▫Point of Possible Return▫ [Hannibal Lecter FF] ▫AU▫

Ch. 1

[Amelia's POV]

"Hello, hello,
Anybody out there,
'Cause I don't hear a sound?"
-Echo by Jason Walker

I was exhausted at the end of the day; I moved ten boxes for my stuff, five of which were for clothes. I kept going up and down the stairs seven times before someone told me there was an elevator. When the person pointed the elevator out, she looked at me as if I was insane, though I'm also grateful she at least acknowledge me.

I've got told on many occasions that my personality is more introverted than most people. I tend to stay alone a lot, keeping to myself at times without realizing it. It was in my nature to keep stuff to myself, though it didn't look that way when I was younger.

My two older brothers weren't the best of roommates, with their loud comments, food everywhere they walk, and were basically bullies. From something simple like making me do their work or to pushing me out of a tree and breaking my arm. It was horrible, staying in my room, only going out to use the bathroom and to get something to eat. My parents tried to stop them, but they wouldn't listen, and my father said that "They would grow out of it." After twenty years of living with that, I think not.

A couple days went by, each passing slowly yet rushed. I finished painting the kitchen a pastel color, matching it to the living room's soft pink that I didn't want to change. The paint started to make my head hurt, so I took shelter by sitting in the hall near my door, sketching in my little red book. One of my friend's got it as a little going away present, and it was a good size to tuck under my arm or jacket.

As for furniture, it was my bedroom that had its work cut out for it; the living room needed a coffee table, a couch, and an entertainment center with a television to put into it; bathrooms needed shelves; and the kitchen needed knife blocks, a refrigerator, and a dishwasher. It would be a while before this house became a home.

I furiously erased a line that I had mistakenly placed where it didn't need to be. I had ear buds in my ears, blaring something off of Pandora when I felt a presence. I looked up to see the janitor who seemed to be interested in his music as well. A chill went down my back as I went back to drawing.

I drew for a couple more minutes before closing the book and starring at the wall while the music was still playing. The paint can said that it would be about three hours until it fully dried out. I noticed a distinct sound over the music that sounded like someone coming up the stairs with something heavy. I looked over my shoulder to see a couple people carrying a couch; they didn't look like they were here for me -I haven't really ordered a couch yet- and the company I was thinking about using had red and white colors; these had blue and yellow. The couch looked like it was a dark brown color, and though looked quite nice, defiantly wasn't for me.

The two men stopped at the door across from me, both lowered the ends of the couch until it was on the floor. One other man walked in after a minute; he was an older gentleman, with graying hair, and wearing a short-sleeve white shirt and jeans. His features were fairly soft, his height was a bit shorter than the two other men. He was a bit stocky s well.

He might be moving in too... I thought to myself. I brought my legs up to my body, unsure of their plans. I was starting to feel myself getting nervous, from what, I couldn't tell. I opened the sketch book, making a few stokes on the paper; I noticed that the older fellow, after opening the door, was looking down at me. I managed to glance up, cracking a fragile smile before looking back down.

He watched me for another minute or two before going into the apartment. After a few minutes, the movers came back out and went down the stairs. I closed the book and checked the time; I still had an hour and a half to kill. I groaned as I leaned my head back, making a low thud. I thought that moving was suppose to move by fast? I guess this was the bad part; waiting for paint to dry.

I guess it wasn't all that bad, I mean, I moved to the city and I'll be starting to go medical school soon, so this might be worth it- I am currently waiting for school to start so I can pursue a degree in psychiatry. That was the plan, anyways, and I hope I could stick to it without much trouble.