Judge Me Not

Damian Black is leading the police on a chase through the town of Whitechapel, London. Killing his victim and only leaving one note on the mutilated body, but he soon becomes bored with the cat and mouse game he is playing. When young Aidan Smith catches his eye will he be able to continue this game or will his secret come out?

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1. Prolouge

Night wrapped around Whitechapel like a thick blanket, casting shadows along the brothels and building lining the streets. Police roamed the streets, trying to catch any criminal that crossed their path, well any criminal they could anyway. They are a bit slow if I do so myself, I mean they haven't even caught me yet and I've already mutilated three prostitutes already.

 

This game is becoming boring, this little cat and mouse game, and soon they will run out of time and the town will run mad with worry and paranoia. I guess that'll be fun, seeing the publice scramble around like little mice while I pull the strings to make it happen.

 

People would think that the police would eventually find this "Jack the Ripper" with all the notes that I leave behind, but none of them have the minds that I do. Every single one of them looks at the letters, but none of them can see the double meaning behind the words, and it frustrates me. There is a trail left for them to find me, but they can't see it.

 

If people think about it, they all have the power to kill, but I just have the guts to do it. The police are giving me free reign of this little town, and who am I to resist this freedom that they have given me?

 

Who am I to resist the call of murder when it says my name?

 

It's just all too easy for me. Slip into a brothel, slip out with a woman around my arms giggling and smiling at me like I actually want to do anything with her. Then there is that look of terror in her eyes when I pull the knife out of my coat pocket, and the pleading when I place it on her delicate neck. The sound of the blade when it slides and sinks into her neck is like music to my ears.

 

Killing is like a melody, soft and sweet in the beginning, and then the notes pick up when the girl begs and pleads for her life, and then finally the crescendo hits. When she is lying on the cold ground, bleeding out, that is when the notes slowly fade away and I am left with the image of what I have done. This is my world filled with darkness, murder, and manipulation.

 

I wouldn't have it any other way.  

 

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