East London

4,406 years since initial death

This Chapter contains explicit gore
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This was the end.

Valerie was nearby on the night of the fifth death. Initially, Michael had planned to ask her out at the time, as after careful consideration he figured she was the perfect woman for him. Despite how awful their first interaction was, they would meet again many times afterwards. Slowly but surely, he began to feel a connection with her.

Each time they met, their relationship grew closer. Valerie enjoyed his company, and they often drank together. They never questioned each other's identities. Although Valerie did mention that she has an alternate name, one she never felt ready to share. Michael gave it no regards, and they were both happy with becoming friends. But finally, Michael's heart couldn't wait another moment, he had to confess his love.

To his unfortunate surprise, she was already in love with another man. He made it to her front door, but after catching a peek through the window, he found her undressing with someone else. A few seconds were all he had time to look before the curtains were closed by the man inside the room. They never noticed him standing outside, and he didn't bother trying to knock on the door.

His mind shattered that night, a part of him wanted to hurt her out of pure anger but he held it in. He would never harm a woman over this, that's not who he is. Instead, he left the house. He needed to let his anger out somehow but he didn't know what to do. For so long, he was ready to fall in love again only to lose his chance. He wanted to destroy something, maybe bash his head against a wall.

As he walked down the road, he spotted a slim woman walk towards him. She seemed distraught. She was also dressed in the casual fashion of a streetwalker.

His fingers twitched for a moment.

"Anything the matter, miss?" While he was in no mood to talk, he felt it wrong to leave her alone.

"Just making my way home." She responded calmly. "Although, I hope it isn't too much trouble to ask for a handkerchief?"

Michael reached into his coat and pulled out a red handkerchief. As he gave it to the woman, he spotted a figure in the distance, watching him.

It was a man dressed in a dark outfit. He was staring right back at Michael suspiciously. Michael in response tipped his top hat slightly lower, concealing his eyes. He felt a sense of anxiety wash over him. Something felt wrong here. Taking one more look at the woman beside him, he could tell she looked attractive. She had delicate light hair, clear blue eyes and a slim body.

She was the perfect target for murder.

Before Michael could say anything, she turned to face him. "You know, it's pretty late. I don't mean to be a bother, but could you be a doll and accompany me home? I'll reward you for it."

He knew exactly what she meant. In her line of work, there was only one reward. Edging his eyes towards the mysterious man watching him from afar, he had a bad feeling about this. This woman is in danger, who knows what could happen if he leaves her alone?

"Certainly, you have my protection." He gave her a light smile. She caught on to his look and started to walk.

"Alright my dear, come along." It seemed all of her worries have vanished. "You will be comfortable."

Together, they walked towards her home. But Michael kept looking back whenever he could. The man behind was following them in the shadows.

The thought of confronting the man came to mind. Even if it was the infamous killer himself, there isn't a single mortal alive that could fight Michael and possibly succeed. But that never happened. Rather, he was too scared to make a move. His body forced him to continue his walk with the lady, reaching her home as she guided him inside.

When the front door was closed behind them, Michael immediately went towards the windows and peeked through the curtains. He felt a portion of his heart drop the moment he saw the man's figure standing on the opposite side of the road. His cold eyes locked with Michael's.

The woman walked towards the bedroom. "Please don't make a fuss, old Prater is fast asleep upstairs. But do make yourself at home, I'll be with you shortly." She had company, somehow that disappointed Michael.

Nonetheless, he waited. Every moment he could, he spied on the man outside through the front door's keyhole to avoid detection. He was there every single time. Michael had a feeling they might get attacked. He needed a weapon. Sweat rolled down his face, his own mind began to question reality itself.

Walking towards the kitchen, he grabbed the sharpest knife.

He remained inside, sitting in the living room with his knife grasped tightly in his hand. His anxiety increased, he felt as if he was losing his mind. Nothing about this was normal, he had to do something.

After what felt like an hour, the woman returned. "I'm all washed up, ready when you are dear."

Michael never responded. His eyes darted towards her as she turned around and walked back into the bedroom. Without giving it another thought, he stood up and followed her. As he began to walk, he noticed a small portrait of the woman sitting atop a desk. Below it was a name. It read 'Mary Jane Kelly'.

That was when his mind snapped. He suddenly gasped before being silenced.

Michael never entered the bedroom. Rather, someone else already had.

Mary walked towards her window and took a look outside. "I've noticed how you kept peeking out the window. I don't see anyone nor anything."

She never noticed the figure of a man standing dangerously close behind her.

The moment she was ready to turn back around, she heard a man's voice speak to hear. "Mary Jane Kelly."

Before she could look back at the figure behind her, she felt a hand suddenly appear over her mouth, preventing her from screaming. The man behind continued to speak. "This must be fate that led me here. The last whore I had claimed was carrying a false name. Before my blade entered inside of her, she had mentioned her name was Mary Kelly. It didn't matter to me, she became mine regardless. But her true name was Catherine Eddowes."

The man then smirked before laughing menacingly. "How coincidental it is that I would run into the real Mary Kelly."

With his other hand, he edged his knife towards her throat. Immediately, he slit it.

Keeping his hand around her, he forcefully jolted her back and shoved her towards her bed. She was still alive. As she collapsed over the bed, she caught one final glance at her attacker. That's when her eyes widened.

The man that attacked her was none other than Michael Smith.

