Dr Demontig - Serial Killer Page 4

Jack George sat on an old damaged cart at the side of the dusty road. In his hand, he held a lush red apple, which he looked at longingly. He had not eaten an apple in many months. Jack was very small and malnourished for a thirteen year old boy. He took a big bite out of his apple and lay back onto the flat of the cart, swinging his legs off the end. He was a well-meaning and honest lad that sadly came from a poor and brutal background. He and his sister were scrounges that just sucked the blood of his poor parents. Or at least, that is what his father always told him. Lying next to him, on the back of the old cart, was a small package of apples wrapped in a dirty old cloth. He was saving these for his sister. He was the oldest and took it upon himself to find food for them both. His parents didn’t feed them, and so the two children depended upon each other to survive. His sister, although only nine, was a dab hand at mending their clothes, and would also tend to the injuries that her intrepid brother got, searching for nourishment and a means to pay their way.

  Jack climbed down off the cart and started to walk the short distance into town. As he followed the path, the boarding house, where he lived, started to come into view. His pace slowed and his wit sharpened. The boarding house, although set in a rural town, had no amount of greenery around it. Not a plant grew on it, or even nearby. The tall red brick building looked as cold and unwelcoming as it was to live in. The Georges were not the only residents in this squalor. The building was full of wasters and prostitutes that plied their trade and traded violence on a daily basis. At all times of the day, villainous and deplorable men and women would come and go. Bloodshed and violence could happen at any time, and life within those walls was nothing short of miserable. Jack’s mother and father were amongst the worst, and the tarnish of their bad reputation unfairly cast itself on the poor George children.

  Jack slowed right down and he tread carefully, scanning the area for trouble as he got closer to his home. If anyone saw him with the apples he would certainly loose them, and may even be hurt in the process. Hopefully his parents would be out. Sadly, he felt that if they never returned, then life would be much improved. In the top window, a small girl with a narrow and solemn face peeked out. When she saw her brother, she waved her hands to him to tell him it was safe to come up. Bracing himself, he darted in through the front door. The hallways inside were damp and dark, and appeared even darker by the various shades of green and brown grime that slid down the walls. The floorboards banged as he raced over them. He knew the route well, and barely broke pace as he scaled the stairs, trying to reach his family’s room before anyone could come out into the hall and cut him off. Within seconds, he was up to the top floor and in through the door and into the George family lodgings. Their home was a small grubby room, which, like the children who lived there, was neither clean nor properly cared for. His sister sat on a stained and soiled mattress, which was their only luxury item. Jack ran over and sat on the mattress with his sister and swept away mouldy scraps from the floor in order to lay his cloth package down. His sister took one of the apples and took a slow, quiet bite.

  “Hi Kate,” said Jack. “Where are they?”

  Kate continued to eat from her apple and just lifted a hand and pointed a finger over to a large bundle of rags piled in the corner of the room. “She came in a while ago. She couldn’t speak or walk properly. She just dropped down and has been there since. I don’t know if she is alive or not.”

  Jack crossed the room and peered over the bundle of rags to see his mother’s face. She appeared to still be breathing. That was all Jack needed to know. Although their parents cared nothing for their children and showed them no love, Jack and Kate were still young and took a more innocent view towards their parents. They didn’t know how parents should treat their offspring. They guessed that it should probably be better than it was. But they also knew that these were their only parents and that they should show them love and respect, even if it wasn’t ever reciprocated. Jack was frightened about their future in this environment. He had overheard talk of the local whore’s interest in making money from his sister, and he knew that his own life was in the hands of the violent scoundrels that surrounded him. He dreaded his father most of all. His mother was a drunk and mean, but his father was brutal and unsparing. He only saw his children as easy targets to steal from or to use for his own sordid pleasures.

  Kate wrapped up the small bundle of apples and tucked them under the filthy mattress.

  “Jack?” she said. “They aren’t stolen are they?”

  “No,” said Jack. “I helped a farmer carry grain from the road to his farm. The wheel fell off his old cart and he was stuck. He gave them to me for helping him. You know I wouldn’t steal.”

