Empty Cell

By: Tenshi Chupip

Angela Harper walked swiftly next to the prison orderly down the stone stairs. She hadn't known what to expect when she agreed to this visit, but Angela hadn't been thinking about much when she'd first read Chris' letter. She just wanted to see him no matter how much everyone else protested. He was still her brother.

"You're pretty brave for comin' down here," the orderly said. "I dunno many twelve year olds who would want to be in a place like this no matter who was down there."

"He's my brother," Angela replied. "He's all I have."

"You have your parents."

"Foster parents," she corrected coldly. "They don't count."

"At least you have them," he said.

"Yeah, right," Angela muttered.

She didn't have anyone but Chris. Her foster parents were simple to understand. You don't bother them, they don't bother you. Not that she wanted anything to do with them in the first place. They were decent enough people but she knew five year olds who were brighter than those two. Besides, they weren't her family.

"You really are something else, Kid," the orderly said. "If I had a brother like that I'd tell the courts to lock him up and throw away the key."

"Then it is lucky that you don't have a brother like that," Angela said even colder. "Even murders and psychopaths need a little bit of kindness from those that they loved. Not all murders are cold blooded."

"You are something else, Kid," the orderly shook his head. "Really something else."

Angela ignored him and kept walking down the stairs. She knew that she wasn't like other kids her age and she took pride in that thank you kindly. Their main goal in life was to see who could burp the alphabet, who had the latest high tech toy or fashions, but she had no use for such foolishness. Sure computers and CD players were useful but she abhorred useless TV and video games gave her a headache. The Xbox was a complete mystery to her.

Most girls her age were starting to become more aware and slightly obsessed with bodies. Hair, cloths and make up were of to priority to them, not to Angela. She hated make up, her pale curly blond hair never gave her any problems and rather then hip huggers and tanks tops Angela preferred dresses or pleaded skirts with blouses and black dress shoes. Only when she was exercising did she wear pants of any kind and tennis shoes. She laughed to herself recalling an incident where she over heard some of her class mates talking about how much older and mature they looked dressing like that. Angela had laughed herself sick that day. Running around looking like a two dollar whore at 12 was not what she would call appearing mature. She said they looked like they were willing to jump on the back of a Harley and ride off to screw eight or nine people; those girls didn't talk to her anymore. Not that she cared.

Her love of drawing showed through her work, it was quite good. She spent most of her time reading and boy bands made her sick. She enjoyed being overly mature for her age and not only spoke like an adult but tended to act like one to. A trip to the opera made for a perfect night and while Angela was reading classics such as Shakespeare and Homer, other kids where reading Cat in the Hat. Angela had laughed at her foster mother when she tried to get her to play Barbies or tea party.

"Alright, Kid..."

Angela glared. If there was one thing in the world that she hated the most it was being called "kid". This was now the third time he had called her that, but whiles this man was an absolute idiot he was still an adult, and she would be as respectful as possible.

"Just go through this door," the orderly said. "The guys on the other side will show you what to do and where to go. Alright?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Good luck, Kid."

"Good-bye," Angela glared at the man again as he went back up the stairs. Four times. She grabbed the door handle, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

Timidly stepping into the small observation room, all eyes automatically turned to her. Obviously not many people came down here, let alone young girls.

"You must be Angela, Chris' little sister," smiled one of the new orderlies, extending his hand, which was huge and completely devoured hers. "How do you do?"

"Fine, thank you, Mr..."

"Just call me Barney."

"Barney."

"I'll hang your coat up for you," Barney helped Angela take off her coat and put it on one of the near by hooks.

"Thank you," Angela said.

"We don't usually get visitors down here," Barney said, returning to her. "Let alone ones so young. How old are you?"

"Twelve," she replied.

"Only twelve?" Barney said. "And you're not scared of this place?"

"It's just a prison ward," Angela said.

"But you're not scared?"

"Should I be?"

"Most people are," Barney said.

"I am not most people" Angela said very matter-of-factly.

"I can see that," Barney said with a chuckle. "Well I'm glad you've come. We don't get a lot of visitors, except for detectives and suck. Usually when someone gets sent down here their family abandons them completely. They forget that these men are sick, not dead."

