What's my name?

All you need to know is my name. What is a name after all? At our birth, we are given a name, by total strangers, who don't know us and in some cases, don't keep us. My name doesn't define me or even tell you anything about me. Am I funny, clever, tall, blonde...do I have gray eyes or two different colored ones. No one really cares...they put a name with a face and move on.
These women who have been 'removed' from society, they had many names, Martha, Mary Ann, Annie, and Catherine and still, they were strangers. Meeting men who were strangers, not knowing their names and having sex. I've watched them, night after night, selling their ware on the dark and shabby streets and alleys in Whitechapel. Finding, or found by, men seeking to satisfy a need for tuppence a job. I find it rather amusing, at times; wearing my mask, I can zoom in and watch close-up, on infrared mode. There is a glow around the bodies, like their damned souls are on fire, and the eyes are an animals...reflective iridescence. A call of nature, I suppose, raw animal instinct, in human form, satisfying an uncontrollable urge. No, I don't think so. I, myself, do not indulge in this back alley animal action and observing these people do not make me wish to.
It has been an interesting study, clinical trials, but I grow bored and Jack has not played this game well at all. He looked so tormented and his fear wreaked from every pore; he is not the man I once knew. As boys, we dared it all and had so many amazing adventures...I actually looked up to him...something changed in him and then that bitch Grace... a low growl resonates in his throat 
Jack has turned into a bumbling frightened fool, like that f 'ing Detective Warren. It makes me sick; what a waste of talent. There may be hope yet, to bring him back into the fold; time enough for that. Right now, I am meeting a new friend at number thirteen...my very lucky number. Such a sweet girl and very pretty, considering...time that I indulge in a whim...a few hours to kill this evening.
The door at number thirteen opens and a young woman smiles, the face she sees is very familiar and she is pleased to see him again. Standing to one-side, she lets him in, then shutting the door behind her, leans back against it...fire light glints in her eyes, dancing with pleasurable thoughts. I've been wait'n for you, Norman.