Chapter 1

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She forgot about him.

Samson Tyler's mangled corpse was nailed into the back wall of the living room, pale and unmoving as a slit in his throat showed that he was drained of blood. He had every injury placed upon him by his killer that he had placed upon Saskia: His left cheek was slashed, jaw dislocated, right shoulder dislocated, left forearm broken, right leg fractured, and finally, his left ankle sprained.

Saskia sighed greatly. This just added to the day's frustrations. She dropped her bag and walked straight out of the small house and onto the porch before taking a moment to calm her racing heart.

She no longer had to worry about him at least, with him being strung and sitting on the mantle of the fireplace. Saskia wanted to smile, knowing that he had felt the same pain, the same wrenching agony that she felt when he did those injuries to her.

Sadly he would never truly feel the betrayal that she did when he first hurt her.

He was dead at the very least, after a painful death that looked like torture.

"911, what's your emergency?" The voice said from the phone after it rang for a moment.

"There's a dead body in my living room," Saskia sighed, rubbing a hand over her hairline.

"Are you sure they're dead?" This made her roll her eyes.

"Yes, please send over whoever needs to be,"

"Alright, ma'am, what's the address?"

She rattled the address out before hanging up without a word. Now it was just a waiting game until the police arrived.

At least today wouldn't be boring, how she hated boring.

Two Months Earlier.

"How is the rabbit food?" Samson mocked her Caesar salad as he destroyed his well-cooked steak with his knife and fork. He couldn't even hold them the right way round and his manners were appalling at times like these, he never cared for the moments where she criticised them.

This was one of the very few times that he suggested they go to a restaurant, he never liked them too much. He loved to see Saskia in her fancy dresses but he was annoyed that he wasn't allowed to yell at her if she displeased him here. Saskia loved restaurants of all kinds, though she had to be careful with the menus if they were foreign.

After finishing her mouthful, she said, "Adequate."

He didn't want more than a few words from her when he ate. Saskia learnt this when they had dated for a few months and they had many meals, he snapped at her for making the calm atmosphere go stiff if Saskia spoke more than ten words at any given time.

"We've been dating for two years and I still have no idea why you don't eat meat,"

"I detest the cruelty,"

"What?"

"I don't like killing animals," Saskia always failed to remember that his vocabulary wasn't up to par with her own, forcing her to make her words simpler for his brain to comprehend. She smiled softly before saying, "I prefer my animals alive and well."

He scoffed, his fork scraping against the plate as he pushed the prongs through the steak before almost dropping it while bringing it to his mouth. "Animals can't feel emotions like we can, Saskia. I've told you this before."

"Yes, Samson, and I've told you that I don't believe you," Saskia said, carefully calculating the danger she was by saying it. His cheek muscle twitched in anger before a smile came over his lips, forcing himself to remain happy and calm.

Even with the pleasant atmosphere of the restaurant, she could feel her instincts telling her to be careful, lest she feel his wrath once again. Her anger multiplied. Her annoyance tenfold when he opened his mouth without finishing the mouthful.

Disgusting.

"I know," Samson said, his hand was over hers and he gave it a harsh but subtle tug. "Dessert?"

He ordered a fancy cream dish that had a name she couldn't pronounce, but he had butchered it completely by the waiter's face. Saskia stifled her amusement before Samson could see it. She ordered a pleasant raspberry cheesecake that was much too small for her liking, she finished much too soon and was forced to resort to drinking her water.

Samson waved the waiter over again, smiling brightly in thanks as he quickly grabbed the pre-ordered champagne glasses. He shooed the waiter off rather rudely before giving her a single glass.

Saskia allowed her eyes to flicker to the ring at the bottom of the glass. It was gold with a yellow stone embedded in the band.

She didn't like gold.

They toasted and she was forced to drink the full glass before she could get to the ring. She held it between her thumb and pointer finger, looking at the shining band as the lighting made it twinkle menacingly.

Samson snatched it from her hand before he smiled even brighter, coming off his seat before settling down on one knee. The restaurant grew silent and he clutched the ring with both hands as he brought them up to the table's level.

