I'M ALIVE! (maniacal laughter)

Author's Note: Hi everyone! I am SOOOOO sorry it took me so long to update. It wasn't supposed to be a one shot (obviously), but I just became so busy. Forgive me. I was very pleased with the reviews and messages I received, as well as the story favorites and author favorites. It was wonderful! Obviously that encouraged me, and here is the next chapter. It didn't take me long to write (I just wrote it in the past 2 hours...if that), but I just had to sit down and do it. I SHOULD be writing about Hannibal's military victories during the Punic wars, but somehow writing disturbing adult fan fiction sounded like so much more fun! Alas... I must return to the ancient Mediterranean after I post this. Please read and review! I don't like flames (who does?), but I'll take constructive criticism gracefully. I am NOT experienced at fan fiction, and all my fictions seem to be dark and dirty. SO you are forewarned, I use a lot of sex, rape and death in my stories. Don't judge! It's just a creative outlet. Anyhoo! I should let you read the story... I am a blabbermouth. Sorry about that... here ye be! Chapter two of "And She was Beautiful...Poor Thing." (I hate how I didn't know they would push those two clauses together in the title...sorry...)


I never saw the point of these... obviously we don't own anything if we're writing fan fictions. Once I marry Gerard Butler, I'll be able to say that I own him (in my Phantom fictions), but until then, all I own is a sick obsession with morbid musicals and the green bean casserole I'm currently eating... no, wait... my best friend Tina made it... so I don't even own that! Well poo... Enjoy the story!

Chapter Two:

Judge Gabriel Turpin paced in the study of his large London townhouse. The lord had been good to him in his financial pursuits, and his living arrangement displayed that prominently. Reaching over to his bookcase, he took out his old and tattered bible in an attempt to cool his sinful thoughts. Deciding that looking at the holy words written there caused more guilt than he could take, he put it back quickly. Looking around the room, he found his old flogging strap. Closing the door, he went over by the bookcase and knelt in a simile of prayer. Breathing deeply, he unbuttoned his stiff black shirt and pulled it off his shoulder before immediately swinging the leather whip around and smacking his back. Letting out a breath from between his teeth he began to recite the Confiteur.

Confiteor Deo omnipotenti,

beatæ Mariæ semper Virgini.

He brought it swinging again, and hissed as the leather finally cut into his skin.

Beato Michæli Archangelo,

beato Ioanni Baptistæ,

sanctis Apostolis Petro et Paulo.

Taking another breath, he relished in the exquisite pain that he could produce.

Omnibus Sanctis, et vobis, fratres–et tibi pater–

quia peccavi

nimis cogitatione, verbo et opere.

Another red strip appeared.

Mea culpa.


Mea culpa.


Mea maxima culpa.


Ideo precor beatam Mariam

semper Virginem.

And with a large breath to keep from screaming in blissful agony, he said the rest in a hurry to finish.

Beatum Michælem Archangelum,

beatum Ioannem Baptistam,

sanctos Apostolos Petrum et Paulum,

omnes Sanctos, et vos, fratres (et te, pater),

orare pro me ad Dominum Deum nostrum.

A large sigh escaped his thin lips.


With one last self-injuring swing of his arm, he collapsed forward onto the carpet with two or three tiny rivulets of blood down running towards his shoulders and head. He hadn't flogged himself too terribly hard, as he did not want to trouble Johanna with any awkward walks or grimaces in their outing today. Thinking of taking Johanna out on his arm, in their first public appearance since she had grown into a...woman, a very beautiful and voluptuous woman, he remembered those few blissful weeks where he assumed that another golden beauty would soon be his arm candy and lover.

