CH 3: A Turn for the Worse
When Will finally gathered the nerve to enter Abigail's room, he was carrying a tray with an assortment of breakfast foods. She took one look at him, wrinkled her nose, and then rolled back over in contempt.
"Abigail, you need to eat…"
"Why?" she coolly asked. As much as it chilled her, even when she'd been under her father's oppressive thumb, she'd at least had an important role to play – a one true purpose. Out here in these lonely, endless woods, she didn't serve as anything but Will's latest pet project.
Will closed his eyes. This wasn't going as he'd planned, but then again, what had he expected? Bonding and civility after all that had transpired? He had an irritating habit of expecting others to just see things his way, even when he knew that was next to impossible. Abigail Hobbs was still a child – he had to stop expecting so much from her, but it wasn't easy when she stared at him with those huge, worldly blue eyes. There was something behind that innocent gaze… Something older, something wiser. Something both awe-inspiring and terrifying.
In spite of himself, he wondered what Hannibal had seen when he'd returned her gaze. But rather than dwell on that monster, Will sternly tried again, "Abigail, you really do need to eat something. It'll help you feel better."
She snorted. "Just leave it on the nightstand."
"I'm not leaving until I see you eat something."
That did it. Furiously throwing her bedspread off her legs, Abigail lurched up and smacked the tray out of his hand, sending the eggs, bacon, and juice hurtling against the wall in a splattered mess. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you this, but you are not my father!" she seethed. "Stop telling me what to do, Will! I'll eat when I want to eat – now leave me alone!"
Pale and trembling, Will quietly bent down and began to pick up the pieces of broken glass and ruined breakfast. On the one hand, she was finally speaking to him again… It had been at least two days since she'd uttered a word, and what felt like even longer since she'd come out of her room. He had to keep using his master key to unlock her door.
Oh, why did she hate him so much? Had Hannibal somehow poisoned her to him? Did she blame him for everything that had happened?
Sighing, Will lifted his head. "Abigail, I just want you to know that-"
"I'm getting a shower," she muttered, now striding past him. The fabric of her soft, sheer robe whispered against his shoulder as she moved.
The door slammed and Will pressed the heel of his palm into his eye, trying to grind away the dull, painful headache flaring up inside his skull.
A pale, bare leg stepped beneath the sprinkling showerhead, and Abigail lurched slightly from the surprise of scalding hot water. After turning the handles to a much nicer temperature, she submerged herself and ducked her head beneath the rushing spigot. It felt oddly peaceful… She'd gone a few days without bathing for fear of Will wanting to talk.
Abigail rubbed her face and smoothed back her hair, now turning around so that the onslaught of water pelted her backside. Closing her eyes, she scrubbed her arms and felt errant water trickle down into her mouth. Irritated, she promptly blew it from her lips. But the more she blew, the more water seemed to come pouring in, her eyes snapping open in time to see showers of blood raining down upon her body.
Frantic, Abigail began to scrub the dark liquid from her torso, but only succeeded in smearing the blood like thick, permanent paint. She shrieked, staggering forward. She kicked and swatted at the air, dry sobs catching in her throat as the blood trickled down her body and pooled around her feet.
Wildly moving to turn off the spigot, she came clamoring out of the shower looking like a crime scene. Oh God, there was so much blood! She'd never get the smell out of her hair!
With tears streaking her face, Abigail stumbled over to the sink and peered up into the foggy mirror. Nothing but bleary steam greeted her senses, so she wiped off the condensation with her bloody hand, quivering as she searched her reflection once more. But what she saw wasn't her… Abigail's wide, panicked blue eyes turned into a pair much kinder and softer in appearance, and a long, oval face surrounded by dark, pretty curls followed suit. Abigail gasped, seeing Alana Bloom's face gasp, too. And before Abigail could even think to speak, Alana gave a shrill, piercing scream that rattled through her very core, blood now seeping out of the woman's eyes, nose and lips as strongly as an inkwell.
"NO!" Abigail sobbed. "No, no, no!"
