The blood was absolutely everywhere. I had never given such a messy death, never once in the past months. Yet there I was, panting slightly as the blood trickled down my face. I almost forgot that Lucy was waiting just outside the door. Pausing only to look at my friend, bathed in the newly deceased’s blood, I folded it and put it in its holster. I was busy enough not to notice the sound of the trunk lid softly opening.

Lucy waited, sitting on the wooden platform and looking earnestly at the door as I came though. Even when she was brought again to her feet, she was trembling. She assured me it was simply the cold, although I could have sworn she flinched when I accidentally brushed her wrist where the judge had so cruelly held her- rather, dragged her. I put this thought behind me, knowing that it would do me no good to be at all angry when Lucy was so close to me.

I knew well enough that the sight of the blood on me scared her even more. It would scare most people. Yet she did not complain. I quite admired her for it, but dreadfully wished she would say something if it troubled her. After all, it was all I could ask of her.

The scene that waited for us at the bake house was one I doubt I could forget. There were bodies strewn across the floor, and Mrs Lovett was already at work dragging one across towards the furnace. She looked up, frightened, towards us as we entered. Alarmed by the way she looked so frightful, I turned sharply to Lucy, noticing that she almost cowered against the door.

“Stand over there,” I ordered lightly. “Perhaps it’s best you don’t look.”

She nodded stiffly, backing away towards the wall. Mrs Lovett looked wistful. I doubt it was easy for her, knowing that she was the only woman able to do such jobs, having no one to fret over her mental well being. If I weren’t so busy thinking of a specific person’s well being, I might have cared slightly about hers.

Then again, I wouldn’t.

It was all I could do out of the slightest glint of guilt- the slightest, I remind you, it was quite impossible for me to feel it too deeply- to push her aside and take hold of the body for her. I told her to open the door to the furnace, my tone more stern than I had been with Lucy, admittedly. I had little time or patience to ponder this, though, and instead watched Mrs Lovett open the door, allowing some light into the room before I bothered with the task before me. I glanced quickly at Lucy, seeing her crouched in a corner. She never did handle blood very well.

The light poured out of the oven and through the relatively empty bake house. Wrinkling my nose, as if the light had suddenly strengthened the scent of blood which had rarely bothered me before, I looked down, preparing to take hold of the body that lay at my feet. The beggar woman’s. I hadn’t planned to kill her. She had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Perhaps it was for the best though. The woman had been raving before her death. I counted that one death as simply ‘putting the person out of their misery’.

As I looked down at the dead beggar woman’s body, I paused. Mrs Lovett gasped quietly, and Lucy looked up ever so slightly. I did not look at either of them, though. I looked only down at the figure on the floor. Slowly, with an almost painful deliberation, I knelt to the floor, my hand calmly stretching out towards the woman’s hair. I brushed it aside, revealing her face.

“Don’t I know you, she said,” I muttered. It was too painful to even cry. It was too shocking to raise my voice. I was too angry to even move.

“Mr Todd?”

I turned my head harshly as I heard the sweet tone I had heard so many times before. Lucy arched her back slightly, trying to back closer towards the wall as she saw the brutal stare I bestowed upon her.

“Who are you?” I asked bitterly, turning again to clutch my dead wife’s hand. I dared not believe it true, but I could not escape the fact. It was my wife I held. The wife that I had killed, not the one I thought I had saved. The wife that was truly mine, rather than the woman who cowered now in the corner.

“Mrs Lovett?” she questioned wearily, looking up to the baker.

“You lied to me,” I said firmly. “You both lied to me.”

“I tried to warn yeh,” Mrs Lovett said shakily, though her stance seemed brave enough. “Yeh remember? All those times we tried to warn yeh.”

“You told me only last night,” I began to say, speaking to the girl in the corner, although not daring to look at her, “that you were my wife. You told me only last night you remembered everything.”

“Would yeh ‘ave believed ‘er if she denied it?” Mrs Lovett whispered.

“Had I known you’d lied to me I would have!” I screamed, at last finding the power to express the fury in my veins. It surpassed that I had felt when I had been told of Lucy’s ordeal- the true Lucy’s.

“I ‘ad to lie,” she said, visibly trembling now. “I ‘ad to. ‘ow would yeh react, knowing that she was a beggar? That she sold ‘herself on the street?”

“Better knowing that than kill her now!”

“She couldn’t take care of yeh, not the way yeh needed.” I glared once more, but sorrow clutched me again in its grasp and I uttered a low moan.

“Dear God,” I cried out, embracing Lucy pitifully. “You’d rather I suffered this way, found out like this?”

“I did it for you.”

“And what good did it do me!” I let go of Lucy’s body, standing quickly, causing her to jump. “Little to none! A few days of ignorance to make it all the more unbearable now!”

