"I'm so sorry, Abigail, I couldn't protect you in this life," Hannibal gazed into her eyes without blinking. He still held her in a half embrace as if to comfort her for what was to come. He put a hand in her hair to stroke her forehead. Throughout the years, he acquired the knowledge that fear was sometime worse than the pain itself.
His face was expressionless, but his eyes were intricate. In a way, Hannibal Lecter's eyes held darkness as well as light, deceit as well as fondness and tenderness. They held pain and trauma as well as dark intentions.
"W-what?" Abigail murmured, her voice shaking along with the rest of her. She knew what was to come, though the shock of it had overcame her. She gripped to the lapels of his jacket as if she was clinging to life itself. She could have run. She could have screamed. It would have been useless. It was almost if she could not move. "Doc-Doctor Lecter..." tears welled her eyes.
Hannibal wiped her tears with the back of his thumb, but otherwise ignored her fear completely. "I once had a sister, Abigail, I have not spoken of this story in many years-"
"I trusted you..." She whispered, the words just came out of her mouth despite that she was listening to him to see if there was anything she could do or say to save her life.
He simply nodded, "Her name was Mischa, and she was so very young when she died-"
"No..." another word escaped her mouth in an inaudible whisper.
"Soldiers killed the rest of my family. We were kidnapped, and when they had an unsuccessful day of hunting. They were famished-"
A small, almost whispered shriek was mixed into Abigail's breath as she tried to inhale, but she was panicking and she could no longer breathe though her nose due to her tears.
"They ate her," he finished. He pulled her hair behind her ear to comfort her again. "Every time I looked at you, I was reminded of her. I thank you for that," he said softly.
"You and Will saved me..." her response was. She let go of his jacket and cried into his shoulder. It was almost as if she was developing a form of stockholm syndrome. He was going to kill her, yet she still felt the need to be protected by him.
He wrapped his arms around her and rested one hand on the back of her head and the other wrapped around her waist, slowly rocking her side to side. He would hold her for the last time, this would be the closest thing he would have to holding Mischa again. "My intention was to treat you better than your father. I apologize I have not met that," he said, his voice in a normal tone.
One of his arms left her waist and reached into his jacket for a sharp, butcher's knife. He held it against her back, in between where her spinal plates were. it would be over in a minute. He kissed her forehead like a father kissing his daughter before sending her to bed. "I am so sorry, Abigail-"
"Don't let go of me..." Abigail gasped loudly between her tears, pleading for his support.
He held her tighter, and put her face on his shoulder so she couldn't see the small movement of his other shoulder blade. "Not in this life," he repeated before he swiftly stabbed the blade into her.
A cry of pain escaped her lips, and he loosened his grip on her to look at her face. "Hannibal..." she whispered as a final plead. He stroked her face, and when the light escaped her eyes, he still held her. He let go of her and placed her on the floor before checking for her pulse. Gone.
"Not in this life," he repeated again.
He closed her eyes with the back of his thumb, and he thought of the ways to dispose of her. He would use every bit of her. Otherwise, it would be murder.