#ofsaviours

It’s funny how far you’d go for family when faced with a terrible situation. There’s always throwaway jokes of ‘if I murdered someone would you help me bury the body’? Those jokes are for normal people, with normal issues, with no history of a serial killer in the family. But what happens when that is said to someone with a known serial killer in the family? Why, you help cover it up, of course. The non-existent ( but all too real ) blood on his hands still stained his hands, flashes of blood and shattered glass flashing through his mind.

The sight of orange brought his attention back to reality, trembling hand clenching, memory pushed back to focus on the present, eyes landing on the one he had arranged a visit with; John Watkins. Push it all down and put on a brave face, pretend to be fine, you’re good at that. Silence hung for a moment between them, observing eyes glazing over him, unable to help but profile his current condition. No doubt his claustrophobia was making his time here hard but can he really feel bad for him when he’d attempted to kill his family? No. 

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Malcolm didn’t know what drew him to go on this quest for more answers but he needed them. The questions were keeping him awake at night, though it’s not like he was used to getting much sleep to begin with anyway. He passed through metal detectors and and followed procedure as he made his way to the visitation area. Malcolm sat down and exhaled a breath, noting his hand began to tremble some. The tremors were back. He stretched his hand a bit and clenched it into a fist in an effort to stop the tremors, looking over the extremity, it wasn’t long ago that he had deliberately broken that hand to get to the very man he was coming to visit. 

he hears the loud clink of the prison cell and swears to himself quietly that he wouldn’t ever hear that locking him in. he’ll weave the torrid paths of this life until each and every single piece is resting there in the palm of his hand. everything is quiet and yet there’s a man standing there in front of him. he’s the same as he remembered him in those darkened halls of the hospital where he had once worked. the arrest that flooded the headlines hadn’t come as much of a shock. in fact he simply remained somewhat interested in whatever there was to know about the other man.

“ I am sure that you weren’t expecting me. “ he offers to him, waiting on the response that he’ll get from him. he knows that there will be surprised, perhaps even a rather morbid talk about why he was here in this cell right then and there. Hannibal didn’t have the patience for that. instead he felt as though he could post something to him, anything at all, then the other would agree with him.

a smile touches to the corners of his lips before it falls miserably. fails at letting the other feel some sort of contentment regarding his prison sentence but the thought that he was just here because some kind of assurance was needed was far beyond what Hannibal wanted. what he saw here was an opportunity. one that would give him control over a situation, over someone else’s ever working mind. he enjoyed winding up new toys and watching their outcome.