ii. demons
Will Graham hates being psychoanalyzed. He doesn’t like to think that there’s anything wrong with him, but he knows that he can’t deny it any more. After all, he’s landed himself in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. He can’t deny that he’s got some problems. Sure, he’s not a killer like people think he is, but there are still so many gaps in his memory, it’s hard to keep a grasp on who he really is. Hell, he doesn’t even know who he is anymore.
He’s been in here for a grand total of two months, and he absolutely loathes it. There’s nothing to enjoy, except the rare visits that Alana pays him. She’s seemed to notice something is off with Hannibal; he can see it in the way her nose crinkles at the mention of him. He wants to explain everything to her, but he’s afraid that she won’t believe him. Everyone else thinks he’s crazy, why wouldn’t she?
Loneliness. That’s all Will has known since he’s been here. He wants it all to go away. He wants to be back home with his dogs, but he knows he can’t. At least his dogs are in Alana’s care; he knows she’ll take good care of them until he gets out – if he gets out. With the way things are going, it doesn’t seem like he ever will. No one will realize that it’s Hannibal who is guilty; he’s too good at hiding the evidence – or actually, framing. That’s the correct term, isn’t it?
How could he have been so blind? That’s the one question he continuously asks himself as he sits on the bed, with nothing else to do but think. How could he have not seen the signs; it was so obvious that Hannibal was the killer. So, so obvious. But Will was dumb and he let himself get manipulated by the Chesapeake Ripper himself.
Guilt claws at his chest as he realizes that because he ignored the signs, Abigail Hobbes is dead. He wanted to protect her after all she’s been through, and this is what happened to her. She got murdered at the hand of someone who he could have stopped, if only he’d actually looked.
He brings his legs up on the bed, pulling his knees up to his chest. Placing his head in between his legs, he rocks back and forth as he tries to cope with the onus of Abigail’s death – an unnecessary death.
“It’s not your fault, it’s not your fault, it’s not your—,” Will forces out, stopping once he realizes that repeating the mantra won’t change the fact that it is his fault, very much so. He’d been spending so much time around Hannibal; you’d think he would have known. Not only that, but he’d completely freaked Abigail out back in the antler room. Maybe if he hadn’t gone crazy, she would have stayed with him, and still been alive.
It’s not Hannibal who caused all this, no, it’s him.
And now, he can’t go on and live his life the way he wants to. He can’t be reunited with his dogs (and to think he didn’t get to spend much time with Winston), and he can’t prove to Alana that he’s stable enough for her. He’s completely lost his chance with her, and nothing hurts him more than that. Will truly cares for her, and she’ll never get to see that because he’ll be stuck here, being studied by people as they try to figure out what his problem is.
His problem? Everything.
How have they not realized that? Everything is wrong with Will; it’s not just one thing that they can fix; it is every damn thing.
“How are you doing today, Will?” a familiar voice says from the other side of the cell. It’s a voice that he enjoys hearing – one that even ends up in his dreams.
Letting out a sigh, Will shrugs. “I’m wonderful, how are you?”
Alana nods. “Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best question to ask. Sorry.”
