The Ripper's Daughter

by B Anders

  ***

  Hands trembling, Colby got two swallows down in rapid succession. The amber liquid burned a fiery trail from her throat to her belly, filling the emptiness with momentary fire. She had no idea what she was going to do next.

  It was not supposed to be like this, she had heard Jessie’s admission with her own ears. The woman she left chained in the bathroom was a snarling, vengeful, murderous monster. Yet, Colby knew Jessie could never be such a hideously ungrateful creature. Jessie was suffering like Colby. Colby could see the hurt in those eyes, a hurt that was mirroring her own heart.

  Jessie was protecting someone. Colby was sure of it. If anything Jessie was a victim. Colby's anger had blinded her to the obvious; If Jessie was a monster it was because Colby made her into one. Colby had allowed her anger to twist her mind until it left her with nothing but a belly full of hissing spiteful snakes.

  What would she do if she was given a second chance to spend another night with the woman she once loved, and still loved for that matter? With a firm headshake, she made a promise to the steering wheel.

  “I’m not going to hurt her, so help me God.”

  It was enough to restore a little sense of purpose. Colby stashed the bottle back under the seat and climbed out of the car. Her senses duly dulled, she felt nothing as she stumbled, feet entangled right over left. She bumped her arm hard against the door. Another day drunk and another limb bruised. It was becoming divine punishment. Physical penance meted out as part and parcel of being a barely functional alcoholic.

  Colby made her way back into the house and up the narrow stairs to where Jessie was waiting for her with great deliberation. She refrained from conversation. She did no more than chain Jessie to the bed before clearing the dishes off the floor. Head down, eyes on the floor, so sure that one misguided look or word would breathe life into her tinder box of emotions. For her part, Jessie was silent as she sunk into the bedding leaving Colby to carry the remains of their meal down to the kitchen.

  When Colby returned to the bedroom, Jessie was curled up on the far side of the bed. She was already asleep, but Colby could see she was anything but restful. Concerned, Colby tip toed over and sat lightly on the edge of the bed. Jessie moaned, still sleeping, in the way a child does when they are caught in the horror of a nightmare.

  Colby wanted more than anything to be able to reach over and brush the stay wisps of hair back from Jessie’s sweaty forehead. Colby knew her touch was not welcome. Her touch would cause Jessie more pain than comfort. Oceans of distance filled the six inches of mattress between them. They were strangers now. Colby found her own heart weeping with the small inescapable fact, their love belonged in a past Colby could barely remember.

  Colby found herself wanting to close the chasm between them for just a little while even if Jessie wasn’t awake to know. It might even be better for Jessie to be asleep. What Jessie didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt her. Carefully Colby eased herself full length on to the mattress so as not to wake the sleeping woman. Slowly, she edged her way closer to Jessie. Their bodies gently coming together Colby could hear the other woman’s breathing even out with the familiar feeling of company in her bed. Transfixed she watched as the tight worry lines on Jessie’s face smoothened out and faded.

  Colby allowed a smile to grace her own face as she felt the sleeper next to her relax into her embrace. The feeling of Jessie’s skin against her own was more intoxicating than the brew Colby just swilled. She felt a spark of happiness before she too drifted off to sleep.

  “If you want to play better, you need to practice more and nap less," Jane said before stroking the keys of the high polished baby grand.

  Colby realized she was dreaming but could not rouse herself.

  "Don't bother, kid."

  "Marty?" She was pretty sure she spoke his name out loud. "You're here too so does this mean I'm dreaming or I'm dead?"

  The fool standing next to her grinned, "Well, I'm dead and you weren't on the attendance list this morning so I'll go with dreaming."

  "Really, Marty, stop distracting Colby from her piano lesson," Jane scolded and punctuated the remark with a single key strike.

  "C?" Colby guessed.

  Marty snorted a laugh, "Hell, even tone deaf me knows that's wrong." His face grew very serious as Jane continued to play a string of notes, "You have to remember, Colby. You have to get your head on straight and remember! It's down to life or death time."

  "You haven't been paying enough attention. I don't care if I die," Colby answered.

  Marty grabbed her shirt lapels and shook her, "It ain't just your life, you stupid ass! You better fuckin' save my baby girl or I'll kick you from one end of hell to the other."

  He released his hold with a shove. She was falling backward. Her arms flailed but the momentum was unstoppable. Another note struck seconds before she fell head first into the black pit of dreamless sleep.

  "E," she remembered.

  ***

  Colby woke in the dark with a full bladder and an aching head. Looking around the spartan room, she was not certain of how long she’d been asleep. She only knew she needed a drink. The need was immediate, undeniable, and excruciating. The alarm clock on the bedside table confirmed she had been sleeping for a couple of hours. Easing herself off the bed while trying not to wake a still slumbering Jessie, Colby felt a wave of acute dizziness. Quickly she hustled herself out of the room and downstairs. There was a bathroom just off the kitchen. The last thing she wanted was Jessie waking to the sound of her puking.