Lucy awoke with a start as she realized that Judge Turpin had carried her upstairs and into his large and luxurious bed. In any other situation, she would relish the warm silk sheets and goose feather pillows. If Benjamin was beside her... but no. He would never be beside her anymore, and there was no point in pretending if he truly was gone. However, she wasn't certain that Turpin wasn't lying in order to bed her. With that empowering thought, she realized that she needed to get back to her home. Mrs. Lovett had been watching Johanna until Benjamin could return (his shop was closed that day mysteriously, but Lucy just assumed that he had gone out to make some purchases. He had left that morning with a bright smile and a kiss. Surely because he hadn't come home before evening didn't mean anything sinister. He was at home... it was as simple as that, and Lucy had to return. Benjamin would hold her and find a way to make Turpin pay. Rape was a crime, and even if Turpin was a judge... surely they could go to a different court, right? He would pay...he had to. And if she became pregnant... she felt tears gathering in her eyes. Benjamin would understand. Certainly. They loved each other fiercely, and she would never believe that he would abandon her even if she was pregnant with another man's child.

Realizing that she was jumping ahead in her assumptions, she tried to take a deep breath. After exhaling, she came to the horrible realization that she was still nude, with blood and seed caked on her thigh, and an equally nude Judge Turpin was pressed against her with one arm preventing any means of an easy escape. She had to see her daughter and husband. Suppose that Benjamin was dead (even though she wouldn't let herself believe that), and he hadn't come home, she surely must relieve Mrs. Lovett of Johanna and hold her baby girl in her own arms. She needed to feel some sense of normalcy again. Trying to keep from vomiting at the thoughts of the previous night's activities, Lucy attempted to slowly raise the judge's arm. Surprisingly, she was able to lift it and set it over himself without him waking. Of course, he smiled in his sleep and murmured something about her name, but she tried to put it out of her mind. She had been celebrating her victory of slipping out of the coverlet, and looking for any remnant of her dress, when she heard a deep voice from just feet behind her.

Going somewhere, my sweet?

Trying hard to swallow her rage, she forgot her nakedness and turned to face her rapist.

Yes, I'm going somewhere, you bastard. I'm going home to see if you were lying to me about my husband. If you were, then so help you, because Benjamin will slit your throat from ear to ear for what you have done. And if you were telling the truth...

Swallowing the sobbing that threatened to erupt, she forced herself to face him bravely.

And if you were, then I need to see my baby girl and turn you in to the police.

Expecting him to get angry and yell at her, she was startled when he laughed merrily.

Oh my dear Lucy, who will believe you? You have no idea how much power I hold in my hand. I could crush you and your entire family with one visit to the prime minister. And honestly, do you think I would lie to you about Benjamin being dead? Do you think I would have made love to you if he was still alive? I'm not that stupid. Your husband is dead, and the police won't do anything to me. However, I know that you need to see your daughter before we can make arrangements for our marriage...

He trailed off as the finality of her husband's condition set in, and then as she laughed at his last declaration.

Marry you? You must be joking. I would NEVER marry you if you were the last man on earth! I despise you with every ounce of my being, and you will never own me!

With a few short strides, he had slapped her harder than he ever had the night before. She gasped as she felt her lip split against a tooth. She could taste the blood and feel the heat of her face increasing. Instead of making her whimper, this made her even angrier. She tried to reciprocate the slap but he caught her hand easily, and then the other hand when she tried from the other side. He laughed and tried to kiss her, but pulled back as she tried to bite him. He had expected this, even if it wasn't what he wanted. He wished that she could have met him before her precious Barker, and then she would be willingly warming his bed every night while he basked in the glory that was Lucy Turpin. It was something that could never be changed, but he hoped that it could come in the future. She would learn to love him with the same ferocity that he loved her, and they would have many children together. Her own child with Benjamin could either be adopted or raised by the two of them. He was sure that her little girl would grow to be as beautiful and magnificent as the fuming creature before him now. He let his eyes linger over her body and she turned ever more crimson if that was possible. She was absolutely stunning when she was angry.

He held her a bit longer as she struggled, until she finally wore herself out. Once this happened, she began to weep in earnest. Gabriel Turpin's heart did break at this mournful sound and he attempted to wrap his arms around her. However, this let her arms go free and she feebly pushed him away.