"Saskia Alasite," He began, butchering the proper pronunciation of her name, "You've been in my life for two years, we've known each other intimately like we are soul mates. I can see myself living, growing old with you, Saskia, and I want you to have our children in the future. Will you marry me, Saskia Alasite?"

She scoffed as she sucked her teeth and finished the water glass. "You've got to be kidding me, Samson?"

"Say yes and we will be together forever,"

"If you truly knew me," Saskia said, clasping her hands together because she was so tempted to slap the smile off his face, "You would fully know that I do not like champagne, that I do not want children, that I do not like gold jewellery, or yellow gems or stone, that I do not want to be married before I decide I'm ready.

"And I'm not fucking ready, not with you, you abusive bastard!" She finally said as she stood up abruptly, grabbing her clutch from the chair. "I only come back because I know you want me. Do you think I am so easily manipulated? Co-dependent on you? Please! You want the money I was left by my grandmother, you want my looks. I don't want you, Samson Tyler. Fuck off and leave me to my life because if I see hide or hair of you near me, I will file a restraining order against you."

She knew Samson for two years, dating him for one and a half, lived with him for a single year, and she was ready to move on from his abuse. Saskia knew every abusive tactic he was using on her, always making them backfire and yet he believed that she was under his control and co-dependent on him. He just wanted the money her grandmother left Saskia upon her death.

Saskia didn't like being controlled, he soon found that out and made the arguments worse.

She threatened to leave for many months, always coming back because she knew she was wanted by him, and Saskia liked to be wanted. He tried to guilt-trip her into staying, and every time she stayed because she knew Samson would treat her like a queen for a time before going back to his old habits.

But Marriage?

Marriage was the last straw that Saskia was not prepared to pull.

Saskia made her way several states over until she hit Baltimore, and she decided to make that place her new home for now.

Present Time.

The snow had stopped a few hours ago but it was still freezing cold. Saskia was grateful for her vintage black swing coat, it was loose enough that she could wrap the blanket scarf across her torso before tying the coat closed.

Each time Saskia or anyone spoke, their breaths turned to mist as the warmth met the winter air. She pocketed her hands and kept them warm because she would rather not wear her gloves. Her nails were too long for normal gloves.

"I've been out since five this morning," Saskia said as the male officer wrote that down. She watched designated people coming in and out of her small house, thinking of how much mess and sludge she would need to clean after they brought it all in. "I walked into the house at eleven twenty-three."

"Exactly?" His eyes were wary when she said that, like she couldn't possibly know the exact moment she did something.

"On the dot," Saskia pulled the hem of her left sleeve back, checking her watch and sighed. Barely past noon and she was already tired.

At her grim expression as someone forgot to wipe their feet before going in the house, his shoulders slumped slightly before saying, "What did you do when you got in?"

"Since the front door opens to the living room, I saw him straight away,"

"Him who?"

"The corpse, you idiot!" She snapped in annoyance, the cold air was making her patience thin. This officer was incompetent at getting a decent statement, he couldn't even ask the right questions. "Saw him, dropped my bags and walked straight out to the porch again and then I called it in."

"What do you work as?" He paused as another man came onto the scene, walking quickly in before coming back out. The officer tensed before taking his gaze back to Saskia who didn't even look at him.

"Writer,"

"Figures," He muttered, almost like he was disappointed in that information.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" She turned to him, her eyes flashing with warning. She loosely crossed her arms and tapped a long black nail against her coat sleeve. Being an Author was a perfectly good career choice, paid well enough. Just because it was hard to actually make a name for yourself as a writer, did not mean it didn't have its perks.

The other man watched her snap at him, quickly waving a hand at the officer. "Micheals, stop antagonising her!"

"I'm just getting her statement," The officer, Micheals, slumped his shoulders in submission as the other man, even though he was much shorter, had a higher position of authority about him.

"Just go," The man said, watching Micheals leave with a huff before introducing himself, "Special Agent Jack Crawford."

