You wake up disorientated.
Blinking, you try frantically to remember what happened late the night before.
The only thing you can picture is seeing red and a flash of pointed teeth, set in a wicked grin.
Where are you? A warehouse, of course.
You struggle to stand up, but your limbs are chained to the wooden chair beneath you.
You cry out, but the gag tied to your delicate face prevents you from making an audible noise.
"My, my, look who's awake." A chillingly familiar voice echoes throughout the large room.
Horror fills your body as you get another glimpse of those shockingly sharp teeth.
Once again you scream against your gag hopelessly, trying to make some kind of screech.
"That's not very ladylike." You can hear the frown in your kidnapper's oddly feminine voice.
Finally, the owner of the voice steps into view, revealing the crimson hair you remember.
Clad in a butler's uniform, the physcopath walks toward you, red brief case in hand.
At this point, all you can concentrate on are the inhuman like features of the man in front of you.
"It's not polite to stare, even at a beautiful lady like me." He said, a hair flip followed suit.
You realize there's a coffee table next to you, something you hadn't noticed until now, when the brief case is placed on top of it.
With a click, he opens the case and terror freezes your heart as you gaze at the assortment of gleaming knives, blades, and oddly, some makeup.
"Time to make you beautiful." The red head's green and yellow eyes lit up. "If you're lucky, you might turn out half as beautiful as me." He smirked.
With great delight, he picks up a dagger, the hilt decorated with beautiful patterns of delicate swirls, giving the illusion that they are dancing in the dim light.
He circles you, taping the blade against his temple.
"Your pathetic crying has ruined your makeup. That won't do." He walks back to the table, heels clicking against the tile.
The sound is horrifying.
Your butler of death uncaps the lipstick and walks back to you that smirk still plastered on his face.
Much to your relief, he removes your gag, but your scream gets stuck in your throat.
"I should probably introduce myself. You'll be ecstatic to know that I, Grell Sutcliff, am the infamous Jack the Ripper." Grell struck a fabulous pose and you can feel his aura of pride radiating off of him.
The murderer walks toward you, grasping your face with perfectly manicured nails.
Swiftly and easily he paints your lips red.
"Much better." The Ripper purred.
Once again, he switches the lipstick with the dagger.
Studying your body like a science experiment, he debates aloud what his next move will be.
"I think," he grins, "I'll start with that gloriously gifted chest of yours."
Out of pure jealousy, Grell slices open the soft flesh above your left breast, blood flowing painfully slow down your chest, staining the corset you're wearing.
"Isn't that pretty? A white and gold corset beautifully spotted with red!" Grell admires his work.
You barely hear him though, your face contorted with pain, and that's all that matters to you.
"Now to match the other side." He smiled and quickly sliced open your other breast.
You were losing plenty of blood, but not quite enough to kill you.
Yet.
Moaning in pleasure, Sutcliff dragged his pointed tongue along the flat part of the dagger, savoring the copper liquid.
"Hm," He frowned, "Your lipstick is fading again. That's not very pretty."
As he pulled his eyebrows together, you hear the clicking of heels again and the clang of switching the knives.
This blade was much shorter; its original purpose was probably for details.
Perfect.
As he pulled his eyebrows together, you hear the clicking of heels again and the clang of switching the knives.
This blade was much shorter; its original purpose was probably for details.
Perfect.
Your eyes get blurry with tears.
"Please, stop… please!" You try to beg, even though you know the effort is useless.
"Don't waste your breath. You have very few remaining." He faked sympathy in a mocking voice.
He flicked the knife, making the light accentuate how sharp it was.
Humming an eerie tune, he traces your lips, blood coating them like a new layer of lipstick.
Grell gave a toothy grin, each shark like tooth standing out perfectly.
Once again, he circles you, a perfect example of predator and prey.
"Enough playing dress up. Let's start the real show." Grell grabs his butcher's knife and before you could think about screaming, the blade penetrates your body, a vertical cut from your collar bone down to your hip bone.
"Such a shame. That was truly a beautiful corset, after all." No regret licked his words.
He pulls apart your flesh, blood pooling onto the once white tile.
"What a sight!" Grell wiggles in admiration. "So beautiful it suits a reaper like me."
He searches through your organs, tossing them aside, one by one until he finds the one he had been questing for.
Grell's eyes light up as he cuts your uterus free, cuddling as if it was a child.
He leaves your body there and struts out of the warehouse, proud of his sickening work.