This is the story of an ordinary man who lost everything he had once held dear.

This is the tale of Benjamin Barker.

How was it, that after running from his past for so many years, he was suddenly retelling it to his children? (as a bedtime story, no less!)

Sweeney Todd shook his head as he herded Rose and Daniel to bed.

“Can we have the rest of the story Da?” Rose asked, snuggling down under the covers, away from the slightly draft from the single window in the room. Snow was whirling around outside, the first of the season.

Sweeney sighed, giving one half-hearted attempt at getting away from his past... “the story isn't... it gets... scary.”

“But it’s a good story Da!” said Rose, Daniel adding a begging “please”.

Sweeney gave a slow nod, and sat beside his daughter once again.

He didn’t notice his wife standing in the doorway.

“This is the story of an ordinary man, who lost everything he had once held dear. This is the tale of Benjamin Barker…”

It was the first sunny day in weeks, and Benjamin decided that it would be the perfect opportunity to take Lucy and Johanna to market. He needed to get some barber supplies, and it would be the family’s first time going to market all together. Ben and Lucy wandered the market, stopping and chatting with friends. Mrs. Lovett waved as she walked past, an armful of vegetables, no doubt to go into her pies. Benjamin spotted the flower stall where he and Lucy had first met, and parked the stroller near the fragrant blossoms. He picked a daisy, and with a smile to his wife, placed it behind his daughters’ ear. Johanna giggled, and Ben felt a rush of love for his little girl.

He met Lucy’s eyes again, and watched as they changed from loving to shocked and alarmed. A sharp pain suddenly started on his back, and again at the back of his head. The last thing he saw before blacking out was Lucy holding Johanna to her protectively, her previous smile frozen in shock on her face, her eyes wide with fright.

He woke in a cold, damp cell. He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn’t hold his weight. The sharp sting told him he smelt salt, and the rolling floor and his stomach clenching painfully at the motion told him he was on a ship. Headed where, God only knew. He remembered the look of horror on Lucy’s face, and his stomach rebelled some more. He felt tenderly at his head, and when he drew his hand away it was stained with blood. Tears welling in his eyes at the pain, he cradled his hands to his chest, where the pain seemed to be centred.

Lucy…

Hot.

Dry.

Dead.

Australia was the hell he had heard of in horror stories, but never dared to imagine. The men being punished here had told him that they had heard stories of a Judge who sentenced a man not by his crime, but by how he looked and what he owned. That bastard of a judge, that honourable man of the law.

Judge Turpin.

Benjamin felt bile rise in his throat at the thought. He had been taken from his family, sentenced to a land of death for crimes he had never committed, and it was all because of Judge Turpin. All because one man had been so jealous of another’s happiness, that he had to take it for himself.

He had stumbled and fallen so many times at the start, only to be whipped; forced back to his feet, back bleeding, feet blistered, body bruised and heart breaking, forced back to his penalty for living a happy life.

Only the thought of returning to his family, of being that happy once again kept him going.

He didn’t fall anymore.

It had been years.

His heart had broken well and truly, and only the jaggered shards remained. The scars covering his body were a constant reminder of the sentence he continued to wrongly endure. He had hardened under the unforgiving Australian sun, become parched of any feeling but for anger, and pain…

Her face was fading from his memory.

It had been years…

He had taken his chance. They were being transported inland, to a newly dug mine.

When the horse lost its shoe on the uneven hillside, he had jumped from the cart. He stumbled down the dry hill, ripping his hands as he tried to gain some control, some sense of direction, before he hit the bottom of the slope and began running as fast as he could, always changing direction, half expecting the hot lead of a bullet to pierce his skin at any moment.

It didn’t come.

He was long gone before the angry shouts of discovery split the afternoon.

Three days had passed.

He staggered back in the general direction they had come, the sun blaring down on him, his lips cracking and bleeding in the heat. He slept feverishly in the shelter of a scraggly bush near a long dried creek bed, wary of the animals that would come here only to be disappointed by the lack of water. He had heard of wolves who masqueraded as striking golden dogs, and giant lizards with teeth of a lion that could eat a man in a single bite. He rose with the sun, more drained than he had been when he stopped to rest the night before. Nightmares plagued his mind, even during the day.
Finally, he began up a slope, the salt on the wind telling him that he was nearing the ocean. He came over the rise, and spread out below him was a tiny seaside village.

He began to make his way down, observing the small dinghy tied to the single dock with calculating ebony eyes.

Idiot.

He should never have tried to row to Sydney. He should’ve taken a carriage, or walked. Unfamiliar with the ocean waters, he had been pulled out to the vast expanse of sea almost immediately. Now waves were crashing over him and the dinghy was groaning in pain at the thrashing it was receiving.

A light in the distance signalled his one hope of survival.

He pulled on the oars with all his strength, the light wavering in the storm.

As he neared, he opened his mouth to yell for help-

A wave swept over the boat, crushing it and its occupant.

Benjamin Barker was lost to the world.

He did not know the man in front of him.

The man had a white streak which travelled from his right temple back into his wild black mane. His eyes were dark ebony like his hair, and his skin was deathly pale, shadows lingering under his eyes. He showed no emotion at all, not on his face, not in his eyes, and he would hazard a guess that his voice wouldn’t show much either, only a desperate sadness. Not the joy it once did.

‘This man was a corpse’ the weak voice of Benjamin thought.

He felt nothing at this realisation.

A knock came at the door, and Sweeney Todd pushed the fading Benjamin from him, turning from the mirror to greet the young man who had rescued him.

They were gone.

Lucy, dead. Johanna, adopted by the man who had destroyed her father's life.

Both had been stolen from him.

He stared at his reflection in the silver of his beloved razors.

They had stayed. They had waited.

It had been years…

Their faces had faded…

They would drip rubies.

He would make sure of it.

Sweeney Todd stopped, and was glad that his children were sleeping. He didn’t want questions, not tonight. He coughed, clearing his throat which had begun to feel raw. Standing, he gazed down at his children, glad that he had them.
They, at least, had not been stolen.

He pulled the blankets up on both his children’s beds, and left the room.

He didn’t notice his wife standing in the shadows of the hallway.

And she didn’t notice Rose and Daniel sharing a slightly baffled look as their father left the room.