Dead Shattered Hearts {Sweeney Todd Fanfiction}

Slow Suffering is the Worst

He woke up to throwing up the bottles of gin and sitting at the corner of two streets; resting against a building.
He didn't notice his surroundings at first and continued trying to gain some strength. He then looked around.
An open sky, not a cemented ceiling. Fresh, outdoors scent filled the air. He arched his brow and recognized the cloudy skies. He recognized that smokey air.
London.
He sat up straighter and looked down both streets. He knew these streets.
"How?" He whispered to himself. "No... no, I died. I know I did..."
'Maybe I didn't,' he thought. 'Maybe I thought it all up.'
He then raised his hand to his throat; only feel a gashing slit in it.
'Oh right. I did die.'
He furrowed his brow and slowly stood up. "Then how the hell am I 'ere?" He asked himself. He rubbed his eyes, but only to open them back up and to see the living world. He then felt a sharp pain in his left shoulder and fell back to lean against the wall.
That's when he remembered. But he only remembered little snippets.
Him following Margery to see his Lucy.
Realizing he's been tricked.
Margery striking him with the needle of a syringe.
"That little bitch! I'm gonna fucking kill her!" He scowled in a great, terrifying voice. "I killed that bastard once and I sure as hell can do it again."
He began marching off, but where to?
It's been at least over a week since his absence from this world. There's only one place he knows where to go.
Home.
He knew his location and knew his little parlor on Fleet Street wasn't too far. He began walking; cautious of his surroundings. It was strange to think that world still spun and continued without his existence. His eyes watched all his surroundings. The sky, the ground, the buildings, and the people.
He wasn't sure if the people could see him. He questioned it whenever someone would glance at him, but they weren't glancing at him. They were glancing through him.
Even an older gentleman walked right through him. Fucking through.
Todd staggered back in disbelief as the body of the living walked right through him.
"...They can't see me," Todd muttered. "No one can see me." He kind of smiled at the idea. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and began walking; walking right through people. He laughed as he ran right through the people. He smirked at the idea that they had no clue the murderous barber was right next to them. He even threw a few punches just for the laughs. His mind was in a state of happiness as he ran down the street. He was like a child running around with laughter; it was quite the rare sight.
But the running and cheerful mood fell when he met Fleet Street. He stood silently at the corner of the street and glared.
Glared at the house.
The large banner that once read 'Mrs Lovett's Meat Pies' was now faded. He couldn't see inside the emporium for the curtains were drawn. He took cautious steps toward the house as memories of the past began to flood his mind. It was like returning home like he did a few months ago. Except he wouldn't enter the shop to see Lovett pounding at dough and covered in flour.
He then came upon the front door and placed a hand around the handle. Locked.
Well if I can run right through people I can walk through a door
He then tested his theory and as he expected he walked right through the door and into the dark, dungeon-like shop.
The memories then became more violent.
He remembered everything in this one little room. He especially remembered being in this house with his Lucy and baby Johanna. Back in the old days the Barkers shared the house with the Lovetts. Everything was perfect back then. The picture perfect family he'd always wish for and even a nice set of neighbors. But those memories were turning into a bunch of blurs. Lucy's face was barley rememberable along with the way she acted; her personality; almost everything.
Todd then blinked and he found himself in reality.
Then another flashback came; a much clearer one. He entered the shop. He wasn't what he once was. His mind was rotten and he was dressed in black from head to toe. He reeked of death and broken dreams. There he found that whimsical baker as she talked nonstop; not evening stopping for a breath. Her outlook on life was so cheery, as if she contained all the hope in the world.
He sighed and came back to reality.
The room was abandoned and dusty. The only light was the tiny sliver of sunlight coming from the windows which the curtains were blocking.
He looked up. Even though there was a ceiling to block the view, he could see his little parlor. He then walked over to the side door and walked right though it like he did before. There he entered the back patio. All the dining tables were gone; disappeared; vanished. He looked puzzled for a moment, but then thought some bloke might of came by and claimed them for their own restaurant.
Selfish bleeders.
He then glanced up the stairs. The paint of the railings were chipped like before and steps were creaky as always. Each step he took, he felt more at home. But this wasn't the home he wanted to remember. All he remembered was the violence, the blood, the rage and anger. All the savagery and ferocity; the displeasure and sorrow and despair.
The more he remembered these vulgar memories he became uneasy and nauseous. He was halfway up the stairs when he stopped in his tracks and rested against the rails.
