| |
The sheer volume of noise in the Ten Bells was enough to block the violent whispers in Miller’s mind. He had found that drinking helped, and at the same time come to two unrelated conclusions. The first was, as he sat in the corner, the belly full of drink churning and threatening to make an unwanted reappearance, that he wasn’t too far removed from many of the seedy clientele surrounding him. He had always considered himself to be a step above, a higher class than the wretched and the desperate, but had come to realise that he too was wretched. He too was desperate. The second thing he had come to realise is that he was falling in love with Mary Kelly. They had met only a few times and yet whenever they did so the beast inside was silent. The conversation was easy and she was, to him beautiful. Her features delicate, skin soft.
Just like Lucy.
Miller had decided that if one thing would allow him to stop with his work, then finding love, real love with a woman who felt the same and wouldn’t hurt him, could be it. He had taken to frequenting the pubs he knew she would go to, yet had only seen her two or three times. She, like the rest of the population of Whitechapel, was in fear of the Ripper, of him. He knew the beast inside found a great pleasure in listening to the whispers of fear and speculation as to when he would next strike. To sit there amid it, able to almost taste the fear, should have been intoxicating and exactly what he had hoped to achieve, yet all he could think about was Mary. He wanted to tell her how he felt, part of him sure she would feel the same way, the other half of him afraid she would reject him and shatter his fragile confidence like every other woman in his life had done.
You’re supposed to want to kill them. Not fuck them.
Miller took another drink. He had grown to hate the thing that lived within him. The thing shaped by his misery and despair. It had grown into a cruel inner passenger, something which he hated as much as he needed it. He wondered if she would feel the same way if he told her how he felt. He would tell her he could take her away from the life on the streets. Give her security and safety in exchange for filling the loveless void inside him and helping him banish his demon.
What about Abberline? Remember how he said you were incapable of the work we had done? Remember how you wanted to prove him wrong?
‘No.’ Miller slurred. Nobody heard it due to the volume of noise around him. Usually, drink worked, but today the beast was strong and it went on, poison tongue moving as it spoke to him.
I thought you wanted to be special. I thought you wanted to be remembered? Do you really think falling in love with a whore is going to give you that fame?
‘Shut up.’
Just listen. It’s everywhere. Everyone is talking about us and our work. I know you’re trying to drink me away, but you don’t fool me. You thrive on this. Somebody actually knowing who you are. Our work is good. We need to continue. Kill the whores like you said you would.
‘Stop talking to me.’
‘Mr Miller?’
‘Mary, hello...’ Miller looked away. He hated her seeing him like this. Broken and vulnerable, a drunk wrestling with his inner demons. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here.’
The statement, he knew, was stupid. He had been frequenting the places he knew she would be in the hope of seeing her. Now he was the worse for drink, he just wanted to be alone. Instead of leaving, Mary sat opposite him. Miller straightened in his seat, trying as best he could to convince her he was lucid.
‘Drinking alone?’ her eyes fell to the empty glass on the table.
‘Yes, I suppose I am. Would you like to join me?’
He saw a change in her expression, a shadow of a frown. He wondered if she could see the glaze in his eyes or hear the slur in his voice. ‘No, I can’t stop I’m afraid. I just saw you here and wanted to say hello.’
‘Are you sure you don’t want a drink with me?’ Miller slurred, unable to control or act in the way his rational side demanded. ‘You and I could make a night of it.’
Mary shifted in her seat. ‘No, I really can’t. I have to go to work.’
‘Work? If that is the only thing stopping you from drinking with me, then here.’ Miller tossed two pennies on the table. ‘How much time does that buy?’ He hated saying it, despising himself as the words left his mouth, yet the dark thing was controlling him and he was a powerless passenger. The pained expression he saw on Mary’s face hurt him more than he anticipated.
‘I think you’ve had too much drink, Mr Miller.’
Miller gripped the edge of the table. Nausea and disgust at his behaviour making a nasty concoction in his stomach. ‘Yes. I think you may be right.’
He lurched to his feet, the black thing inside alive and intending to make him pay for trying to repress it. He could hear it in his mind, a distant echo moving closer as it demanded blood. As he lurched to his feet, Miller nudged the table with his legs, knocking over his glass, Mary flinched away from him, clearly disturbed.
This is why you are alone. This is why we have to do our work. Delay no further. Too much time has been wasted. Let us show Abberline how capable you are.
‘I’m sorry,’ he slurred as he staggered towards the door. The monster inside him was close to taking full control. He could feel it growing inside, filling his veins, occupying his muscles, its oozing filth polluting his brain. He knew there was only one way to sate its thirst. One thing that would give him respite. It was demanding blood and blood it would get.