#murderdiva

Closed with @murderdiva

Bella didn’t like the office. It was too artsy, too high scale. She felt out of place, sitting in a chair that looked like it cost more than her apartment and sitting across from a man who was wearing clothes that looked like they cost more than her life. Getting here had taken around three hours, and the whole way she just felt anxious. It felt useless and ridiculous, a waste of time for a problem she should be able to handle by herself.

She wanted to go home and find someone there who could help her. But they said this guy was the best. And hell, she could leave if she didn’t like him. She’d come all this way... The least she could do was try.

Closed with @murderdiva

Frederick wasn’t sure which misstep was the one that was doing him in, but he did know that his life was at stake. The mysterious bloody package on his home’s doorstep with the Chesapeake Ripper’s last victim’s leg in it told him that much. So Frederick, deciding now was not the time to be chasing fame, made the executive decision to run for it. He had learned from his mistake with Gideon, and he had no intention of letting a murderer corner him like that a second time. He got someone to care for the hospital in his absence -- however long that may be -- and got his things together to make an escape.

The greatest tragedy was having to leave behind his car. But a red ‘54 Jaguar XK120 was going to be a little conspicuous out in the middle of nowhere.

He was in the process of packing up the last of the bags to put into the rental car he had gotten -- a silver Porsche that would have to do for its needs -- when he saw a different car drive up to his house. He had a split second of panic thinking that it was the Chesapeake Ripper here to finish him off, and ran to the window to look. Then he saw who it was and he let out a sigh of relief. It was just Hannibal.

Closed with @murderdiva

It would have been nice if Jack had followed through on his if something’s too much for you, you have to tell me philosophy just this once. Sitting in the passenger seat of Hannibal’s car, Will’s fingers wouldn’t stop drumming against his thumb. Nervous behaviors he found himself struggling to control.

Three nights. Three nights until the moon was totally full, and Will lost control entirely. Already, he could hear Hannibal’s pulse as clearly as if he had his ear pressed against his chest. He could smell the leather of the seats and the expensive cologne and the hair product. By tomorrow he would be able to smell Hannibal’s blood at this distance, and the night after he would smell it so strongly he would feel like he was doused in it.

Will hadn’t wanted to be here. He still didn’t.