The Secrets of Whitechaple

Chapter 5

*Next month*

 "Doctor." My secretary knocked on my door as she said this. 

"Hmm?" I hummed in response. 

"Mr. Decker is here."

"Yes, thank you." I began making my way to the examination room across from my office. 

"Hello, Peter. How are you feeling today?" I asked him in a friendly tone. 

"Well, Doctor Williams, I'm not feeling to well actually. My chest hurts really bad." He said in a sad tone. 

Gee, I wonder why. I said this sarcastically in my head because Mr. Peter Decker is a very large overweight man. Of course his chest hurts. He's killing himself with all the food he eats.

"Well let me just take a look." I say this out loud and press my stethoscope to the fatty skin over his heart and listen closely. 

"Do you hear anything, Doctor?" His voice is squishy due to the excess weight on his face and neck. God. This man is almost popping out of his clothing. And i hear just what I would expect to with this man. 

"Peter, your heart is beating too slow."

"What does that mean?" His confused face tells me he's serious.

IT MEANS YOU'RE GOING TO DIE, YOU TWIT!! I, of course, don't say this out loud either. I say something else. "It means it's time for you to begin to exercise." 

He lets out a loud, booming laugh. "Well, Doctor, I've heard some funny things in my day, but that has got to be the funniest." He keeps laughing. 

"Well then." I give him an uncomfortable look. 

"Goodbye, Doctor. Thank you for the good laugh." He gets up and barrels towards the door. 

"Goodbye." 

*      *      *

"'Ello, Sir. Whatta ya want?" I walk into a tavern and the bar keep greets me.

"Whiskey." I sit on a stool at the bar directly in front of the bar keep.

He pours and strikes up a conversation. "What's yer name?"

"Matthew. Matthew Arnold." I sip my drink. 

"Ya new in town?" He keeps the conversation going.

"No. Just from a different side." He nods with understanding.

"Yeah. We get all kinds 'round 'ere. 'Ave a good night." 

"You too."

He leaves to attend to other patrons.

*      *      *

I have been sitting here for a while, just observing people. 

A scantly clad thing approaches me. 

"'Ow are ya tanight?"

"I guess I'm doing alright." I glance at it. She is somewhat attractive.

It has dark brown hair, a large nose that seems to take over its face, and thin lips. It was wearing an off the shoulder dress, showing off its cleavage; it's very short to show off its holed stockings.

"Ya wanna go some where more private?" It whispers seductively in my ear.

"Yeah I do." I get up and it leads me through the bar and to the door. Just before we made it to the door I glance back at the bar and the keep send me a wink. I smile politely back and continue with it out the door.

"What's your name?" I ask after a few moments. 

"What's it to ya?" It is suspicious. Not surprising since the last one was too.

"I'm just curious." 

"Not many Johns care too much fer names, if ya catch my drift." I'm impatient but I don't let it show. 

"Please?" Look at what I'm reduced to. Pleading with something less than human. 

"Oh, all right." Its face softens. "Name's Annie Chapman." 

I don't dare take out my parchment. It is already suspicious enough as it is, doing that will make it skittish. Instead I just take careful note of the name so I don't forget. 

"Where are we going?" I ask after a moment of receiving the name.

"Just Hanbury Street. It's right around the corner." I nod and take careful note of that too. 

We finally make it to a little spot that is secluded enough. There is a brick wall on one side and a set of stairs next to a fence on the other. 

I was just about to reach for my knife but it turned around to me and began talking. 

"It's gonna be three-fifty for all the way-" It spoke quite a bit more but I tuned it out with my own musings in my head. 

I think I might make this one last a bit longer than the other. 

"Ya got that?" It asked. 

"Yes, I do." I replied and began walking towards it. 

When I was a few centimeters in front of it I stopped and stood still. 

"It's all alright, Hun." It wrapped its arms around my neck as it said this. 

I stared at it and slowly brought my hand up to touch its neck. It smiled at me. I moved my left hand round to the back of its neck and the other to the pocket that held my knife. I quickly brought the blade up and slashed a quick gash across both of its jugulars. 

It gasped and fell to the ground between the set of stairs and the fence. I crouched down to its level and stared into its eyes. 

"You are and abomination," I told it, " You are less than human and you must be dealt with." 

I brought my knife up to stab it in the abdomen, but it grabbed at my arms and messed up my cutting pattern. I pulled away quickly as not to upset the pattern I had put in place with the last victim. 

I set my knife down beside me and grabbed its hands, moving them both to be held by only one of mine. Then, I picked up knife and got to work. 

One long, deep cut down the middle of its abdomen. it tried to scream, only it couldn't get any sound out. So I continued my work. Multiple slices from side to side on the abdomen over the long cut. 

I looked back up to see it still alive, awake, and crying. I glanced at the watch on my wrist, that was connected to the hand that still held the knife. 5:48 AM. After looking I made one more quick and deep gash across its neck and the crying stopped. I removed my hand from its arm and stood up. 

I pulled out a piece of muslin from the pocket that originally held my knife and tried wrap the knife it, only the knife slipped form my hands, tore off a piece of the muslin, and clashed the ground. I quickly picked up the knife and tried wrapping it again, this time successfully, and placed them both in the same pocket I had retrieved them from. I didn't take one glance at my latest victim as I left. 

I made my way home.

*     *      *

I am now clean and sitting at my desk with parchment, a quill, and a vial of ink. I picked up the quill, dipped in the vial and began to write. First, I started with the date, September 8, 1888. Then its name, Annie Chapman. Next, I wrote the time of death and after that, everything I had done to it.