at the same time. Mrs. Lovett slowed down a bit and gave Tobias a reassuring look, "Now, love, why would ye ever suspec' that? Mr. T's always done nothin' but good!". "Ah-Ah don' really know," Tobias shrugged a bit, "Ah kin jes' feel it...". Mrs. Lovett gave his hand a motherly squeeze, smiled, and replied sweetly, "Sometimes, people do 'ave 'unches, love, but they're not always right.". "'Ow abou' this, love?" she continued, "When we get 'ome, 'ow abou' ye an' me sit together nice an' cozy like at me piano in the parlor, an' 'ave us some fun singin' songs an' th' like? Won' that be fun, love?".
Tobias nodded a bit sullenly, and now satisfied, Mrs. Lovett led him to catch up to Sweeney. Edward, of course, remained behind, and had to force himself not to cry more painful tears as the two men corralled him back into the darkened, confined space. "... Please... Let me go..." he pleaded softly, snipping his fingers at a slower, more depressed pace. "Why th' 'ell should we, freak?!" yelled Sanders, pushing him back, "Ye'r be'er off 'ere! Wi' ye'r own freakish kin'!". Barnum laughed darkly from behind Sanders, keeping any visible exits blocked and generally intimidating poor Edward.
He attempted once more to slip his hands through the rope around his wrists as the men cornered him and began to lock him in again. It still refused to budge. He should have known. "What should I do?" he whined inside his own head, "I… Don't want to be here…". He allowed himself to let out a very drawn out sigh, and slumped up against the back wall. Edward sat there quietly, legs crossed, draping his arms over his knees, slowly exercising his fingers back and forth. Time slowly slipped past him in this lonely space, but he eventually slipped into a peaceful slumber, and… He dreamed.
He dreamed of a pair of human hands. Not hands like the ones his father had tried to present to him, because they were blanched… And they were cold like his metal fingers. These hands were firmly grasping his wrists, almost reprimanding, but all Edward could think to care about was that these hands needed just as much help as his own. They were firm, strong, and well enough alive, but he could somehow tell that they were saddened, disturbed, and somewhat insecure. He got the feeling that these hands, though he had scissors for hands himself, were hands he could fix for someone else.
That night, Sweeney had stayed awake into the wee hours of the morning, sitting up in bed, constantly thinking of how he would do away with the next day's visitors. When he finally did sleep, for the twentieth time that month, he had a nightmare. But this nightmare was somehow different. His usual ones held him captive within a twisting, turning, maze in which at the end he could hear Lucy's voice. But every time he had early reached her, another dead end would spring up inevitably, and sometimes the walls of the maze would turn pitch black, ooze over with gallons of blood, and scream almost endlessly into his ears.
But this new nightmare was drastically different. It was filled with total solitude, and he found himself locked away in a pitch black room with no light. A creeping cold suddenly began to work it's way up through each of his fingers, and he could sense pungent feelings of depression, and of lost love. He figured it was simply his subconscious' new way of reminding him of how much he had missed his dear wife Lucy. Sweeney was startled a bit abruptly however, when voices began to leak through the walls, getting louder as the seconds ticked by.
"Oh my… Those are your hands? Those are your hands…"
"And this is our daughter, Kim, all dressed up for the senior prom… Isn't she beautiful?"
"I don't know what it is… They reach a certain age, they develop these gland things… Their bodies swell up- pffffff… They go crazy…"
"No! Jim! I don't love you anymore, okay?! Just GO!"
"Get the hell outta here! Get the hell out! Go! Freak!"
"Hold me…"
"I can't…"
"Goodbye…"
"I love you…"
Sweeney had absolutely no idea who these voices were, and he was certain he had never heard them from anyone before. They seemed to be telling a story, but one which he could not fathom why it would be in his own head. All he could be sure of was that whatever story they were telling, it was similar to his own in that it was a tale of happiness and heartbreak. Much like his own, the villain was the one who really won somehow in the end, but the difference seemed to be that the main character here did not turn to murder for the rest of his life. Sweeney had no idea why, there was just a feeling telling him so.
Eventually, Edward awoke to see small slivers of sunlight pouring down through various cracks in the door that the men had locked the day before. He could hear nothing, and as he watched tiny particles of dust quietly float down through the light, he could not help but feel like the day was almost ethereal. Edward awoke having the unexplainable feeling that today was going to change his life for the better. A glad little smile showed up on his pale features, but it faded fast when he once again heard the voices of his captors. "So, Mr. Barnum, ah was wonderin' if'n ye wouldn' like ta join me on mah li'l visit ta the barber taday?" Sanders' rough voice leaked through the locked door.
