Ripper Row

A Gift from the Warden

My eyes slowly open as I stretch out my arms, feeling quite content. I believe that was the best that I have ever gotten. My head turns to the side a tad and then I see it out of the corner of my eye. Sitting on the once bare desk is a small, leatherbound book, along with writing materials. I leap out of the bed and glide over to the desk, scooping the book up and into my loving embrace. It truly is a beautiful book. The cover is branded with flowing, detailed designs and the edges of the page are gold leaf, practically glowing in the faint sun. I could never afford something this nice.

I open the book for the first time, seeing something written on the first page already. The handwriting is increasingly familiar to me, sending me into a deep train of thought. Suddenly, it hits me hard in the chest. The poster that is in my apartment that had the Ripper's letter printed onto it. This is Jack's handwriting. I remember staring at that poster for hours, wondering how someone so sick and so demented could write words so beautifully. Now I can understand. Sometimes the most dangerous things in life can be the most beautiful and thrilling things in the world and Jack is a perfect example. Beautifully deadly in every way. Unable to contain my curiosity any further, I read-

Dearest Riley,

I do hope that this satisfies your needs for a proper book. I would give it to you in person, but you are currently asleep and I have other work to attend to. I cannot guarantee that I will see you in some time, but I will make sure that they continue to treat you as best as I possibly can.

Sincerely yours,

Jack

P.S. it's quite entertaining to hear you mumble in your sleep Love

I curse under my breath. I do not talk in my sleep... and he needs to stop calling me Love. I turn the page, taking a deep breath as I take a quill in my hand. Finally, I have been offered a small slice of my own freedom, something that I am able to control.

I have been writing in the journal for about a week now. It keeps me occupied, as if I have someone to talk to in a way. I have not talked to Jack since that day in the basement and the men still refuse to do anything other than unwillingly bring me food. Jack has kept up on his written word though, the food has become more regular and better quality than before. Most of the time, I am writing.

I can never seem to stay on one subject when I write. Sometimes it will be about the events that have happened since I was taken here, other times it will be pinning down my thoughts on paper so it is no longer drifting through my head. Other times it is just writing down old memories so that I do not forget how things used to be... or at least how they used to be innocent.

When I was little, I never really thought about all the ladies Pa would bring home from the pub or that every few years a new sibling would end up on the doorstep to the gaff. Eventually I grew up and started to realize that it was not like that for everyone. Babbies do not appear on doorsteps after storks brought them here from heaven; they come from their mothers and I never had one.

The only person who ever took care of me was my older brother, Trevor. He despised Mary Jane, mainly because he claimed that she loved fucking as much as our Pa, the same with the rest of our brothers. We were different from the others, but it was never a bad thing. We were almost seven years apart, but he was like my bestfriend. We would take walks through the country and the woods together and I would listen as he cursed about our Pa and dream about moving to England with me, so far away that he would never be able to hurt us again. I was only ten at the time, but something about moving to a different country fascinated me. Eventually, I did move here to England, but I went with Mary Jane.

The door opens and I drop my pen. Jack stands in the doorway, a small smirk on his face. "Did I frighten you?" he asks.

"Well, you are the Ripper," I say and he nods.

Neither one of us say anything as we look at one another. His hair is in it's usual, tamed wave and the stubble is slowly starting to appear, along with darkened circles underneath his tired eyes. He looks handsome.

Jack takes a step forwards and into the room, looking down at the journal. "Does it satisfy you?" he asks.

I smile, closing the book and admiring the cover. "It's wonderful, I love it," I say happily.

He offers a small, lopsided smile. "I have never seen anyone so happy to receive a book- a blank one at that," he states.

I shrug my shoulders. "Perhaps you just have not met anyone like me before," I say.

"That's for certain," he says.

I chew on the inside of my cheek, trying to convince myself to keep my mouth shut, but I cannot. "What's your name?" I ask.

"Jack," he says, folding his arms behind his back, "as you already know."

The warmness that was once in his voice is gone and I know that I have ruined it. That does not mean I am prepared to give up yet. "It cannot actually be your real name though, what is it?" I ask.

He laughs sourly, making me feel sick to my stomach. "What makes you think that you have the right to ask me that? A dusty old book?" he asks.

"I-"

"No," he sneers, "you need to start remembering your place here Miss Kelly. Like it or not, I own you now."

If feels like my soul has been shattered. I always knew chances of me ever leaving this place was slim, but it is different hearing it. He does own me, doesn't he? I must obey everything he orders of me and follow his rules or else I may die. I stand up and slowly walk to the door, opening it wide. "Please leave," I say quietly.

"What do you-"

"Get out Jack!" I shout, a tear falling from my eye.

His face drops suddenly, looking at me sadly. "Riley, I did not mean to-"

"Please get out and leave me alone. I am tired of feeling so weak and so nieve. You are a murderer. I am a prisoner and a weight on your shoulders, nothing more. Now go," I croak.

He nods, exiting the room swiftly. I slam the door behind him as I let my back slide down the door frame, letting out a choked sob. The new room... the book, I let it get to my head. I was so gullible to ever think that I had some kind of rights here. Something breaks in the hall and I cringe, knowing that it must be Jack. He must be so angry at me... what if he allows Shadow to hurt me again? There is no possible way I will be able to survive that amount of pain again. I do not want this...