The clock in the room was loud, the fan even louder, my heartbeat loudest.
Dr. Hannibal Lecter sat across from me, his legs crossed and the legal pad balanced on his knee. His eyes a dark sienna in the backlight from the window, I fidgeted with my gold medical alert necklace, the engravings rough on my fingertips.
"This time is yours, Ms. Santana. What you choose to do with it is yours, but sitting here and doing nothing isn't very productive with your mothers money." His voice is lightly accented and deep as he glances from my hands and back to my face.
I clear my throat, and feel the catch in the back as my scar tugs.
"You can call me Darby, or Darbara if it makes you feel more formal." My voice is rough and it sounds like I'm a pack a day smoker, but the taste on my tongue is of cinnamon and cloves, something I suspect Dr. Lecter would taste faintly of if I were to lick him.
"Miss Darbara." Dr. Lecter nods and I place my hands in my lap, curling my sharply manicured nails into my palm. The pain centers me and I take even, measured breaths.
"My mother suspects that I have borderline schizophrenia." I say, my eyes lowered and staring at my sensible black skirt.
"Why is this?" Dr. Lecter says, and I can faintly hear the 'scrich scratch scrich' of his fountain pen across the legal pad. I once again take even breaths, ignoring the oppressive atmosphere, my eyes staying on my skirt even as my my hands begin to tug at the hem.
"I see things." I say, then shake my head and begin to raise my eyes. "People, I see people, for who they really are. I know my mother-" I stop myself, more even breathing. "It's like the woge from the new television show, Grimm."
"Explain it to me." Dr. Lecter says and I can't help the widening of my eyes at the chill now in his eyes. I watch as the woge falls over his face, his eyes-now a deep burgundy-falling a bit deeper into his skull and his teeth sharpening, blood seeming to stain his teeth and his lips.
"My-my-" My lips are trembling and I can feel my stomach turn, I feel like I'm at the edge of a cliff or at the highest point on a roller coaster. "My mother. Her woge, it's like how I imagine Marie Antoinette-a porcelain doll, with too big eyes and-and pale skin and really r-rosy cheeks."
"Is that so?" His eyes drop from mine and although his face doesn't change from the woge as he writes on the legal pad he somehow changes, the blood seeming to go away and his eyes lightening until they're more of a redish-jasper color as they unsunk from his eye sockets.
"Y-yes." I could feel my head rearing, like a horse when scared, but I force the reaction to go away as he raises his eyes back to mine. An encouraging smile tilts his lips as he stares directly into my eyes. "And sometimes, I taste and feel things. Things that aren't even happening to me." I blink and look down, my hands once again gaining my attention.
"Your mother didn't think you may have a soulmate?" Dr. Lecter asks, his voice preternaturally calm. I shake my head and give a humorless laugh.
"She had me checked so many times I was comfortable walking around buck ass naked-in company!" I say, my upper arms suddenly hurting, as though someone were holding them too tightly. "I can actually demonstrate the event right now." I shuffle forward, already pulling my soft cotton shirt over my head.
"Ms. Darbara!" Dr. Lecter exclaims, although he doesn't make a move to stop me, once he sees the fingerprint-like bruises forming on my arms.
I sit back down, completely calm and comfortable in my simple white bralette. "Last week I tasted semen, developed multiple severe bruises, and after innumerable orgasms over the entire day I was fired for being lax in my duties." I look into Dr. Lecter's eyes, defiance on my spine. "I don't want to get rid of this, I want to meet the person on the other side of this bond. My mother tried to send me to an exorcist, a witch doctor, etcetera, you're the last option for her before she sends me to an asylum."
Theres more 'scrich scrich scrich'-ing as Dr. Lecter writes when the door behind me suddenly bursts open.
"Hannibal! You wouldn't believe what John just- Oh." I turn around and though I can see the man in the doorway, I can hardly make out his woge, but I can make out that his ears, sharper and his eyes, darker.
"William, darling, this is Darbara Santana, her mother thinks she is a schizophrenic because she develops bruises and has spontaneous orgasms." Dr. Lecter lays out in a flat voice.
"I'll, go now." William seems dejected, and I stand, moving over to him, hand outstretched.
"Actually, I'm the one with my shirt off here." I say and watch as his eyes widen and he glances from my shoulder to my eyes.
"Why do you have your shirt off?" His voice rises in pitch and his eyes go back to Dr. Lecter behind me.
"I was demonstrating-" I began, only to find a hand over my mouth and my knees being nudged so that I fall to them.
"Darby was simply demonstrating that she is in fact our soulmate-with no marks." Dr. Lecter says and I tilt my head back, confusion marring my visible features even as two of the doctors fingers make their way into my mouth. The taste of cinnamon, cloves and the slightest hint of nutmeg and coffee explodes on my tongue and my eyes slide shut as a bolt of desire shoots straight to my womb.
"She's gorgeous." William says and the fingers stir themselves in my mouth as I lave at them generously.
"She is very pretty. Isn't she?" Dr. Lecter purrs, his fingers retreating from my mouth.
"Kiss her, William."