"Why, ah'd be honored, mah good friend!" replied Mr. Barnum, amusement evident in his voice. Edward could not help but wonder if they would leave him there or if he would have to go with them. He half hoped that they would just leave him behind, but he did not wish to be left behind locked up in this box. As they chatted lazily away about their plans for the day, Edward stood up and approached the door to take a peek at some of the crevices through which the light came. He found that one of them was just wide enough for him to slip a finger blade through and begin to try to pry the door open, but he resolved to wait to try this until the two men were far away.
Mr. Sanders, looking fairly jovial, made his way out of his caravan, with Mr. Barnum following close behind. The two of them picked up their canes as they left, and Mr. Sanders led the way out of the now empty market place. The time was late morning, quite close to lunch time, which meant that all of the restaurants would be open. Perfect timing to go and get a shave, the two of them thought, as they could probably get a bite to eat once they were out.
Edward waited until their voices and footsteps faded away into the distance before he stuck an index finger into the crack and began to wiggle it around. After a few minutes of ceaseless tampering, the door finally began to slowly lean outward, and then with an odd creak and a loud crash, fell to the stage floor in front of Edward's toes. "I'm free!" he thought, excitedly snipping his finger blades, as he looked all around himself at the empty London market place. He took a few careful steps out, into the sun light, and seeing that no one was around to apprehend him again, made his way around the fallen door and down the stage steps. After this, he stopped for a moment, wondering which way he might have to go to make it back to his own home. He did not want to risk being caught and used as a side show ever again. It had made him feel worthless, embarrassed, even. Reminded him of how the people of suburbia had treated him from time to time.
However, being toted through London in that darkened crate had made it to where Edward had no real inkling of the direction he had come from, but he had no intention of waiting for those men to return, so he rushed himself into another darkened alley way. It was wet, his feet making audible splashing noises against the wet brick roads, and foul smells once again reached him. Even so, he decided it would be much better to keep moving in the shadows rather than risk being seen again, so he took whatever odd alley ways he could find.
Sweeney had just washed up for the morning, gotten dressed, and had headed downstairs for breakfast at Mrs. Lovett's Pie Shop. He sat himself down silently at one of Lovett's tables and stayed there, not saying a word, just brooding, as usual. Except, for once, he was distracted from his vengeance. "What did those voices really mean…?" he accidentally whispered, as Mrs. Lovett was setting down a tray of gin, biscuits, and butter. "What was that, love?" Nellie chimed, perplexed by the thought that Mr. Todd was now hearing voices, of all things. She sat herself down, directly across from him, and looked at him quizzically as she set out plates of food for the both of them and poured their drinks.
Sweeney preferred not to discuss the matter with anyone just yet, so his only response was a low, "Nothing, madam. Just a remnant of a dream I 'ad this morning.". As he said this, he took up a newly poured glass of gin and began to raise it to his lips. Nellie only scooted backward a bit in her seat, disappointed that Mr. Todd seemed unwilling to talk, and turned the conversation to something else. "Well, that's nice, dear…" she mused, spreading some butter onto a biscuit with a knife as she spoke, "Ah found li'l Toby sound asleep just this mornin' in the parlor with 'alf another bottle of gin in 'is 'and…". This was only the beginning of breakfast. Since Sweeney did not usually issue forth much banter himself anyway, it was not unusual for Mrs. Lovett to continue talking about little things, and before they knew it, breakfast was finished and Mrs. Lovett had begun clearing away their dishes.
Edward began to feel like staying in the alley ways was getting somewhat stuffy and hard to breath in, so he finally broke down and decided to head for an exit. However, something made him stop half way out. "What was… What was that dream… all about?" his body stiffened slightly. His father had once told him that sometimes, dreams were premonitions of what was to come, but Edward was admittedly a little afraid of what kind of person those hands from the dream might have belonged to. As he leaned against the alley wall and pondered whether or not he should proceed and find this person, he again picked up the voices of his captors, coming closer. Edward had no idea what to do. He was trembling, afraid of being caught again, and was frozen to the spot.
Fortunately for him, they passed right by the alley way he was in and continued on, until they stopped somewhere down the street. "Ah think ah see th' barber shop… Right up there!" exclaimed Mr. Barnum, pointing Mr. Sanders in the right direction. "Jolly! Right then, let us go on up, Mr. Barnum." grinned Mr. Sanders, as he began to approach the steps on the side wall of Mrs. Lovett's Pie Shop. Hearing their voices just outside, Sweeney rose from the table and turned to glance through the window at them, as if to reassure himself that he would finally get to shed some blood again. He glared a little at them as they strolled past, but they seemed not to notice, and continued chatting up the steps to the shop.
