The Innocent Murderer Part Three (B)

Amanda looked at me, and ran her finger across my face. Our noses were almost touching, and I moved back. I couldn’t keep someone that close for that long.

"You could have done so much with your life" she replied, almost sadly "and you're going to waste it being this?" I backed further away from her and put my knife down on the table. Then I turned my back, sat heavily on one of the chairs and covered my face with my hands. "Don’t tell anyone Amanda. Please."  Amanda started to move toward the door. I turned and glared at her “Amanda! I’m asking you this. Don’t tell. For me.” She sighed, but walked up and put her hand on my shoulder. I won’t tell." She guided me to the living room and we both sat down on the settee.

 "Jack, you know full well that I have...feelings for you, and if you just let me-"

"No" I interrupted "will I not be putting you into danger as well?"

"I can help you, Jack! If you would just let me in, I could help you!" she protested. I looked at her. Poor, sweet Amanda.

She had long fair hair framing a small, pale heart-shaped face. Her eyes were a blue grey, and gentle cupid bow lips. She was as delicate as a flower made of glass, and I felt like she was threatening to break. She was wearing a pale summer dress, and she was in her twenties. As was I.  "Just leave, Amanda." I whispered "just leave." "You need to stop, Jack." Amanda stood, throwing me a caring expression before I heard the front door gently open and close.

I couldn't help myself. Not a half-hour after Amanda left, I was back on the dark streets of London. It was anyone this time, I was so desperate. It was like a drug. I needed to kill someone; I needed to take my mind off Amanda and what she said "you need to stop, Jack." 'I will, Amanda’ I thought to myself 'but not yet.' 

I increased steps toward a sickly looking woman, who was around 5ft tall. She had dark hair and blue eyes, and looked around her forties. She was very stout, (short and well built). Only one problem. She wasn't drunk. This was going to be harder than normal. But not for me. I hid my knife and approached her.

Being a ladies’ man, and knowing it full well, I gave her my most dashing smile and started the push off line. 

Chapter three

As I walked the street, I decided I needed to know even more information of the woman I had killed. I needed to know what her family and friends thought of her. I knew where she lived, because I had seen her before. Drunk, of course, staggering out of her home. And of course, I had been watching and waiting. I had even spoken to her once. I wonder if she has told that to anybody?

 As I listened outside the window, I overheard a friend saying  

"She was such a clean woman. She was not a prostitute! She was absolutely clean, if a little drunk. Please capture this horrible man, I am rather afraid!"

I moved slightly, a smile making its way to my lips. Liar. She was a drunken prostitute, that's why her husband left her and stopped supplying her with money. Afraid. I live off that word. Afraid means fear. Fear, in turn, means power.

“Oh yes, she did also tell me about meeting someone the other day,” Instantly, I was back at the window, reaching high up as I could on my tiptoes to see who was inside. Were they talking about me?

“A darn handsome man, she said,” The woman (Who I couldn’t quite see) continued. “She’ll find a way to do him, she said. I wonder if the murder could have been committed by whomever she was talking about?”

The woman, and the policeman she was talking to, suddenly turned their attention towards the window where I was. I instantly dropped down and waited. I could hear them sliding the window open. Their voices muttered to each other, to quiet for me to hear. They slid shut the window after a minute and continued talking.

I walked off, considering what I had just heard. Not to sound too arrogant, but I knew they were talking about me as soon as she said a handsome young man. It’s not often you get a man as good looking as myself. Not nowadays.

I entered my home and quietly shut the door. It was as silent as a tomb in here. Even though I don't mind death, or tombs, for that matter, the sheer cold and bitterness of my house made me shiver. This place wasn't even a home. It was a prison. My warped mind was a prison. This world was a prison. The only thing keeping me pinned to this world was Fear. And death was the only thing that stopped the fear, even for a short period of time.

I went into the kitchen and stabbed the bloody knife into the middle of the table. I kicked the table leg, and sat down in one of the two chairs that occupied the kitchen-space.

It wasn’t like my house was utterly bare, as I had made out before. It defiantly wasn’t full, but it did have a settee, Carpet, wallpaper, cupboards, normal chairs and a normal table. My house was just devoid of life. That was what made it so empty.

I rested my elbows of the table and hid my face in my hands. I knew what was going to happen. The voices would come any second...now. 

Jack, kill them. Kill them, Jack. Jack, you need to kill them! Jack! You need to do this! Jack! Jack! Jack! A million little tiny voices, all repeating my name, all telling me what do, every one having a different opinion.

Jack! You cause trouble! End yourself, the knife is right there! End it, Jack, it's too hard! END IT!
No, Jack! Keep killing! Show them all who is the boss! Keep at it Jack, you can do this!
 No, Jack! Stop this! It's getting out of control! We don't have much time! Get help, Jack! Get help!
Stop, Jack! Stop killing and live a normal life. Get rid of the knife! Get rid of the knife, Jack!

Then to my surprise, I heard a different, louder voice, belonging to my knife. Jack, don't get rid of me, Jack. We were such a good team this night! You saw Mary Ann today, didn't you? She never knew what hit her! You've got the stealth, I've got the blade. We are the world's first super-villains, Jack. Think about it. Think about-

Then, disturbing all these whispers was a knock at my door. Someone's knocking at my door? This can't be good. Have the coppers found me already?  Impossible. I was hidden. And they were stupid. But I was eager to leave the whispers, so I went to the door and opened it.
"Amanda."

"Jack."

"What are you doing here, may I ask?"

