He looked up to the heavens, smirking a bloody smile. As the girl drew her last breath, he entered his ecstasy. Another girl to add to his collection, another innocent, another girl to stop the horrors of his past coming to the surface. A sharp noise startled him, whipping his head round to the threat like a Meerkat being alerted by a predator, all signs of pleasure wiped from his teenage face, his eyes glittering in the light of a distant street lamp, staring into the darkness. He holds his breathe waiting for any further alarm. A sound escapes from the silence; with it he fled from his gruesome crime.
From the bloody scene a familiar voice could be heard echoing from miles around through the streets of London as if a horn of a ship was being blown.

























“Again, again, another attack, again!”
Slamming the door behind him, he ran up the stairs his black coat flying around him, storming into his bedroom also slamming the door, forgetting that it was early in the morning and everyone was sleeping, he didn’t care they will all known what he has done by noon. He paused for a moment, letting the silence swallow him whole, breathing steadily to try and calm himself down, and slowly imagining a place where no one could find him. His door creaking open woke him from his safe daze. Looking round he saw the silhouette of the man who owns the familiar voice, standing in the doorway. A whisper slips from his familiar mouth.

































“You promised, Jack, you promised” followed by defending silence.


























The familiar man stepped into the dull light of morning streaming through Jack’s window, revealing the face he most feared.































“Father” Jack said in a low voice, staring at the man who wanted so much more from him, even to follow in his footsteps.




































“It’s Sergeant, Jack, I have to arrest you, Jack, eleven girls, Jack, eleven”, disappointment oozing from his deep tone.
No movement came from either person, another one of their famous stand offs, always ending in Jack being beaten and bruised. But not now, Jack knew he couldn’t lose this, he had to win; otherwise he’d face the gallows’ that his father would send him too. His father had given up hope in him, giving him eleven chances and getting eleven fails back.



























“Father, you can’t take me, I’m your son”, the useless plea tasted sour as it came out. Jack felt déjà vu as if something wasn’t right. Just as the memory was coming back to him, the Sergeant made a move to take Jack, swerving from his course, Jack started running, out the front and onto the 19th Century stone streets.
The adrenaline began to pump through his veins, his thoughts coming together an idea came, the river. Changing direction Jack headed towards the Thames. He could he the police carriages catching up, his father had portrayed him, after everything that Jack had done for his father. Jack decided he no longer had a father, he was now the enemy. He was the Sergeant. This thought made Jack feel that loneliness was creeping up on him, he had no family, and everyone had left him or given up in him. A feeling that Jack hadn’t felt in years trickled down his face. Tears? Why am I crying? He thought to himself, hitting his head in an attempt to clear his mind back to the task of escaping from the police. The town clock chimed five times, he had to hurry otherwise he would miss it.


























“Jack!”
A scream pierced into his ear, a familiar voice, not his father but, his mother’s. It couldn’t have been her she had died, a long time ago. Jack pushed all the depressing thoughts and sounds out of his mind, nothing was going to stop him; the salvation of the Thames was close the smell of the water was flooding into his nose. With one quick look back, Jack says goodbye to Whitechapel and to the eleven girls he had brutally murdered. Finally, reaching his destination, Jack leaped onto the five o’clock barge. Freedom!
Inhaling, he smelt the fumes of his escape; he turned for the final time. Looking through the morning fog at the faint outline of a man standing at the bank from what he could tell the outline was shaking his head. Jack let out a joyful laugh and let the memories float back into his mind of the man who once pleaded with him, the man who had made him the way he was, the man who beat him daily, the man he called father.


























“Jack, you can’t take me, I’m your father”.





















The man who murdered his mother and his sister.
The tears began to break through the barriers. This time Jack let them flow he was free at last and the voice of his mother returned giving him reassurance that everything was alright, that she had forgiven him and that his father could no longer hurt him.
Exhaling, he turned forward looking into his future. Jack looked up to the heavens, smirking a pure smile, as he remembered his mother and sister, he entered his ecstasy.