Chains. Rattling. Hammering. Rain, rain falling outside. Dribbles into his cell, drips through sturdy iron bars.

  Good day today. The drops were clear. No red.

  Clink, clink, clink. The head warden coming down the hall. Footsteps. Two of them, the warden and the doctor. Checkup.

  The door unlocked and the two men came in. One slight and neat, white coat, trimmed nails. No dirt. One tall, muscular, walrus mustache.

  He could use my services, don't you think, lad?

  Somewhere in his shattered mind, the voice of the child he'd once been answered. No! Get out! The other voice, the demon, went silent. Smile. It hurt to smile. He forgot how sometimes.

  "Evening, Mr. Ragg," said the doctor. The warden stood quiet in the corner, eyeing both men. The prisoner held his smile, wishing he could shake the doctor's hand. He was nice. Damned straps.

  The doctor did not sit down. No space. Only a bed, where his patient now sat. The doctor glanced at a piece of paper he'd brought. "A happy day for you, it seems, Mr. Ragg."

  "Why?"

  "Surely a man wouldn't forget his own birthday?" The doctor smiled and gestured at the paper. Upside down, can't read it. "Right here. November 19th, 1853."

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  "Hard to remember days in here, sir." Polite. Good.

  "True enough," chuckled the doctor.

  "Me birthday today. That'd make me... twenty then." Maths. Numbers. He'd been good with those.

  The other demon whispered. That's why I need your help in the shop, love. Good head for numbers. He shook his head to get rid of her.

  "Very good," said the doctor. There was a slight pause. Throat clearing. "Now, Mr. Ragg. About what we've discussed before..."

  Keep smiling. "The weather? The news?"

  "No. The past."

  Keep smiling. "Like history, guv'nor? I remember history, Napoleon and Shakespeare and – "

  "Your past, son." The doctor gave a small sigh. "The staff here, and I, have observed a bettering of your condition these past few years. We think that you have reached a point where recollecting it openly may benefit you more than harm you."

  Silence. He didn't like to think about the past. But maybe this time...it could be different? Maybe the demons would go away if he did?

  "Are you ready for that, Mr. Ragg? There is no obligation; it is fully your decision."

  He looked over at the window. Clouds. Light peeping in. And flowing softly through the bars onto the floor, a tiny trail of red. No, another word. One he learned as a child: Scarlet. He nodded quietly.

  The warden signaled another guard to fetch the doctor a chair. As he did, the doctor spoke first. "You can start with just your name if that makes it easier."

  The prisoner looked over at his audience. "My name is Tobias Ragg," he said, "but everyone called me Toby. And afore I start, I want to tell you I didn't do it. But I know who did."

  "Who?" said the doctor, not unkindly.

  For the first time, a smile didn't feel so hard. "You'll find out," Toby said. "But first, I have to ask you to attend the tale of Sweeney Todd."