Angela looked at Barney with a great amount of reverence. She liked him. He was treating her with respect and really knew what he was talking about. That was a nice change of pace. Most people just thought she was strange and ignored her intelligence.

"But I have to warn you," Barney continued. "The men in there haven't seen a girl, let alone a young one, in a long time so a word of caution, Angela; do not get close to the any of those cells. Stay to the far right, next to the wall. I've set out a chair for you in front of Chris' cell. I know he's your brother and all but I don't want you near those bars, got it?

"Yes."

"Would you like me to walk down with you?"

"No, thank you," Angela said politely. "I'll be fine."

"Ok, I'll be right here if you need anything, just call my name and I'll be there in a flash," he said. "Alright, Angela?"

She nodded and Barney pushed the button for the sliding door to open.

"Oh and Angela, one more thing," Barney said just as Angela started to go through. "Try and avoid talking to the man at the end next to Chris."

"Why?" Angela asked. "Who is he?"

"Dr. Hannibal Lecter."

"Hannibal Lecter? The Dr. Lecter? Hannibal the Cannibal?" Angela's voice held a strange amount of excitement. "I've read his articles in the Psychology magazine I get. He's a genius!"

"Yeah a genius who just happens to be our most dangerous inmate. He… wait…" Barney stopped and a strange expression crossed his face. "Psychology magazines?"

"I like to read...a lot," Angela smiled sheepishly.

"Why do I have a feeling you're gonna be at Harvard before you even get acne?" Barney laughed. "If Dr. Lecter speaks to you, be polite but don't get into a conversation with him. He can be charming when he wants to be, but is still very, very dangerous, and not always kind with words. One doctor came down here to try and analyze him, and Dr. Lecter sent him away crying. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Alright, go on."

Angela stepped into the stony and windowless hallway. She took a deep breath and walked along the edge of the wall, not daring to look at any of the other inmates. She kept her eyes firmly planted on the chair near the end of the hall. When she started hearing cat calls from some of the cells she began walking faster. Finally reaching it Angela sat down in the chair and stared into the brightly lit cell. A young man with wild blond hair and piercing green eyes reclined on the bed inside. His eyes quickly shifted to Angela and he a big smile crossed his barmy face.

"Angie!" he exclaimed, jumping off the bed and rushing to the bars. "My Angie Angel! Come here and give big brother a hug."

"Sorry, Chris," Angela shifted in the chair. "I would, but Barney told my I can't get near the bars."

"Ah yes, and we must always do as Mister Barney says, mustn't we, Angie," Chris said, leaning on the bars. One arm extended through the bars but the other cupped the side of his mouth like he was telling a secret. "Because if we want to go to heaven to be with Jesus we have to do what we're told and be very good, don't we?"

"Yes, Chris, of course," Angela said. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too, Angie," Chris said. "I've missed you very much. Do you know what? They don't pray before having dinner here! Isn't that awful! Jesus must be very angry at them. If I could I would punish them for being so bad but I am stuck in here. Oh well. They will pay in their own time. God will make them pay for being so naughty"

Angela shifted uncomfortably in her chair again. She didn't like it when Chris stared ranting about God. She looked up at the security camera that looked straight back at her. Angela felt safe knowing Barney was watching.

"Now Angie, look at me," Chris said sternly. "Are you going to church mass every Sunday? And be honest. Jesus is listening."

"Yes, Chris." It was true. He foster parents were firm Catholics. She specifically requested that because she knew that was what Chris wanted.

"That's my girl," Chris beamed down at her. "At least our parents didn't contaminate you with their evil. Luckily I stamped that out. I got you out of there just in time didn't I?"

"Yes you did."

"And as soon as I get out I'll take you away so we can pray together all the time," Chris said, dancing around a bit. "Won't that be wonderful, Angie?"

"Of course, Chris," Angela said softly. "I'd like that very much."

"I knew you would," he smiled again.

Angela suddenly heard the sliding door open and turned to see Barney and another orderly walking towards her; Uh oh. Had she do something wrong? The look on Barney's face told her that she hadn't.

"I am really sorry about this, Angela," Barney said, "I completely forgot that it's Chris' day to go see the clinic's psychiatrist so I'm gonna have to cut this visit short. I tried to get them to give you more time but..."

"Oh it's ok," Angela said, standing up. "Sorry, Chris, I guess I have to go."