Don't touch me! Don't you EVER touch me again! Can't you see what you've done? You've ruined me! And Benjamin isn't even here to pick up the pieces...

She said the last words on a soft whisper and he growled at the mention of Barker's name.

Lucy, darling, do you honestly believe that your precious husband, if he was still alive, would even want you after this? You could even be pregnant with my child... as I hope you are. He would never take you back.

She looked up through her tears and spat on him. Reeling back in disgust, and stared at her with growing fury himself.

You are wrong. Benjamin is...was... the kind of man who would never abandon the woman he loves. Even if I was pregnant with your demon seed, he would raise the child with me and he would make you pay. Benjamin was the kind of man that you could never be, even in your wildest dreams.

He lifted his hand to strike her again, and she didn't even flinch, but he realized that if he was ever going to earn her adoration, then he could not keep beating her. Turning away to think, he quickly walked over to the dresser and put on a new pair of trousers. Then, he rang the servant bell. Lucy swiftly grabbed the coverlet from the bed and wrapped herself in it to keep her nudity covered from whatever poor servant had the misfortune of working for the devil incarnate. She was surprised, even though she shouldn't have been, when the Beadle opened the door. The greasy dirtbag hungrily took in her disheveled appearance and nearly licked his lips with want. She backed away from him and he was snapped out of his admiration by his boss. The Beadle cleared his throat and spoke.

You rang?

Turpin looked at the short, plump and balding man in disgust as he leered at his wife.

Yes, Hobart, I did. I need you to fetch that gown that I bought– it should be in the guest room– and then accompany Ms. Lucy here to her home to fetch her things and her daughter. Make sure she does not speak to anyone, and do not let her get away from you. If she is too unstable to carry her child, then I should like you to do so for her. Please make haste and bring the two back here to me within the hour.

Once again, the Beadle's eyes were wishing he was the one in control here, but he nodded in agreement and returned a few minutes later with a beautiful pale yellow day gown. He looked about ready to stay until the Judge's glare made him wait outside the door. Turpin dressed Lucy (or attempted to help with the corset, even though she made a very good show of trying to lace it up herself) and called him back in. With a mocking bow, he watched Lucy hurry off ahead of the Beadle, and shouted at Hobart to keep up with her. After they were gone, he sat on the bed and smiled. It would be a bumpy road, but it was all going according to plan.

A little over an hour later Turpin was getting annoyed with waiting. Shouldn't they be back by now? He had already called the pre-arranged nanny over to wait for baby Johanna. Now that Lucy was rich, she wouldn't have to take care of her. She could live the life of luxury. He just wished they would get back...

Another twenty minutes later, he heard a frantic beadle run through the door and up the stairs. Without knocking he tumbled through the Judge's doorway and fell into a groveling position at his feet. He was crying and already muttering words of confession. Turpin yelled at him to tell him what the problem was and the beadle began to explain.

My lord... I did not... I mean... It wasn't... and then...

Gabriel roared in anger and the beadle quit his stammering.

My lord. I did exactly as you said. Everything was going fine, my lord. I had a firm hold on her elbow, my lord, and she couldn't get away. She even began to calm down, my lord, and I was relieved. We were on fleet street when she made a run for it, my lord. She began to scream "help" and was sprinting towards the shop where she lived. Immediately, my lord, I ran after her. I was gaining on her, my lord, when she looked back and saw me. My lord, I was about ready to grab her when she veered left and into the street. My lord, I attempted to snatch her out of harms way, but she was frantic. My lord, she was... she was...

Although Judge Turpin already had a sinking feeling in his stomach which told him what had probably occurred, he whispered in a rough voice.

What happened Hobart?

Hobart looked up with red eyes and swallowed before continuing.

She was run over by a carriage, my lord. The reason I was so long in coming was because of the doctor who attempted to save her. She kept muttering "Johanna" over and over again before she... she... she passed away from loss of blood. Her legs were crushed beneath the wheels, and her body was trampled by the horses. My lord, we did everything we could.