"Saskia Alasite," She said, pronouncing it like it was an English word, before gesturing back to the house with a mocking laugh. "You've met my ex."

"Does anyone else have access to your home?"

Saskia shook her head, her loose hair flicked to lay on her shoulders. "No. Made sure all the locks were replaced before I moved in."

"And him?"

"Samson Tyler,"

"Right," He said. "We'll need to get your contact information. This isn't the first murder in the last few weeks. Are you able to find somewhere to stay during the investigation?"

"I'll get a hotel, when do you need my information?" She had already taken out her thin maroon wallet, quickly finding her matte black and purple business card.

"Now, if you don't mind," Crawford smiled as if it would make her reassured about the whole situation. "How are you feeling?"

She paused as she handed him the business card. "Me? Oh, I'm fine. Kind of relieved, kind of annoyed."

"Relieved? Why?"

"He was abusive, emotionally and physically, or he tried to be," Saskia said. "Can I go in and have a look at him? I might be able to give some insight on him, personal history with him and all."

"Sure," He said before turning to another officer. "Is Graham in there yet?"

"He's doing his…You know…" The officer said before waving a hand strangely.

"Alright. Miss Alasite, come this way," Crawford made the officers around the entrance move away as he held the yellow tape up for her to pass under it.

Since the house was small, the front door opened to the living room with the kitchen blocked off with a half wall. The stairs were to the left wall. Samson Tyler hung by his hands and shoulders which were nailed into the wall with thick, industrial nails. His legs were limp over the front of the fireplace, almost like the way the killer placed him made him look like a well-placed ornament.

She was happy to see that there wasn't any blood on her furniture, it would take a small fortune to replace most of the handmade wooden pieces and custom fabrics. Saskia was very particular about where her furniture came from, and all the sources were never cheap.

There were several people milling around his corpse, taking photos and references before even thinking of touching him. One man stood to the side, staring at the corpse as he clenched and unclenched his hands in thought.

"Will, this is Saskia Alasite, this is her house," Crawford said. "This is Agent Will Graham, criminal profiler for the FBI."

He remained silent before he dragged his eyes from the corpse to her eyes for a second, then they flickered to the ground where a water bowl sat by a wall. He had a sort of lost but deranged look in his eyes, the type that could sway this way or that. Saskia remembered when she had first seen that look on someone that wasn't herself, very strange to see the slight insanity that was held together tightly by one's own will.

"Do you, do you have a dog? Most likely large by the size of the bowl," Will Graham said, turning his head to the front door. "Where are they?"

"We had people check upstairs, we didn't find any dogs," Jack Crawford mentioned, stepping forward a foot. "A room was locked but you mentioned that it should be locked, we left it alone."

"Countess, come down, sweetheart," Saskia voiced, gaining strange looks from the people around her. There was a large thud upstairs and she smiled, knowing she had just jumped from her hiding spot. "She likes to hide."

There was another large thud as Countess leapt from the top of the stairs before trotting to sit by her feet. She was pitch black with unnatural silver eyes, save for her white paws and the tip of her fluffy tail, her head reached Saskia's lower hip as the canine sat. She panted as everyone looked at her like she was a big surprise, which she was, Saskia would give them that.

"May I?" Will Graham asked, gesturing to her.

"Yes. Countess, no biting," Saskia warned her as she looked at Samson's corpse once again. "Each of those injuries, jaw, shoulder, leg, every single one, had been done to me. But these have been exaggerated…"

Each injury was much deeper and done harsher than Samson would ever be able to. The broken bones were forced out of the place and broke the skin. The slash on his cheek was so deep that it showed the inside of his mouth at times.

"Who did them to you?" Graham said, his eyes flickering to Saskia's left cheek where the slash had completely healed and left a barely-there scar. It made her slightly self continuous but she ignored it.

"Oh, Samson did," Saskia didn't flinch when Countess growled softly, shifting her paws. She gave her ears a rub as Countess stopped and poked her muzzle into Saskia's palm.

"Countess doesn't like him," Graham said and got up to look at the corpse again.

