the ripper || irwin

[ 5 ] barbara ann

Another chapter for the Ripper. I am actually very excited with this sory, hence why all the updates have been on time so far.

I should be just as dedicated with all my stories, but I try.

I'm just more excied with this one at the moment. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this because it means the world when people read my stories.

Thank you for the support. And please don't forget to read, vote, and all that good stuff because it makes me very happy. And a happy author posts more regularly than a sad author, I can tell you that ;)

xoxo,

Pornoskians

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Just a quick note, the italics are a memory.

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v. barbara ann

“Her name was Barbara Ann Wellington.”

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He walked down the dark streets of Sydney with his earbuds on. The song playing was ‘Barbara Ann’ by the Beach Boys. He had always been more of an old school music type of boy, he hardly ever listened to the new music. He thought it was too vulgar.

As he past several shops which had closed for the day, he knew there was no real anger for him walking alone at night, he was the danger to others.

It had been only a few hours since he’d left ‘home’, the place where he’d been tormented for the past eight years. He was one of the lucky ones. He had just turned eighteen this morning and decided to leave. His foster siblings didn’t run with the same luck.

The next oldest ones were Michael and then Calum, both still had about two more years of living in hell.

Ashton was glad to finally be done with it all.

He looked down at his arms, recalling with hatred how he got every single scar. There were cigarette burns, knife scars, and nail marks from all the torture he’d endured at that house. But now everything was going to change for him, he thought has he saw the most recent scar on his wrist.

A pentagram that his foster caretaker carved into his skin with a switch blade while she mumbled things in a language Ashton couldn’t understand.

Yet he knew it was some sort of satanic ritual when he looked around his room and the only light came from candles. He tried pulling his hand away from the woman’s grip, but she was supernaturally strong.

He felt the warm blood trickling down his arm, falling into a small puddle on the floor, where the candles were positioned in a pentagram shape, just like the one being engraved on him forever.