There’s blood in her yellow hair. It’s hers.
I’ve never felt quite as sick as I do right now. I’ve killed so many men that I’ve lost count. As Mrs. Lovett would say, “Think of all them pies.” But I’ve never felt like this.
“Don’t I know you,” she said… But I was so blind in my rage that I didn’t give myself the time to recognize her. I heard Judge Turpin coming up the stairs and I had to remove the person I perceived only as an obstacle between me and my revenge. Had I not written that letter… Had I not… Had I not…
Even in death, she’s beautiful… Even dirty from living on the street… From living through the insanity that she brought upon herself, or that was brought upon her. Who’s fault is this? Turpin’s? He’s dead. Lucy’s? No, never Lucy’s. Mine. It’s mine.
Was she the one who took the poison, or was it given to her? Mrs. Lovett said that she’d tried to stop my Lucy from taking the poison, but how could I believe her? She’d lied to me… Made me believe that Lucy was dead because… why? She’d been saying something, but I was so angry… It doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing matters anymore. They’re both dead now. I’m alone again… Sure enough as if I were back in Australia.
When did I become this monster? Was it some time in Australia? When did I cease being Benjamin Barker and start being Sweeney Todd? I don’t even remember when I made the conscious decision to change my name. I knew I’d need a different name to work under, but I still expected to come home to a wife and child. What if Lucy hadn’t liked my new name? I’d have changed it again, of course. But I was Sweeney Todd now… Lucy hadn’t been there to make me change it. Except that she had been there…
Could I have pulled her out of her insanity? Could she have pulled me out of mine? She recognized me… There had to have been something of my Lucy left within her. Five more minutes, and I’d recognized her… A little better lighting, and I’d have recognized her. A little more… A little more… I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.
“There was a barber and his wife… and she was beautiful…” I half whisper, half sing to the perfect angel in my arms. She can’t hear me anymore. She’ll never hear me again. I hear something, but I don’t care anymore. My reason… My life… My Lucy… Oh, god, Lucy… What have I done…? “A foolish barber and his wife… she was his reason and his life… And she was beautiful… And he was…”
Oh. It was the boy. We were right. He’d been in the sewers, hiding. Smart lad. Too smart. Only appropriate that it would be my own razor. Only appropriate that I would die now, with her in my arms. With nothing and no one left to live for…
There’s blood in her yellow hair.