But what she didn't know was that Michael was internally dead. What stood before her was a soulless vessel. He looked lifeless, yet he also looked so alive. His bloodthirsty eyes resembled those of a cold hearted killer, vigorously glowing red. In reality, she had been caught by the devil himself, and nothing could possibly save her.

He had every single sin coursing through his veins as if they were each a type of poison. They kept him alive during this very moment.

Gluttony
There's a deep hunger inside of him and an unquenchable thirst. An appetite of satisfaction he desired to feast on.

Envy
While he suffers alone and experiences heartbreak, she gets to experience pleasure and joy from fornication. It just isn't fair.

Greed
He must do it. He wants it, he needs it, and he'll get it, no matter the price.

Sloth
He's going to take it slowly, to savor every little moment of it and he'll enjoy it.

Pride
This is his most crowning achievement. After it's over, he truly will become an unstoppable God.

Lust
His emotions were uncontrollable, now an obsession and an addiction.

Wrath
It finally defined him.

Suddenly, Jack the Ripper blinked.

"What am I doing?" He whispered to himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was conscious and aware of what he was doing, just for this very moment. But seeing the woman ahead put her hands up to defend herself, his inner thoughts finally shut down. 

Without any further hesitation, his mind snapped shut again. He charged towards her, jabbing the knife directly forward and stabbing the woman directly through her chest. But he wasn't finished there.

Mary screamed her final word. "Murder!"

Immediately, she was silenced. He sent the knife straight into her head. He killed her.

He stabbed her again, and again, and again. More, he wasn't satisfied yet. He needed more. Fortunately for him, he was indoors and away from any prying eyes. This was perfect.

"You dare mock me?" Through gritted teeth, he whispered to her out of pure blood-boiling rage.

He was completely out of control. He couldn't scream or speak too loudly. If anyone were to hear him, it would ruin everything.

"Take me for a fool, do you? You don't know me! Nobody does!" His voice was slightly increasing, he needed to tone it down but he just couldn't resist.

He already tore her open, completely out of breath but he continued to slash at her. Her head, neck, torso, genitals, thighs. There was no part of her remaining that was untouched by his knife. His hands were covered in blood, so was his dark coat. He even went as far as removing her heart with his own hands and placing it into his inner coat pocket.

It was getting darker inside the room, he needed light to witness his masterpiece. Kept to the back of the room was a small fireplace. It would suffice. He hastily looked around for anything he could use as fuel. That's when he spotted her neatly folded bundles of clothing. As if murdering her wasn't enough, he was going to burn her own belongings to create a light source. There was a lighter beside the fireplace, exactly what he needed.

Just as he started the fire, he returned to the window. Carefully peeking behind the curtains, he realized the man outside was gone. This was enough to put a smile on his face. Nobody would interfere with his work now. He was completely alone. Finally, he's happy.

With the room fully illuminated by the fire, he could continue his work. Tearing apart her uterus, kidneys and one of her breasts, he shoved them behind her head to elevate it. He could now stare directly into her disfigured face. There wasn't much to look at as her eyes were gone, her nose had fallen off and the rest of her face was visibly torn apart, revealing the inner layer of muscle inside her head.

She didn't resemble a human being anymore. She was hacked beyond all recognition.

Suddenly, he found himself beginning to hyperventilate again. One part of his mind quickly flickered, wondering what was happening again. But it was quickly silenced. He couldn't stop just yet.

"How long do you want me to live like this?! Without a family to keep, without love? Over four thousand years of hell, misery, heartbreak and death! I've had enough!"

Suddenly, he calmed down ever so slightly. Keeping his voice low, he continued. "Look what has happened to you... speak. I have not ripped apart your damn lips yet, why won't you speak?"

She was already gone, just like his mind.

Finally, his movements began to slow down. He wasn't done, but he was able to catch his breath and relax. For over an hour, he remained in his spot. Slowly hacking away at her, he felt at peace. He was entirely relieved. This was his greatest masterpiece.

After so long, he took a step back. Jack the Ripper smiled, examining the butchered carcass in front of him. Then, he began to whisper to himself.

"Feast your eyes upon my creation. My work here is done."

Just as he said it, he dropped his knife to the floor. Then his eyes blinked once more. His red eyes had returned to their natural brown color.

Michael Smith stood completely still, staring directly at the corpse in front of him. For a couple of seconds, he couldn't understand what he was looking at. His eyes squinted, and his eyebrows were slightly lowered. Then his eyes darted to his hands and he spotted the blood.

Realization struck him harder than anything ever had before in his life.

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Historical Notes:

The man that had followed Mary Jane Kelly and the other man beside her was George Hutchinson. He was a friend of Mary that spotted a man in a dark coat, a mustache and appeared to be in his early thirties walk with her back home. It was a suspicious sight, and in fear of Mary's safety, he followed them to her home.

Standing directly outside her home opposite the street, he watched the front door for nearly 45 minutes. When he saw nobody leave, he finally departed himself right before Jack the Ripper killed her.

Two women heard Mary Kelly's cry of "Murder" but they never investigated as murder was a common occurence in the area. Elizabeth Prater, the woman sleeping upstairs at the time of the murder had left the house without ever looking into Mary's bedroom.

Mary Kelly was six weeks behind on her rent. The landlord arrived at her home the next day and found the door locked. When there was no answer, he found the bedroom window was broken. He was able to open the window and push the curtains aside, discovering Mary's corpse in the opposite side of the room over her bed.

Mary Jane Kelly was 25 years old at the time of her death.

Illustrated portrait of Mary Jane Kelly

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