No one ever escapes the terrors of darkness. The talons of fear that fester within it keep victims tied down to it perpetually, but there are few who are able to run away before it consumes them completely. There was once a young boy, one who encountered unspeakable terrors, and unknowingly partook in them. He fell into that darkness where a face so horrifying haunted him and a fallen angel lulled him to sleep with her song. A shining blade of hope was his only way of escape. Unbeknownst to this boy, however, was that he didn't run away far enough from the ghosts and demons of his past…

Tobias Ragg stood before the small barred window of his dreary room of stone, cold to the touch. He was finally getting out of this wretched place, the asylum, though it was the only place that truly felt like home in his entire life. Well, second place. At any moment, he was going to be told it was time for him to go. It was almost bittersweet.

He turned away from the window and looked at the uncomfortable wooden bed that he had slept in for the past ten years. His roommate, another young man named Porter, was seated at their small table in the corner near his own bed, watching Toby with eager eyes.

"They'll be coming for you soon, Toby," Porter said as he glanced toward the barred door to their room. "Are you nervous?"

Toby let out a heavy sigh and left the window, going over to sit on his bed, the harsh wool blanket scratching the tips of his fingers as he did so. "I am nervous, Porter," he began, "But I've been waiting for this day for a very long time." Toby never thought he would be released. Toby was a boy of only fourteen years when he witnessed the murder of Nellie. Lovett, whom he had learned to love as a mother. He had witnessed the barber, a man he never trusted, Sweeney Todd, throw her into an open oven, and her screams as she was being consumed by the flames were something that ended any innocence and child-like wonder left within Toby. That same night, Toby also found dismembered limbs in the meat grinder, where the successful pies of Mrs. Lovett had been made. He had seen the brutally slaughtered bodies of Beadle Bamford, Judge Turpin, and a beggar woman. He knew Sweeney Todd had killed them all, and Mrs. Lovett encouraged it. The horrors he had witnessed had numbed him, leading up to the very moment he murdered Sweeney Todd, a moment he can't even remember clearly, He remembered the way his hands trembled, yet the murder of Mrs. Lovett's death fueled him with a calm rage that allowed him to do what he did. He fled the scene once it was over, but after that, all he remembered was darkness.

Toby was told that he had stumbled out of Mrs. Lovett's pie shop, and a few policemen had been arriving at that time, having been notified of the screams being heard from within the shop. Toby could not speak and he was in shock. It was clear he had seen something he shouldn't have, and it was deemed that instead of an orphanage or in the care of a family, Toby should be sent to an asylum. During the first few weeks of his stay, Toby's appetite had vanished, his mind tricking him into seeing limbs and thumbs in the gruel they were served. At night, he would cry hysterically for Mrs. Lovett and swear to avenge her, even though he had already done so. He frequently prayed for the damnation of Sweeney Todd's soul and hoped that he was paying for what he had done.

The sudden flashbacks of memories were the worst of it all, which caused Toby to have terrible terrors in both the night and day. Toby couldn't remember what happened during these episodes, only that within his mind, he was back there again. These terrors would cause him to lash out violently at the other patients by threatening them or shouting at them. All patients, young and old, began to fear the young boy and because of this, Toby was usually kept in his cramped cell and not let out, even for meals. He had shared that cell with another boy, who was also deemed to be a danger to himself and others, by the name of Match. Match, who had been named by other patients, had a fascination with fire and somehow always found matches, which had to be confiscated from him constantly. He shouted nonsense about all going up in flames, and Toby feared that one day he would awake to find his bed on fire. He constantly begged to be moved to another room, but his cries fell on deaf ears. Match did cause a small fire in the asylum during a quick escape, but it was put out before any damage could be done. After the day, Match mysteriously vanished and the patients were told that he had died in an accident of his own doing. Toby wasn't certain if he believed that.

A year later, Toby was deemed well enough to be moved to not another cell, but a small bedroom. The same room he was in today. He had always shared the room with a boy named Porter, who had been born in the asylum but did not seem insane at all to Toby. He had been extremely quiet and barely spoke to Toby during the first few months of Toby's arrival to his room. As time went on, Porter eventually became more comfortable with his cellmate, and day by day, he would speak more and more until Toby learned his life story. Porter's mother had been a woman of wealth and a sudden madness led her to murder her husband, or so Porter was told. She was with child when she was placed in the asylum and she died shortly after Porter was born, leaving him in the "care" of nurses and patients instead of being sent to an orphanage. He was given the name Porter for an unknown reason. Terrible things had happened to Porter throughout his early life at the madhouse, things that appalled Toby but Porter was even more appalled by the things Toby had told him.

