OBSESSIVE, hannibal lecter

ii. palate

CHAPTER TWO
PALATE

SHE HAD STOOD in front of the wooden door. The crème color complimented the darker colors of the hallway. A golden nameplate was front and center, demanding her attention. The plate was crisply engraved. She read the words, nerves beginning to set in.

Hannibal Lecter, PhD., Head of Psychology Department.

The professor obviously had academic acclaim, the word following the comma being evidence of such. He was a department head, someone of importance to the university. And he had invited her - a second year that had nothing to do with his department or anything of value to give - to talk with him.

A few weeks prior Dr. Lecter had invited her to "drop by his office" and talk about literature and psychology with him. For some reason, she found herself excited by the idea. Perhaps it was a middle finger to her brother. Maybe she was fascinated by the man. Either way, she found herself in front of his office door. She found herself knocking.

A few seconds passed, her stomach bubbled with anticipation. What if he was busy? What if he was doing something important? What if she had interrupted him?

The relentless questions running through her mind immediately ceased when the door opened. Now in full view was the professor, looking impeccable like every other time she had seen him. His head titled slightly, his eyebrow quirked.

"Do you have an appointment?"

Abigail froze, her eyes wide. If she had been a deer stuck in the headlights - which she was - she would have been hit by the oncoming vehicle. Every muscle in her body froze. She couldn't open her mouth to speak. Her mind gave her no words to even do so.

The man's serious expression faded to one of amusement. "I was only playing, Abigail."
Relief washed through her. "I was wondering when you would grace me with your presence."

He stepped aside, welcoming her into his office. Stepping past the threshold, he closed the door behind her.

His office was just as immaculate in appearance as he was every time she saw him. The office had an art nouveau style to it. The palette was grey with some specific points of intense color. The room was filled with European furniture that reflected his roots. In the middle of the room was a midcentury desk, an ultra-tight leather tucked desk chair close behind it. Two modern gray chairs were placed facing one another in front of the desk, end tables next to both. The room was decorated with pieces from all periods, both antique and modern.

However, what caught the interest of the young woman was the second story. The second story of his office was lined with shelves full of books. Only accessible by ladder, it reminded her of the North Carolina state library she had visited as a child.

"It's beautiful," she spoke, her attention reluctantly returning to him. Her curiosity begged her to ascend the ladder and skim the book titles.

"Thank you, Abigail. I decorated it to impress."

And intimidate.

"I am impressed, to say the least." She told him truthfully, feeling rather small in such an intricate place.

The interior design of the places she had traveled to and her own home were impressive... but not as impressive as this. The professor had created a museum and hidden it in the university behind a closed door.