"What am I doing 'ere?" He asked himself. "There's no point in going up 'ere. It's nothing but broken memories and pain." He then sighed and took a seat on one of the steps. "But for all I know I'm probably stuck 'ere forever." He then pondered on the thought.
Stuck in the living world.
Forced to see the living continue on; their content smiles flashing everywhere. Forced to be reminded of his heinous crimes and his blinded broken mind. Not being able to move on.
"NO!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, though no one could hear him. He shot up and looked at his surroundings. The people walking around. Living; breathing. He didn't want to see this anymore. He then dashed up the stairs and ran right through the door of his parlor. The second he entered he stood frozen. Almost all the furniture was missing; the remaining pieces were covered in white stained sheets.
"...What have they done?" He asked in a whisper. Luckily, the fixed up barber chair was still there, probably because it's fixed into the floorboards. He stepped over to the chair and ripped the sheet off of it. The chair was still intact, yet bloodstained. All the grand stuff that happened in this chair. His hand ran along one of the arms of the chair. He remembered the night he assembled the beast. It was late, yet his mind didn't think once of slumber. His mind was determined and bloodlust.
The room was very silence. Usually the room would be filled with the sound of him sharpening his razors.
He let out a sigh and walked over to the vanity which was still there yet a sheet was thrown over it. He yanked it off to find it clear; empty; bare. Where'd all his supplies go?
Where did his only picture of Lucy go?
He staggered back and shook his head.
"No, no,no, no," he mumbled and searched the drawer and under the vanity. "No, no, no, no!" He screamed louder. "They took it! They fucking took it!" He hollered. He then placed the sheet back over it, then pulled it off again, hoping for something different. But it wasn't. The vanity was still bare.
He gripped at his hair and paced back and forth in front of the vanity. "They can't just take my belongings! They can't just come in 'ere and take MY stuff away!" He roared... then stopped.
"...Then again... why would they leave the stuff lying around? I'm dead... remember?" He muttered under his breath and fell to the barber chair. "It's gone. It's all gone. All the memories," he lamented. He then hung his head and it fell into his hands. He let out a loud sigh and thought what more could he possibly do.
He then noticed the mirror that stood off in the corner of the room. It too was covered in a white dirty sheet. He slowly stood up from the chair and shifted over to the mirror. His shaking hand grasped the sheet and slowly removed it.
The broken mirror. Smashed in glass. Damaged pieces just to symbolize his mind. His pale hand brushed against the jagged edges. It stung a little, but he didn't pull his hand back. He wanted to feel the pain. He deserved the pain.
He let out a loud, grieving sigh.
He was stuck there. Unable to move on and forced to see the living.
•
"Mr. Todd!" She called as she scurried around the second level.
"Mr. Todd!" Thomas added and followed the baker.
"Mr. Barker!" Travis hollered before realizing the wrong name. "Oh sorry," he whispered. "Mr. Todd!" He corrected.
A little than half of the Authorities were searching for the lost man. He was absolutely no where. Lovett was freaking out and everyone could see it. Everywhere she thought he might be, he wasn't.
"Where is he?! Where the hell is he!? Someone answer my bloody fucking question!" She screeched and gripped at her hair.
"Mrs. Lovett, please just calm down," Travis tried to sooth. "He'll show up. Perhaps he wandered up to the third level where all the ballrooms are," he suggested.
She took a deep breath and exhaled greatly. "Yea... yea that's where is he. I forgot there's a third level. He must of just wanted a walk to clear is mind and wandered up there," she convinced herself.
"C'mon, Mrs. L, let's go find him," Thomas smiled and took hold of her hand and started his way to the staircase. Thomas quickly followed while the other Authorities stayed behind and continued the second first level. They rushed up the stairs, quick as they could.
The third level was sectioned off into several large ballrooms. Held for parties, dances, even weddings if two souls happened to want to do so even after death. The third level was quiet unlike the other two levels. Not a single soul lingered throughout the rooms, but Lovett didn't want to believe that. She wanted to at least believe there was one lost little soul wandering around.
"Mr. T?" She softly called; her voicing echoing throughout the large room they stood in.
No reply.
She took another deep breath and kept moving; still hanging onto hope.
"We'll find him," Travis assured.
"Then where is he?" She quickly replied and crossed her arms. "You all should of kept a better eye on him.... I should of kept a better eye on him."
