A/N-So I have finished this story at last and decided to give you guys an early update (and end your suspense). I would like to thank everyone who has been with me throughout these long 2 (I think 3) months, and read/reviewed/alerted this story. It's people like you who keep me writing. So the ending to this chapter was not what I had originally thought up, it sorta came to me after I wrote the flashback. Once again, I thank all of you. Enjoy!

Disclaimer-You guys know the drill by now. The song is My Chemical Romance's 'I'm Not Okay (I Promise)'


I'm Not Okay (I Promise)

"John!"

The 16 year old looked over his shoulder to see Alex running towards him, a smile on their faces. John stopped and waited for his friend to catch up.

"Ya going to work?" Alex asked, trying to catch his breath.

"Why else would I be on Fleet Street, Alex?" he grinned as the two took their time walking down the street.

"I still don't know why ya work there. Especially after..."

"It's just until my writing picks up." John cut him off, not wanting to remember what had happened. "And it is better than working for my uncle..."

"Oi! I work for 'im!" Alex shoved his friend as John grinned. "See ya after work, yeah?"

John nodded wand walked into the pie shop, instantly stumbling back as two bodies threw themselves at his legs. He let out a bark of laughter as he pulled away from the 4 year olds.

"Do you 'ave a new story for us, Johnny?" the girl asked, looking like her mother.

"Are you gonna stay for dinner?" her twin brother added, his sister nodding her head.

"Not today, you two. 'ow about tomorrow?" John smiled, ruffling the boy's hair.

"Tara! David! What have I told you about keeping John from working?" the twins turned around, guilty looks on their faces.

"Sorry, Mum." They muttered in unison as they went back to the parlor, knowing that John had to work.

"'ello Abigail," John smiled as he hugged his friends.

"Ben's waiting for you." She said as she motioned up to the ceiling.

Chuckling, the 16 year old made his way up to the barber shop as memories washed over him. The bell made a small noise as he walked into the room, Ben giving him a warm smile. A silence fell over them as John sat on the old trunk, Benn just looked at him.

"Ben, can I ask you something?" John questioned, his eyes focused on the wooden floor.

"Yes." The barber replied.

"Why did you David my father's name? Why Tobias David?" he looked up at his father's friend.

"Why do you call David 'Toby'?" Ben countered, raising an eyebrow. "Your father was a good man, John. Don't let anyone make you think differently."

John's eyes scanned the shop, remembering that night. He would be lying if he said it hadn't changed his life in every way possible. Getting to his feet, the 16 year old prepared for that day's costumer.

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"Dad?" John asked, cracking the door open a few inches.

There was no answer.

"Dad?" the 10 year old repeated, entering the dark shop.

His eyes fell on his father as he walked towards the barber's chair.

'He might be sleeping,' he thought as he came up to the chair.

John turned to leave the shop as he slipped on something, falling on his face. The boy let out a groan as he pushed himself up, a sticky liquid running in between his fingers. The smell of iron hit his nostrils as he lifted a hand to his face, not able to make out the dark substance on his hand.

"Bloody London fog." He cursed as he climbed to his feet, careful not to slip again.

He took in his reflection in the mirror, realizing he was covered in the liquid. Shrugging his shoulders, John walked around to the front of the chair; figuring the fall may have woken up his father.

"Dad I wanted..." his sentence died as he looked at the image in front him.

He took in the razor that laid in his father's lap (stained with the same dark liquid that John was covered in) and the slice across his father's pale neck (the same liquid covering the front of his father). John's eyes traveled to the floor, realizing there was a pool of the substance around the chair. The 10 year old let out a startled gasp as he realized what was dripping from his body.

'No!' his mind screamed as he noticed his father wasn't breathing.

He fell to the floor and backed away until his back hit the wall. John hugged his knees to his chest as he rocked back and forth, his eyes never leaving the chair and the body.

John sat in the corner, hugging his knees, as he continued to rock. He shock his head and kept muttering to himself. The 17 year old didn't even look up when the door opened, a voice he had heard before was telling him he had a visitor.

"John..." a voice whispered as someone kneeled next to him. "John, it's me...Alex."

The 17 year old looked at his friend, a haunted look in his eyes.

"Blood. So much...blood...all over." He muttered, his rocking increasing. "Won't wash off...no matter how hard I try...won't come off."

He looked away from Alex and stared straight ahead, not seeing anything.

"I'll be by next week, mate." Alex whispered as he got to his feet and walked back to the doctor. "He ain't gonna get better, will he?"

"I'm afraid not, sir." The doctor answered as they looked at the 17 year old through the door's window. "What does he mean by 'so much blood', if you don't mind me asking."

"Seven years ago, John found his father dead in the barber shop on Fleet Street. Turns out Mr.Lovett, John's father, had cut his own throat." Alex recalled. "An' John had slipped in the blood and was covered in it."

All the doctor was nod, continuing to watch John. Alex let out a sigh, he hated seeing his friend like that; hated having to go to the asylum to visit John. The 17 year old's breakdown had broke his mother's heart, dying a week after John was committed.

"Do wot's best for 'im," was all Alex said as he walked away.

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When the doctor entered the room, he was still rocking and muttering about the blood only he could see. It was exactly 8 years after his father's suicide when Johnaton Lovett was killed. He died at 18 years of age in a room in the local asylum.

As the doctor ended his life, Alex Lancaster stood by and watched.

'It's for the best,' he told himself as he walked away from the scene, a blank expression on his face. 'John wasn't living.'

"Life is for the alive."


Did you know that every time you don't review, an orphan kills himself in a last minute attempt to be with a certain baker and barber?

If you review, you get to spend an afternoon with mini-Todd or Toby (who is feeling neglected since no one wants him). You also get a meat pie! The flavors are:

Priest, Depp-bashing friends, Burton-bashing friends, Helena Bonham Carter-bashing friends, clergy, friar, poet, student, fop, shepard's pie (peppered with actual shepard on top), royal marine, lawyer, my 2nd grade teacher who hated my guts, Judge, and Beadle.

If you don't review Mr.T will come and give you a 'shave', you won't get a meat pie, I'll pull a Mr.T/Mrs.Lovett, or Mrs.Lovett with make you into a meat pie.

S.M.Hoffman