Undermining
@altereddesign
Hannibal dropped the door of the fridge, letting it close with a soft ‘fwump’. Left-over spaghetti and a jug of milk threatening to go sour. They weren’t the only things in the fridge, but they were the scents that stuck out. He ran his fingers along the modest counter, then paused. He could hear light footsteps crossing the front porch. An early school day?
He glanced at the wrapped present on the kitchen table and supposed he would get to give Molly’s son her present in person. He hadn’t intended for his break in to be interrupted. The present was one thing. The fact that he had bypassed their security system was another. Leaving indications of his presence in the house was a part of his game. Only Hannibal Lecter ever knew what game he was playing at any given time.
Will was not due to be home until that evening. Molly, some time before that. And their son was supposed to be in school for another hour. He didn’t precisely have the time to hide. He turned to face the boy.
“Hello, Willy,” Hannibal’s voice was low, but not unfriendly, “don’t move. Don’t run. Just sit.”
















