She was being ripped violently from his brutal arms. Her tangled, russet hair had been set loose, flying wildly in all directions, her glittering, brown eyes were wide and moist with startled tears. His fingers clung desperately to the thin, lacy fabric of her dark, embellished gown, striving to dig in further for a more secure grip. Every odious attempt he so frantically exerted in order to keep Mrs. Lovett in his cruel grasp failed. He was being separated from his terrified business partner by vigorous, callous ridden hands. A sense of extreme failure, thick and foggy, clouded his vision and weighed down his straining muscles, as she was torn forcefully from his scrabbling hands. He was being dragged backward against his will, by the brute strength of unforgiving hands. Blinding rage sent uncontrollable shivers coursing down Todd’s spine, as he struggled to wrench himself from the ruthless, vindictive grasp that held him from his retribution. At that moment, a shot of excruciating pain created white flashes before his eyes, and he dropped to his knees with a deep, furious growl. The officer’s club had claimed its target impeccably, and warm blood drizzled down Todd’s neck.

"K-k-eep yer hands off ‘a me you beast," Mrs. Lovett cried in a high pitched wail, sobs causing her syllables to quiver. Her insult was aimed directly at Todd, and she strained against the grip of a second officer, to no avail. Large, pitiless hands held her slender forearms captive in an iron grip behind her slouched back. " You would put me ta death after all I’ve done fer ya’, damn ya’ ta bloody hell!"

"My Lucy’s gone…sentenced to death by your poisonous lies. Nothing would grant me more satisfaction, than to see every inch of skin melt off of your selfish, cowardly hide," Todd flung his accusation at her through clenched teeth. It required two officers to restrain him as he was forced to his feet.

One simple task, Todd. A single task, elementary in nature, and you failed quite miserably. How could you possibly have failed Lucy twice?

Todd’s shoulders slumped as his thoughts of inevitable defeat served to diminish his struggling. Beaten both mentally and physically, he abandoned his futile attempts at escape and allowed the two officers to direct his path.

His vacant gaze swept over his surroundings, his already clouded vision had begun to blur, courtesy of the blow ferociously dealt to his head. Through a mix of wraithlike shadows and bright splotches of white light, Todd observed seven officers. All clad in black wool uniforms, they had flocked to various corners of the bake house. A younger officer with wavy, pale blonde hair clutched at his stomach and gagged at the sight and vile stench of the ghastly pile of bloodied flesh and ivory bones that sat atop the grinder. The older officers’ brows furrowed and faces twisted in disgust, engaged in discussion with one another. Although visibly disturbed by their surroundings, the more experienced officers were obviously accustomed to the morbid atmosphere that accompanied crime scenes. They stood solemnly over the lifeless bodies of Turpin, the Beadle, and poor Lucy. Broken portions of their conversations echoed in Todd’s pounding ears as he neared the stairs that led up to the pie shop.

"Neighbor sent for the law…roused from their slumber by a woman’s screams…"

"Found em’ two down ‘ere, the barber and that baker woman, wrestlin’ bout like two rabid dogs…"

"From the looks ‘a it, he fancied tossin’ ‘er into that fire over there. ‘E intended ta burn ‘er up in that very oven - was dragging ‘er towards certain death when we busted in…"

The sharp howl of agonized shrieks caused Todd’s thoughts to ebb into tiny dwindling embers. The echoing of pathetic pleading assaulted his ears, and a sense of lost dignity hung heavily in the air. Harsh edges of jutting splinters grazed the skin of his bare feet. Aggressive lurching motions and the moan of creaking floorboards carried Todd away from a now distant memory. The smell of mold, damp wood, and vomit crept into his nostrils, confirming his present state. Despite the repulsive nature of his surroundings, another notion introduced itself to Todd. A wicked smirk graced his lips, this being the sole manner in which Sweeney Todd displayed any mirth or merriment, and he allowed his thoughts to lull him away from reality once more.

A warm flood of satisfaction and comfort engulfed Todd from head to toe, as he clutched his pale hands together. Strong, slender fingers intertwined themselves in anticipation. The whiteness of his knuckles increased as his grip tightened, mimicking the act of strangulation, as they awaited their final destination.

"Our society looks down upon people such as yourselves, with an eye of disgust and a heart full of loathing. The blood of the most honorable Judge Turpin and countless others rests on your hands. It would give me no greater fulfilment to see the pair of you writhing in agony at the end of a rope, which is the traditional sentence for lowlife miscreants. However, there are two factors working inexplicably in your favor - the first issue being the unfortunate fact that there is minimal evidence available to inform us of the precise number of lives taken at your hands. The second deciding factor being the gracious testimony and request that all charges be dropped. The previous was given by the late Judge’s respectable ward, Johanna Hope. That being said, the courts have decided to honor Ms. Hope’s request. With all factors being taken into consideration, your necks have been sparred, and death by hanging is no longer an available option. However, the two of you must be made into an example, for the public to witness the manner in which the magnanimous Queen Victoria’s law system operates. An alternative and befitting mode of punishment has been chosen - permanent banishment to Devil’s Island."