Over the years, the two became close friends and shared their dreams of life outside of the madhouse. Toby felt comfortable with Porter and was never threatened by him. Porter knew he, himself, would most likely never leave the madhouse; his life at the madhouse was all he had ever known, but he had hope for Toby, even if he had been a little fearful of him at times.

A new doctor began to work at the asylum temporarily for his studies five years ago, and he took an immediate interest in Toby, having heard of his case. This doctor saw him regularly and helped Toby retrain his mind to deter the sudden memories that pulled him back to the past, which triggered Toby's aggression. It was slow progress at first, but as the years went on, the therapy proved successful. Toby had stopped experiencing his day terrors and gone were the moments of his uncontained rageful frenzies. Toby hadn't lashed out at a patient in four years and while his night terrors remained, they were less frequent and they did not affect his behavior. He began to take care of himself, not allowing himself to waste away and fall into the bleakness of asylum living. He had grown into a rather handsome young man and his good behavior earned him the trust of doctors and fellow patients alike. Like many of the other patients, Toby's mental ailments were the fault of traumatic past experiences and he felt as though he had conquered them all. Just recently, it was deemed by the doctor that Toby was well enough and fit to be released back into London's society. Toby felt like one of the lucky ones for the first time in his life.

"Have you got everything packed and ready?" Porter asked from his seat at the table.

"I've barely anything to pack," Toby chuckled softly as he glanced at the worn leather suitcase near his bed, which contained his few belongings. He then turned to his friend, his brows furrowed with worry. "Are you going to be alright without me, Porter? I know how difficult it is for you to talk to others." Toby had been Porter's only friend and it pained Toby to leave him behind.

Porter gave Toby a genuine smile, touched by his kindness and concern. "Oh, I'll be fine. I am going to miss you, Ragg."

"I shall miss you, as well."

Porter watched him and stood from his seat. "What's the first thing you'll do when you leave?" He asked.

The question was one that Toby had thought of over again for the past couple of years when he began to realize there was a chance of him getting out. "The first thing," Toby began, "is that I'm going back." It wasn't an idea he always had, but when he was told the shop was still abandoned, Toby wanted to take it on, despite the doctor's advice to stay away. Toby was cured and confident that he could handle being back at the shop. Whatever ghosts remained were at rest and what better way to destroy what evil happened there than to reclaim it as his own and turn it into something better? He wanted to rewrite his and the shop's past. He had no other place to go to anyway and it was a better option than being out on the streets or in a workhouse.

Porter had not heard of this venture yet, and his jaw dropped at Toby's answer. "Why in hell would you want to go back to that damned place? I'd avoid it if I were you. It's not right."

Toby waved away his concerns. "Porter, don't worry. I thought about it and I have some plans that will benefit myself and the shop's future. Remember what the doctor said? The only way to stop the demons from our past is to confront them once and for all. Besides, I already had Officer Mitchells do me a favor regarding it before I returned." Officer Mitchells had been the policeman who had found Toby after the incident at Fleet Street. He had become somewhat of a friend to Toby over the years, as well, making sure the boy was doing well. Mitchells wasn't the most enthusiastic when he heard of Toby's plans, but he wanted to be a support to him as well since he had no one else.

"A favor? Such as?" Porter asked, not convinced.

"Well, I told him to empty Mr. Todd's room upstairs of the unnecessary, except the bigger furniture if it didn't sell, which he did. Nothing had been touched, can you believe it? Even the thieves were too wary of the place. Money was also found hidden in the shop and it went to me, miraculously. I honestly didn't think that would happen. Todd's furniture, along with a few of Mrs. Lovett's, was sold at an auction and the money from the auction is now in my possession at a bank. I bought the shop and have some leftover money," Toby went on, speaking quickly as Porter stared at him wide-eyed. "I'm going to reopen Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pie Emporium once I have all the supplies I need and make even more money. I did learn a lot when I was helping her around the shop. I think I may even re-open the barber shop upstairs so I can make a little extra more, but I'm not quite sure as of yet."

