Author's note: I hope this story goes well. I worked my butt off for it. I promise to include multiple twists and stuff, so R&R! Please!
It was 1875 when people started to go missing in London. At first, there where thoughts of Jack the Ripper, but I knew better. I decided to start doing research on my own since the police didn't seem to be doing anything about it. I took on this young girl, Edith Moores, to help me. I only hoped she didn't get hurt. I have come to care for her as I once had, and always will, for my younger sister.
I sat in my study, the candle on my desk burning. I wrote down a few more things I had for the Ripper case as Edith opened the door, her own candle in hand. I looked up to see her smiling.
"Could I help you? Please?" she asked, her smile hopeful. I bit my lower lip lightly, instantly feeling bad.
"I'm really sorry. I was actually just about to head up to bed. You should have said something earlier," I said, feeling worse as her face fell. "Come, let's go get some tea," I said, getting up and blowing out the candle that was on my desk.
Edith nodded, holding the door open for me. I walked out and down the hall, Edith following on my right.
"What do you think about Walter Harris?" I asked her. She looked lost in thought for a minute before pushing her curly, golden, ringlet bangs out of her face.
"Well, I don't know what I think, but I'm pretty sure I know what you think. You think that Jack the Ripper didn't do it, right? That someone else has Walter Harris, right?" she asked. I smiled, proud.
"I have taught you well, Edith. Yes, that's exactly what I'm thinking, and you know what else? I don't think poor Mister Harris is alive anymore, nor do I think we will ever find him." I looked over at her and saw that her face was pale. "Uh, Edith, are you okay?" I asked, concerned. She nodded.
"Elizabeth? You don't think that this will get dangerous, do you? That we will end up like Walter Harris?" she asked. I held back a chuckle.
"If I thought that it would get even remotely dangerous, I wouldn't allow you to help," I said, trying to reassure her. "Come on, tea then bed. We have a long day ahead of us," I told her as I turned into the kitchen.
Edith followed, filling the bronze kettle up with water and putting it over the fire as I got down two mugs and some tea leaves. I glanced at her, frowning.
"Edith?" I asked. She made an 'hmmm' noise as she took the kettle off of the fire and poured the water into the mugs. "Would you feel more comfortable if you spent the night here, rather than walking home alone?" I asked, relieved as some of the color returned to her cheeks.
Edith nodded. "Yes, if you don't mind. I'm still kind of worried…" she muttered. I had to laugh at this, but I knew if I did, she would get mad. I held back my laugh, smiling instead. There was nothing I could do to ease her worry; she worried about everything, and sometimes over thought things too. It sometimes got annoying, but I liked it. If she changed, I wouldn't know what I would do. She reminded me of someone I held very close to me in my heart.
I smiled at her, offering her one of the mugs of steaming tea. "Come on," I said, walking to the door after she took the mug. She nodded, leading the way out, her candle lighting the way. As we walked, she pushed her golden curls out of the way again. "No more talk about any of the cases tonight, okay Edith?" I said sternly, looking over at her shocked face.
"How did you know I was getting ready to say something?" she asked, severely confused. I laughed.
"Edith, I am a detective, and as such, I am very observant, as you should be too. Every time you are about to talk, you push your hair out of your face. Try not to do it as much. You may just happen to catch me off guard, but as of now, I always know when you're about to speak." I smiled at her as she looked at me in wonder.
I took the candle from her and started up the stairs. "Stop worrying your head about stuff; that is one of tomorrow's activities. Now, let's go get our rest. We have a long day ahead of us."
I could hear Edith's sigh as she followed me up the stairs, most likely disappointed that I wouldn't let her talk about any of the cases. I led her down the hall to my spare room, opening the door for her. I handed her the candle, confidant that I knew my house well enough to get to my room in the dark.
Edith smiled, setting the candle on the floor. "Thank you so much, Elizabeth!" she said, hugging me. I blinked, shocked, before slowly hugging her back. I smiled. Edith was shaking slightly, and I was pretty sure she still thought that she was going to get killed. I laughed slightly and she pulled away, confused.
"Edith, you worry too much," I said, turning around and walking down the hall to my room, leaving her in the middle of the hallway in front of her door, candle on the floor. I stopped at the other end of the hall in front of my door. I looked over my shoulder to where I had left Edith to see that she had gone inside her room. The door was shut, but the candle was still in the hallway, lit. I shook my head, walking back to the candle, picking it up.
I carried it back to my room, blowing it out as I set it on the stand beside my bed. Beside her picture. I stood there for a moment in the dark, my eyes closed. I sighed, opening my eyes back up and making my way to my bed. I sat down on the edge of it, suddenly not tired. I looked over at my window, feeling uneasy.