"May I ask you the same question?"

"Meaning?"

"You should be in prison, Jack."

"Don't be absurd, I have done nothing."

I knew I shouldn't lie to such an amazing girl. She was a good friend, and I knew she could read me like a book. She always had been able to tell what I did and when i did it.

"I read the papers, Jack. Only one person is so good at wielding a knife, removing organs and is left handed. I mean, surgery has always been your...thing."

I pulled Amanda into the house and into the kitchen turning briefly for a second to kick the door shut. I grabbed the bloody blade swiftly off the table, pressed her to the wall, and put the knife to her throat. "If you dare tell a soul", I whispered "I shall slit your throat and cut your heart out before you even felt any pain.” 

To Be Continued

The Innocent Murderer Part Two

Chapter two

             We have a new killer                                               The Penny Dreadful                                                                                                    31^st August 1888

Yesterday, a woman, Mary Ann Nichols, age 45 was found viciously murdered in a dark alley on August 31st 1888.

The police and doctors examined the woman and have declared her a murdered prostitute. A statement from the doctors.

 "She was found with a long cut, starting from her neck and heading down toward her pelvis. Her kidneys were removed, as were her sexual organs, and scattered around and on the body, but the rest was unharmed."

No traces of the killer were found, and the police have advised that young girls stay in their homes.

 "At least until we have a clue about who the killer is, we don't want any more coincidences happening"

that was  a report from the Head of Police, just this morning. "We are doing all we can to find the killer, but we have no progress, except for the small piece of paper found on the body, which said "Regards." Until we find this vicious man, please keep your young girls at home. Thank you."

This was reported last night, when the body was found. We will have more, hopefully leading on, information by tomorrow. 

Ahahaha. That is what I enjoy hearing. The authorities and the public, all scared of this dangerous new killer. All scared of ME. They are all ducking down in their pathetic little hidey-holes.

I was alarmed, though, at how little investigators examined the scene. If all the attention they paid was to the organs I removed or the cuts I made, why, I was almost free to do anything!

I hadn’t eaten anything for two days, the day before and the day of the murder, in case I would throw up again. I still haven’t eaten anything today, but I have been exercising ever since I awoke, trying to rid myself of what I did last night.

Fun may be fun, but once mine was over, there were no barriers to stop the pain rushing through.

To Be Continued.

The Innocent Murderer Part One

Chapter one

It’s sort of a strange feeling. Walking as casually as possible along the street, knowing someone is going to die at your hands tonight. Knowing that you're going to end a life for what? For a minimum capacity of pleasure? The blood on my hands will be unable for me to bear this time. But, even though I do know that full well, I'm not regretting any step toward the woman in front of me.

Her name is Mary Ann Nichols. I’ve been following her for a while now, getting all the information I could. For the simple reason because as soon as I saw her, I knew she was destined.
Destined to die. Ha. Ha.

 She was around 5ft tall, and she had brown eyes, a dark complexion, brown hair, a lot of teeth already missing, and she had small, delicate features with high cheekbones and grey eyes. She was wearing a black straw bonnet trimmed with black velvet, a brown linsey frock, black stockings, two petticoats, one gray wool, one flannel, even though I had no idea why she needed to wear two, and men's boots.

Yes. This is definitely the one, the one I saw staggering home the other day, and staggering out of her house a few hours ago.

I honestly thought I had lost her in the labyrinth of dark evil alleyways. But not tonight.

The woman looks too vulnerable. So vulnerable I want to laugh. She is stumbling down the road, bottle in hand, singing loudly of words I do not want to speak. And what she was speaking of I did not want to see. But if I laugh, she shall hear me. She shouldn't be walking down this dark alley alone. The idiocy of the world today.

 I approached the drunken idiot quietly from behind, grabbed her, making sure my hand was covering her mouth so her screams were unheard, and stabbed my knife below her ear. I pulled the knife down to just below her jaw, ripping her face.

 I roughly yanked it out, and then I slit the side of her neck opposite to me, so none of the blood touched my dark clothes. I certainly wasn’t being gentle in this case. I turned her around to get a good look at her. Most of her face was blood covered and she was pale. Her eyes, empty and devoid of life, were wide with terror and her mouth was open in a scream. It was gruesome. But I strangely enjoyed it.

As I undid the buttons on her blouse, I already had in mind which part of her body I would mutilate. I may not have been extremely smart, but I knew she was a prostitute. And prostitutes get what’s coming to them.

Her body was a pale purple blue and blotchy. It was a sight disgusting to look at, but I wasn’t here to just simply look at her. Holding the knife as firmly as I could in my left hand, I made one long jagged cut, starting at the neck and going down to her reproductive organs. I decided to cut out her kidneys, and made one smoother cut, removing the kidneys and leaving the rest unharmed. 

 Being a surgeon always had its own uses. Then it was the sexual organs. This prostitute was out of a job. I stepped back and admired my handiwork. The jagged cuts I had made were vicious, I had left a bruise on her jaw line, another on her neck, and just for the fun of it now, I aimed my shoe at her open mouth and kicked. I knocked out five teeth. She looked disgusting. I tore her tongue down the middle too, just slightly. Now she wouldn't tell who killed her. 

It was fun playing doctors, not that I needed too, but now I needed to leave. I left her body simply lying there and walked off, leaving all her organs scattered around her. Since now I was a killer, I needed a name. And as I walked, I thought of the old song everyone at school used to sing and laugh when they saw me. And I knew that it was meant to be me. My name is Jack The Ripper. 

To Be Continued.