“I was only thinking of you,” Mrs Lovett said boldly. “She was as good as dead, she couldn’t look after yeh. I thought- I knew- that I-I-”

“That you would be a better wife?” I questioned, spitting the words out.

“Of course I would ‘ave been!” she replied. “I could ‘ave cared for yeh, while she wandered the streets, living the way she ‘ad for years now. We’d ‘ave been alright! And then she came,” she added frantically, pointing a finger at the woman still crouched in the corner, tears streaming down her eyes. “She came, and yeh thought she was Lucy! I tried to warn yeh, I tried to tell yeh, but yeh wouldn’t listen! So I thought, maybe she’ll be better for yeh than I could be, yeh loved ‘er more! Maybe ignorance was bliss, maybe yeh’d both be ‘appy!”

Clutching my razor firmly, I growled with such rage one might think me a beast rather than a man. My other hand shot out as I arrived steps in front of Mrs Lovett, and with a summoned strength I gripped her throat. She uttered a breathless scream that came out as nothing more than the squeak of a mouse being trodden on.

“You call this happiness?” I hissed into her ear. “I without a wife, that girl weeping in a corner like a child, and you with a hand around your neck?”

“That girl…we told yeh ‘er name, yeh remember it,” she whispered between gasps. “Mr T, yeh’ll give ‘er a chance, won’t yeh? Yeh told me yeh loved ‘er, didn’t yeh? Yeh told ‘er exactly the same thing. And yeh can love ‘e- she’d be no different from what yehr Lucy once was- better! Lucy wouldn’t ‘ave gone near yeh, love. She’d lost everything, she weren‘t right in the ‘ead.”

“Don’t I know you,” I repeated, my grip tightening ever so slightly. “She remembered me well enough, and you know it.”

“Yeh face, love, Benjamin Barker. She couldn’t ‘ave loved Sweeney Todd.” She smiled desperately. “Only fools could do that.”

“I never cared for fools,” I growled, my eyes glancing at the oven ever so slightly. A sneer appeared on my lips. I watched as her eyes widened. Of course, she would have noticed. Mrs Lovett gaped hopelessly, shaking her head.

“Please,” she whispered, but it was useless now. I’d begun to drag her towards the oven, pausing in front of the flaming gates. She began to cry pitifully, struggling weakly.

“No need for tears, my pet,” I said bitterly. “Obviously, I know that’s not the name you always wanted, but as we know, I barely have the pity for you any more- I wouldn’t grace you.”

“Mr T, Diane’s there, yeh can’t-”

“Oh, hush, my pet,” I continued sarcastically, gripping Mrs Lovett’s waist and hand. “I’ve never been able to stand tears. I had plenty enough waiting for Lucy. Though, I’m sure you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” Mrs Lovett let out a choked sob, staring at me fearfully. I sneered. Perhaps one last dance would cause a pitiful amount of the suffering I had endured. She flinched as I spun her gently, a grotesque version of a waltz.

“P-p-please,” Mrs Lovett stuttered.

“Please? Please what? Forgive you? Love you? Forget everything? Or end it all?”

“N-no, I-”

“I should think ending it now would put you out of your misery,” I hissed. “But then again…I could not bear another moment.”

I completely forgot Lucy and the girl in the corner at that moment of anger. With a swift movement, I had thrown Mrs Lovett directly into the flames. I did not wince nor feel any remorse as her wails and screams echoed through the bake house. They were just a background sound now. I had heard more torturous hollers in that God forsaken hell hole I had lived in for fifteen years. This woman’s screams could not effect me in any way any more.

Though I was not deaf to the world. Not at all. Although the scream did not bother me, I could still hear it. I could still hear the other shriek of horror that joined with it. Though I did not care for it, I still turned to see that impostor staring at me, horrified.

“You killed her!” she screeched, shaking. “You killed her!”

“A filthy liar,” I spat. “No better than those I have killed before.”

“Am I next then?” she asked, her tone suddenly quieter, her eyes wider. “You’re going to kill me next?”

“No,” I said lightly, though I still clutched my razor. “I’d rather I first find out why you are here.”

“Because you brought me here! Because you wouldn’t let me go!”

“Why did you go along with it? Why did you lie to me, or stay here when you could have left?”

“I did leave, but you came for me again.” She tried to heave herself to her feet, and managed with great difficulty, although still could not stand alone without having to lean against the wall behind her. “And when I tried to tell you, you dismissed the notion. I wasn’t right in the head, was I? I’d just lost my memory, hadn’t I?”

“If you had tried hard enough I would have believed you,” I muttered in reply.

“Do you think I didn’t try hard enough? The only person who tried harder to persuade you was Mrs Lovett, and you killed her!” She smiled weakly. “But you wouldn’t have killed me. You loved me until tonight.”

“I loved what you pretended to be.”

“And what would the difference be? You thought of me as much as you thought of that woman.”

