ᴄʟᴏsᴇʀ ʜᴀɴɴɪʙᴀʟ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (Discontinued)

Chapter 17: A Boiling Point

Nighttime had fallen and you returned to your own home, feeling somewhat relieved from your visit with Hannibal. He was going to help you get rid of Danum and you were going to have such pleasure eating that man's heart. As you removed your clothes and settled into an oversized t-shirt, you put more thought into how you would eat Danum's heart. Would you eat it right there, in some animal-like frenzy? Or would you ask Hannibal to cook it and present it to you as a masterpiece? Another part of you wanted to reject ingesting it entirely and crush it in your hands.

You sat on your couch and turned the TV on. Reports of the latest girl's death was on the news and you hesitated to change the channel. Listening to the reporter discuss the links between this case and the others, you wondered if Freddie Lounds had updated her crime page with new photos of the scene. She always managed to get the information out. The woman was a vulture. You finally flipped through the channels, not looking for anything in particular, and decided on an unsolved murders episode that was airing. You didn't pay attention to it, though, as you were already getting up to make something to eat in the kitchen.

You began to make preparations for spaghetti when you heard a door creak. Immediately, you halted and your hearing strained to catch any other movement. Hairs standing up on the back of your neck, like an animal sensing the subtle tremors of danger in the air. There was no sound and you warily went back to your cooking. Turning the water on to fill the pot, you remained facing the entryway of the kitchen, knowing that the noise from the faucet would prevent you from hearing anything else. If there was anything else.

After you placed the pot on the stove and turned the appliance on, you turned your attention to some of the dirty dishes that were in the sink. Just as you reached for the faucet, another creak was heard from down the hall. Only this time, it sounded like a footstep on the floor. You quietly grabbed one of the butcher knives and carefully exited the kitchen, making sure to turn the burner on the stove to its highest setting on the water.

The hallway lights were off and you were unable to see up the stairs in the darkness. But you knew someone was there. You moved back into the living room and turned the TV's volume up, its sound deadening any noise that the intruder could make. Or that you could make. You went back into the kitchen and turned the faucet back on. Whoever was there would be coming downstairs soon and it was best you made it seem as though you were distracted in the kitchen. You glanced at the pot on the stove and saw that it had started to boil. Then you made your way into your small pantry room and gently closed the door enough to see through the crack. Nothing could be heard over the TV and the running water, but you refused to let that intimidate you from keeping an eye on whatever was going to come in.

Just a minute after you hid yourself, a figure dressed in black came rushing into the kitchen. This person was a large man and he looked muscular enough to be an issue for you to take on. Your nonexistence in the kitchen seemed to confuse the intruder, who was certain you had been in there. Your plan worked so far. He began to rip open the doors of the lower cabinets, looking for you. With his back turned, it was the only chance for you to get the advantage. You burst through the pantry door and jumped on top of the man, bringing the knife down into the crook of his neck and shoulder. He screamed out in surprise and blood sprayed against your face as you pulled the knife out, wrapped your arm around him, and reinserted it into his chest. The man ran you into the fridge, causing you to fall off of him and ultimately causing you to lose your grip on the knife.

You looked up and saw him staring at the wound and the weapon that was still lodged inside of his chest. The fact alone that he was still standing made you panic. You brought yourself to your feet as fast as you could and just as the colossal intruder grabbed you, you gripped the boiling pot from the stove and splashed it into his face. You didn't go unscathed from the raging water and you bit down on your lip to conceal your own scream of pain as you felt your hands and legs burn. The man before you fell, his cries from being blinded only blended in with the TV.

Without further thought, you ran back to the living room and grabbed your phone that was sitting on the table. Just as you raced for the door, you were hit by another mass that sent you flying into the wall and onto the floor. Everything went black. Your eyes struggled to return focus and the world was doubled. But you heard the voice of another man and you saw his legs standing in front of you. There were two men in your house. The one you injured and the one that now injured you. He tackled you with such force that was reserved for grown, heavy weight football players. The taste of copper filled your mouth. And your arms and legs stung. Exhaustion didn't even begin to define what you were suddenly feeling.

"We're bringing her back now." The man said. You heard him threaten the other man to get up or else he would be left behind.

You looked up at your captor and grinned, blood showing in between your teeth. You tried to spit the bloody taste out, but it was no use. "This oughta' be interesting." You mumbled. The only response that came was a black bag over your head and rough zip ties binding around your limbs. You felt your body be lifted effortlessly.

You knew they had taken you out through the back of your house when you heard the screen door open. The air was cold against your legs and you were more aware of the goosebumps that formed than you ever were before. The sound of a car trunk opened and you were casually thrown inside of it. The trunk slamming above you. Darkness.