Chapter 1

Molly:

The Second Victim

She was weak. Although she struggled and screamed she couldn't break the grip he

had on her arm. For the first time in his life, Jonathan Walker felt like he had

power over another human being. It was a heady, exciting experience that he

wanted to draw out forever if he could. The thrill of this moment was nearly

overwhelming. He had planned this so well, but he didn't really know what it

would be like until now.

He pushed her against the wall of the dilapidated, deserted building that was

destined to be razed for another renewal zone in London at the beginning of the

20th century. The new electric street lights softly lit up her face. She was young

and frightened. Her body was so small that from a distance, she looked like she

might be eight, but upon closer inspection, the curves of her tiny frame convinced

him that she might be 16 or 17.

She wore a skirt that ended above her knees – it almost looked like a swimming

suit except that she didn't wear tights beneath it. She had on a lot of short

petticoats, but they were designed to hold her indecent skirt out rather than help her

gain modesty. Her blouse dipped down to show off plenty of cleavage that was

partly covered by a mass of dark, tangled hair pulled forward to cascade down her

shoulders. However, she was clean and seemed sober. That surprised him.

“Please, Mister,” she whimpered. “I'm doing' no harm to nobody. I'm just out to

give a good time to anybody that wants it. Please, Mister, don't kill me.?”

Her voice was soft. Not loud and brassy like he expected.

“Shut up.” He ordered

“Yes, Gov'ner. And I've got family. People who'll be looking for me” She added

this piece of information hopefully, searching his face to see any sign that it made

any difference.

It did. If he had felt any softness toward her at all, it disappeared in a rush of

violent rage. He knew how she felt. He remembered all too well being tiny and

helpless against a bigger human being. He, too, had sought to find words that

might prevent the brutal blows that were about to rain down on him. Just like this

whore, his words always seemed to have the opposite effect on the drunken adult

who was assailing him. No matter how pathetically, or politely, or pleadingly he

delivered his petition for forgiveness, he always managed to earn himself a harder

beating than if he had just kept silent.

He tightened his grip on her thin forearm and shoved it above her head against the

wall. Her breath was coming hard now, in apparent fear. “Please, Sir. I'm a good

girl. As good as I can be. I live with me Mum Please sir, don't kill me for 'er

sake.

“Please....” her appeal was abruptly interrupted by a high-pitched scream close at

hand. He shoved his body against hers, still pinning her by her upraised arm with

his left hand. He pressed his right hand hard against her mouth.

“Don't make a sound or I'll break yer neck,” he whispered urgently. Both of them

had been so intent on each other that they had not noticed the carriage that had

driven up out of the drizzle and fog and stopped within 100 feet of them. A well-

dressed gentleman had alighted and helped out an obviously drunken older woman.

As her feet hit the sidewalk, he had slapped her on the bottom, eliciting the scream

that Jonathan and his captive had just heard.

“There, Flossy, see if you can stagger home from here. I've got to be going now, or

I'm in big trouble.”

“Ya think yer new missus would be jealous to find out about old Flossy.” the

woman demanded with her hands on her hips. She'd be thankin' me if she knew

that it was I who taught ya ever thing ya knew about love.”

“You taught me nothing worth knowing, you old whore. And I won't have you in

my carriage again unless you find your girl and bring her along. I can find better

than you, Flossy.”

“Right, Mister Baxter. She thought she'd strike out on 'er own for a while, but I'll

bring 'er back.”

“You may not Flossy. You may never find her.”

Flossy, turned on him weaving slightly. “And just what do ya mean by that, Mister

Baxter? She'll come back. She always does. What do ya mean, she won't come

back.”

“Now don't get excited, Flossy. I just meant you can't keep promising me your

daughter when you haven't got her. You might do well to look for a different...

uh.... assistant. And not that other old dried up drunk you're always palling with. I

don't want her either.”

Flossy looked at him for a while. From the constantly changing look on her face, it

was obvious that several emotions were fighting for the upper hand. She finally

decided that it was best to use caution on an old customer.

“Well, ta ta till next time.” Flossy turned to stagger down the street. She was

singing, “A twopence or a pound. It's all the same to me. I'll do me best for you sir.

I'm the best, you'll see.”

She passed within feet of Jonathan and his victim. She was bent forward, singing

her ditty and watching her dirty shoes slap on the pavement. Jonathan thought that

with her long skirt and high-buttoned blouse, she was dressed more decently than

his intended victim, but something about her aroused more disgust and loathing.

Her loud voice and drunken amble excited a hatred in him, but he was not about to

let go of the girl he had after she had had such a good, up close view of his face.

