The year is 1888 and this is the second time he has called today.

Why does he call?

Doesn’t he understand that you only get an hour? Two at the most?

It’s not like he paid me anyway. And it’s not like I wanted it to be this way either, but after Mama died we didn’t have any money and it’s not like I can send Bessie to the factories can I? What kind of sister does that?

Gee, Mama would banish me if she knew what I was doing.

Oh, why can’t he have Bessie?

Sure, she’s only sixteen but she could rack in a lot of money with her mid-length auburn hair, bright sea-green eye, creamy porcelain skin, blush stained cheeks from playing in the autumn wind and rose red lips.

What do I have to show for a twenty year old? Long black hair, light grey eyes, a clear but pale complexion and rose red lips.

Wait…what the hell? Why do I only get the rose red lips and she gets everything else?

I hear a soft thud from upstairs.

But I’m not worried as Bessie is upstairs in our room reading her books.

I continue on with my task of making Bessie a cape for this winter, sighing and humming.

There is a cough and knock on the door.

I call “Come in…its open”

I can smell his scent before he even comes to stand next to me; his mouth-watering scent of the spring mixed the summer heat.

I stand to greet him and give him a warm smile, but all I got back is a cold glare.

His perfect face is twisted in rage; his deep ocean blue eyes are glinting madly.

Why though? What has happened? I don’t understand!

I start to back away towards the stairs.

He laughs and slowly advances on me and that’s when I see them.

The thin cord in one hand, a butcher’s knife in the other which glitters in the oil-lamp light.

He laughs again and doesn’t stop coming for me.

I turn on my heel and flee upstairs and into mine and Bessie’s room, slamming the door.

I look wildly around the room for a weapon…something that I can use against him.

No such luck.

Then my eyes fall on Bessie’s bed and see that she is sprawled across the bed, her beautiful hair all over the place, her bright sea-green eyes now glazed over and an off colour, her perfect, creamy skin blue, just like the dress she was wearing.

I gasp as I look more closely as I see that it’s not blue anymore as a crimson stain had been seeping from her throat.

The room swarms before me as I try not to be sick and run over to our washbasin and pour water from the China jug that Mama had given us two Christmas’s ago.

I splash my face with the cool water and reach for a towel.

That’s when I feel the thin cord around my neck and I gasp for air.

Oh my…my Lord! He’s got me! I don’t want to die! Mama! Help!

I try to struggle, I try to cry out, but the only thing that comes out is gasping noises.

He kicks the back on my knees so I fall onto them.

I can’t breath; he has the cord tightly around my neck.

It’s like wearing the tightest corset to ever be made!

Tears drip down my face as I feel the hard, cruel steel of the knife slide across my throat, just like a hot knife cutting butter.

I put my hands to my throat and I feel the warmth of my blood trickling down onto my white dress.

I try to say something, try to laugh or giggle even, but all that comes out is a gurgle.

I hit the floor and hear him laugh like thunder and crackle like lighting.

Then I realize something.

I know who he is.

I should have from the start.

It’s in the newspapers.

It’s entirely my fault.

Mama and Bessie…I’m sorry.

During the day people call him Jack the Shoe Shiner.

But in the dead of night, just like this windy autumn night, he is the one and only, Jack the Ripper!