Alisha Larkson sat in Dr Hannibal Lecter's waiting room, idly leafing
through a magazine. This was her first session with Dr Lecter and she was
very nervous about meeting him. She had read some of his work and was sure
that the critics were right, he was the best.
Alisha is tall, thin and quite attractive. Her age cannot be determined by her looks. She could be anywhere between fifteen and thirty, though her gaze gives the impression of great wisdom and age. She has long black hair to her waist, pulled back into a braid, porcelain skin and perfectly shaped lips. Her eyes, however, are what draw the most attention. Framed by long, dark eyelashes, they are usually hazel with a hint of green, but when her mood changes they become brown, dark green and even yellow. Alisha rarely pays attention to her looks and she has never considered herself very attractive. She doesn't wear make up and therefore sports the 'natural' look, by no intention of course.
She picked up another magazine and scanned through the contents (Get her look! - Elizabeth Taylor, I fell in love with an axe murderer, Queen Elizabeth in France!, Celebrity looks; before and after plastic surgery!) Yeah, yeah, she thought, who really cares anyway? She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes.
Dr Lecter opened the door to the waiting room. "Ms Larkson?" he questioned, looking at her.
Alisha opened her eyes and sat up. Immediately she was caught in his gaze. His maroon eyes bore into hers, trying to read her every thought. She felt flustered and didn't trust her voice. She swallowed and said "Yes, that's me." The doctor smiled, "Please come through."
She got up and walked into the session room. "Sit wherever you feel comfortable." He said. She sat down in one of the chairs and looked out of the window. "You have a very nice view." She wasn't sure what to say, but she didn't want her nervousness showing. Somehow, though, she felt that the doctor had sensed her anxiousness. Alisha had only known this man for less than a minute and she already had the feeling that he had a sixth sense about these things.
Dr Lecter smiled again. "Please try to relax, I won't bite."
She laughed nervously and settled back into the comfort of the chair.
"Now, Ms Larkson, have you had therapy sessions before?"
"No, this is my first time and please call me Alisha."
"Of course. Now, what made you decide to begin therapy?"
"Well," she paused "I felt I needed someone to talk to. Someone who might understand me better than most people. I mean I know it sounds stupid, but I don't have that many friends. Most people think I'm weird and very different from them, so they avoid me. I always feel like there are so many things I want to get off my chest, but I don't know who to talk to." Alisha sighed. "I don't know, I just feel really confused sometimes."
Dr Lecter held her in his gaze. His eyes seemed to bore into hers, as if he was searching for answers behind them. Alisha felt uneasy, but didn't show it as she stared back, unblinking and holding his gaze.
After a minute Dr Lecter realised he must break the silence. "I see. is there anything in particular you would like to talk about today. Anything bothering you?"
She laughed, "Besides for the fact that my life seems to be going down the drain at the moment? No, there isn't Doctor."
She sunk back into her chair and closed her eyes. After a minute she slowly opened them and looked at Dr Lecter. "What's the date?" she asked quietly.
"Saturday, the twenty-second of September."
"The Wound Man was found ten days ago." she murmured, almost two quietly for Dr Lecter to hear.
He sat up, he hoped he had heard her wrong. "I beg your pardon?"
"The Wound Man," she said again, louder this time, "he was found ten days ago. The next three were killed during the following nine days."
Dr Lecter felt his heart beat a little faster. Calm down he told himself, she's probably just disturbed by the murders, she couldn't possibly know it's you, calm down. He took a deep breath and said; "Would you like to discuss the murders? Are you frightened that you might be one of the next victims?"
Alisha closed her eyes and put her head in her hands. Slowly she looked up. "May I ask you a question?"
He swallowed, "Yes, of course."
She sat up straight and looked deeply into his eyes, "Would you be willing to sacrifice eight years of your life, if, in return, you met your soulmate?"
Alisha is tall, thin and quite attractive. Her age cannot be determined by her looks. She could be anywhere between fifteen and thirty, though her gaze gives the impression of great wisdom and age. She has long black hair to her waist, pulled back into a braid, porcelain skin and perfectly shaped lips. Her eyes, however, are what draw the most attention. Framed by long, dark eyelashes, they are usually hazel with a hint of green, but when her mood changes they become brown, dark green and even yellow. Alisha rarely pays attention to her looks and she has never considered herself very attractive. She doesn't wear make up and therefore sports the 'natural' look, by no intention of course.
She picked up another magazine and scanned through the contents (Get her look! - Elizabeth Taylor, I fell in love with an axe murderer, Queen Elizabeth in France!, Celebrity looks; before and after plastic surgery!) Yeah, yeah, she thought, who really cares anyway? She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes.
Dr Lecter opened the door to the waiting room. "Ms Larkson?" he questioned, looking at her.
Alisha opened her eyes and sat up. Immediately she was caught in his gaze. His maroon eyes bore into hers, trying to read her every thought. She felt flustered and didn't trust her voice. She swallowed and said "Yes, that's me." The doctor smiled, "Please come through."
She got up and walked into the session room. "Sit wherever you feel comfortable." He said. She sat down in one of the chairs and looked out of the window. "You have a very nice view." She wasn't sure what to say, but she didn't want her nervousness showing. Somehow, though, she felt that the doctor had sensed her anxiousness. Alisha had only known this man for less than a minute and she already had the feeling that he had a sixth sense about these things.
Dr Lecter smiled again. "Please try to relax, I won't bite."
She laughed nervously and settled back into the comfort of the chair.
"Now, Ms Larkson, have you had therapy sessions before?"
"No, this is my first time and please call me Alisha."
"Of course. Now, what made you decide to begin therapy?"
"Well," she paused "I felt I needed someone to talk to. Someone who might understand me better than most people. I mean I know it sounds stupid, but I don't have that many friends. Most people think I'm weird and very different from them, so they avoid me. I always feel like there are so many things I want to get off my chest, but I don't know who to talk to." Alisha sighed. "I don't know, I just feel really confused sometimes."
Dr Lecter held her in his gaze. His eyes seemed to bore into hers, as if he was searching for answers behind them. Alisha felt uneasy, but didn't show it as she stared back, unblinking and holding his gaze.
After a minute Dr Lecter realised he must break the silence. "I see. is there anything in particular you would like to talk about today. Anything bothering you?"
She laughed, "Besides for the fact that my life seems to be going down the drain at the moment? No, there isn't Doctor."
She sunk back into her chair and closed her eyes. After a minute she slowly opened them and looked at Dr Lecter. "What's the date?" she asked quietly.
"Saturday, the twenty-second of September."
"The Wound Man was found ten days ago." she murmured, almost two quietly for Dr Lecter to hear.
He sat up, he hoped he had heard her wrong. "I beg your pardon?"
"The Wound Man," she said again, louder this time, "he was found ten days ago. The next three were killed during the following nine days."
Dr Lecter felt his heart beat a little faster. Calm down he told himself, she's probably just disturbed by the murders, she couldn't possibly know it's you, calm down. He took a deep breath and said; "Would you like to discuss the murders? Are you frightened that you might be one of the next victims?"
Alisha closed her eyes and put her head in her hands. Slowly she looked up. "May I ask you a question?"
He swallowed, "Yes, of course."
She sat up straight and looked deeply into his eyes, "Would you be willing to sacrifice eight years of your life, if, in return, you met your soulmate?"