"It's ok, Angie," Chris said. "We'll pick this up later. You'll come back and see me again won't you?"

"Of course," she said.

"Alright, Chris," Barney said, pulling out his keys and unlocking the cell. "No funny stuff. I don't want to have to take you down in front of your little sister."

"I'll be good," Chris said, innocently. "I don't want to be a bad example for Angie."

"It's a little late for that, you freak," the other orderly snapped. "Arms out, Harper."

"You could stand to be a little bit more polite, Jones," Barney hissed at him, fixing Chris into the straight jacket he had brought with him. "Not just for Chris' sake, but for Angela's."

"You should to be nicer, Mr. Jones," Chris cooed. "Don't let Angie see you be mean. She might pick up your bad habits."

"Whatever," Jones fashioned the straight jacket and began leading Chris out of the cell. "Move it, Harper."

"Wait just a second," Angela said, looking up at Barney's towering figure. "Since he has that jacket on, can I give him a hug?"

Barney looked a little hesitant but nodded when he saw the pleading look on Angela's young face. Jones rolled his eyes but Chris beamed. Angela wrapped her arms around Chris' jacketed body and squeezed him tight. Chris quickly bent down and pecked her on the cheek before Barney or Jones could object.

"You be a good girl now, Angie, Jesus is watching," Chris called, as Jones lead him away. "I love you, Angie."

"I love you too, Chris," she called.

"Are you alright, Angela?" Barney asked, placing his hand on her shoulder.

"Yes, I'm fine," she replied.

"I should go help Jones take Chris upstairs, would you mind bringing that chair out?"

"Sure," she said.

"Do you want me to wait with you?"

"No thank you, I'll be fine."

Barney smiled, patted Angela's shoulder and proceeded down the hall towards Jones and Chris. Angela began trying to fold the chair up. It was old so it didn't want to cooperate.

"You are quite the actress, my dear," called a raspy metallic voice.

Angela's body snapped straight up. She didn't recognize the voice but it was coming from the next cell; Hannibal Lecter's cell.

"I applaud your performance, Ms..."

"Harper," Angela said, stepping to where she could see him. "Angela Marie Harper."

What Angela saw convinced her that paradoxes truly existed. She had seen pictures of Dr. Lecter in the papers but they were always of him looking deranged with blood covering his face or something of that sort, but the man standing in there reflected near nothing of that image. While he didn't exactly look like a cuddly old grandfather who gives out candy and presents, he stood there in the center of his cell with a sense of dignity that was quite rare for anyone of any age.

Angela's sharp dark brown eyes scanned the scene. His cell was not like the others. There were no bars, but a thick piece of plate glass with air holes stretched across the cell and an interesting looking drawer stuck out on the far right. Behind the glass Angela could see the fine lines on his face and his smooth sleek hair. His dark maroon eyes had a flash of surprise at Angela's appearance but it disappeared and quickly as it had come. Obviously he had expected someone older. People usually did.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Lecter," Angela said, curtsying to him slightly. "How do you do?"

"So polite for one so young," Lecter said, sounding slightly impressed. "I must be honest, Ms. Harper, hearing the way you spoke I expected..."

"Someone older?" Angela said.

"How old are you?"

"Twelve."

"My, my, only twelve?" Lecter chuckled. "And yet you speak like one of a hundred. You apparently know who I am, but you do not seem afraid. Why is that?"

"When you go to the zoo are you afraid of the cobra behind the glass?" Angela asked.

"A cobra, am I? Well, perhaps so," Lecter chuckled again. "So you think of this place as a zoo do you?"

"I apologize, I meant it as a metaphor," Angela said simply. "I know who you are and what you have done. But you are in there, I am out here. If it were differently I'm sure I would probably be concerned."

"But not afraid?"

"Fear is a useless emotion."

"You don't fear anything?" Lecter smirked. "Not even death?"

"No," Angela said bluntly. "It would probably be a welcomed relief."

"I see," Lecter walked towards the glass. "Those are big words for such a young child but I see that you tell the truth and bluntly so, for that I thank you. Honesty is so difficult to find among the young now a days."

"Honesty is difficult to come by anyone now a days, Dr. Lecter."

"Touché."

"If I am ask a question…"

"Proceed."

