Broken Hearts And Razors ||| A Sweenett story

Forbidden Dreams

It was a Sunday evening, the shops of Fleet Street all had the "closed" signs hanging on their door. The fog was asleep, resting in every nook and corner of the twisted street, while everyone stayed inside.

The fire of the bakehouse oven was reflected in Eleanor's eyes as she stepped into the unwelcoming room. The heels of her boots echoed on the uneven floor, mixing in with the squeaks of dirty mice. The bakehouse reeked of rotten flesh, and the walls were splattered with dark blood, creating a haunting pattern all around the area. Eleanor closed her eyes, fearing how many victims she would find that had gone down the chute. She knew Sweeney had gone on a rampage these past few days, and she dreaded to know just how long her stay in the bakehouse was going to be today, seeing as the rats seemed to be enjoying her company way too much. One of them tried getting under her skirt, but Nellie was quick to kick it away. Opening her eyes, the baker audibly groaned, looking at the five corpses on the ground. She'd never had to deal with such a number, and she knew it was just Sweeney's way to get back at her.

Not a day went by that the two of them didn't argue, and though Eleanor wouldn't admit it, she liked getting on his nerves. Whenever he'd turn around to look her dead in the eye, she'd block out anything he said and simply stared back into his eyes. For once in her life, Eleanor had stopped searching for the hidden meaning behind them in fear of the disgust she knew she would find. All that she needed to know was that he would be looking at her, seeing her, noticing her. Eleanor knew she wouldn't get any accolades from him for doing this disgusting, sickening job, but the glimmer of hope she could never let die was the thing that kept her going. Small beads of sweat formed on her forehead as she mercilessly chopped away at the bodies, not once doubting her actions.

****=****

Sweeney was sitting in his barbershop upstairs, the chair as his rightful throne, his companion. He slowly breathed in and out, his mind trying to focus on revenge and the judge, but slowly wandering off to... different things.

And at this moment, there were five things that Sweeney Todd hated the most:

Judge Turpin

Injustice

Jail

London...

When Mrs Lovett's scent would linger in his shop.

The window to his shop was open as wide as it could be, letting in fresh air to get rid of the sinfully intoxicating scent of the blasted woman's perfume. His hate for Eleanor had reached new heights. At first, he didn't pay attention to her, and he was sure that Eleanor would leave him alone soon, but the plan backfired. The bloody woman clung to him even more, enjoying every single second he would do as much as simply turn to her. That made him sick in his stomach, remembering Lucy and their vows to always love each other.

But Mrs Lovett didn't only invade his workspace, his bubble. No, she didn't stop there. She invaded his thoughts. His dreams. The memories of Lucy were slowly fading from his brain, the only thing he could remember was how her long, yellow hair would shine in the sunlight. And the baker had swept in and taken advantage of his vulnerability. Sweeney Todd became scared to fall asleep, not only because of the traumatising memories he'd left behind in Australia. Because he was scared that once he'd close his eyes, he'd see the taunting red curls of the devil baker. He'd see the devious and mischievous smile playing upon her lips, those vexatious lips that she'd paint every day, trying to get him to notice them. His dreams, what once used to be a safe space for him and the memory of his late wife, had now turned into a torture chamber, where Eleanor replaced her. She'd be the one holding Johanna in her arms as the sun shone through the window, the small girl sweetly playing with the daft woman's curls, and then he would wake up with his eyes wide, his whole body drenched in a cold sweat. He could swear that he'd seen another glimmer of the bloody auburn hair, but he couldn't decipher if it was the reality or if his mind was playing tricks on him, but he didn't like it. It was as if his mind had lost focus, wandering off to cut the last ties Sweeney had with sanity. The tray of dinner sat on the bedside table, and the barber couldn't help but feel nauseous just looking at it. Traces of her presence made him feel uneasy, and he tried to get his mind to wander back to the judge. Finally, after days of torture, he drifted off into a dreamless sleep, his mind letting him rest for once. No red hair, no cherry lips, just darkness.

Eleanor's mind, however, was restless. Her arms were barely hanging and her poor bones were ready to drop. She had never felt so exhausted in her life, her eyelids drooping over her bloodshot eyes, sleep wrapping her up in its arms, but she tried to wriggle out of them. She still had a lot of work to do, but her mind was ready to completely shut down. She swivelled on her feet, her head spinning as she held onto the railing leading up to the shop. Her steps were wobbly, but Eleanor was determined to finish her day's works. reaching the top of the stairs, she noticed the lack of pacing upstairs and she shivered slightly, both from the cold and the loneliness that she had been trying to get rid of for a few months now. Picking up her rolling pin, she stared out of the window, seeing traces of the moon, her only companion, through the thick grey fog. She wondered how it could shine so brightly when the night was so dark and unwelcoming, how it found a way to fill up once again after it has vanished and been completely drained. Looking at her workplace, she scolded herself for letting it turn into such a state. The flour was spilt all over the table and now it had mixed with the years-old dust, to the point where it was hard to tell what was dominating the mixture. Cockroaches were running around as if to mock her even more, and her rolling pin was cracked in too many places to count. She sat down, churning the milk into the butter she'd need for tomorrow's pies, exhaustion almost taking her over completely. Her eyes were teary, and she found her vision growing blurry, the rolling pin slipping out of her hands and landing on the ground with a loud thud. Not finding the energy to pick it up, she started walking in the direction of her bedroom, but feeling her legs go limp, she collapsed in the nearest booth, her eyes closing and sleep finally taking her over.

Through the thick fog, a man was walking down the filthy cobblestones of Fleet Street, his cane hitting the ground loudly with each step, but the sound soon absorbed by the sleeping fog, not letting it disturb the locals. He stopped by the meat pie emporium, looking into the abandoned-looking store. Spotting the woman snoring away in one of the booths, his mouth curled up into a sinister smile as he walked away from the building, the smile never leaving his face. He let out a small, dark chuckle, but the wind blew it away, not letting it bother the sleeping street.

A/N: :OOOOO leaving this on a bit of a cliffhanger :DD

So sorry it took me a lot of time to update, school has taken a pretty huge toll on me BUT I'm not planning to stop writing this story

As always, if you have any questions, you can always put them in the story or in this paragraph which kind of acts as a Q&A box :))

Thank you for reading!