Ever since i started going out more often, not many people have been noticing me lately, well it would be obvious for the common person not to know but suddenly everyone forgot i even exist to most people. Now before you ask, no, I am not dead but it seems like i dont seem to be alive either, almost as if I'm in a limbo type state. Now you might wonder how i even survived this long without eating, well the thing is. Im a hitman, not a good one, but still a hitman nonetheless. In order to show how all this happened, I'll take you back to when i first started my work.
It was the winter of 1888 in a peaceful suburban neighbourhood, I was known for being the skinniest man across the whole neighbourhood and I was never good in any bar fights. Im a perfectionist so whenever I have a roadblock in my way of life, I wouldnt be relatively calm in most cases, add that to my weak anatomy and you can tell I landed in the hospital regularly. I was even awarded "Best customer of the year" once for the hospital, you can tell it wasnt really a good thing to bring up on Thanksgiving. That all changed when I heard a thud nearby on my casual stroll as always specifically at 8:50 pm when i saw the most gruesome sight of a hitman doing his job, killing. He was around 5"9, slightly buffed and looks like the type of guy that could crush your head with his elbow.
"You saw absolutely nothing, you got that?" the guy said to me as we both locked eyes.
"Well I'm willing to ignore what happened for an exchange for you to not interfere with my stroll routine or I might have to show you the reason no one interupts my daily strolls" I deliberately replied back, now at the time, I thought it was a perfect reply but how wrong was I when he went up to me.
"You sure have the balls to say stuff like that to a guy that just killed someone, well i have the weapon right here and im not afraid of using it. Maybe I could slit your throat and leave you here, or maybe at back of someone's backyard but I'll give you the chance to choose your death"
I am not the best killer back then, so you know I wasnt going to be able to take him down alone, however the following is not my best work. I proceeded to run towards the guy, somehow missing a punch but instead i got knocked out in the process. I thought I was dead at the time but when I woke up, I was back in my bed and it was 9:00 pm on the same exact day.
Critics will say that its all a dream and I was on their side this time. You shouldve seen my face when I looked out my backyard and saw my dead body,
"Guess he wasnt joking when he said he would slit my throat and leave me in someone's backyard" I told myself jokingly while trying to come to terms with my mortality. I wasnt dead really as I could feel skin and flesh on myself but it did feel weird, almost as if I grew taller, more wider and more alive than ever too. This is where people are going to disprove me on this but that whole backstop was a lie, well atleast 5% of it was true however, I'm not a good killer but I can't die.
You know the Schrödinger's cat theory? The same theory where a cat is locked in a box with a controlled poison that would go off in a random amount of time and the only way of knowing whether it has or has not gone off is by checking it, therefore the cat is both alive and dead. Now imagine that but you know how long the poison takes to release but no one else does, you could tell others whether the cat's dead or not but they won't believe you. Now imagine the cat is me and the person that knows the timing is my victims, many have tried to kill me but I am good at escaping, often faking my death by fire, or even radiation and they wouldn't know except my victims, who would be haunted by the face of a killer, some called me "the white apron" or "whitechappel murderer" but you may know me as Jack, Jack the ripper.