Super duper secret past revealing time.

"I lied to you," I start, his eyebrows rising ", about where I was born. I was born in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina.

I'm in the grade seven section outside with my fellow peers. It's warm outside, almost mid-June I watch as the other kids run around with happy calls to their friends on the school yard. I sat alone on the bleachers like usual, just far away enough from the school and playground to go unnoticed, which is how I liked it now. In vain, I choose this spot, hoping no one will come to disturb me now.

Four kids approach me, eyes fixated on me. I start to feel anxious. I don't like those kids. I should have played sick today, just like nearly every other day. I wish today could have been different.

"So, you dealt with these children often?" Hannibal prodded in a typical therapist fashion, but I didn't mind. If I were listening to the same story, I'd be just as curious.

"More than I'd like to admit."

The boy with red hair stops in front of me, another boy and two girls beside him. Each of their faces holds a grin.

"We've been waiting for your fat ass to move, but it doesn't look like you're going to, so we're doing it by force. Move."

What he says is nothing new. I've heard it every day for two years, since I moved to this horrible place. I sit up, though sick to my stomach, I show no fear to these kids. Perhaps I'm just used to it, or perhaps I've just trained myself not to cry in front of them anymore. But as I go to speak, I feel something beyond the sickness. It makes my fingers shake.

"I'm watching the clouds. I don't want to move." We do this almost every other day. I say no, they keep coming at me until I just walk away.

Because that's what the staff told me to do. Stand up for myself, and if that doesn't work, walk away. They'll stop sometime if you ignore them. These kids never got the memo.

"You didn't hear me, you fat freak? This is our spot." The blonde girl spits, crossing her arms.

These twelve year olds and their territorial nature baffles me. There are two sets of bleachers on the other side of the kickball field. It's because I'm here, it always has to do with me.

"No, go to those bleachers over there if you want to sit. But I'm here right now and I don't feel like moving. And stop calling me names, I don't like it." More than my fingers start to shake. I take a few deep breaths, balling my fists until my nails dig into my palms.

"Whatcha gonna do about it? Go tell the teacher?" The red headed boy grins.

"No, I'm going to beat the shit out of you." The words escape my mouth before I can register them. The kids are clearly taken back by my words, but they don't feel the weight. They don't know the sickness I feel isn't from anxiety anymore, but from anger building in my chest.

"No you wouldn't," he scoffed ", you'd get in so much shit. You wouldn't even try it, you fat faggot."

My vision blurs around the edges.

I step down from my spot on the bleachers and leap onto the kid. With my knees on his shoulders, I bring down my fists one after the other. His blood is coating my knuckles and splattering up my wrists. I don't stop… I can't stop. His hands are trying to push me off, but he never had a chance. No one has noticed the outbreak yet. I hadn't figured they would, yard duty doesn't care all too much about what goes on down here.

"When did you stop hitting him?" Hannibal crossed a leg over the other, knuckle poised under his chin.

"When I thought he stopped breathing."

The other three kids are trying to pull me off him, but I'm finished with him now. I slide back, grabbing the blonde girl and slamming him on top of the boy. I hit her stomach over and over and take my nails to her face, digging them deep into her cheek. I stand and spit in the second girls face, bringing a tight fist to her temple. I kick her in the back as she's down and turn to the final boy.

I leap on him and grip his throat just tight enough. I start screaming. The next moment, it was all over, someone on yard duty had finally noticed, pulling me off and away from the bloody children. My visions blurred more, and before I could say something was wrong, I passed out.

"My mother wasn't a lawyer, but she worked a government job, so she knew the tricks. At a meeting with the principle and the other parents, she brought up that she has been in the school on thirty seven different occasions because of those four kids who used to make fun of me, and my outburst was a nervous, rage induced break. Said if they tried to sue her or my family for damages, the responsibility would fall on the school for their inability to maintain a healthy mental and physical environment for children. The school ended up paying out of pocket, under the table, for the kid's medical bills and my therapy for four years. They wanted to avoid a public scandal."

Hannibal, who remained attentive and stoic the entire time, let his mouth fall into a small frown. He leans forward and takes a breath.

"I have to ask, Celest… did you feel remorse for what you did?"

"No," My answer is instant and very true", I didn't stop hitting that first kid until I thought he had stopped breathing. I was choking the other boy out with intentions that he would stop breathing. I hit the girl in the temple with fatal intentions. I wanted to puncture the girl's lung with those hits to the stomach. Even though I wasn't there in entirety? A part of me was conscious. I wanted to kill those children." I've said those words out loud, and I thought when I finally did, I'd cry or scream or something. But nothing happened. I honestly couldn't give a shit about those four. They're worthless to me.

Hannibal stood, and walking towards me, he grabs my hands. He pulls me up from my seat and into his warm, familiar embrace. He keeps me close for a moment, large hands placed against my back.

"Thank you for trusting me with your history. Will told me there was something that made you special, I just didn't know it was that deep." I lean back my head, giving him an odd look.

"What do you mean?

"I mean your behavior. You swear, you're easy to anger, yet civilized and beautiful in your set ways. You don't do it blindly, you became who you are systematically. It makes you different and different is very special to me." Hannibal kisses my forehead and I can't help but smile.

"I suppose it is… ever since then, my anger peaks at it gets horrible. After the therapy and we moved, I found a way to keep it tight under wraps. I didn't suppress it, I'd just go into the bathroom and punch a wall. My rage never went away, I don't think I ever wanted to either."

"Because it kept you safe from people like those children who hurt you." He caressed my face, his expression soft and caring. I think I could really get used to seeing his face more often.

"I'm glad you know," I hug him tight, his hands rubbing my back ", now can you tell me why you were so worried earlier?"

"I'd love to, I was going to if you let me come earlier. But I have another patient waiting just outside and I'm never late," He drops his head, placing a gentle kiss upon my lips ", I'll come over after this."

"Bring M and Ms," I smile softly, breaking away from his embrace ", see you soon."

As I leave, I pass a larger looking man who nods at me. I nod back and make my way to my car.

Overall, I feel content. If I learn to relax and take my time, think about what Hannibal is saying, and how I should feel about it? I think everything might be alright.

Eh. I like the flashback but the ending is awkward. Someday I'll be able to write this story well again.

xoxoPN