The shrill sound of the quiet plagued his head for a long time. Like the beeping of machines in the hospital. Like the sound of something breaking. In his mind the whole world was breaking. In his mind things were distorted and falling apart. Lost things, living things. He lived his life in a series of past mistakes and regrets. Things that he knew he couldn’t cling to but he wanted to. At least he had Abigail though. That was a constant thought that seemed to cling to every layer of his mind. Something that wasn’t lost to him, something that stayed. She always survived.
The hotel room was large and full of air, coolness. He wondered if she liked Italy. If she liked the history and the painted walls of the country. He hated to think that he couldn’t offer her this as a careless escape. Something to get her mind off of things. He knew why he was here. She knew. And the trail was not a cold one. Not by a long shot. It was burning hot and he wished it was possible for him to carry Abigail across it so she wouldn’t have to get burned. There was so much she hadn’t been spared.
He turned to look at her from where he sat at the window, studying her in the silence of the room. Elongated and often times painfully aware of the memories they carried like scars and stains. They both had their own now. They both were victims, trailing the broken edged monster who had done this. Only Hannibal was only ever a monster in dreams. In reality he was as he was. And that was terrifying.
“You can take a break. Sight see?” A light suggestion, wanting to give her something normal. Young girls should have something normal. Should live a good healthy life. Everything had been stolen from Abigail. Who was going to give it back?
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✞ my muse taking care of a your muse while their sick
She was measuring out something and he watched the liquid first first before letting his eyes drift to her. The scar on her neck was exposed. As it always was when they were at home.
He liked to think that maybe Abigail had nothing to hide when the two of them were together. That somehow they might've managed to reach the point in their relationship when she was comfortable with him, where she trusted him.
He still had dreams about it, not only her dad. Who was still after all this time vivid in his mind. But about finding her, about her, just her. Nightmares border lining the effort to dream peacefully. Only when he was awake was he capable of refuge. He existed solely in the hollow structure of his mind, plagued by the dark feeling that threatened everything inside of them both of them.
But he wanted light. For Abigail he would try to draw back those heavy curtains and let the sun shine in. She was so young, she needed that. Not fragile though. He noted that as she turned to return the bottle on the night stand. The place where her ear should have been. And he could still feel the roughness of it coming out of his throat. But she had survived. Marked and marred, but still here.
She handed him the measured out dose and he looked at her from under his brows as if questioning her certainty about.
"Just take it. It'll make you sleep." she said and she smiled. The sight of Abigails smile was always something unsettling to him. Something that he knows that he has to get used to. It's not uncomfortable. Only that he's not used to it. He had seen her happy only in his mind. As he sat in the cell of the hospital, among the gray and cold.
There's a question of did she know? Did she know that he was there and that they were saying he killed her? Killed her and all those others? Had she any idea.
He never asked. He thought it was better not to know the answer.
"You're trying to get rid of me." he said but he took the cup and drank it before handing it back to her.
"There." she said with a small nod. "Just a little Nightquil and you're be all better in the morning."
But he was already all better now. Things were so much better here, away.
—He wasn’t expecting Abigail to be there trying to comfort him. Everything was gone. He managed to find a few things, but the things he really cared about had went up with the house. His arms wrapped around her. There he was crying and trying to find comfort from her. She was one of the only things he had left and he wanted to make sure she never left.
“Love Me” -- I’ll write a fluffy drabble about our characters.
nothisdaughter
Time passed slow. And he wanted nothing more than to hold onto this moment with her. She was calm here, happy. So alive that at times, looking at her in certain lights he wouldn't be able to recognize her. She was laughing now. And she was watching Bubbles run back and forth in the grass. She was standing there laughing and Will had settled himself down onto the grass.
Abigail threw the ball one more time before she set herself next to Will. She let out a small breath but it was laced through with laughter and that actually made him feel okay, that made things alright somehow.
When Abigail was smiling he knew that he wouldn't be able to stop himself from smiling as well. He had always wanted to see her okay, to see her doing something that made her happy. She looked like a child when she played with Bubbles. She looked happy. He wondered about her sometimes when she was a kid. Was she happy? Did she look up to her father? Copy her mother without knowing it? Before darkness had come to taint her?
Only he knew that he didn't want to linger on memories that were gone. He wanted instead to make new memories for her. Hannibal had told him they were her fathers now and he had never felt more strongly now. Which was funny actually, the feeling was stronger just as a new day started.
