Hysterical Hell

Road to Recovery

White.
The room was as bright as a room could possibly be. Bright enough to strain your eyes and make you never want to open them again. So white and bright they you could barley tell where the walls met and formed a corner.
His mouth and lips were dry and a throbbing sensation took over his body. After becoming conscious, he kept his eyes closed. He knew where he was. He didn't have a single doubt in his mind. His arms were twisted and pulled down behind his back and locked together. His legs were stretched out and ankles were tied to the chair.
He didn't have to open his eyes to know where he was. From the silence that made his ears ring and the restraints tying his body down, he knew he had locked himself in the White Room.
Unlike last time where his memory on why he was here was fuzzy, the memory of why he was here now was as crystal clear. Todd remembered every second of what occurred and even though he sat restrained in the White Room, every second was worth it.
A sadistic smile spread across Todd's face as he replayed the whole scene in his head. All he imagined was the long hallway and just him and Judge Turpin standing in the center of it. No one else was around. No doctors. No guards. No patients. Just two men with Death breathing down one of their necks. Blood painted the walls and formed a pool in the hall. And just within the blink of an eye, one of those men had ceased breathing; ceased having a pulse and beating heart.
Salvation had been reached. Lucy and Johanna have been avenged, but something felt oddly missing. Todd relished in the idea that the bastard that took all that he loved and took it all away within a second was now burning in hell, but something still felt empty. He was content, but not as much as he thought he would.
The deed was done, and Todd was more than happy to know it was, but he felt like something was missing.
Did he not relish in the horrendous act as much as he should've? Was the crime not as perfect as he had planned?
He always imagined he'd feel complete with himself once the judge ceased living, but he wasn't. He thought vengeance would be a sweet relief, but what's relief when it lands you in a torture room?
Todd squinted down at his body; his attire was new. It was still the same gray shirt and pants he initially had, but they were no longer blood stained. His hands and arms however were still ridden in dried, crusted blood; a reminder that Judge Turpin was in fact dead and it wasn't just done fantasy he dreamed up.
Blood found itself in every crease on his hands and arms. Todd didn't mind. He was no hurry to clean himself like he usually was. He was quite fond of the fact that he wore the devil's blood.

He still couldn't wrap his brain around why he felt so hollow. Perhaps it was the fact that Todd knew he could slaughter the judge a million times, but it could never reunite him with his family; it could never truly bring back the years he missed. The past could never change no matter how much blood was spilt.
Todd closed his eyes again; imaging what the years would be like if he hadn't been shipped like a package to Australia. Sweeney Todd would've never been born. Many people would still be alive. But Benjamin would still wander around in his naive and foolish ways.
The squeak of an opening door pierced the silence and Todd's eyes peeled open. There was now a black rectangle in the center of the white wall and in stepped Dr. Fogg.
He held a pitiful expression and entered with his head hanging down. Behind him, Dr Blake entered with a more frustrated expression.
"Oh, Sweeney, Sweeney, Sweeney," Dr Fogg rambled in a long, exacerbated sigh. He approached Todd's right side and placed a hand on his shoulder. "What you did this morning was an abomination."
Morning? How long was Todd out?
Dr Blake remained silent and came to Todd's left side.
"You killed a very kind, respectable man and you will not be getting out of this scot-free," Dr Fogg all stated with a disappointed tone; a tone he poorly acted. "We have punishments for such... behaviors. And please know, doing so hurts us more than it'll hurt you."
Blake then glanced down at Todd; they both shared a similar thought: how Dr Fogg was full of bullshit.
Todd could tell Blake wanted to do something; to prevent whatever was soon to happen, but he had no power to do so. Blake just hung his head and listened to Fogg's rambling words.
"Consider it, corrective punishment... in a sense that we want to help you; help you so that you become a better person," he then smiled and patted Todd's shoulder.
Todd kept his eyes lowered and would every now and then glance up at Blake whom was pinching the bridge of his nose.
"To start the uh... procedure... we'll begin with oh... some medicine." And with that, Todd saw out of the corner of his eyes a syringe coming straight his way and piercing his neck.
Todd was nothing new to this and knew the pinch of the needle wasn't nearly the worse part. It was the effect. Everything seemed fine at first, then whatever the drug was began to kick in.
Everything in Todd's sight seemed to become intensely bright and his ears picked up every sound and made it ten times louder. With his sight and hearing being abused, he didn't notice the restraints being undone and his body trying to recover from the numbness.
He kept his eyes shut to block out the blinding light, but there was nothing in his power to block out the high pitched ringing.
Every time someone would talk whether it be a whisper or normal voice, in Todd's ears it sounded like they were all yelling incoherent nonsense. He could feel his body being move about in a dragging motion. Someone was lifting his upper body while his legs lazily followed. He could sense the ground beneath him change from the smooth, cold cement to rough concrete; indicating that he was relocated. Was this new room better or worse than The White Room? Todd didn't dare to open his eyes; he'd rather be ignorant to his surroundings than be filled with fear by what he saw.