"Why were you ready to applaud my so called performance just now?" Angela asked.

"I appall liars, but do enjoy a good performance now and then," Lecter said mockingly. "Your conversation seemed like a performance. Not many people would want to go live with a psychopath after they are released, if they ever are."

"I am not most people, Dr. Lecter."

"I gathered that."

"Chris is very different, I won't deny that, but so am I," Angela said.

"Different?" Lecter laughed out loud. The metallic raspy sound echoed through the hall. "Being different would be wearing neon green to a black and white affair, your dear brother not different, little one, he is very much a sick man."

"And of course this you know form being right next to him you have undoubtedly heard him ranting in the middle of the night about God," Angela said.

"That and more, Little Angle," he smirked, showing off his pointed teeth. "I know that five years ago your brother decides to slaughter your mother, father, and two other brothers in their sleep. Then he nails their limp lifeless bodies to crosses that he made so that they would pay for their "sins" the same way Christ did. He slit them open and let their organs slide out, just like the apostle Paul. Then he sat there and prayed for their souls until the next day. You came home from a slumber party but Chris told you that everyone had gone on a trip. Being so young you obviously didn't question your dear big brother's story. The police came a week later when the smell of rotting flesh had seeped in to neighborhood for everyone to enjoy. And this you call just being different? My young friend, this by no logical reasoning can be considered merely described as just being different."

"I suppose I under estimated the depth of your conversations with my brother," she said.

"Not much to do in here but think and talk with fellow inmates," Lecter said. "Young Chris is closest to my cell, and while he is still very disturbed, he is less of a lunatic then the others if that gives you any comfort at all."

"It does," Angela said. "Thank you."

"You hold a lot of hope for his recovery, don't you?"

"Yes."

"And you want to go live with him?"

"He is my brother," Angela said. "It's my duty to take care of him if he is ever released."

"A child of twelve taking care of a grown, deranged man?"

"Clara Barton did it. Why couldn't I?" she said. "Besides, I'll be well of age by the time someone even considers letting him out."

"Very true," Lecter said. "Aren't you worried that if he comes to stay with you that he'll kill you too?"

"No."

"That is interesting," he chuckled. "Something that I have pondered though, why did he not murder you?" Lecter asked a mocking gleam sparked in his maroon eyes. "There must be a reason. He had plenty of opportunities from the time you returned from your little slumber party till the time the police showed up. Is it because he wanted to keep you around to perform inappropriate tasks? Did he want you sexually? He must of. You are a very pretty little child."

"Chris has never touched me nor will he ever," Angela said, firmly.

"Then tell me, little Harper," Lecter mocked. "Why are you still alive while your family is now worm food? Was it because you were just so darn adorable fast asleep in you bed with you thumb in your mouth and your Disney princess pajamas on that he couldn't stand the thought of hurting you? Why didn't big brother rip your organs out and hang you on a cross?"

"Because of my name," Angela replied.

"Your name?" Lecter looked intrigued.

"Because of what my name means."

"And what does it mean?"

Angela knew he was just toying with her, it wasn't hard to figure about especially with someone of his intelligence but she decided to humor him none the less, "The bitter angel."

"I see," Lecter said. "How appropriate."

"As I'm sure you can tell, Doctor, Chris is a religious fanatic," Angela said. "He didn't kill me because he thinks that just because my name means "Angel" that I am one. And he feels that it is an ultimate sin to kill to an angel. So he is not only a fanatic, but delusional."

"Not so much delusional," Lecter replied. "An angel can come in many forms. To him you are one. Nothing wrong with that; that mind set saved your life."

"Perhaps," Angela said. She turned her attention to the sketches that were spread across Lecter's cell walls. "Did you draw those?"

"Yes."

"They're beautiful," Angela said, taking a step forward. "That looks like...Italy?"

"Correct," Lecter said, sounding surprised. He moved to the picture she was looking at and took it off the wall. "Have you been there?"

"No," Angela shook her head.

"I expected you haven't. You're much too young."

"But I've seen several pictures and I would love to visit someday though. Maybe even live there."

"Would you like to keep this?" Lecter asked.

"You want...to give it to me?" Angela asked, sounding surprised.