"Last time Samson was here, he was trying to force me to go back with him and he kicked her. Countess nor I will be content with abuse," Saskia mumbled before raising her voice so the people would hear her. "You'll find dog bites on his left hand if you look carefully."

"Yeah, single set of dog bites," One of the people called out after checking for them.

"You're taking the death of an Ex well. Are you not still attached to him?"

Saskia scoffed. "God no. That bastard was abusive and he had this coming. And no, before you ask, I did not kill him. I would have done worse, for one, and I wouldn't have left it in my own living room, Crawford. The force that would have taken me to break his limbs would be almost impossible for me to do."

"How long has he been dead?"

"At least a few hours, between seven and eight I say. He's been drained of blood completely," One of the investigators said, pulling slightly at the slash.

"Alright," Saskia mumbled. "Can I get a bag from upstairs if I'm not allowed to stay here?"

"Yeah, sure," Crawford said. "Will, stay down here and make sure that the dog doesn't contaminate the scene."

Countess made a sound of disapproval that made her smile. Crawford followed her upstairs. Saskia untucked the key from her pocket and unlocked the door while Crawford made a face of interest.

"What?" Saskia said. When her hand felt the warmth on the handle, she stilled.

"What's wrong?"

"Someone's been in my bedroom," Saskia said before abruptly opening the door. As a gunshot rang in the room, her instincts told her to move and so she stepped back. Crawford had his gun out as soon as he was able to. He aimed into the room before going in.

"Hands up!"

"Saskia, Saskia, Saskia…"

She dreaded hearing that voice again. Saskia had thought she left him in England two and a half years ago when she moved to the states. She wasn't that lucky but she preferred him over Samson.

"That better not be you, Liam," She said with her back against the wall.

"Why don't you come in and see for yourself?"

"Stay put, Alasite,"

"He will shoot you dead before you could pull that trigger," Saskia said as she stood in the doorway. "Ex sniper. What are you doing here? I've told you not to come like four times."

Liam tutted.

"Since when did I ever listen?" Liam's smile was crooked, wrong, it made her hair stand on their ends. He held his hands up with his own gun pointed to his head. "Whatever shall I do? You? You? You? Or you?"

With each word, he twisted the gun to point at random things. He made Crawford go tense because he didn't know when Liam would shoot.

"You don't have to thank me, Saskia. Samson is no longer a problem,"

His smile twitched and Saskia could count the second before he pressed the trigger. It had been pointed at her but she knew from where he stood, he angled it so it would hit several inches above her head.

Her face was blank as Crawford shot him in the chest twice, somehow one hit the vein on his neck, making the blood splatter forward. She flinched as the blooded landed onto her torso but the black coat hid most of it. He slumped to the floor before completely dropping the gun. Crawford pulled the pistol away before he tried to stop the bleeding on his neck.

"What a shitty day," Saskia grumbled as she stormed down the stairs before going for the liquor cabinet. She poured herself a whiskey while she waited for Liam to die, the wound to his chest would make his lungs fill with blood and the neck wound would kill him within the next few minutes.

Crawford came down after calling the medics upstairs. "He's been announced dead. Are you alright?"

Saskia shrugged. She finished the glass before pouring another, nursing this one. "He wouldn't have hit me, his aim is remarkable. It's his own fault he's dead."

"You should have listened,"

"You don't—didn't know Liam. I've known him since I was nine, we went to the same school in England," She held the glass against her cheek to feel the cold liquid. "He wouldn't have hit me, I can assure you of that. Our game would have been over too soon."

"Jack," A calm, accented voice said. It made her pause as a well-dressed man came past the officers without a worry. "I heard gunshots and saw the medics come in. Is everyone alright?"

"Yeah, another body upstairs. He threatened to shoot and then aimed at Alasite, he had to be brought down," Crawford rubbed his hands clean with a towel one of the medics gave him. "Doctor Lecter, this is Saskia Alasite, this is her house. Miss Alasite, this is Doctor Hannibal Lecter, a Psychiatrist and criminal profiler."

