About a week later, Jack stood on top of a roof near Hanbury Street, observing the reactions of the people who were investigating his latest crime, which he had just committed minutes ago.

He did not know of his victim’s true identity when he fed on her, until he heard the investigator who arrived on the scene inform the man he came with he called “Philips”.

He relished the events as a man recalling a memorable dream.

When Jack’s eyes first laid upon the Woman Sir Philips identified as Annie Chapman, he knew that she would be his new victim.

He had followed her quite a ways before she entered a lodging-house and helped herself to a potato.

Watching the woman eat had made Jack quite hungry himself. But no need to lose himself, he would feed very soon.

He watched and listened to Chapman as she conversated with a tall man in a brown suit and red tie. He had made out the words “...Tim keeps the bed for me,” as she walked off with the man in the Brown suit.

Following them to what must have been the tall man’s house, he observed as they walked in the house together. The Ripper contemplated sneaking in and ripping them to pieces and feeding on the both, but decided he would wait. He wanted to make sure everything went smoothly without the intervention of any officers.

Time made Jack itch thirty minutes later. So did the hunger, but only the hunger was an itch that he could scratch.

An hour later, the time burned the Ripper. For a brief moment, Jack had lost control of his hunger pangs and nearly kicked down the door to the house.

Mentally screaming he urged himself not to do it. BUT HE HAD TO EAT. HE WOULD TEAR THEM APART. HE WOULD—

He broke loose of his urges’s hold as the door somewhere inside had creaked open.

With lightning speed, Jack was pressed against the wall on the other side of the house.

He crouched under the window he had used to stalk his victims and listened hard, his hunger momentarily somewhat forgotten. Amazing what interest could do to you.

It’s amazing what hunger could do to you.

There was a brief conversation in which Jack could not hear, and then he heard the Chapman lady say, “I certainly do not hope you will require my services again, Mr. Hemsel!”

The two had quite a laugh about this before ‘Hemsel’ had replied, “I wish I could say the opposite, but I am a mere animal.”

After another bout of laughter Chapman said, “Perhaps a Possum!”

Or a rat perhaps? Indeed I must be the cat.

“... night Mr. Hemsel!”

Jack grinned as Chapman walked out the front door, right around the corner from him. He inhaled and caught a whiff of her sweet perfume.

After a moment to get his prey a head start, he quietly pursued with an evil grin spread across his face.

They had walked two blocks before the Ripper closed in on Chapman.

As an undomesticated animal would, she must have sensed some form of danger and turned around, to face him, stopping him in his tracks.

Before Chapman asked what Jack thought she was going to ask, he spoke.

“It is a bit late to be out alone, milady, don’t you agree?”

“Bless you! You scared me out of my wits! Oh, but I do agree it is awfully late and I Shan’t be out, but may I ask you the same?”

Jack was having a hard time breathing. He had been noticed and, oh, was he hungry! He took a moment to decide his course of action so that his snack before him did not have the opportunity to get away from his grasp.

“Sir?,” Chapman urged, sounding slightly worried.

“Ah! Sorry, I was a bit lost in my head. Do you pardon?”

“I was just wondering what you were doing out so late.”

“I was just taking a walk. You know,” Jack laughed anxiously. “Take a breather. Oy, I was wondering if you service me, will you?”

“Yes,” she breathed, although it seemed his statement frightened her.

Later on when recalling these moments, he realized that what he did was highly suspicious; he was a complete stranger so how was he to know her job as a prostitute? And of course she could recall if he was a customer. And he wasn’t.

Without a singular flaw in movement, Jack pulled out his blade and smiled.

“Run,” he told her. It was not the tone of ‘you need to go now!,’ it was more the tone of ‘oh, you can go ahead and run now by the way.’

Instinctively, she spun around and just barely began to put pressure on the ground when he fetched a kick to the area behind her right knee, inspiring an audible crack as her knee came down on the ground.

She screamed. The Ripper smiled, savoring this moment way too much.

“No, no, no, no, no!,” Chapman protested.

Then, Jack picked up the lady’s handkerchief off the ground as the Woman whimpered and tried to get up, struggling to succeed.

Enjoying himself completely, although it could be debated his hunger was in control at this time, he whistled and walked casually up to Chapman.

Jack reached his arms over Chapman’s head and pulled the fabric accessory tight against the Woman’s neck.

Empowered by his weakness of hunger, Chapman’s squirming and jerking movements had no effect. He put the end of the handkerchief he had in his left hand into his right, joining the other side and used his now free left hand to cover his victim’s mouth to muffle the choking noises she was making.

He felt the life leaving Chapman a moment later, but he was not satisfied. He needed more pain. More entertainment.

He released the handkerchief and Chapman fell on her hands, sobbing and desperately sucking air into her lungs.

When her breathing slowed down, Jack surprised her, gliding the blade across the injured party’s throat, sending blood everywhere at once in an imitation of a geyser.

Chapman did a little jerk, paralyzed by shock. After the surprise wore off, her hands shot to her throat like an arrow to a target board.

Jack watched in glee as the dying person in front of him began to die slowly.

More. So much blood. Heheheheheh! But I want more!

He shoved the end of his blade into Chapman’s back, a ripping noise emitting from the puncture as it slid in, a little snapping noise as it hit the spine. Other than the briefest extension of her body toward the sky, it seemed she didn’t even feel the injury.

And then it was over. Her soul rushed free out of her wounds in an instant and Chapman slumped, her head hanging in the direction of her lap. She died on her knees.

Not bothering to pull the knife out, Jack shoved her body forward with a kick, the corpse landing face first.

The Ripper sighed with euphoria and turned the body over after retrieving his weapon of choice. He dug into his food and began to eat.