Friend Of A Cannibal

Chapter One

As she parks her car outside of the large house, she glances down at the small watch on her wrist to check the time. As always, for everything she does, she's right on time. Always on schedule, never too late or too early.

She walks up the steps, her heels clicking against the cement. She's never been here before but the door is unlocked so she opens it and goes inside. It's a waiting room, but before she has a chance to take a seat, another door opens and a man appears. He's tall - much taller than her, even in her heels and he's wearing a gray three piece suit. His hair is very neat and well kept and he appears to be in his late forties.

"Ms. Harper? Please, come in." He has an accent, unlike any accent she's heard before. She follows him inside and he shuts the door behind her. She has a seat in a chair and he does the same, five feet away from her.

"You can call me Eleanor, or Nora. No need for formality, Dr. Lecter." She says, placing her purse next to her between her hip and the armrest.

He gives her a faint smile. "Very well then, Nora. Would you like to tell me a bit about yourself and why you scheduled an appointment to see me?"

She shifts in her seat a bit. "Yes... I recently moved to this area to start my business, a tailor shop. I'm an expert seamstress." She maintains eye contact. "And I'm schizophrenic. My hometown is eight hours away so upon moving here I had to find a new psychiatrist."

"I see." He says, writing some things down. "How is your business coming along?"

"It's coming along great, actually." She smiles. "We plan to open the shop this coming Monday morning."

"Do you take any medications, Nora?"

"Yes. I take an antipsychotic. 80MG. And I take an antidepressant. 60MG." She looks down at her lap, playing with the opal ring on her finger.

"Do they help with your symptoms?" He writes something down again.

"They do. But I believe no amount of medication can stop my hallucinations and delusions entirely."

"Tell me about your hallucinations and delusions. You're my first schizophrenic patient. To be honest, I was eager to meet you." He can't take his eyes off of her except to jot things down on his notepad.

"There are times when I can tell they are hallucinations and times when I can't. I typically get a few every week. Yesterday when I was sitting at my kitchen table and having my morning coffee I saw dozens of spiders crawl out from the crack in the wall." She looks back up at him. "I have a constant fear that I'm always being watched. I put duct tape over the camera on my laptop. I'm always looking behind me to check for followers."

"When did these symptoms start and when were you diagnosed?" Every word that leaves her mouth stays tucked in his mind to remember later, but he writes down the important things. She's such a beauty to him, with her pink lips and long raven hair. He can see it in her hazel eyes that she's hiding. From what - he does not know.

"On my twentieth birthday I kept hearing voices. Voices in my head telling me mean things. They weren't my thoughts. I'm twenty seven now."

She's opening up, but not all the way and he can tell. The more they talk, the more he finds himself wanting to know more. He can't deny his attraction to her, but she is his patient and he knows he shouldn't see her that way. The hour passes by quickly.

"I'm afraid that is all the time we have for today." Hannibal says.

Eleanor stands up and puts her purse strap over her shoulder. "Thank you for your time, Dr. Lecter."

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A college party. No, not just any college party. The college party. The night that changed her life. She's nineteen, her birthday is in three months. She doesn't know anyone, everyone is a friend of her boyfriends. They've been dating for five months.

She's been sipping a wine cooler, the same one she's had all night. She has an exam to study for tomorrow so she isn't going to drink very much. But he is drunk. Very drunk. He coaxes her upstairs, into a dark room. They're alone. He kisses her and she can taste the hard liquor on his tongue. He's groping her, trying to unbutton her shirt.

"No, babe. You're too drunk. Not tonight." She says, moving his hands away.

He doesn't listen. He's not going to. He keeps touching her but she keeps pushing him away until he takes her wrists and pins them above her head, pushing her against the wall. She screams but it's so loud in this building that no one can hear her. He's ripping her clothes off but before he can remove her undergarments, she kicks her knee up hard right between his legs. That angers him. He wraps both hands around her neck and squeezes. She's choking, gasping for air, clawing at his arms.

Then she remembers. Her pocket knife, given to her on her sixteenth birthday, is in her pocket.

She pulls it out and jabs him in the chest. He finally lets go of her, but after she pulls the knife out of him, he reaches for her throat again. She stabs him in the neck. His blood sprays and he falls to the ground.

She blacks out.