The image of the Judge’s powdered face, twisted in repugnance, was painted on the back of Mrs. Lovett’s eyelids. The redundant thumping of his gavel was like a sinister jeer, and it resounded with a tortuous force inside of Mrs. Lovett’s bowed head. The weight of the sentence issued to her one week prior, now sat callously in the pit of her stomach. Her bare feet scraped on splintered wooden planks, as she attempted to step forward. The simple act of walking had been transformed into a punishment. The hardened hands of the prison guards had introduced the cold, biting steel of large shackles to the sensitive flesh of Mrs. Lovett’s ankles. The cruel rings of metal sat loosely at her feet.

A profusely overweight guard, sweat streaming down a ruddy face due to the vigorous task of clamping down shackles on hundreds of ankles, cursed in frustration."Them bloody things are too big fer ‘er blasted ankles. Keep slippin’ every which way, they do," Tiny droplets of spit flew everywhere as a result of his aggravated statement.

Another guard, slim and stern faced, knelt at the hem of Mrs. Lovett’s crinkled dress to inspect the shackles.

He spoke in a raspy tone, amusement coating every word."Not ta worry, attempted escape ain’t no option fer any a’ these unfortunate souls. Wot wit’ taday bein’ the Day a’ Transport and all, there ought ta be guards coverin’ every surroundin’ inch of the docks. An’ besides that fact," The guard chuckled and ran a lascivious hand up the length of Mrs. Lovett’s calve. "These shackles ain’t built ta fit a lady."

Shuddering, Mrs. Lovett squeezed her eyes shut, shame seeping into every limb of her body.

The plumper guard scoffed, and spit at Mrs. Lovett’s feet, the action causing his confidante to jump back in surprise. The rotund fellow cast Mrs. Lovett a patronizing glance, and uttered, "This ain’t no lady, me friend, this be a criminal. A filthy, shameless criminal."

Mrs. Lovett bit her lip, praying that no tears befall her as she fought to keep herself upright.

She watched the guards disappear into the vast sea of people who had begun to form around the docks. The hum of citizens, eager for a display of public humiliation as a welcome escape from their own dull colorless existence, swirled about in the air. Darkened clouds had coated the misty London sky, and a threatening rumble of harsh, unpitying thunder resounded. The weather perfectly matched the atmosphere; blackened, desolate, and surely hopeless. Mrs. Lovett stood, quivering amongst a line of thirty women, all of which were joined together at the ankles by thick, iron shackles. Mrs. Lovett’s eyes scanned her fellow chain-mates. The majority of the women along the line had three common characteristics; they had been stripped of their shoes, shackles adorned every pair of wrists, and miserable sobs wracked their bodies. The sole exception to the contagious stream of tears was Mrs. Lovett. She was completely convinced that all possible tears had escaped from her damaged body when her heart had been mercilessly torn into two, hardened, pieces. A large portion had been broken off from the whole when Mr. Todd had hatefully attempted to drag her towards the mouth of her own scorching oven. The second portion had been separated at the trial, when Todd had refused to confirm the fact that Mrs. Lovett never actually committed a single murder. She had merely been an accomplice, and had been abandoned by the sole witness to that truth. Therefore, now as she walked in sync with the line of chained feet, the tears that would make her identical to the other women were absent.

The female prisoners began to walk the final length of the dock, alongside chained lines of over one hundred men. Male prisoners began to ascend the lengthy wooden ramp that led to the ship. They held stoic expressions on their faces, and their hardened jaw lines were frozen in place.

Before the first of the female line could set step onto the ramp, they were stopped by a sandy blonde haired man, with wide muscular shoulders, and a crooked nose. The fellow wore a cheerful smile and a bright, red wool coat. Stepping forward, he addressed the captive audience in a deep, booming voice." ‘Ello me loves, I be yer Captain. Captain Gilbert Sullivan ta be exact. Welcome aboard The Hell Bound. I simply wanted ta begin this voyage by sayin that all ‘a ya lasses should consider yerselves lucky. Under the new legislative stipulations, implemented by Parliament and her highness, Queen Victoria, female criminals are now allowed passage onto Devil’s Island. This is quite the golden opportunity for ya ladies, for ya ‘ave been offered a new life. A life in which ya are free to abandon yer felonious tendencies, and add purpose ta yer existence. Fortunate ya are, for I am sure that the hard working guards ‘a the island shall ‘ave plenty ‘a new uses fer ya."

