His mouth was dry and tasted like chemicals. He coughed and coughed and tried to spit but couldn't muster the saliva. Jesus fuck. His head felt like he'd made it ten rounds in the ring. C'mon… what the fuck is this? It was so dark he couldn't see, but he could feel the chair beneath him—neck stiff from hanging, ass and legs numb. He wondered how long he'd been out. Where the fuck am I? C'mon, c'mon what the fuck. He struggled to remember what he had been doing before. Went for a run, came home… let the dog out… running late… running late for—fuck. A meeting! Yeah—meeting… meeting with… Margo. Fucking Margo—she'd called earlier that dyke-bitch cunt!

He tested the restraints holding him to the chair, grunting in frustration. No dice. What the fuuuuuuckkkk mannn…

Paul heard a door open from what sounded like behind and above.

"Hello? Hello, who's there? C'mon… who's fucking there!?"

"Hello, Paul."

Paul knew that voice. No… nononono nooooo it fucking can't be—

Dr. Lecter flipped on the light switch and proceeded leisurely down the stairs. Paul had only seen him one time—strapped to a handcart wearing that mask—the one Mason bought for more than he made in a year.

"Are you comfortable Paul, may I offer you some water?"

"I'm f-f-fine…"

"Are you sure? You must be dying of thirst by now… just a little sip, hmm?"

Unable to form words, Paul nodded his head. Dr. Lecter uncapped a bottle of water and tilted it for him to drink. He gulped it down mightily. Dr. Lecter unfolded a metal chair opposite Paul and seated himself, clasping his hand before him. Paul swallowed hard, trying to stop himself from shaking.

"Paul I'm going to ask you a few questions. I want you to do your best to answer truthfully."

"Listen, th-they're—they're gonna come for me… let me go and I'll just—I'll just—"

"How much did you make, selling Agent Starling to Mason Verger?"

Paul shut his eyes tightly, holding back tears. "Please, I didn't—I don't know—"

Dr. Lecter brought forth a pair of garden sheers, placing them on his lap. Eyes wide, Paul stammered—his shirt drenched in sweat.

"P-p-please," he swallowed, "please just let me go, I swear I won't—"

"I won't ask again, Paul."

"Ffff-ff-fiii… no, please…"

Swift as a dancer, Dr. Lecter rose to his feet and slice the Pinky finger of Paul's hand clean off with the shears.

"Ahhhhhhhhh!… ahhhhhhh—"

Slapping a piece of duct tape over his mouth, Dr. Lecter then took his seat, waiting patiently for him to calm down.

"I'm going to remove the tape now. If you scream, I'll take a finger. If you lie, I'll take a finger. Nod if you understand."

Huffing and puffing behind the tape, Paul nodded emphatically.

"How much?"

"Ff-ffiive hundred thousand! Sh-shhe was just supposed to be bait, that's all—I-I made sure she got on the case… Mason wanted her distressed so I-I made it look like she was concealing evidence, but that's—that's it, I didn't ask, I didn't wanna know. I'm sorry I'm sorryI'm so, sooooo sorry…"

"I believe you." Dr. Lecter leaned back in the chair.

"Tell me Paul, how many women have you coerced into sex?"

"No I never, I never—"

A swift cut and Paul's ring finger fell to the floor. Dr. Lecter again waited patiently while Paul composed himself, crying ugly tears and shaking. Dr. Lecter removed the duct tape.

"T-two…"

Dr. Lecter rose—

"No no wait wait wait!… Ok," he took a deep breath, "ok.. s-s-ii…s-seven. Seven. But I never raped any of em' ok!? I just—" he licked his lips, "I just—offered em' things, y'know? I'd tell em' I could get em' this job or that office or whatever…"

Crunch- and -crunch—Dr. Lecter laced Paul's newly severed middle and pointer finger in his own, slowly turning his hand from side to side, inspecting.

"Ooookkaaaayyy! Ohhkaayy… Jesus-fuck-Chriisssttt! They were all so ambitious it was easy…I'd tell em'… I'd tell em' I'd ruin their careers if they didn't do what I wanted. I'm connected, they know I'm connected... a-and Mary! Oh god Mary… she, she slapped me in the fucking face that bitch, but I showed her the file I had on her and, and oh God… most of it wasn't even fucking true!—but sh-she wanted to make district so bad and I knew I had 'er… oh God. I-I made her suck me off in the fucking stall, man! I-I wanted to ruin her, I wanted to—Jesus Christ I'm sick, I know I am. I'll do better I'm sorry I'm sorry please I'm sorry…"

Dr. Lecter wiped the blood off the sheers using the front of Paul's shirt. "One last question, Paul." Dr. Lecter caught his eyes, pinpoints of red burring into his retinas. "Did you make unwanted sexual advances towards Agent Starling?"

Paul cried, big crocodile tears streaming down his face. "I-I never laid a hand on her. I swear I never—"

Crunch—At long last—Paul's thumb joined the others. He wailed in pain and despair; Dr. Lecter didn't bother with the tape.

"I wanted her! I wanted her", he cried, "it's true—Oh God I wanted her so bad. B-b-but she never went for it like the other sluts did. She's a hard-as-nails, backwoods bitch!" Paul was spitting and crying uncontrollably now. "But I never- I N-E-V-E-R fucked her I swear to God I never touched her. Sh-she would've kicked my ass if I tried! I swear I just put shit in her file—made it so she got passed over for promotions—that's it. That's it I never touched her please I never—I never—"

Dr. Lecter considered for a long moment, tapping the sheers against his chin, leaving a smattering of blood. "Thank you for your honesty, Paul. I think that'll be all for now." Leaving Paul to marinate in his own fluids, he walked to the sink, pouring a solution into a rag. He held it to Paul's face until he was sure he'd lost consciousness."