I felt as though I was being followed, watched even, but by who? I got up and shut the curtains on my window, feeling slightly better, but not by much. I turned my head to the door, jumping slightly, as there was a soft knock. Edith. I hesitated slightly before getting up and opening the door.
I smiled at her, opening my door all the way. "Would you like to come in?" I asked her. She looked at me, eyes wide, before nodding.
"Y-yes please. I know it's late, but I couldn't sleep. I'm sorry…." She muttered, walking in. I closed the door behind her.
"That's alright," I said, turning around to find her looking at the picture I had sitting beside my bed. It was a picture of me from two years ago when I was twenty-one, Edith's age. There was another, slightly younger girl, seventeen, in front of me. Rosalina.
I turned my head, shutting my eyes to hold back the tears. I felt Edith's hand on my shoulder before she hugged me. She probably couldn't think of any other way to comfort me, but it was alright. It's the thought that counts.
"Who is she?" she asked softly. I took a deep, shaky breath. Edith had just asked the one question I didn't want her to ask. It wasn't that I didn't want her to know the answer, I had no problem with that, I just didn't want to talk about her. But, I owed Edith an answer.
"Rosalina White. She was my younger sister. She was also one of Ripper's first victims…" I whispered, my voice shaky as I hugged her back. She gasped, hugging me tighter.
"Oh Elizabeth, I'm so sorry!" she said softly. I couldn't hold the tears back any longer. I hugged Edith tighter, shaking with tears. Her shoulder would be soaked by the time I was down, but I had a feeling she wouldn't mind.
We stood like that for what seemed like forever, with me crying harder than I probably ever have in my life. After a while, Edith pulled back slightly, handing me her handkerchief. I looked at her, taking it and wiping my tears as she turned her attention back to the picture.
"That's why you want to catch him so bad…" she whispered, probably talking to herself than to me, but I nodded anyway. "That's so sad. It's horrible. She was so young….. It makes me sick just thinking about it," Edith whispered, tears now in her eyes as well, but not yet falling.
I walked over to the picture and slammed it down. "It shouldn't distract us from our job," I said, turning to her. "If you really want to, mourn her later, but for now, go get some sleep. We have already wasted much of our time," I said, kicking her out of my room, shutting the door behind her.
I sighed, leaning with my back against the door, looking at the now face down picture. Rosalina. I blame her death on myself. She had left home around mid-afternoon to go see a play. I stayed home. Now I regret that. By nightfall, I was starting to wonder where she was, so I went out into the night to look for her. I walked down the hill and into town from our house, pausing as I saw a man running across the street from between two buildings. I ran to where he came from, freezing when I saw her. Rosalina.
I let out a choked sob as images came flooding back to me. I took a step forward, falling to the floor, the tears back. I was crying just as hard as I was earlier, if not harder.
"Rosalina!" I screamed, barely conscious of it. I heard the door open and felt Edith hugging me again. I didn't acknowledge her though, too absorbed in my memories.
Her body, lying there, covered in blood. Motionless. Crumpled. Her eyes open. Glazed over. Terrified.
I let out another choked sob, my body shaking in Edith's arms. "He'll pay for it…" I muttered, still shaking.
"Yes," Edith agreed softly. "He will, and I'll help you make him pay. He deserves everything he has coming for him."
I nodded, hugging her back before pulling completely away. We had probably been sitting there for a while. Edith gave me a worried look, handing me her handkerchief again. I shook my head, refusing it, standing up.
"Thank you…" I whispered, my voice still slightly shaky, standing beside my door. Edith nodded, walking out silently. I shut the door behind her, sinking to the floor, crying silently. In truth, I had wanted Edith to stay, but that would have just brought back more memories. Memories of the countless nights I spent with Rosalina before her death, crying over stupid things. I was a crybaby back then, it wasn't really until she died that I stopped crying over everything.
I remember that Rosalina had always held me for a while, telling me that I was too quick to cry, before she would leave me and go make some soup for dinner. It had always been like that, she made dinner while I cleaned the house. We scolded each other often, and often told each other how much we hated each other. I regret ever saying anything mean to her now.
I laughed slightly through my tears as I remembered how she got when she was mad. If I did something to really make her mad, she wouldn't make any food for me. If she had extra's she would walk them over to the neighbor's house and give them to their dog. Now that I think about it, that happened a lot. I don't think she ever stayed mad at me for long though. Once I started crying over something, she would seem to forget her anger and do her best to be extra nice to me, which, in turn, made me nicer to her. It was actually kind of backwards. Even though I was the older one, she acted more like my older sister instead of my younger sister. The only thing we ever seemed to get right was the fact that I was overly protective of her.
She was my only family, the only thing I had. I lost that the day she died. I was especially mad at her for God only knows what, so I told her to go alone. I probably said something really mean as she walked out too. That thought only makes me feel worse.