Guys, I am disappointed in you! Nobody reviewed! shame on you! Just kidding, I still love you! Anyways, i forgot to do this forever ago, but DISCLAIMER: The characters in this story are, sadly, not mine, so please do not yell at me.
I did it. I redesigned the chair of Mrs. Lovett's fat old husband of hers and made it better, WAY better. You see, once I slit someone throat, where would they go? I can't just drag them down to her bake shop. No, I made a trap door that can open with a push of the lever at the bottom of the chair and drop the person straight to the bake house. And the best part is, if they aren't dead when I slit their throats, then their necks will break when they hit the cold, hard, stone floor at least a story lower from where they drop.
The door opens. "You finish the 'air yet, love?" It's Mrs. Lovett. She doesn't seem as annoying as she did when I first got here. I mean, she DID come up with the idea of baking people into pies. "Yes. Do you want to see?" I say, somewhat excited to show her. "Of course, love." She says. We walk over to the chair and I push the lever. She stands there amazed at how it worked. "'at's brilliant! Mista T your brilliant!" she cheers. I take pride in the compliment. "Why thank you, Nellie" Wait. Nellie? Why did I call her that? She looks shocked too. "Why'd ya call me Nellie?" she asked. She never hesitates to speak her mind.
"I'm… I'm not sure" I say quietly. "No 'eed to be 'barrassed by it! I like it if I do say so meself" she says. "Come, and have some gin, love." She says and she leads me down to her kitchen. We seem to do this often most afternoons. She likes the chats, I like the gin. We sit down and pour ourselves some of the sweet liquid into our tumblers. "So, tell me about Albert." I'm not sure why I say this; it's been bugging me how she cringes every time he is mentioned, just as she did now. "Why do ya want to know, love?" she asks hesitantly. "Why do you cringe every time he is brought up?" I ask. She sighs. "Do you 'member when he 'urt his leg?" she asks. I vaguely remember him limping around complaining about his leg. I shake my head. "Well, he got very grumpy after that and started drinkin'. When 'e came back, 'e took out his anger on me." She says, looking very relieved to get it off her chest. Her big, beautiful chest; STOP THINKING LIKE THAT! I don't know what's wrong with me but she has become more, not attractive, but appealing. Suddenly I am filled with an urge to comfort her. "That vicious man better not have laid a finger on you!" anger boils up in me. It is strange to be using the word 'vicious' considering I am the one slitting peoples throats, but I push that thought out of my mind. "Erm, well, about that…" she says, as she slides her arms under the table. "NELLIE LOVETT WHAT DID THAT MAN DO TO YOU?" I scream, anger surging through my veins. She bursts out into tears "Sweeney, he cut me. I deserved it though! I was a bad wife, I never cared for him and I never made enough money for the both of us or for him to go out drinking! I deserved it! He took me knife and slashed me arms whenever I got him angry!" she practically shouts, tears steaming down her face.
God, if that man were still alive, I wouldn't hesitate to slit, no, stab his throat and laugh as I watched those rubies pour from his neck. I pull Nellie so she is facing me. "Nellie, it was NEVER your fault and NO ONE deserves something like this" I say as I pull out her arms fro under the table and kiss each scar on them. Her sobs never cease. "Nellie, did he get you anywhere else?" I ask, concerned. She looks away. I pull her head to face mine. She bites her lip and nods her head. That's all I can take. I pick her up and carry her into her bedroom and place her down on the bed. "Point to where he hurt you" I say, authoritatively. She points to her legs and neck. I start with her neck. How did I not notice this earlier? The pale lines streak her porcelain skin. I drag my finger along each one and leave kisses every few inches. Then, I start on her legs. I pull her skirts up to her thighs. Oh god, there are long gashes everywhere. I feel a tear prick in my eye. That man needs to rot in hell. I hope he suffers too. I lie next to her and let her head rest on mine. The gashes are too unbearable to look at and I rub my hand along her leg, hopefully making her feel better. She looks at me and I stare into her eyes. I lean in and BAM!
Albert, fat, ugly, and drunk, is standing at the door, which he just slammed.
OOOOH! Cliffhanger! Don't worry, you'll understand next chapter, that is, if I post it! Reviews help me write my story better, I love others' opinions. Also, I had soooo much fun writing this chapter! I hope you did as well.