Doctor Lecter gave her a once over before his eyebrow twitched and he said, "Jack, are you sure she should be in here?"

"Oh, I'm fine. Dandy really, annoyed that my bedroom is covered in blood but that can't be helped." She waved his assumption of her being affected negatively. "Samson Tyler, thirty-two, lived in Dallas, Texas until now I guess. The one upstairs is Liam Osborn, twenty-nine, lived in England. I didn't realise he followed me across the pond."

"You're English?"

"Just raised there," She finished the glass. "When will this mess be gone? Or will you still need to do an investigation about this kill because it might be linked to the other ones?"

"I suggest you get a room at a hotel for the night, at least," Crawford moved his cheek in a way that indicated annoyance. "Now, we need to get your official statement and everything at the Bureau."

"Like now?" She whined.

"Is there a problem?"

Saskia checked her watch, "I haven't slept in twenty-two hours and twelve minutes, and I'm craving a coffee."

"Twenty-two?"

"I can go two days without sleep, easily. Can I make a coffee before I go?"

"Sure, the kitchen has been done and we found nothing. Hannibal, can you take her while I speak to Will?"

"Of course," Doctor Lecter said as she turned around to walk into the adjoining kitchen. The coffee machine began to clean itself as soon as Saskiapressed the button. "Is that dress McQueen, Miss Alasite?"

"Yes, and your suit is Westwood if I'm correct," She pressed the button for a single cup and listened as the machine began to grind the coffee beans. She realised that someone was about to touch the cabinet that held her books when she heard the familiar creak. "If you so much as touch those, I will force you out of my house. Back up!"

The Asian woman froze and backed away with a glance to Crawford. "Why?"

"That little box—" Saskia gestured to the reinforced silver box as she picked it up. "—Is not to be touched. It has the final copies of my books in it."

"You're an author?"

"Yes, this has the second, and third and final instalments of my series," She unlocked it and checked if the two volumes were there. Saskia sighed with relief, both of them were there and they were still in their sealed containers. "You can do the rest of the bookcase but this is coming with me."

"What book series?"

"Murder With Miscreants," She said proudly.

"Oh, you're Syn!" Beverly Katz gasped as she gestured to the group near her. "We've all read it. We've debated if you were an actual killer since everything about the murders and investigations were soo accurate. I hope we were wrong." She grinned.

"No, not a killer," Saskia smiled with good humour, relocking the box before pulling it under her arm. "Just good with research. I'll make my coffee before going on the porch, Mr Crawford. I'll stay out of the way but I'm not leaving you all here."

The coffee was still hot as Saskia pulled the cup away from the machine, not realising the liquid was several shades redder than normal. She would need to get a better filter for the machine. Saskia poured the full-fat milk and sugar in before turning the machine off and watching it clean itself.

She sipped the coffee, expecting the sugar and bitter flavour to coat her tongue but it was much more metallic. Saskia tried it again, still too metallic. The cup was back on the counter as she pulled the water holder from the back of the coffee machine to check it. Perhaps the water had been contaminated by something?

"Well," Saskia announced, clicking her tongue. She turned, holding the water holder which held a litre or two of bright red blood away from her white dress and black coat. "Found his blood!"

She didn't know why she smiled but it was probably in shock. Saskia had expected to see the normal water, not a bloody mess but she quickly recovered with a somewhat amused smile.

One of the crime scene investigators, a man ran up to her and grabbed the almost dripping container of blood. Saskia wiped her mouth with the back of her dry hand, still tasting the familiar flavour of blood on her tongue.

"I fucking hate you, Liam," She muttered, handing her ruined coffee off to one of them. Saskia leaned against the counter for a moment before her knuckles could pop out of place with how firm her grip was. "You ruined my bedroom and now ruined my coffee, you're lucky you're dead already."

Saskia sashayed straight out of the house and sat down on the cold bench beneath one of the windows. Countess laid by her feet, relishing in the winter air which ruffled her fur nicely. Saskia's vision unfocused as she tapped a tune with her fingers against the icy metal arm, trying to comprehend everything and get her mind back into working order.

