𝘊𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘔𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 | 𝘚𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

14. Whose Faults?

"You broke one of my rules that I gave you."

Those words that Hannibal said to you makes you shiver. You gulp, feeling nausea begin to overcome you.

"Yes..." you reply in soft tone, making eye contact with him. What scares you is how Hannibal still has that same look in his eyes. Like he knows something that you don't. Knowing him, he probably does.

With a sigh, Hannibal replies with a simple sigh. "I think you know then what's about to happen." Your body tenses, but your mind relaxes.

A quiet, defeated sigh is all that you manage to force out, along with a slow nod. But that's when you notice the pocket knife on the wooden side table right beside Hannibal. You wonder if the reason that it's there is to intimidate you. And if it is, it's working.

Hannibal glances at his side before back at you.

"Are you afraid?" he asks suddenly. You clench your fists and shake your head. "No," you answer, a bit more quietly than you intended. I'm terrified.

Hannibal stares at you in silence for 10 whole seconds. You can't help but slightly quiver at this. But you fear not of yourself... but others. Your family members, and Sally. You already have a strong feeling that one of the killers will kill you—more so sooner than later—so it doesn't matter what happens to you.

"Why did you help help free Mateo?" he questions, making this whole conversation begin to feel like an interrogation. You form a small smile, and give a reply without any hesitation.

"Because I wanted to help him."

It was true and honest. You wanted to help him, and you did. That was an achievement that made you feel a bit better about what happened to your friends. The stomach-churning guilt is partially lifted.

"Do you feel that you've redeemed yourself by helping Mateo because of the guilt you feel about your friends' passing?" Those words hit you like a brick wall. Yes, I do. It's surprising how easily Hannibal manages to read you like an open book.

"I-I..." you begin slowly, gripping your arm with the utmost of your strength. Your nails dig deep into the skin, causing cuts to form beneath the fabric of your sweater.

"Yes," you respond in pain, looking down to block the tears forming in your eyes. But that only allows for them to pool, and stream down your face. You begin to quietly sob, unfocused of the embarrassment that would have overcome you if you had given a thought about it all.

A hand rests on your shoulder. You look up and see Hannibal smiling down warmly at you. And for once... his smile seems genuine. Like he truly cares.

As he hands you a tissue, you utter a quick, "Thank you." He hums in response, and you wipe away your tears. The tissue now becomes more damp than dry due to the amount of tears that managed to escape your eyes. It's almost unreal how much you cried in that moment. All seems to be calm until you see the pocket knife from the table slip into Hannibal's pocket. You pretend not to see. Was he going to use it on me?...

"I think we're done for today. Let's go and eat lunch now," Hannibal gently proposes, lifting you up off the small armchair. You slowly nod, only now realizing how hungry you are. Your stomach aches from lack of food.

~~

You and Hannibal are not the first to get to the dining room. The plates are already set, with the napkins and cutlery prepared too. And it appears that the person who placed them all, was that creepy doll?!

"Are we going to have lunch now, or what? Cause' I'm staaarving," he complains with crossed arms. "I even set up the damn table to prove myself!"

Hannibal chuckles at his childish behavior. "Yes, Charles. We're going to have lunch very soon." He then looks over at you. "I will bring over the food from the kitchen. Would you mind gathering everyone?" Of course... a task that I know I'll hate doing.