Faster. Faster.


Around and around.


It was hot, and Eleanor was screaming. Sweeney Todd laughed, his teeth bared like a hungry wolf. She deserved it.

"No!" She yelped, clinging to him for dear life. She would not die. Not now. Not like this.

"Yes!" He shouted, trying to pry her from him. "You lied to me, bitch! You lied to me!"

"I didn't-" He cut her off with a scream of frustration, slamming her into the unforgiving and scorching hot metal oven door. He could smell burning flesh in an instant and it wasn't the pies.

She sobbed, hiccuping. It was burning her. "P-Please." She rasped.

Sweeney was too in the red to stop himself even if he wanted to. She had lied. Lucy was dead because of her, and she was going to pay for it.

He slammed her into the metal with more force than before, watching her slowly pass out before dropping her like a china doll onto the cold floor of the bakehouse. Sweeney looked down on her lifeless form for a moment before stalking away to hold his precious blonde. His pure wife. Perfect Lucy...

Eleanor didn't know what happened next, but when she awoke, Sweeney Todd was dead and covered in his own blood. Tears stung at her eyes and she swallowed painfully, getting to her feet by pulling herself up using the butchers table, she gave him one last glance before fleeing.

From the bakehouse.

From her home.

From Fleet Street.

And from him, Sweeney Todd.