  Suddenly the door to the room swung open, hitting a small wooden chair. The chair skidded across the room and the door rebounded and swung closed again. In an instant, Kate jumped to her feet and climbed into a wardrobe, pulling the door shut behind her. The door to the room was then kicked open with such forced that one of the hinges pinged off and fell onto the floor. The person who had kicked the door went the other way and landed squarely on his back on the landing. It was their father. He quickly turned himself over and pulled himself back to his feet, using the door frame. Jack stood deadly still. He had already been seen, and had no chance to hide. His father stumbled into the room and started to drag his belt out of the loops of his trousers. His head was bent down and his eyes glared up at the timid young Jack. His father’s expression was always mean, and his tone menacing. He doubled the belt in his hands and jammed it back and forth so it made a snapping sound.

  “I have been told that you are hiding food,” he snarled.

  Jack started to back away from the approaching threat. His hands trembled and his eyes darted, looking for an escape path. But he was getting trapped in.

  “Someone has seen you lazing around like a lazy little fuck, eating apples. Is that true, boy?”

  Jack said nothing. He knew it was unwise to respond. His only recourse was to accept a beating, or take his chance to flee, should one develop.

  “And where is your little whore sister? Out giving samples for free, I’ll bet. I’ll kill her when I see her, the little whore.”

  As his father got closer, he caught his foot on a rag lying on the floor. He started to lose his balance a little and flailed his arms to recover himself. Jack saw his opportunity and lunged for his father. He forced him over, but his father managed to grab his sleeve in the process. The two tumbled down and landed on the unconscious pile of mother, asleep in the corner. The father’s arm quickly wrapped itself around Jack’s neck, and he started to pull tight around his son’s throat. Jack started to see stars and colours flashing before him. The strong stench of alcohol filled his nostrils. His vision blurred and he clawed away to try and release the grip. He gasped, but no air was coming into him. His father’s arm tightened even more, sucking what little strength the boy had. Jack’s arms dropped to his side and his legs ground at the floor. He was starting to drift into unconsciousness.

  His mother had been woken with a shock and was completely unaware of what was happening to her as she was being crushed and struck from behind. As she fought for freedom, she reached into her frock and pulled out her bone handled knife, which she kept for business purposes. She reached over her shoulder and started furiously hacking away with the blade. She drew the knife over her husband’s face, slicing his lip in two and opening his cheek, down to the bone. He reeled in pain, and his grip on Jack was finally relinquished. Jack gasped and sat there dazed for a few moments, until urgency overtook him. He scrambled up and quickly made for the wardrobe, pulling Kate out and dragging her from the room and down the stairs to the relative safety of the street. Their mother and father continued to roll around the room in a bloody feral mess of fury.

  The two children spilled out of the front door and stopped to look up to their window. They could still hear screams and cursing. They were, at least, not being followed. Jack bent over, strugglin
g still to catch his breath.

  “No!” he said. “The apples! They’ll go rotten before we get the chance to return.”

  Kate had run out of the house, the edge of her frock in her hand. She smiled at Jack and lowered her hem to show the remaining apples, cradled in her skirt. Jack grabbed hold of his sister around her shoulders and gave her a loving kiss on the temple. They would have to leave for a while. Their father would not remember this incident in a few days. He reacted solely in the moment and would inevitably calm down, only to erupt again about something else.

  “You need to go and stay with Mary,” said Jack. He paused for a moment, still trying to breathe. “She said you could stay when there was trouble, and this is as good a time as any.”

  “What about you?”

  “I will find somewhere to hide. I will go and look for somewhere safe and then come back for you soon. You will be safe at Mary’s. Father will never go round there looking for you. Take the apples to pay her for her kindness.”

  Jack kissed his sister once more, turned her around and gently pushed her off down the road. Kate was really the only person that Jack cared for. They both needed each other to survive, and so they had a strong bond and an unspoken knowledge of each other. They needed a future, and he would have to decide what that future should be. He watched her walk off down the track and as always hoped that he would see her again. As the oldest, he would have to come up with a plan. But for now, he needed to find a place of safety for himself.

  3.

  Chelsea, London, August 1883