Her bedroom was splattered with Liam's blood, his corpse freshly removed. Her living room was polluted with Samson's body. Her coffee machine tainted with his blood. What was next? They both were lucky that they hadn't ruined the volumes or she would drag them both back from Hell to kill them again.

Saskia Alasite would find a way to kill them twice.

Doctor Lecter's voice made her eyes refocus as she turned to the man with a blank face. His own held a warm smile as he lifted a damp towel and a glass of water to hand them to her.

"I heard that you were sprayed with blood," He said, "And I don't think many people would like to drink a bloody coffee."

"Thank you," Saskia took both, wiping her neck clean of the small specks of blood before wiping her lips as she forced herself to grimace. "I'd prefer the bloody coffee to their bodies in my house. Especially the bastard's."

"And which one would be that?" He said before gesturing to the bench. "May I?"

She nodded faintly. "Samson Tyler."

"Ah, he was the one strung up, correct?" Doctor Lecter stiffly sat down next to her, watching her eyes as she looked out into the streets.

"Yes," Saskia tapped the brass arm of the bench in thought.

"Do you have any idea why?"

"Liam, the one that died upstairs just before you came in, I knew him since I was young. He advised me not to date Samson but I didn't listen," She wished she had. "Perhaps he was jealous, perhaps he was looking out for me and my wellbeing, perhaps his own. Liam was always angry at me for not leaving Samson when I got injured."

"You were injured?"

"I think Graham could see the scar on my cheek," She mumbled, gently touching the almost nonexistent mark on her left cheekbone. "His gaze kept coming back to me when he looked at the corpse, almost trying to see if Samson's injuries matched mine since I said that was what the killer did. Liam was always a little violent."

"How do you know Liam killed Samson?"

Saskia gave him a look, turning her head to stare at him through her lashes before staring back at Countess. "Crawford gave me permission to go and get some clothes, he followed me up. I was about to open the door but I could tell that someone was in there."

"How?"

"The handle was warm,"

"Yes, I saw that you had handles instead of knobs. Why is that?"

"Practicality. It's what I'm used to, I usually have my hands full and a knob is hard to turn if my hands aren't free," Saskia straightened her back. "Say, are you trying to see if I have the capability of killing Samson Tyler?"

"Should I be?" He tried to humour her.

"You are a psychiatrist and employed by the FBI. I would have done it if he threatened me again, self-defence only of course," Saskia then smiled lightly, allowing it to grace her face. "I don't look good in orange."

They turned silent as Saskia began to drink the glass of water, washing the bitter but sugary blood from her mouth. The snow began to fall again as she was able to finally wrap her head around everything.

"My life is a fucking mess," Saskia whispered with a grumble.

"I wouldn't say that,"

"First, my ex-boyfriend is hung up like a trophy above my fireplace, my childhood friend breaks into my locked bedroom and gets killed because he shot at me, and then someone put fucking blood into my coffee machine which I will be forced to bin because it probably ruined the inner-workings," Her voice was laced with disdain as she finished the water. "My whole house is a crime scene and I haven't slept in more than twenty-two and a half hours."

"Just a bad day," He said. "A very bad day."

"Hannibal." Graham's voice was blank.

The man turned to him and Graham shook his head. Lecter stood up and dusted himself off before giving Saskia a smile and walking back inside with a small, "Excuse me."

Saskia nodded her acknowledgement and pulled her phone out. She would need to find a pet-friendly hotel nearby, and then she would need to get her laptop charger and some of Countess' treats and toys. The mutt, mixed of several large dog breeds which had fluffy fur, would be extremely unpleasant if she wasn't entertained properly.

She had to choose a new dress to wear for the art gallery tonight, the one she had chosen had been placed on the bed. Saskia doubted she would be able to get the blood out of the soft blue fabric, and there wasn't time to have another copy of the dress shipped over.

It didn't matter to her, Saskia Alasite knew she would look amazing in anything she wore. She was vain enough to admit it.

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