"You needn't be frightened about death, love," Lucy said softly as she lay in bed with a terrible malady so long ago. "T'is probably as simple as falling asleep. And Heaven's such a peaceful place. No worries, pain, sorrow, guilt...a sumptuous paradise with thousands of angels to keep us company."

"I wouldn't need the angels," Benjamin Barker said, stroking her smooth cheek. "I'll only want to have you, my lovely Lucy."

The far-off memory, almost as whitewashed as Sweeney Todd was, whispered in his mind like a forgotten lullaby. His tapering fingers slowly caressed Lucy's cold, bloodstained cheeks. Mrs. Lovett's screams from the fire were muffled. In fact, every single sound was dimmed and stowed away.

I killed Lucy, the thought raced in his mind and ripped the happy memory into trivial dregs. I killed her, I killed her, I killed her...

I killed my own wife.

At that thought, excruciating agony wrenched at his heart, so painful that he had to swallow a cry of pain. He trembled as if cold as he clutched the limp, bloody corpse. He had killed her, and no one else. He had no one to blame but himself. Mrs. Lovett may have contributed to her death, but it was his blade that slashed her throat, his hand that stabbed her slim neck, his desire to kill, kill, kill until no one was left. Not even her.

It was him, him, HIM!

Mr. Todd heaved for air, his nails digging into Lucy's skin. The air felt cold and sour, like he was drowning in an ocean of blood and ashes. It poisoned his mind and seared his veins like fire.

Because of him, his Lucy would never breath again, laugh again, live again.

He knew that he would never, ever see Lucy again, not even after death. And that was because of the maiming gash on her neck and her scarlet blood dripping from his own knives. He was a monster, a malignant, heartless monster.

No...even a monster wouldn't slaughter the only person it loved.

"There was a barber and his wife..." he crooned, his voice so fragile that a single sound could shatter it like glass. "...and she was beautiful...A foolish barber and his wife..."

Foolish. Absolutely foolish. So terribly stupid that it ruined his whole, miserable life.

He felt broken, torn apart, so dirty. His soul had bloodstains, the precious rubies of Lucy, and they'll never come off. He wouldn't let them.

Mr. Todd sensed soft footsteps behind him that sent a tingling shiver up his spine. He couldn't move, he could barely breath. That little Toby boy, of course, coming to claim his life. Just what he deserved. He felt himself stiffen involuntarily, prepared to be welcomed into Death's embrace.

Sweeney Todd was never afraid of death before, believing it just a peaceful exit from terrors of life. But now he was deathly afraid. He felt himself quaking because of death.

Because he knew he would be separated from Lucy, from Heaven, and from all hopes of peaceful eternity.

I'm sorry, Lucy, his mind whispers, hoping, begging that she could hear up in Heaven, in her beautiful paradise that he would never see. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry I killed you. I'm sorry that I'll never see you again.

I'm sorry, but I won't be in Heaven with you when I die.

Please don't forgive me. I don't deserve it, I never will.

Don't forgive me.

Excruciating pain shot through Mr. Todd's neck. His mind was wracked with agony, tangling all his thoughts into a sense of doom. His own blood splattered Lucy's pale face and he felt his sight blur and fade away. He gasped for air, but his lungs and throat was hacked with pain and he felt warm blood gush from his throat to his mouth like magma. Life started to slip away like sand sifting from his fingers. He didn't even try to grasp onto life anymore. There was nothing left to live for.

Don't forgive me, Lucy.

I love you.