Product of a Murder

Cat and Mouse

"You were very rude, this evening." He murmured, his mind racing as he watched her lie on her back across the bed. Her dress was hiked up around her thighs, and her hair was sprawled out around her head. She looked like a broken doll, and she might as well had been at that point.
A fraction of guilt flickered through him and he tried everything he could to keep from looking at her frail form. He leaned back on his hands that held him up on the edge of the bed, he was quiet for a long moment. "Sit up. Now and speak to me before you make me angry." A few moments passed when he felt her form move on the bed, and she leaned forward her face vacant and expressionless. He knew on the inside she would give anything to run a knife across his throat, and sometimes he wished he would let her. Why he saved her from dying out in his arms? No one would ever know, even him.
"What do you want, Hannibal." Her words came out breathless, and uneven. She never had enough breath now a days. He wondered for a split second if he should lighten up her dosage, but he liked her maintained. She would be his until she could control herself.
"I just want simple company, Mitka." His voice was a deep rumble, he hoped it was soothing enough for her to relax for once. "I wish to converse with a friend."
She whined through her throat, it was pitiful, and it reminded him of a dying deer. "Over my dead body." Her voice sounded strangled as she fought her way through the meds. She made him proud.

A smile played upon his lips as his dark maroon eyes caressed her own. He wondered what it would be like if she were to love him. In another life time. He reminded himself as he leaned forward, his hand gently caressing the side of her face. She leaned into it, her eyes full of emptiness and hatred. He nodded, understanding. His eyes traveling, along with his hand, to the bruises on her neck.

"Ah, I do apologize for all that had happened my dear. I truly- truly didn't wish that upon you, nor did you deserve it." His voice played like a violin. For her, only for her.

"Leave me alone-" she breathed her breath fanning out across his hands as he slowly tightened both of them around her throat. Not hard enough to choke her, but enough to get a reaction out of her.

A spark, like a shooting star, shot across her face. Anger.

Anger fit her. It fit him as well.

His grin could cut diamonds. "Ah you know I simply cannot do that dear, we both know you practically signed your life away."
His right thumb stroked her jugular, as his left hand caressed her hair. He realized he had never touched her as much as he had at that moment, and stopped. "I do apologize if I have made you uncomfortable, you see, I am not a man of lust." He got up and away from her to prove his point. He watched as she tried to laugh, her throat moving but her face looked more in pain. He knew that her head was probably spinning from the amount of effort she had to put into conversing with him.
"A man with a lust for blood." Was all she could manage.

"Ah, on that note. I would like for you to help me put up the meal down stairs." He nodded, all of his playing silenced along with his mind. He needed her controlled, especially for what was about to happen.

It did not take her long to realize that Hannibal had already put up the meal. He knew that because the look on her face as she stared at the middle aged woman on the table, was of pure fear.

Fear that he lapped up like a kitten with a bowl of milk. He smiled once more as he passed his dear Mitka and walked right over to the unconscious woman. His hand entangled themselves into the woman's beautiful long blonde hair. His dark eyes flicked up to meet the woman whose eyes were the same shade.

The shock on her face had melted away to a much more calm- blank facade.

"If you kill this woman, I will stop the medication." His words were butcher knives as he watched the woman he hated to love suck in a sharp breath. He could tell she was contemplating it, but knew her stubbornness would not allow her to.

She thought she was good, she thought she was a hero in this story- she wasn't and he knew it. He knew it as he walked over and unsheathed a knife from its holder.

The knife flickered like a silver flame in the evening glow, illuminating his face with its power.
"Her name is Margot." He began, his eyes never leaving Ms. Williams. "Margot, here, is a doctor. Not a good one at that. She has been purposefully killing her patients- Mitka." He cocked his head as he walked back over to the naked woman on the table who's chest would rise and fall ever so softly.
"Kill her while she is asleep now, and you can stop her foolish games. Or, you can take too long- risk her waking up." He positioned the knife in his hand for Mitka to take, and a tiny smile played upon his lips. "If you make it to where I have to do the deed, in my new suit, then you will witness it in all of its glory. Either way- let's not play games. Do it, do it quick, and we have nothing to worry about."

He watched Mitka turn away, her short black hair twirling and sticking to the sweat that glistened on her face. He noted how sickly she looked, her lips chapped- her legs trembling. He could almost taste the fear radiating off of her. She glanced at him over her shoulder, and her body language told him she was ready to leave. "You are more willing to kill me, than to kill this fraud? This woman is killing innocent people's lives- Mitka." He cooed as he tipped the knife back around to where he was holding the handle.

He strolled over to her, the soft thudding of his shoes on the floor sounded like a heart beat to his ears. "Take the knife my love. I will clean the mess, all that is needed of you- is to create it." His voice was silk, of temptation. He strolled around her like a predator stalking its prey before he pulled her back to him, the knife wedging itself underneath her throat. "Mitka dear, do not make this hard."

There was silence. Eerie enough as silence is. Then she was shaking under neath him, small tears puddling themselves upon her cheeks. He wasn't expecting how easy it was for her to cave in, to grab the knife from him.

He rested his chin on her shoulder, his lips caressed her ears as he whispered. "If you try to kill me, you will die." 

It seemed like forever, but he had patience. He had been crafted from patience. He watched the trembling woman in his arms, as she walked her way over to the woman on the table. The knife in her hand complemented the beautiful dress she was wearing. He almost wished he could use it to cut the dress off, but stifled the thought as he watched his girl position the knife above the blonde's chest.
The blonde who had woken up.

The blonde who released a wail of shock as she pulled against her bound hands and feet.

He disappeared to watch from the shadows, to watch how Mitkas face lit up. It lit up like it had never lit up before, and he didn't know if it was excitement or fear that blanketed it so.

A snapping sound reverberated through the air as she plunged the knife deep into the chest cavity of the woman who wiggled upon the table. It was a lovely sight, he thought.

As lovely as the first day he had seen her, though this time she was covered in another's  blood- not her own. "Stop my medication, and stop this." Her voice reached his ears in small gasps, and it was as if she weren't truly accepting the fact that she had just murdered someone. That she was the reason the woman twitching on the table, dead, was draining blood all over his kitchen floor.

He nodded. "As you wish."

He watched as she stumbled past him, dropping her knife. He listened to her escape upstairs, back to her dwelling area. He wondered if she was in shock, or if she felt alive. As alive as he had felt whenever he had first killed.

He looked back at the scene in front of him, and smiled. Knowing that he had a lot of cleaning to do.