Hannibal holds her head against his chest; his strong fingers weave through her hair and crush against her skull. His thick wool overcoat smothers her screams as she thrashes against his body. He is a stone wall: immovable, impenetrable. Hannibal rests his cheek firmly against the top of her head and with no hesitation, uses his free hand to saw through the malleable tissue of her left ear. Warm, sticky blood spurts from the gaping wound and pours down her neck and over the raised, uneven skin of her scar.
Abigail awakens with a jolt. She chokes on a scream that sticks in her throat and panics when she can't find her breath. Her eyes fixate on the stark white ceiling above her as her chest heaves and she releases shuttering breaths. Abigail feels herself slowly calm and brings her hands to her face to wipe away the cold sweat clinging to her skin, but she freezes. She stares wide eyed at the IV taped against the top of her right hand. Abigail shoots up in her bed, her eyes tear around the room. She feels her pulse quicken and her stomach twist into painful knots at her sickening realization.
That dream was real.
She puts her head in her hands and rocks herself back and forth.
No, no, no, no, no.
Abigail's lip trembles as she lifts her left hand to the side of her face. She runs her fingers slowly and unsteadily over the damp skin of her forehead to the edge of her hairline and down to her ear. Except there is no ear. Now sobbing uncontrollably, she feels the rough material that she assumes are bandages and runs her fingers over the entire area, feeling the flakes of dried blood and the warm wetness of fresh as it soaks through.
Abigail is paralyzed when she hears the soft sound of footsteps ascending a staircase. Her chest feels tight and she aches with fear as the steps grow nearer. Her mind spins and she's suddenly ripping the IV out of her hand and scrambling out of the bed. Adrenaline surges through her body and it's as if she's watching herself somehow from outside of her body. Her eyes are watering in terror as she dashes to the door across the room. Bursting it open, she reveals a windowless bathroom and her stomach sinks in disappointment. The sound of a key unlocking the bedroom door jerks her back into flight mode and she sprints to the window, slamming her palms up against the ledge to pull it open, but she can't.
The door swings open and Abigail stiffens. She remains in front of the window, her hands resting on the sill while she stands completely still and undeniably vulnerable. Perhaps if she's silent and doesn't make any quick movements, the predator can't see her. She stares unblinking out the window as her heart thuds painfully against her ribcage and crashes in her ears like thunder.