The lamb and the slaughter (Hannibal Fanficton: Book One)

Chapter Three: Party Crasher

3 days later, 4 AM

There was a soft breeze in the air that curled around limbs and flicked hair around gently, that cradled leaves just long enough to lift them and carry them away elsewhere to a new unknown place where they could have a new adventure, that animals stood in to feel across their fur or their feathers so they could be calmer while other animals didn't encounter it because it was their time to rest. It was the kind of breeze that you'd think of while needing utter peace in winter, enough to cause a chill but not to make you uncomfortably cold. You'd know it was there, and the soft bite would be enough to make you sure that you were there mentally, but you wouldn't mind. There was no sunlight, but the hazy glow of moonlight bouncing off a winter shine around cast a sweet atmosphere on the entire beautiful scene. Little dots of snow speckled the muddy ground to add purity to the filth while the grass was nigh unnoticeable below its cold white thin blanket, and it give an almost Narnia-like look to the mucked outside. The soft smell of freshly ended snowfall was still wafting through the air, soothing all tense muscles and all harsh lines to make them soft and mellow. All in all, no matter how bad these things could become on the coldest and darkest of nights, this was the most peaceful scene possible in a winter such as this.

And just down from this scene of almost fantasy, in the house that owned that land, ear-splitting screams shattered the illusion of perfection and beauty. Blood spurted from the large open wounds of the new victim to cover the glass doors leading to the paradise outside, the walls already painted with the blood of the others. As the final victim fell to the ground, limp over victim #3, his killer took up a cloth and wiped the blood off of the curled sickle casually. He counted the bodies around him to make sure he'd definitely crashed the slumber party properly, counting five people. There was something wrong. Six people had walked into the house that day. With a soft groan at the cliché, since the door hadn't opened and closed, he walked around the house slowly to check all the usual places; the bathroom, bedrooms, closets, kitchen, any little hidey-hole he could find in each room and on the way. Then, he thought, maybe it's more stupid than that. Maybe they've had such a stupid idea that it almost hurt him to consider it. Think like a stupid teenager threatened with horrific death, too scared to leave the house and too stupid to hide properly. He walked back to his crime scene, painted in blood and bits of muscle with a few odd specks of bone around (hey, he may be a professional but he's not saying he's perfectly neat; there's only so much you can be capable of when your weapon is a sickle), and then walked to the corner of the room and looked behind the sofa. A teenage girl, the sixth person, was curled up and was shaking like a scared cat on heroin. He rolled his eyes and sighed "Fucking really?" He said, his arms going limp in slight resignation "You have all the opportunities in the world to run out and call the cops, or fight back, and you hide behind the fucking couch? You deserve to die, you immense shit-stain on the pants of Earth's intelligence." Then he tugged the couch aside with just slight difficulty and raised the sickle.

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Hannibal awoke to the sound of distressed noises from the other occupied bedroom so, after putting his dressing gown on, he walked out of his room and went to Annabel's door, knocking twice to check if she was awake. When there was no answer other than the snivelling cries, he opened the door and walked into the room. Annabel was lay under the soft sheets, tossing and turning and whimpering in obvious distress, so Hannibal walked over to the bed and softly tried to wake her up from her night-terrors. The girl, the second that his hand touched her arm, woke up and scrambled away so quickly that she actually fell off the bed with a cry. Hannibal, shocked and worried, hurried around the bed to crouch next to her and check her over "Are you ok?" He asked and Annabel, after realising where she was and who was with her, nodded softly.
"I...It was a nightmare, I'm sorry if I woke you." Hannibal's smile was soothing and calm to try and reassure the girl that it was ok as he helped her stand and sat with her on her bed.
"That's fine. I want to help you, so I think I can sacrifice a few hours of sleep." Annabel, when she smiled, didn't seem like she was assured but instead quite nervous. Even through the days, where Hannibal had tried to strengthen her trust in him, she hadn't really allowed herself any kind of comfort from him. He didn't really expect her to, but that didn't mean that he didn't feel a bit of upset "Would you like to tell me what it was about?" This was her third nightmare, she had the other two in one night and Hannibal had asked her both times if she wanted to talk about it. She didn't, just like now. When she shook her head, Hannibal sighed just slightly but then nodded to show he understood before he double checked she was alright and left.