Porter blinked in response. "My, my, my, you have got things well figured out, I must say."

Toby could sense the hesitation in Porter's voice and for the first time, Toby also wished he hadn't told Porter everything. Before Toby could express his thanks for Porter's support, the door to their room opened, and Officer Mitchells stood in the doorway, keys in hand. He nodded at both Toby and Porter in greeting.

"Mr. Ragg, it's time to go," the officer said.

Toby picked up his suitcase and turned to Porter. The two embraced tightly and Porter lightly patted his friend's back.

"Take good care of yourself," he said quietly to him.

"Right, Porter, you too," Toby replied, gently pulling away from him and taking one final glance around the room he had spent so many years in. Though he would not miss life in the madhouse, he would miss the friendship he had shared with Porter and the routine.

"Stop by the shop when you get out?"

Porter laughed and shook his head. "We'll see about that."

Toby chuckled and then stepped toward the open door, looking back one final time, he gave one final wave. "Goodbye, Porter."

"Goodbye, Toby. Be sure to send me one of those meat pies, if you can, aye?" Porter asked with a smirk.

Toby smiled at him. "I shall."

Officer Mitchells stood aside as Toby left the room, closing the door behind him. Once the door was locked, the officer immediately inspected Toby up and down with his eyes. "First things first, lad," the officer began, "you have to go upstairs, get yourself cleaned up, have a bath, and get some new clothes. You weren't expecting to be released in those horrendous rags, were you?"

Toby looked down at his best shirt with tattered sleeves, faded gray pants, and worn shoes. He expected to be released like this, as embarrassing as it was.

"These are my only clothes, Officer."

Officer Mitchells sighed and rubbed at his forehead. "I see. Well, while you're upstairs putting yourself together, I shall go out and find something acceptable for you to wear. I suggest when you arrive back, the first thing you do is find yourself a new wardrobe."

Toby said his thanks to the officer and the two soon departed. Upstairs, Toby bathed in one of the secluded bathing rooms and was able to brush his hair. His hand hovered over the razor left out for him to use. Was this a test? The sight of the blade always brought him back, and he could feel his mind trying to drag him to that night, but he fought against it. He was never allowed to shave himself until recently under the watchful eyes of others, and now he was trusted to do so without incident, alone. He emptied his mind and focused on the task at hand, and once he was done, he washed his face and found that a new set of clothes had arrived for him to wear. The officer had found for him a gently used pair of black leather boots, a new shirt, trousers, a coat, and a hat. Once he was dressed, he took a look at himself in the cracked mirror before him and smiled at himself. He looked top-notch as he had never worn such nice clothes before. He felt like a brand new man, ready to take on a new life, all he had to do was bravely walk out of this hellish place.

Suitcase in hand, Toby returned downstairs and made his way to the entrance of the asylum. As he walked through the halls with a nurse following behind, he heard the moaning and groaning of patients throughout the place. Passing by a few patients who were seated in the great room of the asylum, he kept his gaze straightforward, refusing to look into the eyes of the poor souls. The hall that led out was in sight, but he paused when he heard his name being called out. Seated by one of the windows of the room sat a haggard old woman with long white hair and sunken eyes. Toby knew who she was, everyone did, as the woman often rambled about things that would happen to them - she had even predicted what would happen to Match.

"Evil has you in its clutches!" the woman wailed.

Toby stepped back and stared at her in confusion. More nonsense. "You're mad," he muttered. The nurse urged him to continue walking, and he did so.

"I am not the mad one! You are, Tobias Ragg!" The woman screeched. He heard the scuffle of asylum staff taking her away, but he did not look back. Instead, Toby shivered and quickened his pace to the entrance.

The nurse, though apprehensive, wished Toby well and quickly closed the door as soon as his foot touched the front steps. He heard the quick latching of the locks as he rushed down the steps of the asylum. The thick and foggy London air almost immediately left him breathless. He stared up at a sky he had not been able to see, other than through dirty windows and bars, for the past ten years. Toby thought it quite humorous that he found the gloomy sky to be so beautiful after being kept behind stone walls for so long. The sky was just as he remembered it: dark and full of mystery. It was perfect. He inhaled the cold crisp air and noted that the familiar smell of rain was lingering and the roads were already wet from a recent pour. Everything was new to him again. Nearby, a carriage and Officer Mitchells were waiting for him.

