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.