I had walked towards the building of my new psychiatrist my doctor had recommended me. I felt foolish for even going to a psychiatrist. The first thought that had crossed my mind was that psychiatrists were for people who ended up being wound up in a straightjacket. I could end up as one as well if I do not choose my words carefully. When I arrived in the waiting room, it was empty. I gave a gentle knock to the office door before having a seat. My fingers tapped against my knee as my legs were crossed, having many thoughts go through my head as I had anticipated this meeting.

The door open, revealing a very attrative man in a suit. He gave a small smile before he spoke to me. "Ms. Jayne. Please come in." I stood up from my seat, slowly walking into the office. It was big and beautiful. It was older but divine nonetheless. There were many books, portraits hanging from the walls. They looked to be sketched.

"Did you draw these pictures Dr…. Lecter, is it?" He nodded before standing next to me and observing the sketch.

"Yes I have. Most of my artwork came from the influence of Florence. I had lived there for quite some time. Someday I hope to draw the buildings from memory."

"I wouldn't have thought that a psychiatrist could even find the time to create art." He smiled lightly at me before we walked over to the two black, cushion chairs. I took a seat and he was sitting across from me. He had crossed his legs and had his hands folded.

"There is always time to create something. If you cannot find the time, simply make time. Now from what your doctor has written to me is that you have insomnia, you refuse to eat anything, and you also have depression. I understand that none of this occurred before your late husband had recently passed away. I am sorry about your loss."

"Thank you. It was a difficult thing to swallow once he died. It is amazing how quick life can take someone away. I didn't find out until I had gotten a call from one of his close friends he worked with. I hadn't seen what happened to him until I had to go to the police station and identify the body. This may be a bit dark to say but I felt the way my husband was murdered was almost a work of art. This killer obviously wanted to leave his mark with style."

"This murderer perhaps did have style. Art can be seen differently in many ways. Elaborate a little about why you are having all these symptoms." Hannibal said.

"Well," I leaned back in my seat and crossed my legs. "I had never really loved my husband. I thought I had but it was more of the idea of him. He treated me exactly how I always wanted a man to treat me. He gave me attention and valued me in every way possible. Gave me everything my heart desired but I still had felt nothing. There was one person who could see through my little charade and that was his sister. She would always see through me and try to talk about me behind my back to his family. The reason I am having insomnia is because I have these dreams or thoughts that come to mind…"

Hannibal uncrossed his legs and leaned forward a bit. He had made direct eye contact with me. "What were those thoughts that come to mind Bonnie?"

I looked down at the floor before choosing my words carefully. I did not want to end up in psychiatric ward for the rest of my life.

"I was hurting her. I was up for hours having these thoughts and thinking about different ways I could end her life. It brought me to the point where I was depressed and thought I was a very sick person for having these types of imaginations. Whenever I would think about it, I would feel sick to my stomach and end up not wanting to eat anything."

Dr. Lecter was writing something down. Probably a prescribed medicine he wants me to take. That's all I fucking need. Pills to make me not be a killer. He put his pen and book down on the end table next to him before speaking to me again.

"I believe you are not sick. You are simply exhausted from all these emotions and you find a secret outlet to let your stress release. If I may ask Ms. Jayne, I would like you to come to me again Thursday for an update of how your thoughts are coming along." I had nodded before I had looked at the clock. We were only about 20 minutes in and I had until looked at the clock.

"I want to know a little more about you Ms. Jayne. Or if you like I would like to call you by your first name if that is alright with you? Considering you will now be my patient, I feel that it is best to have a first name basis and to know who I am consulting."

"I would be alright with that Dr. Lecter."

"Please call me Hannibal."

I smiled slightly. "Hannibal. When I was a child, both of my parents were criminals. They had stolen and murdered people. They got off on the murdering. I never knew though. I thought seeing them covered in blood was something normal. I thought the stench of a dead body was normal. An undercover police officer had caught them and I wound up in foster care until I was sixteen. My uncle on my mother's side had found me and took me in. He was wealthy and both him and my aunt wanted me to be the best I could be. They wanted me to marry a man with money, someone who give me everything. It was not what I had wanted but I wanted to please them more than anything after everything they had done for me. I was brainwashed into thinking that money was the way to happiness."

A tear fell down my face as I had remembered I had wanted to make my family proud instead of worrying about my own happiness. I thanked Hannibal as he had handed me a tissue.

"I was too wound up in meeting their expectations, I didn't think about my own. When I was in college I had ended up meeting my husband. He was exactly the kind of man my aunt and uncle wanted me to have. Like I said before, I never loved him. He had this attitude that I hated. He showed me off as a prize instead of a lover. Felt that the whole world was in the palm of his hand." My fist clenched as I thought about him. Anything I wouldn't do right and he would try to treat me like a child and say I needed to do this right to impress his friends or family.

"It sounds like you were unhappy and wanted to get out but were worried your aunt and uncle would be disappointed and abandon you." Hannibal said. I nodded without saying anything. Hannibal wrote something else down before wanting me to continue.

"The thing is Hannibal; I'm starting to realize that I had insomnia before my husband died. Just looking at him would make me so angry. When I would stare at him while he was next to me in bed, I had thought about different ways I could leave him. Just getting up and leaving, divorce and still have myself sitting comfortably, and…" I wanted to say the last idea I had but I was too afraid to say it.

"What was it Bonnie?" Hannibal asked. I bit down on my lower lip. My hands clenched and my foot tapping the floor. I looked up at Hannibal and he was waiting for me to answer. I swallowed up my courage and said:

"Murder."

Hannibal observed me. Not saying a word, nor judging me either. I felt as though I was safe and felt comfortable enough to talk to him. It was almost like he could understand where I was coming from.

"You are not sick Bonnie. You had a desire to put an end to something you think that should not be there. You felt that murder was a last resort in case you ran into trouble. You also feel this way about his sister because you feel she should not be involved in any way and you are angry at her because she thinks you led him to his death."

Jesus no wonder people go to him. He can read the mind and nails it on the head. I nodded my head. "Yes. I felt that it was almost the most obvious option for me. Unfortunately, someone had beaten me to it. I admire the work they did though. A knife to the stomach wasn't good enough or a sedative in a drink. Too cliché. His whole anatomy displayed on a painted portrait. Liam went out in style. Whoever this Chesapeake Ripper is, he is dangerous but his murders are works of art. It's his symbol."

Hannibal was thinking. He thinking about how unique this woman was. They both shared the same views about the murders. They both thought about how some people just do not need to be on this earth and that the murders are a way of expressing a person's mind.

"Art is a very important thought to you Bonnie. Since our time is almost up, I should ask now. There is an art opening this Thursday and I would like for you to come. It is nice to know there is someone else in this town that appreciates the finer work. Many of my friends will be there and would be interested in meeting you. After that would could discuss it over dinner perhaps?"

I couldn't believe he asked me to go to a gathering with him. I was thrilled about this. A sexy doctor with me to talk about art and have dinner with. He doesn't have a ring on either. This just became a hell of a lot better.

"I would be happy to go with you Hannibal. It will be quite an evening prepared." He smiled as we both stood up.

"I agree as well. I look forward to seeing you again." He escorted me to the door. I turned around to shake his hand.

"Thank you Doctor Lecter, it was a pleasure meeting you and I look forward to seeing you Thursday." Instead of shaking my hand, he gently grabbed it and kiss my hand.

"I look forward to it. Au revoir, Mademoiselle." I smirked at him before I turned to leave his office. This looks like the start of something interesting.