Sweeney's Willow (Sweeney Todd)

- Chapter Four: My Friends -

* Edited *

It wasn’t long before Mrs Lovett had offered to allow Sweeney to stay in the vacant room upstairs, even offering for him to return to his working days as a barber up there, much to Cora’s delight. She found herself captivated by the dark man, his eyes and story leaving her yearning for more and wishing to take away his pain, though such a thing was impossible, surely.

She could see that he was once a good man, that he had once been kind and bright whilst now he was moulded through torment and cruelty into a man of coldness and distance, no longer so trusting and warm nor was he bright but rather dull and blackened slightly. He was, in fact, a new man; a man she wasn’t sure he truly wanted to be. With one soul thing circling dangerously in his mind, a dark, twisted dream – revenge.

“Come along, now. Up the stairs.” Mrs Lovett calls over her shoulder as she leads the way out of the shop and to the creaky, wooden stairs that lead up to the room above.

Cora nods and adjusts her grip on Sweeney’s bag that she had been rather insistent upon carrying for him, mainly because she felt she had not much more help to offer him in this moment. She wanted to do more, but she knew far too well that she couldn’t. Sweeney had argued with her briefly, trying to dissuade her from carrying it but had quickly learnt that she was just as stubborn as she was beautiful, so he caved and allowed it.

He follows closely behind Mrs Lovett with an anxiety building within, his palms already beginning to clam up from the mere thought of seeing the place he had once thought of as home. Where he had begun a life with his wife and child. A life that was ripped from him heartlessly so many years ago.

Cora remains following just behind, her own anxiety and exhaustion seeping in as she silently struggles with the bag, trying hard not to make it painfully obvious though she is sure she can see the echo of a smirk playing on Sweeney’s lips as he spares her a glance from the corner of his eye.

She rolls her eyes at him and shakes her head whilst biting her lip to prevent a smile, feeling something warm, fill her chest as they come upon the door. They stop as Mrs Lovett pulls out her keys to unlock the worn door, barely glancing back as she does so. Cora look down as she feels a hand just skim her own that is wrapped around the handle of Sweeney’s bag, the heat emitting from it being enough to make her shiver slightly as she looks up to the source of it – Sweeney. He offers her nothing but soft eyes as he nods to the bag, “I got it, love. Thank you.” he breathes quietly so that Mrs Lovett doesn’t hear. Silently, she nods and allows her grip to loosen before slipping it away from the handle completely.

The two hold gazes for a moment longer before they are brought back to reality by Mrs Lovett pushing the door open with ease, a loud echoing creak filling the air from the hinges holding the door in place. Cora frowns, her brows dipping as she peaks into the room with Sweeney just beside her; she could sense his hesitance and sadness from where she stood. She knew this would be painful for him, that he would most likely see the ghosts of memories once formed here. Even she had to admit that the room held an eeriness and heavy atmosphere to it as it lay vacant and lost in time.

She takes a deep breath and lifts her hand slowly to place it on his shoulder encouragingly, her eyes meeting his as she smiles comfortingly. “Take your time, sir. Ease yourself into this.” she whispers before slipping her hand away and entering the room behind Mrs Lovett.

She scans the interior with a crinkled nose, pondering all the things experienced here all those years ago. The room has a musky and damp smell to the air, one that was not all too pleasant. The walls are clearly worn and cracked from being left to decay slightly over the last fifteen years with the faded gold striped wallpaper ripped and hanging loosely off the wall in sections, the occasional crack in it clear for all to see. The wooden floorboards are coated with a heavy and thick layer of dust and dirt whilst dirtied sheets cover the furniture that remains scattered about the room. It was far from welcoming and homely in this state, but Cora would never utter such a thing in the presence of the owner and new tenant.