Bubbles came back with the ball and set it down between them before resting it between the two of them. Wills hand came up to pet the top of his head. He looked over at her and smiled a little bit.
"You've exhausted Bubbles." he said with a small smile.
She started to pet the dog as well and offered him a smile. "Well, at least he's happy."
“Quite Me” -- I’ll write a drabble about my character trying to calm yours down
nothisdaughter
She's been sitting outside for what felt like an hour or so. He's just been inside, letting time pass on but he knows that she's not coming in. It's cold outside, dinner is ready, and she's still out there. She's always liked it out there, especially during this time. November is the bridge between autumn and snow. And she likes it, the way the world changes suddenly. Dying and then frozen before rebirth. Is that her state now?
He's promised her that they'll learn how to skate once everything freezes over. He's determined to teach anything he can conjure up, even if it's a first experience for him as well. Determined to wash away memory.
Trying to avoid his own scars, ones he's been trying to push away from his head for along time. He only wants to settle his focus on Abigail. Something early in blooming. He's long been a wasteland of other people. He's lived with his scars for a long time. The imprints left there inside of him by her dad are old, not rotten but edging towards decay, his decay. But he's well accustomed with death and has always been. He worries little about himself. It's Abigail that he worries about.
That's what prompts him to move towards the door, slipping on his jacket. He's set everything for dinner aside and he opens the front door. The cold hits him and then slowly settles into him. She doesn't turn, not even when the door shuts.
She's sitting on the bench they put out there last summer. She had been trying to decide on what color she wanted it. They chose the light brown color it came in. It was their project. They were proud of it.
He sat next to her and she looked up at him. Her cheeks were flushed and lightly chaffed by the cold. Her eyes were wide and there were tears in them. There might have been in a time when she would have hidden her face from him, hidden her eyes. Not wanting to talk.
He thought that suggested that she was still lingering in the past. The darkness that they had both been engulfed in. He still had traces of it picking at his skin. Darkness was good at nitpicking and making you feel entirely caved in.
But she looked at him now and he thought that it might've meant that there was trust there. He wanted Abigail to trust him. He wanted her to know that he was here, a presence beside her whenever she needed it.
He thought that things were going to be alright. This Summer had been easy. They had been here almost a year. And the Summer had brought with it something nice, something he had thought would have been impossible when they first came here. When he thought back on the Summer he thought mostly of Abigails smile. She laughed a lot during the Summer.
But she was crying now. And she was talking. It seemed at a rapid speed because it was shattering through memory to find a place settled there in his mind. She was having nightmares again, she was scared. And she was shaking. The cold was biting deep but he knew that the tremors came from the fear that had nestled itself inside of her.
He took in a breath and reached out for her, placing his hand on her back. She wasn't settled. Her tears still fell. She parted her lips and he saw her breath in the pale darkness of the falling night. "Does it end?"
And he wanted to be able to tell her that it does. That eventually it does change, it transforms into light. But he still wore his nightmares like a yoke around his neck, dragging him through some days. He still wore the burdens of who he was. He couldn't lie to Abigail, he couldn't set up for her a hope that doesn't actually exist.
He pulled her closer, pressing her into the warmth of an encircled embrace. "We hold on or push through. Nothing ever really ends. But things can get left behind."
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send me a ✿ and i’ll generate a number 13. Hand Kiss nothisdaughter
She was talking but it was in a low quiet voice. She was shaking a little. He could see the light tremor to her frame. It wasn’t cold in the room. She was scared. She was explaining her nightmare, the reason for her waking up crying. And he had rushed in her to find her in this state. When he grabbed her hand her skin was so cold. And it sent a chill through him. He hated her nightmares but he wasn’t sure of how to erase them entirely. He didn’t know how to replace them.
He had nightmares of his own, one that he was unable to maneuver his mind away from. Somehow they managed to stick along the edges of his brain working their way inside.
He didn’t want that for Abigail. But the day that her father had decided to start killing had paved that road for her. Only he’s her dad now, isn’t he? And she has grown to depend on him.
He’s not entirely sure if he has the right functions to be someone dependable. He’s certain that he wants her to depend on him, that he loves her enough to carry her. Even if love has always been for him something strange and slightly broken. Love has been something locked out of his head for far too long.
But she makes him want to hold onto it.
"I’m exhausted." she whispered.
And he wanted to put an arm around her and make sure she fell asleep. But she was hardly a little girl. He knew that.
"Try and sleep." he said, taking her hand into his. He lifted it and pressed a kiss to the back of it. "I’ll stay here if you want me to."