  “What diabolical plan are you brewing for my baby girl?” His voice was deep with the wet morning quality most drinkers suffer.

  The sight of Marty standing in the middle of the kitchen wearing Jane’s Christmas apron stopped Colby dead at the bottom of the stairs. Contrary to the alarm clock, it was morning. The kitchen was warm and bright, filled with the smells of cooking and Bing Crosby softly crooning in the background.

  “Pull up a chair, kiddo! I got some ground rules for you.” He waved his spatula toward the table.

  “Marty, don’t look at me like that. I didn’t mean to hurt her. I swear. Look, I didn’t even touch her. We … just slept together, that’s all.”

  Marty warned, “I’m fuckin’ dead, not stupid. Now park your butt in a chair and we’ll talk turkey. Don’t even think of lying to me. The dead have eerie powers.”

  “You stole that from that stupid cartoon show on TV that’s not even funny.”

  Colby shot back with a snarl. Marty gave her an evil eye and Colby decided she better do as told and take the designated hot seat. It was bad enough having this hangover from hell without Marty's ghost getting into the mix.

  “So what? I’m dead and unlike you I can’t rack up sins such as cradle snatching. Might as well infringe on a copyright here and there. Not that there is a shortage of lawyers in hell mind you.” He paused with a wide grin on his face as he flipped a pancake high over her head.

  “Marty, watch where you’re throwing those things. Are those real?” Colby asked wistfully prompted by the pangs of hunger coming from her empty belly.

  He shrugged. “Real is in the mind, kid. A glass is half empty. A glass is half full. Depends on how you look at it. Now, let’s skip the metaphysical discussion and get back to the nefarious acts you want to commit against my daughter.”

  “I told you I didn’t touch her!”

  Marty turned and pointed at her, “You’re a rotten liar, kiddo. You were dreaming about more than just touching her.”

  “You couldn’t know that,” Colby gasped in horror.

  “Ha! I didn’t! I suspected it and now you’ve just admitted it. Now, what exactly are your intentions?”

  “You’re still a bastard, Marty,” Colby sighed in defeat. “My only intention is to find out who the Ripper is. And, somehow Jessie holds all the answers. She’s protecting someone. She damn near admitted it upstairs just now. Only I can’t get the truth out of her.”

  Marty barked out
a short harsh laugh.

  “What?”

  “If you want to keep telling yourself lies then fine, but we both know the truth.”

  “What are you talking about?

  Marty flashed her a sympathetic look.

  “What? Come on, Marty, quit jerking me around.”

  “Colby,” Marty stepped closer to the table, “stop trying to forget. It’s time to remember. You need to remember. You and Jessie are running out of time."

  Colby’s mouth went dry. She could feel her hands shaking. Something was wrong, very, very wrong. She was sure her tongue was swelling.

  “You’re having a seizure on the stairs, kiddo. You’re almost through the worst of it. Colby, you have to remember. He knows Jessie's with you and he’s going to come after her. Don’t let him win, Colby.” He gave her a sad half smile his voice sounding suddenly very far away.

  “And, keep your hands off my baby girl, if you know what’s good for you. She’ll eat you alive.”

  ***

  Lighting flashed behind her eyes. When her vision cleared, she was staring face up at the ceiling with her feet above her head. She could hardly hear herself think from the sound of blood pounding in her ears. She needed to regroup quickly. The pressure in her head was killing her.

  "Where am I?"

  She was lying upside down on the stairs in Marty’s house.

  "Did I get pushed?"

  No, she couldn’t remember being pushed. Must have fallen then.

  "What the fuck is the racket?"

  Someone was frantically screaming her name. Jessie. Oh God, she left Jessie alone upstairs. She left Jessie chained and alone for the second time in as many days.

  “COLBY FOR THE LOVE OF GOD ANSWER ME OR I’LL CHEW OFF MY OWN DAMNED PAW!”

  “Drama queen,” Colby muttered with quiet relief, before calling out in a slightly louder voice. “Quit shouting. I’m okay. Just tripped on the steps, that’s all.”

  Colby lied as she tried to straighten her body without sliding down the remaining stairs head first. Her hip was wedged between the slats of the railing. She reached backwards to try to free herself.

  “Shit,” she hissed.

  Her hand was stuck in the foul stool. The harbinger of peace at the end of each seizure. She did not want Jessie to see her sick and helpless like this. She needed to get to the upstairs bathroom and clean herself up. She needed to move.

  Sluggishly with faltering starts and sudden stops, Colby managed to get her feet lower than her head. However, walking up the stairs was not an option. Willing her traitorous body closer to safety, Colby crawled the distance of eight steps before collapsing on the top landing less than a foot from Jessie’s open door.

  “Colby,” the voice was soft. “Are you sick? God, did you have a seizure?”

  Tears stung her eyes. ”Can’t keep anything from you, can I, Einstein? Forgot about you and your Ivy League medical school education. No secrets between us, I guess. Yep, took another seizure.”

