Ripper Row

The Dinner Party

Never have I been happier to receive proper clothing. It felt even better to remove that monster's clothing from my body. It made me feel dirty wearing them. It was as if I could feel the weight of all the blood on that man's hands and all of the pain the victims loved ones felt. Now I wish that I could have been put in a room similar to Jack's, at least quality wise.

I am somewhere downstairs, most likely the basement. Everything is coated in a fine layer of dust with mold forming on the ceiling and the wallpaper slowly peeling off the walls. There is only one narrow window, far too high for me to reach. It gives off a single patch of light which is where I am currently standing. A wound from my childhood seems to have reopened since Mary died and I have been here. I am scared of the dark all over again. I want to go home.

There is no home to go back to though. Miller's Court is no better. The only reason I could call that place home was because of Mary and she is no longer there. All that is left is the gruesome memory of her death, the knife carving into her white skin.

My thoughts are interrupted by the steady beat of footsteps marching down the stairs. I look up, seeing two men. One is the tall, lanky ginger that I kicked in the shin, while the other is a much more familiar face. It used to seem so kind and happy on the streets, helping anyone in need, here he is a completely different person. Lawrence walks towards me, wearing more ripper-like attire. He smiles at me, his cloak nipping at his heels. "Nice to see you again Riley," he says cheerfully.

I glare at him. "You are a disgrace," I spit, "you're supposed to help people."

The ginger smiles, scaring me more now than he did that night. He looks insane- he is insane. "Demon helps people- just not you," he says.

"Shut ya yap Clayton," Lawrence snaps, making the ginger cringe away from him.

So he is the one that they call Demon... even the larger man, Shadow, seemed to be slightly alarmed by his nature. Lawrence looks back at me. "You're coming with us, Jack's expecting dinner," he says.

"I don't cook for killers," I say stiffly.

He rolls his eyes, annoyed with me already as he runs a hand through his spiky, dirty blond hair. "You are invited to dinner- not making it. I'd rather not eat what anything you prepare," he says.

"Well I decline his invitation," I say.

Clay rests his hand on the handle of his knife, smiling maniacally again. I take a small step back, afraid of what he may do. "What makes you think that you have a choice?" he asks.

I swallow on emptiness, trying to calm my nerves. "I-"

"Of course she has a choice," Lawrence says, looking me over, "you can come with us willingly or unwillingly. What will it be Miss Kelly?"

I glare at the two of them, but slowly and unwillingly walk in their direction. Lawrence grips my shoulder tightly, unlike how Jack did earlier, his nails digging into my skin. "Wise choice," he says cooly.

I shake his hand off of my shoulder, walking ahead of the two. I will not be dragged around this place like a rag doll. The last thing they are ever going to take from me is my dignity. The corridors are almost as dark as the basement I had emerged from, the only light coming from a few lanterns spaced evenly on the walls. Each step I take I feel like running. I have out run them once, my only downfall was running into another. The only problem I have now is that I have no idea where I am. Even if I did get out of the house, where would I go? "It's up here," Lawrence says, walking next to me.

I nod, keeping my gaze forward and away from him. He is one of the last people I want to see. I do not want to see anything that relates to Mary's death. Especially Jack the Ripper. Lawrence steps ahead of me, opening the set of damaged, wooden doors.