Without You, There is No Point in Surviving

Chapter 8 Heart To Heart

Sweeney awoke to the light of a rising sun seeping in through the cracks of the tiny one roomed wooden cabin. His eyes opened first, he sighed, inhaling Mrs. Lovett's sent. He couldn't escape from it, her sent, her appearance, her. Even in sleep, Mrs. Lovett was there in his dreams. Not Lucy, never Lucy anymore, he has not dreamed of her in a long time. Maybe she's moved on, refuses to haunt him. He sighed again as the headaches returned, just like they usually did every time he thought about Lucy. He's come to decide its best to push such thoughts out of his head. For now, at least. Maybe when they find someplace safe where they can stay awhile.... Where they can live... together.... Mrs. Lovett and him...? the headaches returned.

He shifted his position to the bed, stretching his shoulder blades. His back ached a small bit and he needed to move around but didn't have the heart to leave her side. She hasn't looked this peaceful since the first time they escaped London.

They would need to move on eventually. As cozy as the small cottage is, Sweeney had a sinking feeling it wasn't abandoned. There was still a hefty amount of food, and a lack of dust on the surfaces. The more he thought about it, the more worried he started feeling.

"Mrs. Lovett?" he gently shook her awake, being mindful of her injured shoulder. She moaned a small bit and opened her eyes. "We need to keep moving." She nodded in understanding. They detangled themselves, took a few rations of produce from the kitchen, filled their canaster up with water. Sweeney checked the small bathroom and smiled to himself when he found some bandages and pain killer medicine, Nellie would need it.

She was trifling through their bag, for a dress to change into. She smiled at him quizzingly, and he nodded, facing away from her as she stripped off the nightgown. Not that he hasn't seen her body before. The memory of him having accidentally glanced at her exposed chest, as he rotated her onto her back, to bandage her wound, crept into his mind. He could've sworn he was blushing but wouldn't dare admit it.

She cleared her throat signaling that she was ready to go. He had to admit, her dress looked nice. It was a green with white stripes. She had her corset in her hands, "Could you help me...?" She paused at the grim looked he gave her. He walked over to her, and grabbed the corset. He fidgeted with the laces and started tying, about half way through, she asked if he could tighten it more.

"No," he said shaking his head. "It'll cause a terrible pain to your side."

"I already have a terrible pain in my side." she said.

He finished lacing them, not to her liking, and they prepared for their journey. They're footsteps froze in place when they heard voices and other footsteps approaching from outside.

His first instinct was to hide and attack from the shadows. He rushed himself next to the door, a razor at the ready. Nellie next to him. The door opened, a gentle looking man about in his sixties walked in. Before the man had any idea of the visitors in his home, Sweeney had his hand over his mouth and his razor to his throat. The man's eyes darted from Sweeney to Nellie who stepped away from the door. Sweeney removed his hand from the man's mouth. "Ppplease, take whatever you want." He stuttered in fear.

Sweeney sneered at him and pressed the razor in deeper, almost tearing flesh. "Wait, love!" Nellie said.

Sweeney looked to her confused, then....

"Papa?" a small girl stood in the doorway. Once she saw her papa with a blade to his throat she screamed.

"Please, I don't know what you want. But please, please don't hurt my girl." The man begged.

Sweeney's world had crashed down. He looked to the begging man, to the little girl, to Nellie's wide eyes. She shook her head, silently begging him to leave the man alone and come on. He planned on killing the man until he saw that he had a daughter, now... he couldn't. He moved the razor away from his neck but kept a tight grip on his wrists. He would let him live, but he couldn't trust what the man would do or say. He could alert someone. Maybe he knows who they are.