"It's like being in a new world, isn't it?" Officer Mitchells asked as he opened the carriage door.

"It truly is," Toby said, walking over to the carriage quickly. He immediately went in and slid over to the other side of it to be by the window that was facing the opposite street. He didn't want to look back at the madhouse.

"You're still planning on Fleet Street as before?" The officer asked before he stepped into the carriage.

Toby did not look away from the window as he answered. "Fleet Street," he confirmed.

The journey to Fleet Street was a fairly short one. Officer Mitchells remained silent throughout the ride while Toby stared, wide-eyed, at the once familiar buildings and streets. He remembered it all; the church, the grocer, the courthouse, the fountain, the houses, the marketplace. The streets were filled with pockets of people here and there and he wondered what they had thought of the nightmare that happened ten years ago. Had they known? Was a man in their family a victim of Todd? Were they all blissfully unaware? Toby envied them if they were.

Soon, the carriage stopped in front of the place that was the most familiar to Toby. His heart began to race at the sight of it and a chill ran down his spine.

"Ready, Mr. Ragg?" The officer asked.

Toby took a deep breath and calmed himself. "Yes," Toby said quickly, suitcase in hand. He opened the door, stepped out of the carriage, and gazed upon the shop. The state of the shop truly reflected the secret horrors that went on inside and below. Mrs. Lovett's sign had faded, the windows were covered in dust, and the curtains within appeared to be in tatters. It was quiet and it was still, but Toby tensed when the building itself seemed to whisper out to him as if welcoming him back. He could see himself, just a child, stumbling out of the door, dazed and alone, his wide eyes bearing the horror he just beheld. He could taste the chill in the air that night. The scent of blood in the air. His breathing became panicked gasps.

"Nothing's gonna harm you… Not while I'm around…"

The soothing and familiar voice filled the darkness as a lone figure, a young boy, stood in silence, lost and without direction. His heart thrummed in his chest as he made his way through the darkness and the dismembered voice had gone quiet. All that remained was an echo of a drip.

Drip… Drip… Drip…

The boy continued through that tunnel of darkness; a humid tunnel filled with the smell of decay. A tunnel that was home to creatures who thrived in death. In the distance, a faint bright light shone bright; the light was in actuality a flame from a distant oven, one the boy was very familiar with. A pungent smell filled his nostrils as he approached it warily. Heart now hammering in his skull, the boy faced the oven with great curiosity and as he reached for the handle to open it, he remembered the constant drip accompanying him in the background.

Drip… Drip… Drip...

The hairs on the back of his neck stood as he slowly turned his head, facing the source of the faithful sound. Someone was now kneeling on the ground before him, staring down at a bloody mess on the floor before him. The boy stared, and the man kneeling began to raise his head slowly until their eyes met. The boy's face was one of terror. The face of man before him was the face of the Devil, himself.

"I do hope that this won't be too much for you, Mr. Ragg."

Officer Mitchells' voice stirred Toby from his memory, and he steadied his breathing and looked over to him, paler than he was before, and shook his head. "I'm sure I will be able to handle it." Wanting to be left alone, Toby extended his hand out to Officer Mitchells.

"I am grateful for everything you have done."

"My pleasure," Officer Mitchells said as he shook Toby's hand. He met his eyes warily and glanced at the shop before saying, "Now, don't be getting yourself into trouble. I have faith in you, Mr. Ragg. If you play your cards right, you will be very successful."

His words meant the world to Toby at this moment; a little encouragement was what he needed now that he was to be truly alone again in this world. "Thank you so much, Officer," Toby said with a friendly smile. "I won't let you down. Once I get this shop re-opened, you'll get all the pies you want free of charge. It's the least I can do for all that you've done for me."

Officer Mitchells laughed heartily. "Why, thank you, Mr. Ragg. I appreciate it. I do enjoy having a good meal once in a while, and I'm glad to have helped," he said as he got back into the carriage. "I'm sure we shall see one another soon. If you need anything, you know where to find me."

"Of course," Toby nodded and watched the carriage disappear into the mist. Once it was gone, Toby breathed a sigh of relief, opened his leather suitcase, and pulled out a ring of keys given to him prior. He found what he remembered to be the right key for the front door and slowly approached it. The door handle was covered in grime and he shut his eyes tightly as he put the key in the lock and gave it a turn. The door clicked and swung open with a loud creak after he gave it a gentle push. This was it. Mustering his confidence, Toby opened his eyes and peered into the shop.

