Whitechapel Vengeances

Annie Chapman

I awoke to knocking on my door and immediately thought. How late am I to work? Then the events of the previous day flooded to memory and I groaned in irritation. It hadn't been a nightmare.

Reluctantly getting out of bed I rolled out and threw a robe over my pajamas of running shorts and a tank top. My hair looked like a tumbleweed but I could care less. I didn't have the luxury to afford an iHouse system like my dad.

Opening the door I saw Jean giving me an anxious smile as he held a bouquet of flowers, Dale stood behind him and hit play on his phone. The words of a Vine from long ago played irritatingly into the scene.

"Yous was my baby, my fu—"

"Dale I told you not that one!" Jean shouted over the noise. Dale promptly pressed another button.

"Accept yourself, love yourself, accept yourself!"

"Dale, go wait in the car!" Jean shouted.

"Going."

I gave Jean an unimpressed look but accepted the flowers anyway.

"Come inside," I invited.

"I'm came to say désolé, Charlie,"

"And what exactly are you sorry about Jean?" I snatched a vase from underneath my sink and shoved the flowers in them. "Are you sorry about completely confusing and agitating me with your words that you're still in love with me? Are you sorry about leaving for an extended period of time in a dangerous place in a time not our own making me almost sick with worry? Or are you sorry that despite your heartfelt words about still being in love with me you're found hours later to be making out with some ten-cent hooker in a sleazy alleyway?" My voice had steadily gotten louder and Jean had become increasingly more uncomfortable with each accusation.

"I'm sorry about all of it," he admitted.

"Good!"

"I shouldn't have tripped you up like that with my own emotions. You don't love me—"

"I do love you Jean! I just don't love you like a boyfriend. I love you like a friend. A very good friend, but a friend nonetheless." I pushed my fluffy hair out my eyes and sighed in a huff. "I don't think I'm good girlfriend material. What I do know, is that I'm a good Chronicler, and for the time being that's all I want to focus on. Do you understand?" I looked at him hopefully. Jean came over to me and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"If I couldn't support you to follow your dream what kind of friend would I be?" He looked at me with that knowing look that only years of friendship could've forged.
"I'm also sorry about going off and to go make out with a prostitute while there was a serial killer on the loose," Jean gave me a sheepish grin. I hugged him tightly whiffing his odd flowery scent.

"I think that's the part I was the angriest about," I murmured.

"To be fair though, Kitty is pretty tough," Jean laughed, "and liked my French accent."

"You made out with a prostitute named Kitty?" I scoffed.

"Hey, she's actually really nice," Jean protested.

"I'm sure she is," I said with a smile.

Jean and I ate breakfast and through a bit of coaxing I told him to go fetch Dale and let him eat with us as well.