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Bella glanced up at her guidance counselor before pulling out the folded paper Hannibal had left on her bed. With her lack of attention to the teachers and the amount of homework she had already finished, the principal allowed her to stay with the counselor in her adjoining conference room. The large table was big enough to seat ten comfortably for dinner, and her things took up about three of those places in her makeshift barricade. She'd felt under threat since the bloody message seared itself into her mind. The worries and anxiety she had been feeling since the FBI invaded her home faded though when she saw Hannibal's script scrawled onto the loose leaf paper from her notebook.
- Do you wish that you were never caught and still living as a closeted cannibal?
While my lifestyle of running from the authorities is not easy, I do not regret being caught. For one, my life has become quite the adventure. Like you, I have never enjoyed hiding who I am or what I am. I hide myself physically now in order to blend in, but I can be my true self. While I did enjoy treating people, my patients always left me yearning for a challenge, for an equal. I have found that with your mother. If I had not been caught, the pleasure of knowing her would be lost on me. As well as with you, my little bird. Where would I be if not for your mother and you?
So, no. I do not wish that I had never been caught. My encounters with officers have been, well, rather enticing when recalling them.
- How would you feel if I were to turn to cannibalism for the thrill of it instead of just for protection?
This question requires a great deal of thought. On one hand, you and I could share another hobby in common - dining on those we deem fit to find their end. I must admit, I feared what you would be like when Clarice told me of you. Would we share anything in common? Would you shut me out for what you had heard of me? On the other hand, committing the crimes I have puts you at risk. Risk that I would never want for you. But, there may be balance. My list of crimes will not look worse if it gets longer, and I want to give my little bird anything that she desires, especially when it is something I have been doing for years. Then again, you still have yet to taste your own kind.
- Why do you call me your little bird?
The name came to me when I first saw you. I was waiting to catch a glimpse of your mother, still unaware of your existence, when I spotted you from the park down the street. Obviously, I didn't know who you were or what you were to me, but you carry an aura, if you will, of freedom. A freeness that your mother and I don't possess because of our childhood traumas. Birds are the freest animals on this planet with the ability to fly, walk, and swim. That first moment, you reminded me of a little canary. With our time together and the experiences you are navigating through, I see you growing into a hawk like the one I gave you.
The B&B I stayed in these past few days has a pair of red-tailed hawks that circle the trees at night, and they remind me of you. With glowing eyes and the red flash of feathers, they are beautiful creatures, just like you. While they flash their colors, you speak your mind without much filter, and I find it endearing on you.
Now, stay out of trouble. I'll see you tonight, even if you don't see me.
Love,
Dad
"Bella?" Bella quickly folded the paper and looked up at her guidance counselor, giving her a small smile. The older woman had her phone pressed against her ear, the speaker tilted away from her mouth to address her. "They need you in the office."
"That was quite brilliant, Clarice." Hannibal's voice, filled with pride, came through the receiver of her burner phone.
After her meeting with the board, she had gotten back in her car, grateful to have the car ride alone. She knew part of the purpose of the meeting was to get her out of the house to see if the Beer Can Killer would show back up at her house or follow her, and she didn't dare leave the burner phone at her house when an agent could be easily sent to do a sweep of her things. The phone would stay with her for the time being, and she was glad that she had it in this moment.
"Why, thank you. I have been observing the best." Clarice smirked, referring to him. "The director looked like he wanted to rip Delia a new one, and he should after she called me out like that. She basically hijacked the whole interview with her assumption that you're behind all of this." She pulled up to a stop light, glancing behind her at the car where her assigned agent was. "Have you gotten the chance to look at Will's apartment yet?"
"No, and I'm afraid I probably won't until Sunday. They finished pulling out evidence, but they have agents posted inside and outside the building. With Bella's performance tonight, my surveillance will have to wait until tomorrow." Hannibal relented as he stood on the rooftop again. He turned to look back at his computer, seeing Bella walking the halls towards the main office. "Until we find the killer, my visits cannot happen."
Clarice sighed, pressing her foot on the gas when the light turned. "Whoever it is, they know how to drain blood properly. You said you could smell old and fresh blood of Will's last night. Someone had to keep him alive long enough to get all of it."
Hannibal ran his scarred hand down his face before pinching his chin between his fingers. "I believe he has been practicing. It's a method used to keep prisoners weak, but the bleeding is stopped so torture can continue. Some prisoners faced months, even years, of torture before their bodies just gave up on them."
"You think he plans on using that on you." Clarice concluded.
"I fear he plans on using it on Bella first, then you, and then me when you both have passed." Hannibal admitted. "He wants me to suffer in the worst way possible, even if that means watching my little bird and my lamb die in front of my eyes."
"It looks like someone is wishing you good luck." The school receptionist beamed from her desk when Bella walked in. Her desk was close to the back of the room, and a counter separated her desk from the main door to her quarters. She stood, gray perm and glasses as spunky as her personality, and moved to the wrapped box and flowers on the counter. "This just came for you."
Bella tentatively picked up the bouquet of pink and white roses before seeing the white cardstock paper note tucked between them. She plucked it from the petals and opened it to find handwriting she would recognize for the rest of her life.
Break a leg, Sleeping Beauty.
She grinned before slipping the note into her pocket where the other one was stashed. She glanced back at the box before setting the flowers down to open it. Even when the receptionist gasped, Bella didn't look up from the gift. Inside was a four horse chariot jewelry box painted mostly in gold. The detail was impeccable and only something Hannibal would pick out. From the looks of it, it was modeled after the chariots of ancient Rome.
"Oh my gosh, Bella, it's gorgeous. Whoever sent this has an amazing eye."
Bella lifted the smooth gold lid of the chariot jewelry box piece. While the gold horses had feather hats designed for rings, the chariot was made to hold bracelets and smaller earrings. But, there was no jewelry inside. Only a tape.
"He's the best." Bella chuckled softly.
"Honey, do you even know what that is?" The receptionist asked, her eyebrows raised seeing the tape sitting inside the box.
Bella quickly closed the lid and gathered it back into the box it was delivered in. "Yes, I have a walkman at home. I wish I would've brought it. I didn't know this was coming today. I won't be home until late tonight too."
The receptionist watched as Bella tucked the white box under her arm and then picked up the flowers. "Who sent it to you, if you don't mind me asking?"
"My dad." Bella smirked before leaving the office. She quickly went back to the conference room where the rest of her things were, not knowing that Hannibal could see her grin from miles away.
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