Max the Ripper

“What’d you look like this time?” Kyle stood at the edge of her bed watching Ashley paint.

“Brown hair, straight and long,” the girl sighed while she dipped the brush into the black paint.

“And he looked the same?”

“Always does,” she sighed before putting the brush to the paper.

“It probably doesn’t help by painting him and putting him all over your room,” Kyle sighed while crossing his arms.

It upset him to see the paintings his sister did.

Ashley sighed; he wouldn’t even begin to understand. Ashley didn’t even understand it, painting the Ripper helped her feel better, oddly seeing his “face” did too even if see didn’t see it. All the Ripper showed was his eyes, the bright green eyes, the rest of his features were hidden by a dark long cloak.

He would never understand the fear and comfort the Ripper brought her, she couldn’t even understand it.