Sweeney bounded down the steps of the damp, dark, bakehouse and found Mrs. Lovett pushing a body into the furnace. The body was far too large for her to comfortably lift, as evidenced by her grunting.

"Why did you scream? Does the Judge live still?"

"He was clutching, holding on to my skirt, but now," she grunted, shoving the last of his body inside, "he's finished."

Mrs. Lovett wiped the sweat from her forehead, leaving a streak of grime. She pushed closed the iron doors, taking a moment to breathe with her hands on her waist.

Sweeney sighed and walked towards the second body in front of the furnace. Nellie's eyes widened and she quickly grabbed ahold of the old woman's arms.

"No, don't worry about her. Open the oven doors."

"No!" Nellie yelled, stepping in front of Sweeney.

"Open the doors, I say!" Sweeney snapped, pushing her out of the way. He bent down to lift the woman. Nellie nervously opened the doors but as the light of the fire shone on the black, stone, ground, she rushed to Sweeney's side.

"No! Don't go near her!" Nellie begged, trying to pull him away.

"What's the matter with you woman?" Sweeney yelled, tossing Nellie aside, "It's only a silly old beggar—"

When Sweeney's eyes fell upon the body before him, lit by the fire's glow, the faintest hint of recognition passed through him. Like a subtle breeze, he pressed further by brushing back her dirty hair from her face.

Although only a second or two had passed, it felt like hours had gone by as the weight of his entire world, of the last fifteen years of his life, had collapsed on him.

"Oh no!" Sweeney screamed, his booming voice now broken and shattered. "Oh my God…"

He crumpled beside the dead woman. The crazy woman. His Lucy.

"'Don't I know you?' she said." Sweeney felt his heart tear at how cruelly he had treated her, unaware she was the light of his life.

"You knew she lived." Sweeney's head snapped upwards at Mrs. Lovett, standing with tears streaming down her face. "From the moment I came into your shop you knew my Lucy lived!" He cried. Stroking her dirty face, Sweeney still thought she was as beautiful as ever. For a fleeting moment he imagined she were sleeping, and that he had come home to wake her. But when the moment passed he was reminded of why he didn't get to wake her.

A surge of hot, angry, blood shot through his body. His head snapped upward at Nellie, only to see she wasn't there. He heard the bakehouse door being opened and whipped his head around to see Nellie up the stairs, escaping.

The fury propelling his body upwards, Sweeney scrambled towards the steps. He had no idea what he said or if he had even said anything, all he knew was thunder was booming from his core.

When he was only about a third of the way up, Nellie successfully opened the door and slammed it closed behind her.

A primal groan ripped through Sweeney's throat. He sprinted to the door and slammed his fists and body against the stone door.

She had slipped through his fingers. He'd get her somehow. He had to.

Sweeney slumped down against the door in exhaustion. He closed his stinging eyes for what felt like several moments.

The echo of his fists against the stone were still ringing, which slowly woke him from his fog.

Johanna.

Johanna was still in his shop.

The thought of Johanna awake, plotting her escape, was more than he could bear. He bounded down the steps for his razor lying next to Lucy's body. As he approached the two, a deep sense of dread invaded his essence. He knew he had to dispose of any evidence.

Lovett would pay. She would pay for making him dispose of his beloved in the fire.