Warnings for attempted suicide.


Merely Silver


Razors. She needs those blasted razors. Now.

Lucy looks over her shoulder again. Johanna's still asleep. Only went down half an hour ago. Lucy leaves the door open as she bursts into the barbershop. Her husband's old shop. His razors were in here somewhere.

"What're you doin' up so late?" Mrs. Lovett questions with a yawn.

She didn't hear the other woman come in. No matter.

"Benjamin's razors," Lucy says.

"What?"

"Benjamins's razors." Her tone shifts darker. "Where are they?"

Mrs. Lovett quirks her eyebrows. "Why'd you need 'em?"

Lucy couldn't make up an excuse. Mrs. Lovett wasn't supposed to find her searching for the silver blades. She shakes her head.

"Please, Mrs. Lovett, I need them."

"After what you've been through, I'm not lettin' you 'ave 'em."

She crosses her arms. Lucy bites back a moan, keeping her frustration boiling inside. She throws open another set of drawers. Throwing out the contaminants. Lucy's hand traces a box, smooth and small. When she throws the lid open, she scowls. It's not the razors. Or any other tool that would help her.

"His razors are the only thing with me, Mrs. Lovett," Lucy lies. It's true. But the reason for her desperation behind seeing them isn't. "I need to have part of him again. Let me polish them, at least. I don't want them to go rusty. If he comes back."

Benjamin isn't coming back and Lucy understands and accepts that now. But false hope is her companion at the moment.

Mrs. Lovett pauses. "Alright, then. You can polish them."

Lucy nods. Once her back is turned, she can go through with it. She follows Mrs. Lovett down the stairs. Looking both ways, as if she's crossing the street. Mrs. Lovett doesn't allow her to see where she's hiding the small box, but that doesn't matter. It'll be done soon. Lucy won't have to know. Mrs. Lovett returns with the supplies, lighting a candle.

Under the light, she works. Polishing the blade. The handle. Every inch of silver she can. Lucy gifted the razors to her Benjamin. Many years ago. His birthday was approaching and she noticed his razors were out of shape. Using her allowance, she purchased the eight razors. Perfect for every barber. Her barber.

Lucy cleans as she waits for the moment. To raise a razor to her neck and slit her throat. Faster than Mrs. Lovett could catch her.

But the moment never arrives. Mrs. Lovett never turns her back. Once Lucy finishes, Mrs. Lovett stacked the razors back in the box. All neat and tidy. The way Benjamin would at the end of a long day.

If she can't release herself from her ginger agony with a blade, there was another way. There had to be.

The next day, Lucy visits the apothecary. He's distracted by a book when she comes in. Doesn't look up from his page as he fetches her the small, green bottle of arsenic she's requested. She slips the vinyl into her pocket and exits through the creaking door.

By the next day, Lucy Barker would be dead.