A Flower
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Ada's face was a canvas with permanent painted paranoia and anxiety. She couldn't even remember a time where the blinds in her house were last opened, or at least weren't taped shut at the sides and bottoms.
If only they knew the shadows that crept in her mind or the whispers that only she could hear. If only they knew that it was the house that brought them. A house she didn't even remember after going missing in the woods for multiple days.
Ada was turning mad, and so when an offer came to teach the children of a rich author and artist, she couldn't refuse it. In fact it offered more things than Victoria could even think of, but the walls of her new home started talking to her, and the handsome man who's children she was teaching began to become an addictive escape to her sorrows.
All she had to do was take care of his two children, but it wasn't that simple because when she entered his home, she felt like she had been there before.
Probably because she had.
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London 1888. The ripper is on the loose. Everyone despairs not knowing who hides behind the persona. Meanwhile four strangers lives intersect at this impossible moment in time. Each one of them carries a secret, the others cannot know. But time is precious and dirty business threatens to destroy their lives. What burdens do they carry? And how will Jack get to them all? Old summary: She loved his paintings. Always beautiful, a fever dream, red dots and black holes. Men on horses riding to the sunset or death as an angel before the Lord. He loved her but he did not understand how to love. He shivered at the thought, broke at the seams. And in the corners where the city lights could not fall no more, there he fell. The other one. He fell into a habit. Fell into blood. Fell into lust. Until he reached nirvana. ▪Finished
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