Jack exited Saibara's house, leaving behind a very worried man. Like many of the other townspeople, he decided it was safest to try and secure his house since there would be no out running the hurricane. Before Jack had even left the house, Saibara began taking apart a chair, planning to use the wood to board up the windows.
Some of the other townsfolk, felt it was safer to go to Duke's winery and take shelter in the wine cellar. While it was possible that the room would flood, it was the most solid structure in town, and wouldn't be likely be damaged by the winds.
Jack didn't know which idea was better, and was going to consult with Mary before making the choice. But first, he had one last person to inform of the hurricane. And she was also the last person he wanted to help, Mary's mother, Anna. He couldn't free her from the makeshift prison, but he also couldn't leave her there. He had only one weak hope, and that was if she wished not to be left in the house, she would let him tie her up and take her to Duke's winery.
Jack unlocked the door to the late Lillia's house and went in. "Anna?" He waited for an answer, but none came. "Anna, I've come to talk to you. I need you to come here now."
"Well if it isn't the bastard husband of that ungrateful little winch of a daughter of mine."
"Shut the hell up! Don't you talk about Mary that way!"
A sharp laugh echoed through the house, "My my, what a temper you have today."
Jack forced himself to calm down. He had promised Mary he wouldn't harm Anna. His voice became more even and controlled, "Anna, I've come to help you."
"Help me? What a joke. You are the one who needs help Jack, or should I call you Jack the Ripper. No, that name's been used. How about Jack the Homicidal Maniac? Has a nice little rhyming ring to it."
Jack quickly got control of himself. Anna was trying to get him to panic, "How long have you known?"
"Does it really matter? You just admitted it. You really are a sick man."
In a flash, Jack's rage bubbled up and his hand rushed to his scythe, "How dare you act like you are better than me. I have seen what you did to Mary."
Anna laughed again, "So you know my little secret? Big deal. The only thing it proves is that we are more alike than you previously thought."
Jack growled angrily, his fist tightening on the scythe, "Don't compare yourself to me. I am nothing like you."
"You are right, we aren't very much alike when you really think about it. I didn't kill in cold blood. Mary lives to see another day, but my friend Manna is gone forever! You are the worst kind of scum." Anna came down the stairs, and Jack immediately turned towards her. In Anna's hand, she gripped a knife tightly.
Jack didn't have time to worry about where she had gotten the knife from. He pulled loose his scythe and held it in front of him, "Don't twist this around. You tortured Mary, caused the worst kinds of pain to her you could. I killed swiftly, they didn't have to suffer. I put them out of their misery. I was doing the right thing. I weep for what I have done, but I had no other choice."
"What a joke, trying to play the righteous hero. You won't even admit the truth to yourself. You lie and try to justify your actions with ridiculous concepts of doing the right thing. The truth is, you killed because you enjoyed it. Just as I enjoyed punishing Mary."
"Shut up!"
"But it was so much fun, and unlike you, I can admit it. Making her bleed cut by cut. Hearing her cry out for help, and knowing she didn't have any hope to actually be saved. Her agonizing screams of pain were beautiful music to me. The whole thing was so much fun."
"You heartless demon!" Jack screamed as he lunged forth, bring his scythe around for the kill. She had hurt Mary so many times over the years, just for fun. Anna had to die. She deserved nothing less.
Anna effortlessly ducked under Jack's scythe, the lethal blade soaring harmlessly through the air over her head. With all her might, Ann rammed her knife upwards towards Jack's chest. She was going to kill him. At the last moment, Jack twisted out of the way, and instead of killing him, the knife buried itself in Jack's shoulder.
He fell to his knees, clutching the pierced shoulder with his other hand. Anna kicked Jack in the side of his head and he crumpled to the ground, the hand of his injured arm loosely gripping the scythe.
Anna laughed as she stood over Jack. She had practiced that move over and over since she had found that small hunting knife in Lillia's dresser. It probably had belonged to Lillia's missing husband. Anna had known that it would only be a matter of time before Jack came to kill her, "Looks like I win Jack. As they say, good always triumphs over evil. You won't be killing anyone anymore."
She watched Jack's hand try to tighten on the scythe. "Naughty Jack," she said as she stomped down hard on his hand. Jack cried out as she twisted the heel of her shoe into the back of his hand. Anna hoped she broke a bone or two.
"Now admit it Jack. Admit that you enjoyed killing all those people, and I will put you out of your misery."
"Never. Burn in hell witch!" Jack spat up at her, but missed entirely.
Anna stomped on Jack's hand repeatedly, not stopping this time until she heard the resounding crunch of breaking bones. Jack bit his lip against the pain, determined not to cry out again. A sharp white bone, smeared with blood, protruded from the back of his hand. Anna knelt down before him, "I'll make a deal. Admit the truth, and when I take Mary back, I'll go easier with her beatings from now on. I'll just make her bleed and stop before her skin begins coming off in sheets. I think that sounds fair, don't you?"
Jack's left hand quickly gripped the knife lodged in his right shoulder. He screamed in both intense rage and excruciating pain as he pulled it free from it's sheath of muscle and bone. His entire being focused on his one immediate need, his desire to kill Anna. The grating pain meant nothing to him compared to the need for Anna's blood. She had to be stopped now. He swung the knife, cutting her cleanly across the face.
Anna fell back in surprise with a yelp of pain. Jack forced himself to stand up, ignoring the shooting pains in his arm. He threw the knife across the room, and switched the scythe from his now useless right hand to his uninjured left.
Anna scrambled backwards, blood gushing from her face wound. Her upper lip hung loosely, nearly cut clean off. Tears streamed down Jack's face, "I don't want to do this, but you must die, I have no other choice. I have changed, and now regret the killing that I have done and am about to do. We hae both done horrible things, but even now you show no remorse. I cannot forgive you."
"I don't remember ever asking for your forgiveness," Anna growled.
Jack's face turned as cold and hard as the steel of his scythe that he raised into the air. Fear showed for the first time on Anna's face as the blade whistled through the air. It cleanly cut through her body, going several inches into the wooden floor. Anna cried out and gripped at the blade with her hands, trying to pull it free from her chest, cutting her hands on the sharp edge in her panic. Her efforts became weaker and weaker.
"I'm didn't want to kill again. Please know that I didn't." Jack watched as her arms fell limp to the side before he pulled the scythe out of the ground. He marched firmly out of the house, wanting nothing to do with the act he had just committed. How could Mary ever forgive him?
He examined himself as he walked. His injured hand was bleeding almost as badly as his shoulder was. Touching the exposed bone made him wince, and Jack decided it was best to leave it alone. His whole right arm was essentially worthless between the two wounds.
Jack stepped out onto the street and looked up to see Mary standing directly in front of him, staring at the bloodstained scythe and at the bloody marks upon his hand and shoulder, the evidence of his murderous deed.