"We don't need blame. He has a mind of his own which really we have no control over," Travis explained.
"Sure you can't control him, but a little help and fixing would of worked."
"It's hard to do so when he won't meet us half way."
"Well he is a stubborn man," she added and left the room and entered a different one alone. Her boots clicked against the tile flooring. She opened a door, poked her head in to find several empty rooms. Each room had tan or white walls with different patterns. There was a large, glass chandelier that hung in each room. Even though the rooms were silent, she could just imagine the smooth music playing throughout the dances. The orchestra playing slow, peaceful music; pleasing to the ear. She closed her eyes and just imagined the perfect scene.
A room with delightful music. Nothing but smiles and flowers everywhere. But most importantly, she could just imagine her in a cherry blossom pink dress. White frills parading the skirt as as it twists and whirls around her has she dances. Her hair pinned up in a clean neat bun. And holding her gentle hands stood that stubborn man.
Dressed in a dark navy tux with a little black bow tie in place. His once wild, untamed hair brushed back. And for once, a smile on his face. There they would dance the night away for all of eternity.
"Mrs. Lovett! Nellie!" A voice called as the door to the room she was in opened quickly.
She snapped out of her fantasy and faced the door. There in the doorway stood Travis. His suit was wrinkled and worn out a bit as if he were running.
She then remembered they were still on the search for Todd.
"Did you find him?!" She asked as she ran to the door.
"...No... but I think I know where is he," he replied.
She let out a sigh of relief. She only prayed that this time the guess would actually be where he was.
"Where?" She asked. "Is on this floor?"
"I don't think so... I think he may of wandered up to the fourth level," he answered.
She arched her brow at first before asking what the hell the fourth level was. She opened her mouth to ask, but Travis quickly filled in the answer.
"The fourth level is the final level we don't usually tell the people. It's just one large room with mirrors for walls. We keep the stairway hidden, but I suppose he wandered too far and found it."
"Oh good, it's just a room. Well where are the stairs?" She then began her way down the hall; determined to find the staircase.
Travis quickly raced her down and pulled her arm which caused her to turn around.
"What are you waiting on? We know where he is!" She exclaimed and tried to break free from his grip.
"You didn't let me finish. Sure we know where he may be... but there's more to that room." He then looked up and down. "Thomas is around is he?"
"I suppose he's still searching the rooms, why?"
"I don't want him hearing this... he has tendencies to mess around and poke his nose in places unwanted."
He then let go of her arm, but she didn't move.
"What's in that room?" She whispered.
"It's not just a room full of mirrors. We keep that room a secret because it's a portal to the Living World," he softly explained.
She stayed quiet.
"There's a possibly he entered the portal and-"
"Then let's just go and pull him out."
"Let me finish, woman. A dead soul can't stay in the Living World for long. It becomes weak and if it stays for too long it'll be damned on earth for all eternity. Being forced to watch the living. It's quite the mockery. Once you're dead, you're dead. It's unfit for the dead to walk among the living; it's not in their time to live.
That's what I meant when I said he could be suffering. A slow suffering. And I don't even know how long he's been there."
"What?! You're just now telling me all this shit!" She screamed and stomped her foot on the ground.
"Shh! Hush! Hush!" Travis hissed and looked around to still see emptiness. "We'll get him, Nellie. You have to trust me."
"What the hell?! He's in trouble! He's suffering! Where's the staircase?!" She demanded in full rage.
Travis jumped a little, but adored her determination to find him.
"Right. Follow me," he whispered and began moving.
•
He paced back and forth in the stuffy room. The air was musky and thick, but it's not like he had to breathe it. He walked back and forth in front of the large window. He didn't want to look out the window. He didn't want to see that cruel just outside of it.
As he continued pacing, he nearly tripped over a loose board. He shook his head then looked down to the floor. He frowned for a moment before kneading on a knee and pick up the board in his his hands. He looked into the hole the board left. At first he just saw a black hole, but then he made out objects. He set the board down on the ground beside the hole and reached in it to pull out a box. It was a red wooden box and he knew exactly what lied inside.
He didn't want to open the box.
He didn't want to see the horror.
For inside lied the blades that killed him from the inside out. A blade that not only ended his... but his Lucy's.
He threw the box down and it slid across the ground and into the corner underneath the shattered mirror.
