The Demon's Angel

Chapter 17: A rainy day on Fleet Street

(Minor mention of blood warning! If you don't like blood, then you are more than welcome to skip to the next chapter.)

May 25, 1887

Things have gone back to normal so far.
Well, almost normal. Mrs. Lovett has been more wary around me, and as for Mr. Todd, he hasn't wanted me upstairs for quite some time.
Perhaps he wants to avoid having an awkward conversation with me.
I understand why, but it's still so strange that he hasn't called for me once.

He hasn't even requested for me to bring up his meals or clean his room at all.
And it's been six days since our last encounter. In those six days, I haven't seen him come out of his room once.
I don't know why this bothers me.
I'm even starting to get worried about him.

which, again, is very strange considering the fact that this man has threatened my life on a couple of occasions.
I mean, he kills people, for heaven’s sake! And for cannibalistic practices no less! Still, I can't shake the feeling that something is terribly wrong with Mr. Todd.

If what Mrs. Lovett told me is true about him and he really is out for revenge, then why murder every man that comes through his door when one man is to blame?

Maybe I should ask him today, or maybe not. I don't know anymore. Maybe I should. Mrs. Lovett is gone for the day, and she took Toby with her to go explore the countryside.

But it is raining outside right now, which is not uncommon in London.
It rains here more than it snows. Usually on days like this, I would just sit by the fire and read a book or sketch something.

That's it; I'm going to go talk to him about it, whether he likes it or not! Wait a moment; I just heard a loud thud upstairs. Something's wrong. I must find out what that was.

Author's Perspective:

Catherine set down her journal and pen on her small desk before she raced out of her room and up the stairs to see him.

But when she got to the door, it was locked. She peered through the window and gasped at the sight. Mr. Todd was lying very still on the ground with some kind of wound on his hands.

She panicked and started banging on the door. "Mr. Todd? Mr. Todd! Please, say something! Anything at all! Ugh!" She groaned as she tried to figure out what to do.

Then she realized that the door was locked from the inside and began to smash the window with her elbow before sticking her arm through and successfully unlocking the door.

Once inside, she ran to Sweeney only to trip over something and fall, but she caught herself in time and regained her balance.

She looked down to see that she had tripped over one of the many, many empty gin bottles that were scattered about the room. Some were smashed to pieces, while others were still intact.

And there, slumped in the far corner of the room, was Mr. Sweeney Todd himself, looking much worse for wear.

His clothes were messier than his hair, which now stuck out on different sides of his head; his eyes were more red, puffy, and dark than usual (probably from crying, which doesn't seem like something he's capable of doing because of his indifference to everything);
and his face was nearly covered by a horribly stubbled look from a lack of shaving.

And most definitely knocked out from all the gin that he's consumed, judging by the smell of him.

Catherine looked at him in complete shock. What had happened to this man to make him look like this?

In just the course of six days at that.
She knelt down beside him and began to examine him for injuries, and sure enough, there was one.

A somewhat large cut in the palm of his hand, which had been horribly bandaged. The bandage was already bloody from his hand, but it seemed to be slowly healing.

Catherine thought, This must have happened yesterday or the day before.

She was still a little soaked from the rain, but that wasn't her main concern. She gently removed his blood-soaked bandage and set it down on the other side of her.
She looked around until she noticed a water bowl for face washing on top of the vanity.

Catherine picked it up slowly and gently set it down before she tore off the ends of her work dress and dunked it in water before slowly wrapping it around the barber's hand and then securing it with a tight knot.

No sooner had she done that, Sweeney's eyes shot open as he yelled in pain. Startled, Catherine moved back quickly.

"Mr. Todd, what's happened to you?" Catherine asked.
He turned his attention away from his hand and towards her.
He squinted at her as his drunken blur tried to refocus on what was in front of him.

Sweeney's brows furrowed in confusion, as if he were meeting Catherine for the first time. If only it wasn't for the words he had spoken, "Lu..cy...Lucy? Why, why do you sound like Catherine?"
His speech was slurred but still coherent enough for her to understand.

She froze; she hadn't heard that name for a long time. Fifteen years, to be exact. She blinked for a moment. "Did you just say Lucy?"

He nodded slowly as he got up, using the wall for support. He rubbed his eyes in an attempt to reawaken himself to reality.

When his vision finally became clear, he groaned in disappointment as he realized that the woman before him wasn't his deceased wife, nor was it his long-lost daughter, whom he thought it was after hearing Catherine's voice for the first time in six days.

"What are you doing in here, and how did you get in here?" He asked gruffly as he stumbled to his chair and sat in it.

Catherine quickly got up after he sat in his chair and said, "Mrs. Lovett and I were getting worried about you because your barber shop had been closed for six days straight.
And I got in by breaking the small window for your door. But that's not important right now.
What is important is the fact that you've been drinking yourself into your grave, and you look and smell awful!"

"Shut up! Shut up right now! It's already bad enough that I have a splitting headache from all that bloody gin!" He yelled before holding his head as it throbbed in pain.

Catherine sighed and walked over to the trunk and sat on it. "Why were you even drinking that much to begin with? Are you worried or sad about something?"

He glared at her as he held his head in one hand while the other rested on his right leg. He rolled his eyes before replying, "Even if I was, why would it matter to you? You barely know anything about me."

Catherine glared back at him and said, "It matters to me because it's affecting your health and mental state greatly! You matter to me because, despite everything, you're still a human being! Albeit, a rather broken one at that."

Sweeney was taken back by this. She's seen what he's done, and she knows what he's capable of doing to her, yet she still came to his aid.

He looked out the large window, noticing how there was no sign of the rain stopping. If anything, it seemed to be raining harder.

"It's raining harder," he said softly.

"Yes, I am well aware of that. Stop changing the subject. Now, please tell me what happened to your hand," Catherine said sternly.

Sweeney turned his head toward her and said, "I'll make you a deal, luv. Stay with me in here until it's stopped raining fully, then I'll tell you."