"I'll be in the shop for a bit.", he said darkly before going out to let them into his shop. Nellie was busying herself at the pie counter once again, mixing ingredients in a bowl her, rolling dough out there, and scrubbing the surface clean with a rag somewhere in between. An adorable little yawn sounded out from the hallway just behind her, followed by, "Good mornin', marm. There anythin' I can do ta help?". "Good mornin', Toby!", she grinned as she plopped down another wad of dough to be smoothed and rolled out, "Ye can start helpin' me by goin' down ta the bake 'ouse an' openin' th' door. Ah need ta get this tray inta me oven before the crust dries out.". Rubbing his eyes and stifling another yawn, he replied sleepily with a "Yes, marm." and willingly went down the stairs to the bake house to get the door for Mrs. Lovett.
Once the men's voices finally disappeared all together, Edward could feel motion returning to his feet, and he made a dash for the nearest building in which he thought he might be able to hide- the pie shop. He quickly pushed open the side door, which Sweeney had left ajar, with his backside and sat tight at the nearest table, nervously hiding his scissors under the table top. It could not stop the racket they made together, though.
Snip, snip, snip, snip, snip, snip, snip, snip, snip…
Mrs. Lovett had gone already into the bake house to put the new batch of pies into the oven, and was just now making her way back up the steps. Edward could hear the approaching foot steps, and he began to cower again. His shoulders hunched a little and he cringed, fearing the worst. Fearing he might frighten someone again. Meanwhile, Sweeney was upstairs, sweet talking his victims, charming them into a false sense of security. "I see you two gentlemen drew quite an impressive crowd yesterday," he began, "Small wonder you would both be in need of a shave… To make yourselves more… presentable.". He tried to hide a sinister smile as he went over to his vanity and began to pull out creams, brushes and powders for his so-called customers.
"Ye bet, sir. Ye know, we are so glad ta 'ave been invited for a shave." grinned Sanders as he and Barnum removed their own coats and propped their canes up against the wall. Barnum then added, as Sanders clambered up onto the chair, "Yeah, ye can be sure our kinda business always requires us ta be clean-shaven.". "A great motto for business upkeep, if I do say so myself." commented Sweeney as he began to lather shaving cream onto Mr. Sander's chin and neck areas. Then, Sweeney dropped the conversation and began to concentrate solely on striking his new victims. He began to absent-mindedly hum in time with Mr. Sanders as his inner anger slowly boiled.
When Mr. Sanders and Mr. Barnum were both at their most sleep-like points, Sweeney raised his right arm and brought his razor down across Mr. Sanders' neck with such finesse that he could have been putting on a show. Mr. Sanders frantically grabbed for his neck, convulsed and coughed up streams of blood as a crimson shower rained forth from the slit in his neck. Mr. Barnum snapped out of his delusion, yelled almost incoherently at the top of his lungs, and threw himself at Sweeney. Thinking fast, Sweeney positioned his razor just so that when the man fell on him, he would be stabbed in the gut, and Sweeney would be able to double him over onto the floor. Within the next moment, Mr. Barnum lay out on the floor, Sweeney straddling him to hold him in place, and another shower of blood sprayed forth as Sweeney slid the razor across his throat as well.
In the pie shop below, Mrs. Lovett stopped in her tracks when she saw the strange man from the day before sitting in her shop, looking at her with such a terrified expression that it tugged at her heart. Immediately, she went over to him with a tray holding a pie and a cup of gin. "'Ello there, dear!", she grinned warmly, "What brings ye 'ere?". It dawned on Edward that he had seen this woman's face in the crowd the day before, so it would be no surprise to her to find out about his hands. "I… ran away…" he stated shyly, looking with small wonder at the meal she was setting out for him. Just then, there was a loud thud from the second floor, and muffled screaming. Startled, Edward stood right up and stated, "I… I shouldn't be here…" before trying to shuffle towards the door. But he was stopped when Mrs. Lovett gently took hold of one of his wrists, and said, "Now, now, dear. Ye jes' sit down 'ere an' tell auntie Nellie all about yer troubles. Ain't nothin' up there makin' noise except the 'ouse settlin' an' all that.". This pacified Edward's fears for the moment, and she gently led him back to the table to sit and talk.