"Alright, then," he whispered to himself and entered. The stale air was noticeable immediately and he could feel clouds of dust fall lightly on him, along with cobwebs, and what he was sure were spiderwebs. The entrance was the same as it was ten years ago. The table where he ate his first meat pie was there and so was Mrs. Lovett's baking area. He smiled softly to himself as he remembered sitting at that table eating while he watched Mrs. Lovett bake and tell him stories that he so enjoyed.

In the sitting room, the fireplace was still intact but Mrs. Lovett's decorations were gone. Toby concluded that they must have been sold at the auction. To his left was Mrs. Lovett's chair, worn and faded, but still intact, obviously not pretty enough to sell or steal. He remembered seeing her rest on that chair after a long day of work and he would always sit near her and the two would have humorous conversations with each other. If anyone had heard them, they would assume the two were quite mad, which they might have been.

The rest of the rooms were intact as was the side of the shop where the outdoor dining area had been. To the right, against the shop, were the wooden steps that led up to the room where Sweeney Todd had lived and done his gruesome business. Toby gazed up at the steps and felt his stomach begin to twist in knots and he remembered all of the times he had sent men upstairs to see the best barber in London. He had sent them to their death.

Brushing the guilt aside, Toby knew he had to face it. He hesitantly went up the creaking steps, hitting the barber's pole as he passed it. The correct key was already in his hand once he made it to the landing and opened the door. It groaned and opened slowly and Toby stood in the doorway, his heart racing as the room presented itself before him.

The room was fairly empty, as Toby had requested, aside from the bulkier furniture that probably could not sell. What a relief it was to Toby to see that the bloody mess from that night when he was showing the officers what Todd had done was all cleaned up. No sign of the horrendous murders could be seen anywhere, not on the floor or the windows.

The dusty bed frame had been left for Toby, as well as the old barber station. The barber chair was also left in the middle of the room; a true death trap. He approached it with caution and examined it; it was worn, just as the chair downstairs, and was as dusty as a tomb. Toby lightly stepped on the pedal of the chair but nothing happened as the trap door for the bodies had been hammered shut. Everything else in the room was gone, and after a brief examination of the room's condition and despite what had happened in there, Toby decided that this room was now his. He reminded himself that he was reclaiming the past, erasing Todd's memory and building anew.

When Toby set his suitcase down on the floor, dust flew up and filled the air. He waved the dust away and knelt beside his suitcase to empty it. What fell out were the three possessions he had kept with him for ten years. The keys were one of these possessions; he had taken the keys he found on the floor when he escaped from the bakehouse and kept them with him until the investigators took them from him. After their investigation, Toby asked for them back, and seeing no need for them anymore, the investigators returned them to him until needed again. The second possession was the tattered hat that he wore when he was younger. It didn't fit him anymore, of course, but he had kept it as a reminder of the boy he once was. The last possession was a razor he had stolen from Sweeney Todd. It was the same blade that Toby had used to slit Todd's throat with. He had tried parting with it so many times throughout the years, but something had always prevented him from doing so, so he kept it hidden well within the asylum.

Standing up from the dusty floor, Toby walked about the room. He already had plans of furnishing it for his lodgings. Downstairs, he would refurbish Mrs. Lovett's sitting room and purchase new tables for the outside patio. When he was ready to face his fears, he would go down to the bakehouse and start the machines up again but this time, the machines would be making meat pies with meat supplied by the local butcher. Toby was ready to rewrite the shop's history.

Downstairs, Toby rummaged through the dead spider-filled cupboards until he found an extremely dusty bottle of gin next to equally dusty glass cups.

"Ah, you look familiar," Toby grinned. He took the dusty bottle and a glass and examined them. After blowing into the cup and wiping both the cup and bottle on his shirt, he walked over to the table in the corner and sat. He happily served himself some gin and reclined in his seat, as if he didn't have a care in the world. He hadn't had a nice glass of gin like this in quite some time, as the only time he was able to have a drink like this was when it was stolen from doctors and passed around during mealtime.

Toby held his glass out as if he was proposing a toast. "To a new life," he said to the empty shop and took a hearty sip. The gin soon ignited something within him and Toby began to plan for his future. For the first time in his life, Tobias Ragg had hope.