Poisoned Future Chapter 1

She was finally in his arms. After all these years of longing for his heart she finally had it. Lucy was gone, she was his and he was hers. They were dancing a waltz around the bake house. She looked into his eye and saw the reflection of the flames from the oven in them. She could feel immense heat on her back. Wait. She could feel heat on her back. They were nearing the oven. She looked into his eyes again and this time saw pure loathing. They were dancing towards the over. She felt his grip on her tighten and realised what was going to happen. He was going to throw her into the over. Oh the irony was brilliant. She was going to die. Unless she did something, did something now. Using all of the strength she had left in her Mrs Lovett twisted out of Sweeney Todd's grip and ran, ran for her life. She ran out of the bake house, through the shop and straight out into the street. It was raining. Mrs Lovett ran further, down into the centre of Fleet Street, tears streaming down her face burning her cheeks. Only did she cease running when she reached a familiar pub, "The Nag's Head".

She walked into the cosy tavern and took a seat. He didn't love her. Not one tiny bit. She'd been fooled again. And yet she still couldn't bring herself to banish the love she had for him from her body. He was like a drug to her; she couldn't get enough of him. He had just tried to kill her, she'd escaped by the skin of her teeth and yet she still loved him. "You alright there dear?" an old woman with paled skin and yellowed teeth had sat down next to Nellie. Mrs Lovett couldn't bring herself to talk just yet; she was still in total shock. The woman sighed and peered out from under her black hood to stare up at Mrs Lovett chuckling to herself. "Yes she's the one, the one I've been looking for." she muttered grinning showing off an array of crooked teeth. Mrs Lovett was completely oblivious to the hag. All she could think about was Sweeney. She didn't even notice when the old hag put smelling salts under her nose. She didn't notice when her head hit the floor and everything went dark.

He'd been so close. So close to killing the woman who'd ruined his life. She'd killed Lucy, not him. Not him. He kept telling himself this, it was her. The little auburn haired baker. He loathed everything about her. The way she was always smiling, always happy. The way her pretty curls framed her precious face. The way she hummed while she hacked away at bodies as if nothing could ever spoil her happy ways. That's the main reason he hated her. She was happy. Always bloody happy. He pounded the oven door shut, venting his anger. He let out a strangled cry and swore to himself that he would find the little baker. He would kill her with his own bare hands. With that he set out to find the one who took his wife away.

He stormed out onto Fleet Street. He sniffed the air for a whiff of her sweet perfume. She even smelt of happiness. He knew it was ridiculous trying to smell her, but his animalistic instincts had kicked in and once he had his mind set on something he wouldn't stop until it was done. He was fuelled by pure hatred and blinded by anger. One hand gripping a single beloved razor he started running down the street. He knew where she would be. Stupid woman would head straight to her favourite pub. She thought she'd be safe there. She didn't know that he paid any attention to where she ventured. But he watched her. He noted her every move. He'd watch her from his window and he'd set out a few minutes later to make sure she didn't get into trouble, he couldn't bear the thought of her getting hurt. Couldn't bear the thought of someone hurting her. Only because he needed her. How else would he be able to continue killing helpless strangers? He smashed open the pub door to see said woman led on the floor. An old woman fussing over her. Stupid bitch, she'd probably got herself drunk and fallen over. He increased his grip on his razor. This would be fun. He would finally be satisfied. He could imagine it now, her precious blood a deep red running down her pale throat. He stalked over raising the razor. Just as he was about to slash down the old lady looked up at him. He stopped as he caught a glimpse of her haggard almost translucent skin. He couldn't move. The old lady grinning muttering "just in time, how convenient" before using the same salts to plunge Sweeney Todd into complete darkness.