Finally the beadle stopped and resumed his pathetic sobbing. Judge Turpin turned away from the sight and went over to the window. Lucy... his love... the woman who he had gone through all this trouble for... the most beautiful woman he had ever seen... his future wife... was gone. It was almost justice that she had died in the same way that he had lied about Benjamin dying. God had deserted him. Lucy was dead. Those words took much longer to sink in than they should have, and 45 minutes later, Turpin was still in the same position while the beadle had ceased his crying and finally spoke.

My lord?

Turpin turned away from the window with a shaking breath and tried not to start his own tears in front of Hobart Bamford.

Where did they take her?

His tone was quiet, but dangerous.

They took her to the undertaker, my lord.

And the child?

I assume the woman beneath the shop still holds her, my lord.

Turpin stared at the man before him and did not show his own trembling hands. He sternly looked away and said with more confidence than he felt.

Bring the child here.

Judge Turpin could feel a small bit of moisture gathering in his eyes at the memories, and he forgot to put his shirt back on as quickly as he should have. He didn't hear the light footsteps until he heard a small gasp.

Sir! I mean... Gabriel... what happened?

He turned around and saw the pretty face of Johanna, his newfound love. He had to find a way to keep her for himself. He was quickly becoming obsessed with her, and she was growing to be as beautiful, if not more so, than the only other woman he had ever loved as much. Her mother.

Johanna... I... I'm so sorry. It is nothing. Please wait outside while I clean up.

She made no move to leave.

But sir, I can bandage those for you...

He stood quickly.

NO! No... I am fine... please wait in the parlor.

He didn't think he could take the feel of her small hands touching his bare skin. It would be too much for him, and the confessing prayer he had uttered just moments before would be pointless. He needed to get a hold of himself, and the memories.

Startled, Johanna nodded mutely and shut the door behind her on the way out. The Judge sighed and noted that he had been thinking for longer than he realized. The blood was already dry and caked. No doubt scabs would form. However, he deserved this. He was a murderer, a rapist and now he was lusting after the girl whom he had raised in his own home. He deserved everything that he got, but he couldn't stop now. No matter how wrong it was, he would have Johanna somehow. He had lost the first love of his life after one night of passion...he wouldn't let that happen again. In a complete turn around from the penitent man of seconds ago, he smirked almost evilly as he redressed himself. He would have Johanna, in any way possible. She was his, and she would never be anyone else's. She would be his and his alone. He would own her.

Yay! The end! I don't think that sucked TOO bad... but it wasn't the greatest. I wrote it too fast. Anyway! I thought I'd explain some things. Beadle says "My Lord" so frickin' much in the musical/movie, I figured it just fit. If there are typos and mistakes, I apologize. PLEASE point them out to me so I don't make the same mistakes again and again in ignorance. Also, even though I know that Turpin was probably Anglican during that time, I couldn't find any good prayers in the BCP that included Mea Culpa, and I couldn't even find a good Latin translation. So I apologize for using a Catholic prayer for him, but let's just pretend. The translation is this:

"I confess to Almighty God,

to blessed Mary ever Virgin,

to blessed Michael the Archangel,

to blessed John the Baptist,

to the holy Apostles Peter and Paul,

to all the Saints and to you, brothers (and to you Father),

that I have sinned exceedingly,

in thought, word and deed:

through my fault,

through my fault,

through my most grievous fault.

Therefore I beseech the blessed Mary,

ever Virgin,

blessed Michael the Archangel,

blessed John the Baptist,

the holy Apostles Peter and Paul,

all the Saints, and you, brothers (and you Father),

to pray to the Lord our God for me.


And it is a Catholic confessional prayer called the "Confiteur." (Spelling?)

Anyway... read and review! It makes me feel loved...

Love and The Book of Common Prayer,

Christa McGinn