I've been walking for some time now. I'm just so confused. It just doesn't make sense. I didn't do it. I did not kill Catherine Eddowes. I wasn't anywhere near where it was killed.
This morning when the newspaper came. I was surprised to see that two women killed in the same night were both victims of 'Jack the Ripper'. I only killed one last night. I killed Mary Ann Nichols. I killed Annie Chapman. I killed Elizabeth Stride. I did not kill Catherine Eddowes.
I don't even know how it would have been possible for me to do it. After I killed Elizabeth Stride, and was almost seen, I ran home immediately. I DID NOT DO IT.
Someone else is using my name to do this. Even thought they attacked a prostitute, it wasn't working that night. They had no proof that it was a prostitute. They could have killed an innocent person. That's not a risk that I can take. I'm trying to change the world here and if innocent people are harmed that's an improvement, that's nearly as bad as the things I'm trying to irradiate.
* * *
I'm still walking around. It's been hours. I closed down my office early. There weren't any more patients. Ever since 'Jack the Ripper' made his debut many people have began staying off the streets late in the day.
I was still walking and thinking to myself when I noticed I was on Dorset Street. One of the most crime ridden sections of the East End Slums.
And that's when I saw it.
I looked at my pocket watch. Near two AM. Perfect.
I walked up to it and tapped on its shoulder. "Excuse me miss?" It turned to face me, "could I perhaps ask your name?"
She looked me up and down. "I 'pose so. You don't look like a murdera'. Name's Mary Kelly."
"That's a beautiful name." Even though it sickens me, I act charming. It giggles.
"Aww. Aren't you jus' sweet." It looks me up and down. "You wanna go some where private? It won't cost much." I smiled.
"As a matter of fact, I really would." It took my arm- disgusting- and wrapped it around its waits- even worse. It began to lead me farther down Dorset Street towards a little run down house. I looked at it. It was dressed like a whore. A short dress showing too much leg and too much cleavage.
"Well, Hun, for you, I'll only charge ya three for anything ya want."
"What will you do?" I question it.
"Anything ya want." I smile, put my face forward and keep walking.
It leads me into the shack and lets my arm drop once we are inside.
"'ave ya decided what ya want?" It looks flirtatious at me.
"Yes, I have." It turned and I slowly reached into the inside pocket of my cloak and gripped my knife. "I want something very special." Its not locking at me.
"Oh, really? I can do special." It sounds cocky. I'm not sure what its doing, but I can say for sure that I don't care. I pulled my knife from the confines of my cloak and silently walked up behind it.
"I can do a lot." It prepares to turn around, but that doesn't matter because its too late. My knife connects with the left side of her neck and The force and direction I place on it causes blood to pour in a curved line from left to right. It fell to the ground.
I quickly got to work. A long cut down it abdomen, multiple stab wounds to the right side, and a few to the chest for good measure.
I quickly moved from my place over her. Since this is a private home, I didn't bother leaving in a hurry. I move to the wash basin and scrub my hands clean. Once I'm finished with that, I walk to its little table and sit down. My quill, parchment, and ink vial are place on the table and I begin writing. Date, time, name, everything I did. One right after the other, just like I had done before.
* * *
Its good to be home. I find comfort in this place. It has always been my sanctuary. The place where I feel the safest.
I pass through the door and hang up my cloak in the closet nearest to the front door. I ascend the stair case.
Looks like the maid cleaned. She did a very good job. I almost to the top of my steep stair case.
Except there is just one problem. The maid waxed the floors, including the stairs. My foot slipped. I tumble down the stairs and everything goes dark.
* * *
Melissa's P.O.V.
I walk into the office and begin my daily routine of getting everything ready. The door chimes and I turn expecting to find Dr. Williams. But I only see his friend Chief Inspector Frederick Abberline.
"Hello, Chief Inspector. The Doctor isn't in yet." I inform him. It seems like he has something to say.
"Melissa, listen. Dr. Williams Isn't coming in at all." He looks sad.
"W-w-why not?" My voice cracks. I expect the worse.
"Dr. Williams is dead. He fell down the stairs last night an snapped his neck.
My world stops and I can't breathe. I fall to the floor. I'm numb and broken.
YOU ARE READING
The Secrets of Whitechaple
Historical FictionThrough the dark of night he walks, determined and on a mission.