Pleased with his own vulgar innuendo, a deep chuckle escaped his throat as Captain Sullivan yanked on the front of the chain, causing the line to stagger forward.

Mrs. Lovett, suddenly forced to begin taking small steps forward, decided to take a last look at her home since birth. The entire city of London appeared to mourn her departure, as light droplets from the gray sky fell on her head. Black rooftops seemed to slope in hundreds of frowns on the dark horizon. She briefly wondered what would become of her beloved pie shop as her poignant gaze fell on the crowd behind her. Gazes, full of abhorrent disapproval burned their way through the lines of prisoners. Mrs. Lovett’s gaze then fell upon a sight which made her heart weaken and descend downward in her chest. Toby stood, head down with pitiful tears staining his cheeks. The inconsolable child was clutched tightly at Johanna’s side, who seemed to be caught in a stoic trance-like state. Not far from Johanna was Anthony. Mr. Hope was attempting to fight his way through the crowd in order to gain access to the next line of male prisoners. The last sight that Mrs. Lovett’s gaze swept over caused her heart to deaden and clench painfully in her chest. It was Mr. Todd, chained amongst other unfamiliar faces. Todd’s livid expression and solid composure didn’t flinch, as Anthony whispered an agonized message into his ear. The male line continued their journey as Anthony watched in desperation. It was at that point that London had disappeared from Mrs. Lovett’s vision forever, and the sky ceased to exist as she was led below the decks of the Hell Bound.

The heavy drag of shackles on wooden planks roused Mrs. Lovett from her frozen, deadened thoughts. She had replayed the events of her last hours in London, in the numbed chambers of her mind, countless times. Mrs. Lovett had no concept of time, whether she had been imprisoned in the cramped cell for three days, six months, or twelve years was a mystery to her. Her current companions were the damp air, the dark, despairing atmosphere, and nine silent women. No one attempted to dare speech or sobs, for either one warranted a lashing. Day after day, the ten cellmates had witnessed multiple lifeless bodies being pulled above by the crew members. As countless corpses made the inescapable journey overboard, into the shark infested waters, Mrs. Lovett couldn’t help but laugh inwardly at the irony of the situation. For the fact was, the only form of freedom currently available, was death.

However, the basic human instinct to maintain life had won, and Mrs. Lovett learned to huddle closely to the dark haired, rail thin woman to her right. She also learned to stretch out the length of her arms and legs in the congested, negligible space that was accessible to her, and the other women in the cell had followed her example a little half-heartedly. Assuming that the unforgiving cold and the stagnant nature of the prisoner’s cramped position were the root causes of death, the woman had religiously followed these regiments of stretching and huddling. At rare moments, flickers of buoyant smiles and nodding of heads could be seen amongst the group. These being displays of pride at the fact that they had been successful in one aspect; they were still breathing.

Even in her present state, and to her extreme self-hatred, Mrs. Lovett wondered if Mr. Todd was as successful at maintaining life as she had been thus far. She was curious as to what effect seeing his lifeless body being dragged above would have on her. Would she experience the purest of satisfaction, at the notion that the brazen murderer got what he so inevitably deserved? Or would she long to be tossed overboard with him, feeling as if all her stretching and huddling was in vain?

Without warning, the harsh jolt of the ship, and a heavy creaking moan caused her heart to ascend like burning wildfire into her throat. The ship had ceased to move. Mrs. Lovett’s pulse began to accelerate in anticipation. Long, tortuous moments later, heavy, leather boots descended the steps to the holding cells and a man’s gravelly voice rang out.

"Alright, ya miserable wenches, out wit the lot ‘a ya. We’ve reached yer final destination. Welcome to Devil’s Island."

The repulsive sound and putrid smell of retching filled the air. Men and women fell to their knees in agony, their weak muscles in the early stages of atrophy. The sweltering heat from the vivid yellow rays of the sun, beat harshly onto Mrs. Lovett's back. Her mussed, auburn curls had fallen loose from the constriction of its pins, and it caught small sand particles. She noticed that their surroundings included an endless jungle of swaying palm trees, white sand, rows of thatched, feeble looking huts, and millions of miles of sparkling, blue ocean that stretched beyond the horizon. Prisoners were being freed, one-by-one from the confinements of their shackles. As her wrists and ankles were finally separated from their metal companions, Mrs. Lovett winced as she ran fingers over the raw flesh. Bringing her emancipated hands above her head, she reveled in the freedom of a simple stretch. Her delight was short lived. As the last string of prisoners stepped onto the beach, a baritone voice seemed to stop time with the cruelty echoed within it.

