Ripper Row

Angel of Death

I wake up, my head feeling as if it weighs a ton. It pounds and aches, making me not want to move from the soft, feather pillow. I might not have moved either, other than the fact that I know my pillow is about as comfortable to a rock and not like the cloud that I seem to be resting on. I open my eyes, seeing a room that I have never been in before. It seems well furnished, my fingers sliding across the crisp, white sheets as I continue to scan the area. There is a dark, polished, wooden wardrobe in the corner of the room with a desk and a chair to match not far from it. I decide to sit up slowly, clutching at my head from the pain and the dizziness. I stop moving suddenly when I notice the sheets have fallen from my bare chest. My hands quickly snatch out the sheets and yank them up to my neck, panicking slightly more than before. Where am I and how did I become naked?

I glance over towards a red, cushioned chair near the bed with a dress laid out on it. I would not have minded it too much if it was not clearly made for a prostitute. I yank the sheets from the bed and wrap them around my body, trying the corners so that they do not fall from my chest. I swing my legs out of the bed, touching the cold floor. It makes my toes curl, but I get up entirely, walking over to the wardrobe. The doors are so dark they almost look like a deep, red-purplish shine to them in the sunlight. So simple, but beautiful at the same time. Without hesitation I open the doors, but the sight makes me feel queasy. All there is are different assortments of men's pants, shirts, vests, jackets... I am not comfortable with this. If a man lives here, than that means a man undressed and seen me naked. The thought makes me want to hurl.

I yank out a pair of trousers and a shirt, dressing in them quickly. The pants are extremely loose on me and the shirt engulfs me, but I still find them quite comfortable. It is much better than being shoved into a tiny corset. My eyes catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, making me feel even more sickly. The clothes make me look tiny and I seem awkward having to hold my britches in place. My hair is an absolute mess and the large knot on the side of my head does not make things any better. The only upside to my situation is that I am now fully clothed and non-revealing.

The door to the room opens and I freeze when I see the man standing there. He wears the same style of pants and the same blouse that I have now, along with a gray vest and a dark purple necktie. His face... his face is angelic. His dark brown hair is neatly trimmed with a few small curls falling onto his forehead and his well defined jawline is cleanly shaved; his eyes are warm and inviting, reminding me of the chocolate sold in Ms. Goodly's shop when I was a child. He smiles, his white teeth simply glowing as he gestures in my direction. "I see that you did not find the dress suiting," he says.

His voice sends a chill down my spine, but it feels good. The accent of his voice seems almost unidentifiable; like a mixture of French, British, Irish, and maybe even American, all in one. "Um..." I glance back at myself in the mirror, wishing that I looked slightly more appealing, "it's a tad too... revealing for me."

He folds his hands behind his back. "So instead, you wear my clothing," he says, clearly amused.

I glare at him, trying to ignore his beautiful olive skin. "At least my bosoms are not hanging out for all to see, unlike how they would be in that," I snap.

He arches his eyebrows in slight surprise. "My apologies Miss, I will be sure to send some freshly laundered garments that fit your standards as soon as possible," he says.

Laundered? Since when have men had such manners? Then again... the only men I have ever met only wanted to see if they could become more personal with Mary Jane. A horrific image enters my head, the smell of blood filling my nostrils all over again. Oh dear God... I feel light headed, falling against the bedpost. "Are you alright Miss?" he asks.

"How did I get here?" I ask weakly.

Mary is dead... "I brought you here. You were out cold after that hit on your head," he says, looking at the painful knot.

Lawrence hit me when the Ripper was right behind me. "I really have to leave," I say, trying to move past him.

He grabs my arm, just firm enough to keep me from moving without hurting me. "That was a nasty hit to your head Miss. I had my medic look you over and he concluded that it was nothing serious, nevertheless, you were asleep for two days. You need your rest," he says.

I shake my head quickly. "No, you really don't understand. I have to find the police immediately," I say.

"The police? Absolutely not," he says cooly, stepping in my way.

"Who are you to tell me what to do? I don't belong to you," I say.

"On the contrary, you do belong to me. I was hoping that the hit on your head would make you forget most of what happened that night, but I suppose I was mistaken," he says.

"What are you-"

"Please," he says, his dark pink lips curling into a smirk, "allow me to officially introduce myself. I am what most people would know as, Jack the Ripper."

I suck in empty air, wishing that I was able to run. "You... you killed my sister," I say.

"Ah, you mean the whore who invited me back up to her room the other night? She was quite a noisy thing wasn't she?"

"My sister was not a whore," I say darkly.

He laughs. "Not a whore? She was practically begging for me to unbutton my trousers," he laughs.

"She was drunk, you filthy bastard!" I shout, spitting into his angelic face.

Angelic face... there is nothing about him that is angelic. He is nothing but a ripper... the Ripper. Mary Jane is dead now because of this man. He wipes the loogie from his cheek, glaring directly back at me. "I would watch myself if I were you... because right now, I am the only thing standing in the way between your life and death. Understand?" he asks.

"Why not just kill me now?" I ask, "no matter what, people are going to find me."

Jack shakes his head, waving his forefinger back and forth. "I don't think that anyone will find you. Mary Jane Kelly, or so the papers say, does not have any blood relatives living here in England. You did an extraordinarily good job at keeping to yourself," he says, smiling, "because nobody can find you if you don't exist Love."

No one knows me, other than maybe the girl Mary talked to. I doubt that she would even mention to her that I was her sister. Why would she? After all, I was nothing compared to Mary. "Why are you doing this? Why keep me here?" I ask.

"You saw me in the act, I couldn't let you go to the boss. Luckily for me, you ran into the wrong bobby," he says.

A man walks in the doorway, his arms crossed. I recognize him from the night Mary died as the large man that tried to chase me. His pale hair is still combed to the side and his light green eyes are unsettling. "Jack," he says, not taking his eyes off of me.

"What now Shadow?" Jack asks, not bothering to turn and face him.

"It's practice, are you coming?" he asks.

Jack smiles, turning his head slightly. "What? You don't enjoy Demon's lessons?" he asks.

Shadow's mouth creases into a frown. "Not entirely," he mutters.

"Yes, I will be at practice today, just give me a moment to finish up here," Jack says and Shadow nods, leaving.

He focuses his attention back to me, smiling in amusement. "Now I must be going. I'll send up someone to give you a change of attire and move you into a separate room. I must say I am extremely happy that I will be getting my room back," he says, exiting the room swiftly. I slowly slink onto the bed, curling into a tight ball as I sob quietly to myself. This is a prison. Here I am, being held captive by a bloody murderer. Worst of all, I know that Mary is gone and there is nothing anyone can do to bring her back. Maybe she was a whore; she did enjoy sex, but she was a good person. She never deserved to die like that. I should have never let her leave that night and I should have gone to check up on her as soon as I saw her return with that man. Maybe if I did, none of this would have ever happened and I would have been able to save my sister. Maybe...