𝕃𝕚𝕗𝕖 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕒 ℂ𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕚𝕓𝕒𝕝

Chapter 8 - The Nightmare

  I tried not to be in awkward silence during dinner, Hannibal helped carry the conversation which I was thankful for. Dinner was soon over, and I headed straight to the kitchen after Hannibal pointed it out to me. I grabbed Hannibal's dishes and made a beeline to the kitchen sinks. Hannibal opened his mouth to speak but I was out of the room before her could interject. As soon as I started cleaning the dishes it felt like something locked into place and I couldn't stop cleaning. Deja Vu plaguing me. I couldn't hear my surroundings; I couldn't see Hannibal walking into the kitchen.

Hannibal kept calling my name but all I could do was clean. I got through half the dishes before Hannibal placed a hand on my shoulder. I jumped in surprise, dropping the glass dish. It fell to the floor and shattered into a million pieces. I stared at the soapy rag in my hand, disoriented. I set the rag back down into the sink and dropped to the floor, my eyes beginning to water. I kept muttering a thousand apologies, turning into a complete wreck as I picked up each piece of glass by hand.

"(Y/N)," Hannibal tried to get my attention.

My vision was blurry and my mind clouded, my only objective was to clean up the glass.

"(Y/N)," This time he said it louder, while gentling tilting my face up to see his.

My eyes kept darting from the glass to him, my breathing rapid and unsteady. I hated this feeling of vulnerability; it made me sick to my stomach. My throat hurt as I tried to stop myself from crying but couldn't.

"(Y/N)... look at me," Hannibal held both sides of my face now, bringing his closer to mine.

I looked at him, my shaky hands holding the glass. He took one of his hands off my face and used it to shake the glass out of my hands, once there was no glass, he held my hand.

"It's okay."

"No... no it's not," I wiped the tears off my face, "I... he still haunts me. I thought I was over it but... I don't know."

 He pulled me into a tight hug that I gladly returned, I continued apologizing but he lightly shushed me and told me everything was going to be okay.

"Now you go upstairs and rest," Hannibal broke the embrace, "I will clean up. You are my guest; I don't expect you to do any work here."

I nodded while wiping the remainder of my tears off. I walked upstairs and into my bedroom. I crashed onto the bed and quickly fell asleep.

   I opened my eyes, and my vision was slightly blurry. I walked out of my room, tripping on random things that weren't even there. I was in the hall and noticed that there were no doors or stairs, just the door to my room. I heard a distorted cackle and quickly turned around to see a black figure. The figure slowly turned from black to light and the person was revealed... Bill.
"I found you!" His distorted voice yelled as he got closer to me.

I woke up with a start. It was just a damn nightmare. I noticed that the sheets and comforters on my bed were now scattered across the floor. My face was stained with tears. It felt like one of those night terrors I would get when I was very young.

I decided to go downstairs and get some water. It was dark and so I cautiously went downstairs into the kitchen. I struggled to find the light switch, but when I did, I was blinded by the light. My eyes adjusted and then it was time for my quest to find a cup. It took a few minutes, but I finally found one.

   I got my water and then leaned on the counter behind me, the knives were behind me which made me feel a little safer. I placed my cup in the sink and then heard someone approach me from behind. In a heartbeat, I grabbed one of the knives and pointed it at whoever snuck up on me.

   Upon seeing that it was just Hannibal I lowered the knife and put it back into its placeholder. What if I stabbed him out of instinct? I needed to get this PTSD under control, otherwise I might end up hurting... or quite possibly killing someone... besides the guy I killed who was trying to kill Hannibal.

"I'm paranoid... aren't I?" I laughed nervously.

"You have every right to be."

"I'm sorry for... that," I apologized, "I thought you were-"

"A stranger?"

"Yes."

"Why did you come down here?" Hannibal asked me.

 I noticed that his hair was a bit of a mess, and he was in winter pajamas. Even in pajamas he was cute- wait, no, he's your therapist for crying out loud!

"I came down for some water," I answered, "Couldn't sleep."

"Insomnia or nightmare?"

"Nightmare."

  We both headed back upstairs and went into separate rooms. As soon as I entered my room, I saw a small picture frame on my bed. My face drained upon further inspection. In the picture it had Bill and I smiling as if we were a happy, two-person family. It was sickening. I tore the frame open and took the picture out, tearing it up as a let out a short scream in agony. I would kill that bastard if he got near me, I swear. 

Hannibal heard me from his room and came over to see what the noise was about. He saw the torn-up frame and walked over to see it. He picked it up and inspected the picture, memorizing Bill's face.

"Can I... sleep in your room?" I said as I was trying to calm down, "I can sleep on the floor. I'm just used to having another person or... dog in the room."

Hannibal said yes to me, and I followed him to his room. I tried to sleep on the floor, but Hannibal said he didn't mind sharing the bed, and so we both shared the king size bed. A wall of pillows to separate us.

   My mind started racing with thoughts. What if my kidnapper kills me in my sleep? What if he takes me back? What if—

  I was pulled away from my thoughts when I felt arms slither around my waist and a body press against me. I knew it was Hannibal, I was surprised to feel comforted by his touch. He noticed that I was freaking out and he could only assume it was because of the picture. I soon fell sleep in Hannibal's arms.

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