Tearing away from the sight, she ripped open the bathroom door and went streaking (quite literally) through the area adjoining the kitchen and living room.
Will was reading a newspaper when she came barreling through, her mournful sobs causing him to instinctively lurch up from his seat. "…Abigail?" He swallowed, noting her unmistakable nudity before she flew out the door and into the expansive, shield-like wilderness.
After grabbing a blanket off the back of the couch, Will briskly followed her path until he, too, was crashing through the underbrush in the morning light. "Abigail?!"
Her sobs echoed back to him, and before long he found her huddled up beneath a fir tree sitting on a long, sturdy log. Instantly, he draped the blanket around her shoulders and covered any indecency.
"Are…are you alright?" Will's eyes doubtfully scanned her face, which was as pale and unresponsive as the rest of her. Having a seat on the log, he carefully reached out and pressed a hand to the small of her back. "What happened, huh? What's got you so scared?" He drew a breath, appearing pained. "Don't you feel safe here?"
Abigail lowered her eyes. "I don't feel safe anywhere… You'll have to tell me what that's like." Loosely hugging her leg, she inspected her skin for blood and found nothing but pale, svelte flesh. She closed her eyes, upset and shivering. "I want to leave… I don't belong here."
"I know it's hard, but…but we can't give up," Will feebly said. "Please, Abigail, promise me you'll at least try to give this place a chance. I want to see you well again."
She snorted. "Do you? Hannibal once told me you're dangerous." With her large, all-seeing eyes, she glanced up at him and provoked, "He said that killing made you feel in control… Do you think you'll kill again? Do you think you'll kill me?" Her gaze grew dark and penetrating, honing in on Will's every movement. "I'm the living source of your trauma," she persisted. "Wouldn't it feel good to take me out? To see me just…disappear?"
Will trembled, feeling as if sand had entered his lungs. Why would Hannibal tell her such a thing? Or maybe Abigail had just guessed? Doctor-patient confidentiality his ass!
Shaking his head, he earnestly explained, "N-no, Abigail, that…that's not true. How could you ever think I brought you out here to…to…?" Unable to finish the horrific thought, he drew a breath and exhaled, frustrated.
Overhead, the rapid, staccato drilling of a woodpecker echoed faintly through the trees. Will swallowed nervously. It pained him to accept defeat, but the mixture of Abigail's scorn and resentment had proven too much for him. She didn't want his help…she didn't want his friendship, though perhaps a woman's touch could give her what he so sorely lacked?
Instinctively, Will's heart throbbed. The first faces that materialized into his subconscious were Alana and Beverly, both dear friends who hadn't deserved their gruesome fates. He chewed his cheek. Though they would've been his first choice, perhaps Freddie Lounds would be able to…?No. He wouldn't even allow himself to entertain the idea. Despite their brief reconciliation, he didn't want her anywhere near Abigail (let alone trapped with them for three whole months). Maybe Bella Crawford…? No, absolutely not. He felt selfish for even thinking of her, given how the very little time she had left was dedicated to Jack.
Will sighed, rubbing his neck. That only left Margot Verger… Though polite, well-informed, articulate, and exemplary in every way, he didn't want her brother sniffing around, were she to stay with them for extended periods of time. But without Margot, who else was there? Will could never send Abigail back… She'd already pleaded with him to stay, so if he returned her to the hospital, all of his assurances would become lies. She'd never trust him again.
Will rolled his lips together. Now folding his hands in his lap, he looked up at the sky and anxiously tapped his foot. He knew it would be smart to be discreet – given Abigail's fragile state of mind, it seemed best to pretend that Margot was a friend visiting for the weekend. He scoffed at himself. All of this deception was beginning to give him a headache.
"Will?"
He paused, fidgeting as Abigail rose from the log. "I…I'm ready to go inside now."
Will nodded, relieved. Rising so he could escort her back to the cabin, he turned her lithe, shivering body against his flank and rubbed her shoulders. She seemed to need him in that moment… He felt ashamed for being pleased.