Death, leering at you, ever-present, always coming closer, crawling towards you.
He shouldn't have done it. Just a simple push, and another lost life. He heard her screams, but he couldn't save her now.
She stayed there, in the bakehouse. Her wails could be heard all through the world of the dead. She took no notice of him when his throat was slit. He didn't matter anymore. Nothing did.
He could remember the footsteps behind him, remember the knife as it slid across his throat. He didn't care. He had killed her without thinking twice... now she was gone... the only woman he could ever learn to love.
She could remember the pain as the flames engulfed her, remember him closing the door, not even trying to save her. She thought he could change, would change, did change, but he was a man of torture and pain, not of care and love.
He died cradling her in his arms. He had killed her, and so many others. He found her again but couldn't bring himself to confront her. She would hate him.
Nellie Lovett wasn't herself anymore.
Benjamin Barker was gone.
Lucy was gone.