Passion and the Skull (Hannibal Lecter)

2

On Friday, Arabella found herself climbing stairs up to a beautiful large house beside an old-style church. Dr. Lecter had spent his money well. She was greeted by him at the door and walked into his office/living room. It was a large space with a mezzanine boasting a plethora of books, and art on red walls on the lower floor. Arabella felt like a child in a candy store, absolutely spoilt with sensory pleasure ranging from the smell of the old books on the shelves to the visual beauty of the art.

She hadn't heard Hannibal from behind her, but she had heard him take a deep breath, as if smelling her. She would not have heard it if the room hadn't been so quiet. His home did well to hide its dwellers from the busy sounds of the city.

"Is that part of your experimental therapeutic process?" She turned to face him, almost recoiling when she saw how close to her, he still was. Meanwhile, he was composed and unashamed.

"In a way, yes. It is useful with clients with olfactory associated conditions, like alcoholism. I was able to smell cancer on my teacher as a child."

"What do you smell on me?" she asked, hoping he wouldn't say she needed a shower or that she had an unsuspected illness.

"You are not wearing any perfume, nor do you smell of decay that would suggest a worrying medical condition. I do detect a delightful scent from the expensive leave-in products lingering on your hair. It's a rounder deep earthy smell rather than a sharp and sweet floral or fruity smell." He breathed out as he spoke, releasing the information of the smell in his exhale.

"I am glad you can tell that my hair products are expensive. I paid a lot for them and it's nice to not go unnoticed." She curled a finger in her loose dark hair as she walked towards the two chairs that were facing each other and sat in the patient's chair. "Maybe you would enjoy my garden. It's small but I put a lot of care into it. The flowers and vegetation smell lovely from mid-spring and they taste fantastic once harvested."

"I would enjoy that." He had sat down in the chair opposite Arabella and the session seemed to begin with that cue.

"Normally my patients come to me with an issue, and we start from there. However, with you, I have sought you out. So, it is only fair that I begin."

Arabella nodded. She took notice of the space she and Hannibal occupied. He appeared to be a very clean and exact person. She was certain her nose was significantly less perceptive than his, yet she could subtly notice the smell of hospital-grade antibacterial. The metal side table, carrying tissues, next to Hannibal's seat was polished enough to see one's reflection and she could see it reflecting the blue colors of Hannibal's suit.

"So, Arabella, I would like to follow from my question the other day. When you are faced with the high expectations of the psychiatric world coming from your disciplinary background. How do you feel?"

"I feel excited, sometimes frustrated. That is how change comes about. You must go to the dominant power structure and try to dismantle it from within." Arabella crossed her legs and leaned forward slightly.

"How do you feel when you are ridiculed or denied?"

"As I said before, frustrated. It shows a worrying lack of empathy in a discipline that needs empathy in order to truly understand their patients."

"Lack of empathy is worrying indeed. It can suggest signs of malicious disorder." He validated. "How do people like Dr Murray make you feel?"

"I've told you. He's dreaming of his old days. He likes shock. He's probably more talk than action. He probably has a desperation to be recognized by others. So, he is building a name for himself as the psychologist who shocks the field. There's a rumor he was abusive to his ex-wife. I wouldn't be surprised by that. I think men in this field of work are able to hide their tracks well."

"Hmm." Hannibal acknowledged the last point but was quick to move away from it. "His desperation comes from something. A lack of love as a child or a fear of being forgotten."

"There is no perfect being." Arabella agreed. "He is evidently processing his insecurities in a particular way. I personally prefer to approach them head on."

"You're very practical." He observed.

"I've just acknowledged what works best for me." Arabella shrugged.

"Do you hate him for his desperation? Howard Murray?"

Arabella wondered if Hannibal was trying to see when she would fall to anger. She took a breath before answering again. If this was the case, she would just show him that she could easily stay calm.

"No. I pity him."