Feeling So Very

Disclaimer: I'm sorry, but I do not own Sweeney Todd.

Hot.

Feeling so very hot.

I gasp for breath, like a fish that just found out that its gills, those slits in its neck, don't work on land. My slit is failing me now, too. I feel as if all of the vermin of this great black pit, this hell-hole, are pressing against me, smothering the life out of me.

Warm.

Feeling so very warm.

The scarlet blood pours down my neck, my chest, leaving an odd warmth throughout my body. As if I had had a couple of strong drinks and feel the gin pulsing through my veins, calling me from my waking sleep. My cheeks feel flushed, but I highly doubt that there is any blood left in my body now, by the look of the stained floor.

Cool.

Feeling so very cool.

This man's tools, his merciless friends, felt icy on my exposed flesh. That gleaming silver knife, staring at me, mocking me. I drop to my knees, to the cool floor below me. The last of this black air escapes my blue lips.

Cold.

Feeling so very

A/N: So, I've never been killed, so sorry if this isn't totally accurate. This is just one person's feelings after they are killed by Sweeney Todd himself. Although it is not about one specific person, I personally picture it as Lucy, but it can be whoever you want. Hoped you like it, and review, please!