Hannibal Lector was inside Will Graham's head. He recalled their conversation earlier this evening as he walked through the woods.
"How does she make you feel?" Hannibal had asked, sipping on a glass of wine, "Does she make you feel like you're less than yourself?"
Of course, he was talking about Violet Noir. Violet is an arsonist, convicted for the killings on over fifteen people. The murder weapon? Fire, obviously .
Violet had pleaded insanity, sent to an institution for the criminally insane. She no longer resides there. The nineteen year old had escaped, punching out the speaker of the bullet - proof glass cell at three in the morning, when only the janitor was cleaning the floors, and clawing and bashing the key pad in. She broke numerous bones in her hand and arm doing so, though she felt none of it. Violet has a rare nerve condition, in which she feels no pain. It makes her think she's "invincible, or immortal," as Hannibal had put it.
"She overpowers me." Will stated bluntly. "She holds no respect for me or others."
"But you respect her?" Hannibal questioned, setting his glass down and crossing his legs.
"Do you?" Will stood up now, staring out the window, envious of the birds singing cheerfully.
"I cannot reveal anything about Ms. Noir. That is patient confidentiality, Will." Hannibal rested back in his seat.
Will's hands shook, "You told her to burn those houses. She didn't comprehend the consequence. She never wanted to kill. You turned her into this."
"I never turned her into anything. She fully comprehends the consequences of her actions and what she does." Hannibal had said. "It's all her design."
Will turned around then, facing Hannibal, a sudden realization coming to him. "She never killed anyone. That was all you."
"Will -"
"It was!"
"She suffers from her actions."
"She didn't even commit half of them!"
"Neither did I."
Will had sat down shakily after that, his words coming out in a stutter, "I - I did th - that to those people?"
"Violet told the judge she had seen someone there Will, someone who didn't match my description." Hannibal said without a change of expression. "She knows it was you, Will."
"It can't - I couldn't of -" Will started to pace.
"it isn't long before the police start believing her." The wine glass was raised to Hannibal's lips again. "What are you going to do, Will?"
Will stopped at the door, his hand turning the door nob. "I have to finish my design."
Will now stood in front of the old wooden shack where Violet wad hiding out. It was an easy two hour walk from his house, the shack resting deep in the woods, sheltered from sight by many trees.
He sighed and put the hunting knife back into his pocket, before opening the door a crack.
"It's Will." He spoke quietly, making sure to hid any signs of nervousness.
"You can come in." Violet's voice filled the shack, which was illuminated by a single lantern. He was slightly surprised she hadn't burnt the place down yet.
She was seated on a matress, her head leaning against the wall. Will sat in front of her.
Closer now, he could see the scars marking her arms and face, caused by third degree burns. "How are you holding up? "
"I'm okay." Violet replied, giving a small smile. "Having a whole police force after you isn't too fun."
"I can imagine." Will chuckled. The happiness faded directly after its arrival, the reminder of what he had to do taking its place.
They sat in silence for a while, the sound of breathing and birds being the only thing to break it.
"I'm sorry." He whispered.
"What for?" Violet opened her eyes, sitting straighter.
"I should've believed you, saying you didn't kill those people." Will said, the thought of the hunting knife making him sick.
"It's okay." She replied standing up. He followed suit, trailing behind her to look out the small window at the back of the shack. "Nobody ever does anyway. "
He looked at Violet, her hazel eyes staring at a deer. Will looked at her scars creating patterns on her skin. He reached out and cupped her face. She turned to face him, giving a small smile, before he pulled her into a hug.
One of his hands rested at the back of her head, the other one reaching for the hunting knife.
He could feel her breath on his neck, his tears falling on hers. He kissed her head.
"I'm so sorry."
With a deep breath, Will plunged the knife into her stomach, holding Viloet as she involuntarily fell to her knees. He carried her to the mattress, lying her down.
She can't feel anything, Will reminded himself as he took the knife out of her stomach.
Violet still had a look of pure agony on her face. Not from the knife wound, but from the pain of betrayal. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her blood spilling out and staining the mattress and the floor. A single tear fell from her eye.
"It was you."
Will sobbed as Violet took her last breath, holding the dammed hunting knife covered in her blood.
After he had calmed down, he covered her in a blanket, and discarded his stained shirt and the knife inside. He then took the gas lantern, and smashed it onto the floor. The wood immediately started to catch fire. He quickly exited the shack, zipping up his coat over his bare chest, the roaring flames radiating heat onto him.
"This is my design."
