The Demon's Angel

Chapter 9: Not friend or foe

April 21, 1880

Darkness. That's the first thing that I remembered from my dream last night. It was dark, it was cold, and I was scared. Then the floor collapsed under my feet but I was able to grab onto the ledge. I started to slip closer and closer into a firey pit of death.

Skeletons screaming and screeching in pain as the fire consumed them more and more. I started to scream for help but no one could hear my plea. Or so I thought.

Just as I was inches away from death, a hand caught me in time.

I looked up to see who my savior was but I couldn't see their face. I could however hear them say, "I won't let you fall. I'll always catch you no matter how distant I may be. . ."

As sweet as the ending to my dream was, the awakening I got was far from sweet.

I had awoken to the loud banging of knocking on my door. My first thought was that it must've been Mrs. Lovett until I remembered that her knocks are more calm and gentle.

I groaned as I rubbed my tired eyes and got up reluctantly and put on my robe over my nightgown.

I didn't bother to pick up the candle as I did not care who was at my door at this unholy hour.

"What?" I demanded harshly as I opened the door. I looked up to see Mr. Todd glaring at me disapprovingly.

"Where were you yesterday!?" He demanded louder than I did a second ago.

I yelped at his sudden yell. I quietly gulped as I tried to explain, "I-I had a little trouble at the market M-Mr. Todd. I tried to come back sooner! I swear!"

He huffed before brushing past me into my room.

"Not soon enough seeing as you had plenty of time to play in the mud! You didn't even bother to clean yourself or your dress! Do you not have any self-control?"

I looked down and closed the door as I walked to my bed and sat down. "It's not like it was my choice. . ." I muttered to myself.

He seemed to hear me briefly as he turned his attention back towards me, "What did you just say?"

I looked up at him, "It's nothing. Nothing at all. . . ." I looked at my feet as I held my arm. Should I tell him what happened yesterday or would he still not care?

Suddenly, he grabbed my arm and roughly lifted me up. "Don't forget our little agreement, which you've already broken. Tell me what happened yesterday or I will end your pitiful existence. . ." he warned.

I looked away from him as I tried to hold back the tears that threatened to fall.

This man has more pettiness than a child! Fine, if he wants to know so badly, then I'll tell him.

"I was pushed into a muddy puddle Mr. Todd, by these four women. That's why I didn't come right away. That's why Mrs. Lovett served you dinner instead of me!"

At that point, a few tears had already emerged.

His silence was greater than that of the grave. I closed my eyes as I saw his hand come in contact with my face, but to my surprise, not in a slap.

More like a strangely calming stroke on my cheek with his thumb.

The next thing he did just confused me even more. He grabbed both of my arms and wrapped them around his neck before he picked me up bridal style as if I weighed nothing to him.

He carried me out of my room, out of the pie shop, up the stairs, and into his barber shop.

I was completely wide-eyed and speechless the entire time. What on earth has come over this man?

Then he gently sat me down in his chair and draped a barber's cape over my nightgown.

I looked up at him quizically, "Uh. . Mr. Todd? What are you-?" I was about to ask what he was intending to do to me but I was cut off before I could finish.

"Hush. I need some silence to concentrate. . ." he gently held a lock of my dirty hair for a minute before letting it go.

I watched him carefully. Concentrate? Concentrate on what? On how to kill me faster? He placed his foot on the pedal of the chair. I clutched the arm of the chair as if my life depended on it (because it might as well!)

Again to my surprise, nothing too drastic happened except for the fact that I was now lying flat on the chair and facing the ceiling.

Then I felt something wet on my head and something being lathered into my scalp.

I could feel his hands, though much larger than mine, calmly and gently scrubbing my head. His fingers worked their way through my hair like a true artist of his trade would.

I laid there in silence, confusion, and bliss. Something about him washing my hair gave me a calming feeling that I can't quite describe. It felt like I was in heaven when I clearly wasn't.

But as calming as this was, I couldn't help but ask, "Why? Why are you cleaning my hair?" He didn't respond.

After he had finished, he wrapped a towel around my hair and began drying it then brushing it. Five minutes later, he finally asked, "How short would you like your hair? I've noticed a lot of dead ends. . ."

I thought about it. I haven't had my hair cut or trimmed since I was 18 and it's been growing since then. A change might be in order. "I guess, to the shoulders if you like?" I shrugged uncertainly.

He nodded then placed his foot on the pedal again and slowly put the chair and me back in an upright position.

In just the span of two minutes, he had cut my hair quickly and efficiently in a professional manner. I was stunned by his quickness that I just sat there dumbfounded.

"Close your bloody mouth for heavens sake. Your not a cod fish." Scolded Mr. Todd. I closed my mouth unaware that I was staring at him with my mouth wide open. How embarrassing. . .

I've come to realize that I don't even know Mr. Todd's first name. I've always known him as Mr. Todd.

My hair felt smooth, soft, and clean. "Um, thank you Mr. Todd. For my hair. . ." he only nodded.

He grabbed a small bowl full of water with a clean rag in it and knelt down to my eye level.

"I need you to hold still. Alright?" He requested. I nodded slowly. He squeezed the rag a little before gently cleaning my face with it. Why was he suddenly so kind to me?

He switched from yelling at me to carrying me then to cleaning me up and all in the span of 30 minutes.

This man has some very strange mood swings.

I sighed softly in thought before taking a quick glance at the picture of the woman and child. They must have been Mr. Todd's family. Speaking of, "Uh, Mr. Todd? Can I ask you something?"

"What?. ." he muttered as he gently cleaned the mud off my forehead.

"What is your first name? Not that I'm going to call you by it. I'm just curious that's all. . ."

He grunted softly, "You and your curiosity. It's going to get you into nothing but trouble. But to answer your question, it's Sweeney. Sweeney Todd."

"That's quite an interesting name," I commented.

"Well, so is Catherine Dean," He retorted. "Alright, you're clean now."

"Thank you, how much do I owe you for your services?" I asked as I checked myself for any money I might have only to remember that I had none on me at the moment.

He stroked my cheek again but with some hidden emotion that I might be too blind to see, "You owe me nothing. But I do want you to remember something. I'm not your friend but I'm also not your enemy. I'm your companion. Nothing more." Then he kissed my cheek, which made me turn beet red.

I got up quickly feeling flustered and carefully took the barber cape off of me and placed it on his chair and made a bee line for the door.

"Anyway! Thanks for the cleaning and haircut Mr. Todd! Goodnight!" I said quickly and ran back into my room where only I could hear the everlasting sound of my heart pounding against my chest.