Dear London

Dear London,

My name is Jack the Ripper, or so I have told you. I have feed you a lie, my real name is Jacklin Thomas A. June. I grew up here In london. I am indeed female on the outside, but inside I am male. Most would consider this mindset as a sin, punishable by death. I'm always confused and angry, angry at myself and at society. I don't kill for the thrill or even because I want to, I do it because its the only way to show you worms that the world doesn't fit into a box and that what is the norm is the only natural thing out there. How I feel is just as real as you and the air you breath.

I kill to give London… No the world a glimpse of the level of fear I go through each day. I fear myself and those who know me. So I can never be caught. So you will never apprehend me. You can scour the sewers and burn down all of London, Your attempts will all be fruitless for I am no one, yet I could be anyone.

As a child I had a friend, a pretty girl with brown hair. I trusted her with my secret. She always had a loud mouth, she spewed my secret to a group of guys.These guys would end up being my real first victims. My first retaliation was a simple stabbing, when I had finally gotten fed up with there shit, so I took the 6 inch serrated knife from the kitchen and when, the boys now in a drunken stupor, came to taunt me. I stabbed there ringleader in the hand. He survived, from either dumb luck or maybe the fact he was practically bleeding booze. I haven't seen them for years now, they probably skipped town. As for the girl, her name was Mary Ann Nichols. If it sounds familiar it should she was my first documented victim. I remember how she begged and begged me not to kill her. But she took my trust and feeling of safety, things I should never have lost.

yours Truly,
Jack the Ripper