"Where were you last night?" Lydia asks, sliding a mug of steaming coffee across the table to me, I smile gratefully and take a long sip of the bitter, caffeinated elixir.
"Honestly? I don't remember..." I sigh, my head pounding with the aftershocks of alcohol.
"Well, whatever it was, it was obviously more important than meeting with my parents." She hisses bitterly, and I quail slightly. 'Shit! That was yesterday?'
"Lydia, honey, I'm so sorry... It completely slipped my mind." I sigh, placing an apologetic hand on my wife's arm. "I bet your parents were furious."
"I managed to placate them by telling them you were called in for an emergency." She said, her lips pursed. "You can't keep doing this Jack, I don't even know what you're doing half the time. You spend most evenings at the pub and come back long after the dawn has risen. Then, to top it all off there are those horrific murders near Whitechapel which have occurred over the past few weeks... I sit here all night, worrying that you might not even come back home."
She sobs and I leap to my feet, petting her back awkwardly. She leans into me and wails, tears streaming down her cheeks. When she finally calms, I reach into my pocket for my handkerchief, but upon remembering its most recent use, I think better of it and shove it back into my pocket before she notices the state of it. I kiss her on the cheek, and she quietly excuses herself, hurrying out of the kitchen, no doubt, to cry some more.
I wait until I hear the soft click of our bedroom door closing and turn to the locked door, to the left of the pantry. My cellar, and my study. Slowly, retrieve the key from my other pocket, and turn it in the lock. I deftly light a match, and then the small lantern which hangs at the top of the staircase, lifting it free of its hook.
After carefully locking the door behind me, I slowly descend, my pulse racing with the knowledge of what lies in wait for me below. At the bottom of the stairs, there is another door, this one locked with a sturdy padlock, which I hastily remove, my hands shaking with excitement.
Immediately I am hit with the suffocating smell of ethanol and formaldehyde, it comforts me, soothing my aching head. Placing the lantern on my desk, I remove the handkerchief from my pocket with a flourish and glide over to the shelves that line the far wall. Gazing intently at the sketch of a young woman.
I raise the handkerchief to my face and inhale deeply, savouring the metallic scent, emanating from the red blotch which stained it.
"Oh Catherine, you were such pleasurable company last night... I really shall miss you." I sigh wistfully and run my fingers over the jars filled with spirits and specimens lined up next to her image. "And let's not forget you dear Elizabeth... you were also, quite the thrill."
I lick my lips as I gaze at the shelf above, it is laid out in a similar manner, save for the fact that the sketch displayed is of a different woman. I smile at the memories their images procure and place the handkerchief next to Catherine's image. Then, gingerly, I remove one of the jars from Elizabeth's shelf.
Whistling, I carry it over to the desk, placing it next to the flickering lantern. Grinning like a child on Christmas, I remove one of the floating items from the jar, and place it on a metal tray. I lick my lips and slice it in half with a scalpel, depositing one half back in the jar and leaving the other on the tray. I carry the jar back to the shelf, putting it back into the exact spot I'd taken it from.
"Let's see how those little piggies react to this..." I grab a small brown parcel and a blank postcard from one of my desk drawers. I place the sample in the parcel and close it, sealing it inside with twine. I take my quill in hand as I sit down, pulling the post card towards me. Delicately, I dip the tip of the quill in the small red pool that had formed on the tray where the sample had lain.
I grin wickedly and press the quill to the postcard and write.
"From hell"