"On your knees, to the ground, like the disgusting, filth ridden snakes you are."

The command was given by a tall man; easily standing over six feet in height. Despite the heat, he was clad in a billowy, black long sleeved shirt and black leather britches. His head was completely bald, and prominent blue veins embellished his temples. Narrow, topaz eyes pierced the crowd of prisoners with a gaze meant to locate and challenge the rebellious individuals. His face was also characterized by a crooked nose, highly pronounced cheekbones, and thin lips. All of which created a sinister air about him . Lean muscled arms and long legs strode forward, and a large hand griped a formidable leather whip which cracked at the man’s heels. A large army of men, gripping muskets, surrounded their leader and established their aim at the herd of prisoners.

" Make haste you blasted, God forsaken smut. Let’s have the flea ridden mutts on the left side and the useless heifers on the left side. When you are under Master Skelter’s command, swift compliance is essential to your survival."

His second command was accompanied by the crack of the whip. Men and women alike, began to quake violently, as row upon row fell to their knees. Both genders had quickly separated themselves by a five inch row, men kneeling to the left and women to the right.

Mrs. Lovett felt fear induced bile begin to coat her throat. In an attempt to focus her mind elsewhere, she filled both of her fists with sand. The warm grains began to sift through her fingertips and fall back to the ground. She soon became lost in her own miserable thoughts as she watched the sand retreat from between her fingers and return to become unified with the beach. Soon all of it would be lost, out of her grasp, very similar to her life back to London. Lost, like her business, that which she had sewn her heart and soul into. Gone, like the protective walls of the pie shop. Absent, like the comfort of her own, cushioned bed. Stolen away, like her freedom.

The hushed tones of a malicious laugh broke her thought process. It was a wicked, jeering laugh, put forth with the intention to cause emotional distress. Mrs. Lovett knew that evil laugh with an overwhelming familiarity. Whipping her head to her right, her eyes fell on a very alive Mr. Todd.

Todd was situated on his knees along with the others; his pale face holding a twisted look of sadistic amusement that filled Mrs. Lovett's heart with unbearable loathing, leaving no room for fear.

"Isn’t this what you desired, my dear?" Todd uttered in whispered tones, between quiet cackles. "I’d wager that your little heart is filled with imminent happiness."

Unconcealed sarcasm and deep spite was wrapped around his every word.

Mrs. Lovett, both deeply disturbed and confused, remained silent, her gaze locked on that spiteful, chuckling mouth.

Todd, upon seeing the perplexed furrow in her brow, brushed back the hair covering Mrs. Lovett’s ear.

His crazed laughter continued as he spoke, knowing he was about to maim her deeply. "To live by the sea, you stupid woman! You spoke of nothing else, when we resided in London, and now you have arrived, all expenses paid! How does it feel, my dear, to know that your dream has come true?"

His wild laughter did not cease, and the cruel sound of it initiated a visible fit of trembling in Mrs. Lovett’s form. Her hands clenched and unclenched, white hot fury clouded her vision, and a deep crimson ebbed into her pale cheeks.

The punishing thought begged her for release and her formerly dull, defeated eyes flashed dangerously.

She uttered an animal shriek, the sound making its way upward from deep within her throat. Memories of the trial, of the last night in the bake house, of her eagerness to comply to him, and of the futile efforts she had exerted in order to gain a mere scrap of his attention were the fuel to her enraged screams. Mrs. Lovett lunged at a bewildered Todd with superhuman speed and strength. Skirts flew haphazardly in all directions, and her hair fell out of its pins altogether, in a frenzy. The barber and the baker fell to the ground in a struggle, Mrs. Lovett bringing herself down atop Todd; her knuckles scraped forcefully on his cheekbones, and her nails aimed directly for his eyes.

The shrill sound of multiple blowing whistles pierced the air - multiple pairs of hands were unsuccessful in their attempts to pull the screaming woman off Todd, who was attempting fruitlessly to still her flailing wrists.

Skelter’s gaze of disapproval fell on his men, who were quite ineffective in restraining her. Skelter’s eyes then landed on this woman, all auburn hair, wild brown eyes, and high pitched screams. Her insubordinate nature caused the rage to boil dangerously in the Head Guards’ veins. This type of behavior couldn’t be allowed to become contagious among the encampment. There was indeed a requirement to make an example of this unruly creature. Taking long strides over to a confused guard, Skelter tore a musket from the man’s grasp.

Aiming the gun in Mrs. Lovett’s direction, he fired two shots that split the air.