First fill for hannibal kink meme. I created a serial killer based on hannibal except for the cannibalism part. Enjoy! Critics and comments are welcomed :)
Prompt: "Will first kill happened during his teens, but he won't be the one to correct everyone else's assumption… no one ever knew about it."
Everyone thinks he is even more unstable now that he's killed Garrett Jacob Hobbs, his first kill. Well at least thats what everyone thinks. And he isnt about to correct any of them, if not for the reason that everyone will think he's a serial killer.
No, Hobbs was not Will's first victim. It can barely be classified as victim since it is, after all, self-protection and instincts. Just like his first kill.
Will was 15, young, vulnerable, friendless, and as everyone says 'crazy'. Will liked to keep to himself, kids his age weren't interesting. Their brains too shallow. To be honest, those weren't really all the reasons he stayed away from other students. The jocks, they taunted him relentlessly. He couldn't walk through the hall undisturbed. He found solitude in the library, or in the workshop, repairing whatever boat engines the workshop teacher could scavenge out for his hardworking student.
It was in the workshop where it happened. It was on a friday where school was half day. After school had let out Will had went straight to the workshop after Mr Malcolm, his workshop teacher had told him he found a particular engine that would later become Will's wet dream. Not that Wil had wet dreams, no he didnt have that, he was too crowded by nightmares for that luxury.
He walked into the empty workshop, put down all his things, rolled up his sleeves and went straight to work.
The school wasn't empty yet, no, there were after school activities. Will was thankful the workshop was on the quiet side of school, hardly anyone walks by. In the silence, Will heard heavy footsteps, he didn't think much of it, probably another student walking by. Oh how wrong he was.
The door to the workshop slammed open as Chris walked in with a smirk on his face.
"Well well look who it is, the freak." Will gripped the screwdriver in his hand, lifting his head but not looking into Chris' eyes. He would have ignored him, but ignoring meant the worser a beating.
"Come here, come here like the dog you are and let me beat you up." Chris cracked his knuckles. Will didn't budge. If he wanted to beat him up he can walk over himself, Will still has dignity no matter how many times he got beaten up.
"You little shit I said come here!" Will looked around the floor at the tools scattered there. Suddenly images flew into his mind. Images of the most recent serial killer that was plastered all over the news. The ripper who drives bars and sticks and tools and anything you could think of into his victim's bodies. Will shuddered, he felt the ripper's lust to kill.
When Chris came launching into his with a fist to the air he did the only thing he could do, he raised his hands in front of his face, hoping to block the worst of the pains. What he forgot was that the screwdriver he had in his hand when he was fixing the motor was still in his hand.
He went down flat onto the floor with Chris on top of him when heard a scream and felt something warm splattered on his face and arms. He felt his hands being pushed as he let loose the hand on the screwdriver when he understood what happened. He stared in horror and Chris writhed on the floor with a hand not so much as touching but more like surrounding his eye with the screwdriver protruding obscenely.
Will stared, what was he supposed to do now? Get a teacher? Get the nurse? Call the ambulance?
Close the doors, pull the blinds, be quiet. A voice told him in the back of his head. Will's eyes widen as he recognizes the voice, the voice of the ripper.
He did as the voice says, not knowing what else to do. He closed the door to the workshop, pulled the blinds on the window, turned off the lights.
Be quiet. "Shut up!" Will hissed at Chris, his scream didn't go down. Will looked around for something, his eyes landed on a cloth he used to wipe the oil of his hands.
Be discreet. He spotted gloves on the table, he slipped them on.
Will grabbed the cloth off the floor and shoved it into Chris' mouth.
Recreate the crime scene. Will was on autopilot, digging up his nightmares, setting up the workshop just like how he imagined it in his nightmares. The crime scenes.
Finish your masterpiece. Will did not hesitate, why would he? His life tormentor was writhing on the floor with a screwdriver protruding from his eye. Will felt the lust of killing.
He grabbed the spana off the floor and with unfiltered force, drove it into his victim's stomach. More blood spilled. A feral grin spread across Will's face.
Will moved smoothly, picking tools off the floor and driving them into the pig's body, watching blood flow like water. He left the space above the heart empty. Just like the ripper did. He watched as the life slipped out of the pig.
He knows he isn't supposed to like this, but he did. He loved it. The rush, the adrenaline, the power.
Will felt complete. He felt powerful. He felt in control.
He grabbed his things, changed into his spare clothes –getting bullied in school involved getting lunch dumped on him so he learned to bring extra clothes-, wiped away evidence of him being there that afternoon and fled the scene.
The news on Saturday morning may be the best news he's seen. Seeing his masterpierce plastered over the screen. Though maybe being labeled as someone else wasn't that nice, but, not like he was going to kill again.
After all, it was purely self-defence.