"Why not," Lecter said placing the piece of paper in the drawer. It was much smaller then the other drawing so it fit nicely. "You have been very courteous and entertained me with an intelligent conversation, something I have not experienced in a long time. For that I offer a small token of my gratitude."

Lecter slide the paper through to Angela, who gently took it out to properly look at it.

"Thank you," she said. "Are you sure you want to give this to me? It is so well done. This must have taken you a long time to do."

"Time is all I have in here," Lecter said, stepping back. "Do you draw? You seem like the type."

"Yes, I do but they are nothing compared to this," Angela said, not taking her eyes off the beautiful portrait.

"Do you have any with you?" he asked.

"Actually," Angela looked up and reached into the pocket of her sweater and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "I brought a drawing for Chris but I forgot to give it to him."

"May I see it?"

Angela placed the folded picture in the drawer and pushed it through, "It isn't anything special."

"I beg to differ," Lecter said who had opened the paper up and was surveying it. "For your age this is very well done. I assume you drew it specifically for Chris."

"Yes."

The picture was of a praying angel.

"Angela!" Barney's deep voice boomed down the hall.

Angela's head snapped up and she saw Barney walking towards her. He had a mixed look of panic, relief and annoyance. Angela quickly folded up Lecter's drawing and put it in her pocket.

"Mind if I hold on to this?" Lecter asked.

Angela shook her head as Barney approached her looking near distraught. Lecter slipped the paper into his jumpsuit before Barney noticed.

"Angela, I think you just made me age 10 years," Barney said. "Afternoon, Dr. Lecter."

Lecter nodded to Barney in a respectful manner, "Afternoon, Barney. How are you?"

"A little stressed but fine, thank you," Barney said. "I see you've met our young guest."

"Yes, I have," Lecter smiled at Angela with his little pointed white teeth. "Quite the charming little thing isn't she?"

"Charming? More like slippery."

"I admire that in a child."

"I thought you would be right behind me with that chair," Barney said to Angela. "When I got back down here and you weren't waiting in the observation room I nearly dropped a litter of kittens."

"That would be my fault, Barney," Dr. Lecter said before Angela could offer a defense for her action. "I caught Ms. Harper by surprise, and must have held her interest. I apologize."

"She gave me a good start there, Dr. Lecter," Barney said. "I just don't want to lose my job."

"I understand."

"I'm sorry," Angela said sincerely. She hadn't realized her absence could have jeopardized Barney's position. "I didn't know."

"Well, we should go," Barney said, taking Angela by the hand. "I think your foster parents will be here soon."

"Goodbye, Dr. Lecter," Angela said, fallowing Barney.

"Goodbye, little Angel," his metallic voice mocked through the hallway.

"I told you he was something else," Barney said to Angela as they entered the observation room. "Hope he didn't scare you to bad."

"No," Angela secretly patted her pocket. "He didn't scare me. Actually I think he is fascinating."

"Well just don't get to fascinated with him," Barney said, retrieving her coat from the hook on the wall. "Do you plan on coming back?"

"If it's alright," Angela said, pulling the coat on. "I would like to come back and visit Chris again. I'd like to come visit you too."

"Well I'm glad to hear it," Barney smiled, opening the door for her. "I look forward to seeing you again, Angela."

"Bye, Barney," Angela gave him a quick hug and began climbing the stairs.

She stopped a few flights up and took Dr. Lecter's picture out of her pocket to look at it once more before leaving. She ran her fingers over one of the building figures. It was such a beautiful scene. Pointed towers and cathedrals, magnificently carved statues, a couple sitting down to coffee and a few pigeons taking to flight. Someday she would go there. Angela tucked the picture back in to her pocket and began climbing the stairs again.

Down below her, Dr. Lecter opened up Angela drawing again. Her portrayal of this creature was exquisite. The flowing hair and gown, detailed wings and a perfectly round halo. Angela's name was signed at the bottom with her age and the date. Lecter folded the paper back up and tucked it back into his jumpsuit when he heard Barney's footsteps coming down the hall towards his cell. Lying on his bed to make it appear that he was doing nothing, Lecter closed his eyes and smirked to himself.

"Do come back soon, little Angel."

He laid there and wondered what it would be like to tour Italy with such an intelligent child. Maybe someday he would find out. It would be quite the experience for both of them.