Molly watched the woman walk by with intense interest as well. It was almost as

if she had forgotten the man who was threatening her life. She quivered a little as

her eyes tracked the path of the singing drunk. Her lips moved as though she

wanted to say something but she didn't try to make a sound.

“That's a good girl.” Jonathan spoke to her quietly as he took his hand from her

mouth. “If ya are good, ya should last a long time.”

“Ya won't kill me then, yer Lordship?” the girl raised Jonathan's status to show

respect.

“No. I'll take care of ya.” Jonathan sounded almost tender as he reached in his

pocket and pulled out a handkerchief wrapped in oiled leather. He opened the

cover and held the hankie against her nose and mouth. Within seconds her eyes

rolled up in her head and the world turned black.

Jonathan held her beside him, trying to make it look like they were walking side by

side as he slowly waddled back to his house a two blocks away. When he finally

got to his row house he turned and pulled the girl up the two steps to the ground

floor entrance. Further down the street sitting on the corner curb, a man with two

deep scars on his face watched him. Although it was late May, the weather was

still uncomfortably cool and the moisture in the air was too heavy to be described

as a mist and now too light to be a drizzle. The man turned up his collar against

the night chill but seemed to not notice that he had no hat. Jonathan saw the man

looking at him and hoped that he looked like a customer bringing a drunken

prostitute home. It was a ordinary scene in this neighborhood, but Jonathan was no

ordinary-looking man.

The next morning, Jonathan went down to the basement to see his new guest. A

moderate rain had started to fall. A heavy rain might have emptied the clouds and

spent itself in a couple of hours; a light rain may have fizzled out from its own

disinterest. But this moderate rain settled in and kept up the same pace for a two

day. Although it fell steadily, it didn't take enough away from its parent cloud to

keep it from blocking the sun.

Jonathan had been a virtual prisoner in the same basement room most of his life up

until two days ago when he had killed his mother and taken her place as the

sovereign of the apartment. He had had no contact with people that wasn't of the

“victim/perpetrator” kind. So it seemed normal to him that his new family member

take his place just as he had taken his mother's.

The headache that had pounded since he had beaten his mother to death had

cleared and what his last step-father had described as “episodes” had passed. He

would definitely keep this new girl as a companion as long as she was nice to him.

“Hello, Honeeee, I'm hoooome,” he called like his last daddy used to do when he

came home. He opened the door to his old room and found his girl sitting on the

floor staring in horror at his mother's body.

“This is me mum,” he said in a friendly way like anyone would when introducing a

family member. “I killed 'er by accident a couple of days ago, and then didn't

know what to do with 'er. I'll leave 'er down here as company for you until I can

bring ya someone else.

“Please Mister. Please let me go. I'll do anything.”

“Oh no. You'll get to like it here. You'll get to like me. I'll take care of ya. What's

yer name.”

“Molly... Me name is Molly. Maybe I can have something to eat?”

“I'll find you something later. I don't eat much meself.”

Indeed Jonathan had the stunted appearance of someone who had grown up

without regular meals, but in this section of London, a lot of people looked like

that.”

“Well, when you find something, will you share it with me?”

“Oh sure Molly. I'll go upstairs now and leave Mum and you alone.” Jonathan had

been eager to make Molly's acquaintance, but when he was face to face with her,

he felt just as eager to get away. He hadn't had many conversations with people.

Maybe a couple with his last daddy, who had left about a year ago after only three

or four months with the family. His last daddy had seemed so nice at first before

he started acting crazy. He had told Jonathan's mother that a boy ought to have

decent parents one time after he took away the strap she was beating Jonathan

with. Jonathan liked that line but he thought it was a weird thing to say. His last

daddy said and did a lot of strange things.

The rain lasted all day and then fell into a miserable sprinkle the following night.

It picked back up the next day and then stopped at night. It was chilly and drippy

though so Jonathan sat in his apartment, walking back and forth from the living

room to the kitchen and occasionally going downstairs to fill the furnace with coal.

He didn't go into Molly's room. He had everything under control. He was glad she

was there, but he didn't have to go see about her all the time to enjoy her company.

Twice during those rainy days, he made himself a bread-and-butter sandwich from

a moldy loaf that he found in a kitchen cabinet. That's what his mother would have

done for him. The rest of the time, he ate nothing. He went to see Molly for a

short time the second day after he got her, but she greeted him with a list of

complaints, so he just shook his head and backed out the door.

He forgot that Molly said she was hungry. He did remember, though, that he had

promised her a companion and as soon as the weather cleared he went out to find

one.

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