  “Can you toss the key to the cuffs in here? You need to get them to the middle of the room for me to reach. Give it a good throw.”

  “You’ll run,” Colby stated flatly

  Her mind was racing. She needed to get up without Jessie’s help. She couldn’t let Jessie see how weak she was. At the very least, she needed to appear in control.

  “I was going to be a doctor, remember? I took an oath. We aren’t allowed to run out on the helpless, even shitheads like you.”

  “No. I don’t need your help.”

  “Colby, I know you’re afraid, but I’m not going to hurt you. You remember the time you had that ingrown toe nail and you couldn’t walk and you wouldn’t let the doctor touch it? Just sat in your chair all day like a bear with a sore head growling at everyone who came too close, you remember? I told you it wouldn’t hurt if I took it out for you and it didn’t. Just trust me." More quietly she mumbled, "Can’t you stop being a fuckin’ asshole just this once?”

  Colby laughed out loud. What the fuck? She knew despair made people do crazy things. She saw it all the time on the job. The mother who decides to take her kids swimming in the car after a drunken row with their father or the man who gives his wife twenty whacks, one for each year of their marriage, with an axe as an anniversary present on finding her in bed with his brother.

  Despair was a contradictory human condition. It made sanity irrational. But, sometimes it made jaded people give trust another try. What else is there to lose when your life doesn’t matter anymore? If she was going to die on the landing anyway, what did it matter if it was by neglect or by Jessie splitting her head open like a ripe watermelon?

  Colby nodded in agreement; maybe it was worth to try trusting once more. She reached into her front pocket to pull the keys out. With a mighty toss, she successfully launched them over the threshold about three feet.

  “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

  The sound of furniture dragging punctuated the reply, “It's okay, Colby. I can get it easy. Tons of practice with this kind of situation.”

  “I’ll just bet,” Colby muttered under her breathe.

  It was fascinating watching Jessie’s index finger stretch into view. Deftly the finger caught the edge of the key and began the arduous process of tugging the ring closer. Colby smiled as the darkness began to close in around her. She wondered if she would like the feel of Jessie splitting her head open like a ripe watermelon, before she decided it didn’t matter.

  ***

  Someone was calling her name. She could hear it over the sound of the wind and the rain. She was driving in a thunderstorm in the car. Why was it so dark?

  Colby, you have to remember.

  Remember? Did she forget to do something? Something important?

  He knows Jessie's with you and he’s going to come after her.

  Jessie? Where was Jessie?

  Don’t let him win, Colby.

  Colby woke like from a bad dream with legs and arms flying. She was lying on the floor. It was coming back to her. God, she had another one and she had crapped herself stupid. She could feel cool fingers caressed her sweaty brow, calming her down. Jessie.

  “Easy Ali, I ain’t Foreman,” Jessie joked. “Let’s get you off the floor and in the bathroom. Can you get up on your hands and knees? Try? Please? “

  Colby nodded. Her head was spinning a thousand miles a minute but she knew she could do this. She had to do this. She was too busy to be dying; she had no business to be dying today. She grunted and pushed, but it seemed useless.

  “Almost there, you’re almost there. Here let me help you.”

  God, she’s strong.

  “Okay, now bring the knee closest to the wall up to your chest and get that foot flat on the floor.”

  Great, another set of gym instructions.

  Her shoulder leaning heavily against the wall, Colby willed her right leg to move. It was another struggle. Right first and then left. It took all her strength and she needed every bit of support Jessie gave her, but she did it. Jessie stayed snug beside her, draping Colby’s arm across her shoulders.

  “I shit myself,” Colby confessed with a sob. Her need for control seemed so silly now.

  “Yep, that’s why we’re heading for the shower. Come on, Sweetie.”

  Embarrassed, Colby meekly let Jessie maneuver her down the hall. They bobbled at the door, nearing colliding with the wall when Colby staggered, but made it in together on the second try. Colby could tell Jessie was tiring under her weight.

  Jessie rushed Colby the last few steps to the toilet. Colby gently pushed her away. She was a big girl; she could handle this part on her own without a wet nurse.

  “You haven’t called me that for years." She wasn't about to let the endearment fade into an afterthought.

  “What’s that?” Jessie asked absently as she focused on starting the shower and then began to strip.

  “What are you doing?” Colby asked in horror, her eyes recoiling from the sight of Jessie’s naked body
.

  Jessie’s tone was soft and neutral, “We need to get you washed up but you’re too weak to stand on your own. Let me do this so we can both get some sleep, Colby.”

  Colby was too weak to mount an offense. She surrendered with a grudging nod before turning away. She did not want Jessie to see her cry.

  ***

  Whispering words of kind encouragement, Jessie took Colby’s arm once they each finished drying off and gently escorted her back to the bedroom. The shower went surprisingly smoothly despite all of Colby’s unhappiness at being treated like a child. Jessie was wonderful. She even tried to wash out Colby’s pants while Colby toweled off. It was a senseless act because the clothes were history. Colby appreciated the gesture, none the less. She thought it was wonderful.