Hearing her mention Lucy even in the vaguest terms was just too much. With a howl of anger, I launched myself across the room in a few strides and gripped the girl by the throat. She yelped once, scrambling away from me, but without much effort. I suppose she knew of her fate.

“Don’t mention her,” I growled. “If you do, I swear-”

“You’ll what?” she asked. “Kill me? You’re going to kill me anyway, so just be done with it!”

“How can you be so free to ask me to end your life?” I asked irritably. “Not even a plea? You will not beg?”

“What difference will it make to how my life will end?”

“You will not beg, if only to see loved ones again?” Her eyes widened slightly, and she bit her lip fiercely. When her teeth moved again, I could see that she had very nearly pierced her skin.

“Mr Todd, you killed him,” she reminded me shakily. “You killed the only loved one I had left.”

“Then beg if only to find another,” I said, my knuckles turning even paler around the razor. I expected her to cry, or scream, or maybe even defy me by refusing to beg.

Instead, she laughed.

It wasn’t a sweet laugh. It wasn’t a childish laugh, or even a titter. It was a laugh that you would hear in Bedlam, the sort of laughter that had told me that finally, I had broken this girl before me. Shocked, I let go of her, and she dropped to her knees, still laughing at she sat on the floor on her knees. She did not even look at me, she was too busy in this delirious humour.

“Beg?” she finally said when she had caught her breath, though she still laughed. “Of course, I must beg!” She sat up on her knees, clasping her hands together in mock prayer. “Please, Dear Lord, strike down this man! Oh please, Mr Todd, have pity on this little girl! She who so rottenly tricked you!”

“Stop it,” I ordered, though I could not longer raise my voice. Had my own Lucy raved in this manner before Mrs Lovett had sent her on her way? Of course she had! She must have roamed the streets in this fashion for so long.

“Stop it? I ask only for my life, Mr Todd, oh dear Mr Todd.” She looked at me directly, her eyes wide and bright. “Am I to be given a chance? Am I to live another night?”

“I have told you to stop it,” I said, wincing.

“Oh, but Mr Todd, you can not say such things to your dearest, your darlingest! You do love me, don’t you, Mr Todd?”

“I-”

“You told me you loved me,” she said, pouting, folding her arms across her chest. “Only last night, Mr Todd, you told me you loved me ever so much. Your pretty little Lucy, that’s what you said I was.”

“It was all a lie,” I muttered.

“Been telling lies, Mr Todd? It’s not good to tell lies, you know.” She giggled again, and pointed a finger towards herself. “You might end up here, mightn’t you?”

It was more than I could bear.

The mad girl’s ravings had left me incapable of moving. I knew what had to be done, but could not find it in myself to take hold of her, to finish the job myself. I looked down at the ground, slumped against the wall. There was nothing I could do but wait there until something happened, something that would eventually finish me off. Something to finally kill me, finally get the job over and done with.

All of a sudden, a gentle tap came upon my shoulder. I looked up. She sat there, twitching slightly, but smiling determinedly.

“Those little lies still haven’t helped you, have they?” she taunted with a childish tone. “Could your little Lucy help?” She placed her head against my chest, still looking up at me. I wrinkled my nose, as if she were a corpse already rather than simply a girl. A raving one, at that.

“Don’t call yourself that,” I murmured, my hand already moving closer to her throat. “Don’t call yourself Lucy.”

“You called me it,” she reminded me. “Maybe you’ve confused me, Mr Todd? Am I someone else?”

Gently, I placed the razor against her throat. I knew that the slightest move would most likely cause a fuss.

“You are,” I replied quietly.

“And you’re lying,” she said, still laughing.

“Of course I am,” I humoured.

And so, with that said, the razor slid across her throat. She didn’t scream- she was still laughing. I don’t know whether it made the process easier, or somehow worse than it had ever been before. The amusement that she held, even created in madness, was enough to bring guilt to my heart, and tears to my eyes. I persisted, though. I had to. As she said, she had nothing left. What good would it do that world another beggar on the streets? I certainly could not- would not- have taken care of her.

Then again, even if she had not started to rave, she would have died.

I stood, staring around at the mess that surrounded me. Bodies were scattered across the floor, and blood still shone, still damp. How could all of this happened in such time? It seemed impossible, and yet it was so. I stared at the two women laying almost peacefully, despite the gouges in their throats. I knew very well I should have turned away then. I should have left- I had no use in cleaning up, I knew I was to die that night anyway. My plan had been so for quite a while now. At least, it had been, yet the plan had been postponed for a quite a while. Now, however, they could finally be carried out. Before I could leave, though, my desire to remain got the better of me, if only for a minute.

I knelt again by my wife’s side, clinging onto her desperately. I had weakened to the point where I embraced what I knew to be a corpse. With this thought free from my mind, I cradled her in my arms gently.

Yet, before I died, I could not help but think to myself: Am I sure who it is I held?