Todd then remembered that tragic night. Nothing but a blood bath. Those blades doing gruesome things, but it was his hands that held those blades; a sin that couldn't be washed off like blood can.
He shook the nightmare away and reached back inside the hole. His hands then felt a cool metal. He held it up and blew the dust off.
A small grin grew on his face.
He pried it open to reveal pictures of the past. The good past. His smile grew bigger, but not for long before he shed a tear. He quickly wiped it away and held a serious, firm face.
What a beautiful picture.
A beautiful family. They didn't deserve him. They deserve a monster. Lucy deserved a husband, a truthful, gentleman, but all she got was a naïve fool. Johanna deserved a caring father. But all she got was fool only later to turn into a madman.
He quickly closed the pictures and held them tight.
"I'm always a screw up," he muttered to himself. "I wasn't the perfect husband or father.... I was a stupid fucking screw up. Not even now am I perfect. I ended Lucy's precious life and was never there to help Johanna." He spoke the truth with ease, but he could feel another piece of his mind yet again breaking.
He then kicked his foot against the boards of the wall. He kicked as hard as he could, but the pain didn't bother him; he endured worse in Botany Bay.
"Fuck Me!" He screamed, yet no one could hear him. He let out the loudest breath and crashed in the barber chair. His chest heaved as he tried to calm.
But there was no calming.
He stood back up and fixed the loose board back in place. He gently placed the metal piece that held the two pictures inside his pocket. He forced a smile to know he had a sane piece of him with him.
He then paced the door; as he opened the door, the bell at the top gave a ring. He stood still and closed his eyes and sighed.
That old little rusty bell; still crying out a cheery little ring. He quickly stopped his mind from going back into memories and so opened his eyes. He found himself on the balcony; hands on the railing and looking out to the city of London.
It was cold. Colder than usual harsh London. Todd placed his hands around his arms to contain some warmth, the temperature still seemed as if it were dropping. He shook his head and just assumed he was now cold since he was outside. He walked back inside the old parlor and slammed the door behind him, but it was still freezing cold.
He then marched over to where a few boxes lied underneath the large window which held all his vests, button-up shirts, pinstripe pants, and his favored gray jacket. Only problem was, the boxes were gone. All gone.
"Dammit they took that too," he let out a breath and looked to see what else they took.
The chest by the side window.
His cot.
The boxes underneath the large window.
All that was left was the vanity, the grand old barber chair, and the smashed in mirror.
"Rotten vultures took everything," he muttered under his breath. "Once a man goes dead, his bones are out for the vultures to pick at."
He then thought what else he could possibly do.
The bakehouse. Where all the dead bodies once were.
•
"You're saying he's in there?" Lovett questioned; pointing to the foggy hall. She couldn't see anything on the other side. It was just a room of endless fogs. She was unsure of it all; everything just seemed a bit odd. Surely he wouldn't of wandered off this far.
"The only and last option," Travis replied with a forced smile. "His time is terminating."
That statement was like a slap on the face to her. She wanted to just jump into the misty hall and pull Todd straight out.
"Now, where do you suppose he would of wandered?"
"Home, of course," she quickly answered. Fleet Street was the only place he'd ever want to go to. Not the Old Bailey, not Botany Bay. Fleet Street was the ticket.
"Right," Travis nodded and took the first step inside the hall. "C'mon, nothing to be afraid of. Just a few steps in the fog then boom you're on the other side."
She then hesitantly took a step and took hold of his hand. A rush of cold air pushed against them as they advanced to the other side. It was until now when Lovett realized she was returning to the real life world. The world that she once knew. The world she once lived it. She sighed and looked forward; a dim light was ahead.
"Now we just quickly run in and run out with Mr. Todd. No stopping for anything," Travis explained. "The Living World can be quite the wreck. I'm sure he's already figured that out by now and hoping for some exit. I don't blame him," he mentioned.
"Alright. Grab Mr. T and come back 'ere," she repeated with confidence. "How much time do you assume he has left until... you know forced to stay there forever."
"Well if he was here since the morning he still has plenty of time... but he came yesterday is time is tight. Did you see him at all last night?"
"No... last I saw him was around lunch yesterday. Poor thing got drunk so I walked him back to his room. That was the last time I saw him," she calmly explained. "Oh god what if his time is already up?!"
"Don't think negative, Nellie," Travis replied as they closer to the dim light. "We just have to be quick on our feet." Just then, the two exited the fog filled hall and entered a cloudy London. She all around. All the memorable buildings; streets; and even the people. Oh how they all carried on without her.
