London Falling

Mother dear where have you gone
I’ve been left here all alone
I would promise to love you true
Should you just take me home

3 September 1888

I greet you once again, my diary. I come to you with shame this time. It seems that I have been caught red-handed at my place of employment stealing that which does not belong to me. The board will address me no later than Wednesday next. We shall see what they have to say regarding this little mishap. For an entire two years the Royal London Hospital has been my salvation, providing me with the sweet elixir that removes me from this dreaded existence. Where will the morphine flow from, should I come about a leave from my work and livelihood? What would mother say, diary?

No more can that woman terrorize me. No more will any whore of a woman take my innocence and cast it away like a child’s rag doll. I feel such rage and anger at the thought of what that woman did to me, how she robbed me completely and utterly of my childhood mirth. I was just a lad. They can hardly blame me for my recent actions. One less breeding whore. I am doing London a favor.

Living in Whitechapel is getting rather stressful as of late. So help you, if a cat cries in the alley a constable is called. Just the other day, right on the street in front of my townhouse, a woman ran screaming that she had seen the "Leather Apron" just down Commercial Road. I should have taken better care than to do such business so near my own residence. My perverse fantasies took over my senses and left me bereft of sound judgment.

I would have walked in the other direction that night toward Bethnal Green but I followed her lead. I assumed she rented a room near Buck’s Row and Brady Street; there are many boarding houses there. I followed her faithfully carefully minding each step she took, knowing full well what wretched things I would do to her once the street was suitably barren.

Perhaps I shall write the press. I am sure I don’t like the name "Leather Apron"

__________

Misty-eyed morning calling
Awake to your new day
A heavy burden has been lifted
Your problems all away

5 September 1888

I have decided that when my job is done here and I tire of ridding London of its filth and depravity I will take my household and affairs back to Canterbury, my childhood home. I will take up practice with my father once I am there. I believe Lizzy again resides at her family’s home in Dover. The unfortunate and untimely death of her husband brought her back. I wonder, diary, if she would see me again. Perhaps this time in a different light born of newfound maturity. I would have her again as my lover; I would be willing to forgive her.

I received word that my mother’s namesake, my sister Emma is recovering from a brief illness. The letter from my father also included my eldest sister’s news that she was once again with child. Annie has been given five boys now and not yet a girl. Several years back she lost her only girl during childbirth. She has not come out of mourning yet.

I purchased some red ink from the printer down at Mitre Square; I figured it to be an impressive touch to my letter to the press. I walked the distance there and back down Whitechapel Road. It was a good, brisk walk. The leaves are changing color on the trees now. Autumn is upon us.