The monster’s head is beginning to fill with that Mary Kelly. He sees her picture, watches the hologram, begins to understand that she is a shield for the woman he hates and fears. Why, these are her clothes! He lifts the linen and cotton in his hands and wads them up in his balled fists. They have her scent on them, cheap floral perfume, and her woman’s smell. He watches the holograms dance; she is a skilled whore herself. The mania begins to burn in his brain, and his hands shred the clothing as the moans and groans fill his head. He is swiftly restrained, but the anger and hatred rage within him, his fear and terror.