She let out a sigh and let go of Travis's hand.
London. Home.
"Now, the people can't see us. To them, I suppose, we're ghosts. That's what the Ghost Committee is, what I had mentioned when I first met you. Now, how do we get to his old home... Fleet Street, I think it was."
Lovett looked around. She didn't even know what street she was on. She wasn't much of a navigator, that was more of a Todd thing. She then looked down the street and everything seemed a bit more clearer.
"... It's this way... yea. A few blocks away then the shop is just on the corner of Fleet Street," she softly explained and began taking off; Travis quickly followed.
London was still it's dark, cloudy self. Nothing much has changed, in her eyes.
"So this is London, huh?" Travis asked as he ran alongside of the baker.
"Yea... it's not much. I suppose things got a little brighter when he returned," she added. "Then it just went back to it's dark self."
"Ah," Travis commented.
"...Isn't Thomas gonna worry where we ran off to?" She asked; changing the topic.
"He'll be fine. Last place I want him is here," Travis replied.
"Why? You speak like he's some criminal."
"Well he can get in trouble sometimes, he's a kid after all. I was surprised you sort of hired him at your bakery."
"Why surprised?"
"He's a trouble maker; ignores commands and rules."
"He doesn't get in any trouble around me."
"Interesting," he whispered.
"Speaking of the boy... he told me you allowed him to read Mr. T's file," she mentioned.
Travis then stopped and looked confused. "... I don't let anyone read files, not even their own," Travis replied. "... why'd he read it in the first place?"
"How should I know? Something about being interested in him I think," she continued forward. "Oh! I know where we are! The shop is just down the street!" She cheered and took full speed forward. Travis watched her toss away their conversation and run down the street. He rolled his eyes and smiled to see her perseverance to find him. He then straightened his blue tie and ran after her.
The old shop then slowly came into view.
'Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pies'
The banner was faded and the paint was chipped.
She tried her best to not let the past distract her and continued moving forward. She ushered to the front door and eminently pushed on it.
Locked.
She frowned and pushed harder.
"Oh!" She exclaimed. "He's gotta be up in his parlor. She then quickly rounded the corner that led to the stairs. Once she rounded the corner she noticed the missing tables. She again ignored the past and looked up the stairs. The many times she scurried up those stairs just to see that stubborn man brooding away.
She closed her eyes and sighed. She then opened them with excitement and rushed up the stairs. Travis also rounded the corner and found the baker already up the stairs.
Lovett then ran straight to the door and gripped the door handle and pushed.
The door remained stationary.
She then peeked inside through the window, but couldn't see much. The window was smoggy and unclear.
"Mr. T! Open the door!" She called. "It's me, open it please!" She began kicking at the door; trying to grab Todd's attention.
Travis made it up the stairs and greeted the baker on the balcony.
"You know," he started, "You can just walk through the door... you're a ghost after all." He then stepped up to the door and literally walked right through it.
Lovett jumped back in amazement. Travis came back through the door, but with a frown and softened face.
"What... what's wrong?" She asked in a whispery voice.
"He's not in there," he softly replied.
"What?! What do you mean he's not in there?!" She exclaimed.
"I mean... he's not in there. Just some furniture," he explained.
Lovett wanted to see for herself. She took a deep breath and pushed Travis out of her way and stepped right through the door. There she entered the dark, dungeon-like parlor. Half the furniture was gone and so was Todd. There were white sheets near the remaining the furniture. And near the already broken mirror in the corner was newly broken glass scattered on the floor.
So he was here.
She crossed her arms and looked around. Just a bare room. She then stepped through the door again and looked up at Travis. His head was hanging.
"... His time didn't run out... did it?" She whispered. She wanted Travis to say Todd still had plenty of time.
Travis remained silence. He kept his eyes lowered to the ground.
A sharp pain of fear and reality stabbed her like a knife.
"No!" She screamed. "No! His time's not up! It's not!"
Travis stayed quiet; there was no use in arguing with a mad woman. The moment just needed to pass; if it passed.
"It's not up!" She screamed louder and began marching down the stairs; making her steps loud and known. She reached the end of the stairs and vanished into her old bakery.
She was too late.
They waited too long.
•
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sorry the update took a while, wattpad kept deleting my progress which keeps pissing me off, but hey, the updates here!
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