Sweat fell on my cheek; my eyes widened. I shouted.
"Who are you…?" Tears mixed with sweat fell on the floor.
"Why did you… Do that?" I screamed; the sight of it choked the words in my throat.
Still no response from the killer's side; it was as if he didn't care at all.
Anger fueled my body; I quickly kicked him in the gut. The killer took a hit and was thrown against a wall.
I tapped my mother's cheeks.
"Mom…what happened?" I sobbed while I shook her lifeless body.
I felt throbbing pain in my chest, so intense that it felt as if it would drop outside.
The pain, the love, transformed into rage and the wrath.
I quickly pointed the candle at the killer's face.
The killer was smiling. A man, probably in his middle age, wore a monocle, a medium grey mustache, and stood straight in front of me.
My mind didn't work, my eyes didn't see, my ears stopped hearing.
"Who are you? What did she do to deserve this?" I asked.
He moved a little, and suddenly, smoke filled the room; Visibility dropped. I heard a big whack. I picked up my gun and ran towards the door.
The door connected the house to a narrow alleyway.
I reached the door; the door was sliced, precisely, almost too precisely. I kicked the door; the night made visibility worse, and my throat burned from the smoke bomb.
"Smoke bomb?" I spoke.
"Smoke bombs were possessed only by the military or a few officials. Why does he have it?" Questions filled my mind, but I repelled them.
Without wasting time, I shot the killer. This time, my hands were steady.
Many bullets missed, but one made it. The blood was visible even with low visibility.
I gripped my gun tightly and moved slowly toward him.
"His leg or his head was shot," I thought.
He didn't move; he didn't even scream.
I slowly reached, and the fog cleared. I was shocked.
It was a sliced leg that I shot, but not of the killer, but it looked like one of his victims; it was of a female.
I vomited. My eyes were about to pop. I fell on my knees and gazed at the sky.
"He ran. He actually ran by climbing one of the buildings." The smoke cleared; I was fooled.
"I don't have much time now." I punched the floor, and blood spilled from my hand.
"Police might be on their way because shots have been fired," I screamed hard, hoping time would listen to me and undo it.
I quickly packed my suitcase. My eyes were wet, but through the eyes, something glimmered, inside the leg.
"What's that?" I asked.
My legs felt heavy, but I still reached there. I picked it out of the leg.
"A card…a tarot card?" I whispered.
I turned it back.
"Huh?" I stopped there like someone held my legs from hell itself.
"He didn't defeat me; he outsmarted me in every possible way."
"He mocked me by giving me the fool card."
I kept the card inside my coat.
I re-entered the house; my mother's body was lying there. I sat down, right next to it. As I sat, I noticed something, and my eyes widened.
"But why would a person like him do it?"
I picked up my suitcase and moved out of the house. I turned back again, and I saw that house for the last time, the house where I spent my childhood, the house that gave me memories with my mother. It was time to say goodbye. In the middle of the night, I left my house.
"If police caught me, it would blow my cover, so I'd better be moving out quick," I thought.
Slowly, night passed, and the sun rose, and the darkest night for me was over.
Birds chirped, and the yellow rays pierced the fog, and through the cracks of the main door, they fell on Mother's face, and then suddenly the doorknob rotated. A man entered the scene—a police officer.
"I heard there was a gun shooting last night. Do you know s…."
He froze as he saw some flies over Mother's decaying body. The eyes were lifeless, as if they were tired of asking for help.
A few hours passed, the police arrived, some collected evidence, some documented the scene, and some waited eagerly for a person outside the door.
The door opened.
A senior police official wearing a cowboy hat, an open blazer, and a cigar in his mouth entered the house. He slightly twirled up his moustache and saw the corpse.
"Another murder?" he asked as if it were a regular thing to happen.
The room was silent as they all watched the corpse lying there.
"Good morning, Captain Edward," a subordinate greeted.
"What should we do, sir?" another officer asked while he looked at the deep cut on her throat.
"Any family member?" Captain Edward asked as he bent to see the cut himself.
"Yes! A son, His name was Jack, he is missing."
The official smoked his cigar, and the moment the cigar left his mouth, the order came.
"If the son is missing, he might be the one who murdered his mother. From the cuts on her body and a sliced leg on the scene, it seems he is the one who newspapers called "The Ripper". I hereby issue a shoot-on-sight order of "The Ripper", no "Jack the Ripper."
Meanwhile, I saw a newspaper article. I came close to it, and my eyes almost fell.
"Shoot on sight order of Jack the Ripper."
"They falsely accused me." I smiled. But it faded as memories of my mother flooded my mind.
"It's not Jack the Ripper; it is Jack v/s The Ripper."