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Mary Ann Nichols

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I followed her out of the pub, walking behind her like the innocent man I used to be. I followed her for an hour, then she turned out of 18 Thrawl Street, blabbing on about some bonnet she had acquired.

Continuing on to the corner of Osborn Street and Whitechapel Road. She and Nelly talked, she claiming that she had enough money to pay for her bed three times over, but had rank it all away. Silly Mary.

As she walked on, and away from Nelly, I stole behind her. She had grey hairs gleaming in her dark brown hair, as it fell in waves as she walked briskly to a destination she would never reach.

Slyly, I approached Mary. She had stopped at a gated stable entrance in Buck's Row. I reached for my knife, and walked up behind her, completely undetected. My hand grasped the knife so hard that my knuckles turned a ghostly white.

Mary hadn't seen it coming.

I slashed her throat from left to right, feeling her warm blood ooze onto my hand as I slit her throat a second time. Mary didn't have time to scream, she fell immediately. I took my knife.

I waited until Mary closed her eyes, and didn't open them again. Tears had begun to walk down her cheeks, but they stopped as well. There wasn't the rise and fall of her chest anymore.

Grasping my bloody knife, I plunged it into her abdomen, creating a fresh stream of thick, warm ooze. Then, I sliced her side. I did it again, and again, until her clothes were soaked with her own blood. I could see the puddle that had been forming underneath her.

Just as quickly as I came, I left. Nobody saw, and they would never know I did it.

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