Chapter Seven: Two, Three, Four,...

The cigar was half done. Dr. Lecter tapped the ash into a tray just beside him. Electricity seemed to flow through the room. Clarice had sat up straighter and seemed to take everything in like a recorder. Smoke hung thickly in the air.

"Well, go on, Doctor," she said, a slight plea in her voice.

The gun was forgotten for now. She sat with both hands clutching the seat. Her mask still resting next to her. Her expression seemed to brighten. Her anticipation shone through her eyes. He could tell she was trying to remain as calm as possible. No one knew how the murders were committed. Dr. Lecter sighed. Why did everyone find this so interesting? They were just killings, nothing more, nothing less. Those people had been vile, rude, and deserved to die; at least in his eyes.

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My second victim was Jonathan Marquez. He was beyond therapy. He was a maniac. His fits would throw him into a state of hysteria which would make him jerk and twitch so badly he would grimace with pain. He would jabber and slur his speech even when he wasn't having a fit. When I killed him, I cut out his tongue. I left his bloody body in an alley in the heart of Chesapeake.

Now I had two organs in my refrigerator. I thought of them often until one day I purchased an antique cookbook. It was french and clearly a magnificent book. It did not take me long to cook both of those meals. I did not have a second thought on eating human flesh. I started studying which wines would go well with them, too.

My practice at this time was doing very well. My theories on criminal behavior had won me some renown. The Maryland and Virginian courts had hired me as a consultant. I did evaluations on the conditions of the persons standing trial as well as develop profiles on criminals not yet caught. Every time a detective or agent, even an ordinary deputy, used my information, the suspect was caught and charged.

My name appeared in editorials and articles in the paper. It was wonderful. Rachel and I met regularly at the performances and at other social gatherings. The president of the Board simply loved me. He could find no fault in me and esteemed my taste in music. Later that year I went to Rachel's first wedding. The man she married looked as if he was only going to live for another ten years or so. A very good tactical move on her part; she inherited all his money once he died.

My third victim came to me one night in a very depressed state. Darcy Taylor was an attractive woman, a little on the plump side. I found her waiting for her in my office, crying silently. She was very pale with light brown hair. She wore just jeans and a camisole.

"Doctor, I need help," she said quietly.

I nodded and motioned her to sit in front of my desk. I took my seat behind it. Her quiet demeanor was a good sign. She seemed to have recognized she needed help with some problem. I offered her a handkerchief and waited quietly for her to begin.

"First of all, doctor, I don't have much money but–."

"You don't have to worry about that, Miss..."

"Taylor. Darcy Taylor. I don't want to be pitied."

"You won't be. We'll worry about how you are going to pay for this later. Now let me hear what's troubling you."

She took a deep breath and let it out shuttering. Her eyes swept the office only meeting mine briefly. She looked down the remainder of the time.

"Doctor Lecter, I've heard from a friend that you're the best shrink out here. I've done something horrible. Really horrible..."

"Go on. All of our meetings are confidential, you have nothing to fear. I will not judge." Yet.

She sat up straighter in her chair and started her long and sordid tale.

"I was abused as a child, sexually... My uncle from my dad's side of the family visited of home for the summer. I was only eight. I hate him for what he did to me. I told my parents but they didn't believe me. The bastards thought I was lying. When I was twelve, I heard he was coming to visit again. I ran away and stayed in a shelter for the remainder of the year. Social Services were able to get me into a foster home. My parents were charged with neglect and abuse also and remain in prison. The police never found my uncle. When I started...dating...I thought that guys only wanted sex. No one had told me that I can say no. A week ago I found out I was two months pregnant and–and–."

She started sobbing. Her shoulders were hunched over and her face became very flushed.

"I couldn't see any other way out! Jake said he would beat it out of me if I didn't get rid of it!" she almost screamed the last part.

I watched the agony play across her face. Her eyes were a murky gray color. Being a runaway and a foster child, I knew she had had a very rough life.

"Do you know the sex of the baby?"

"Yes, they said it was a little boy. Doctor, I wanted it! I loved it and I didn't even know it!"

"Him. Using euphemisms will not help your situation, Miss Taylor."

Her eyes were downcast when she finally looked me in the eye. Her whole demeanor suggested a woman at the end of her rope so to speak. Storm clouds seemed to follow this woman everywhere she went. And idea of the kind of life she had led flashed before my eyes. Looking at her hands I saw several scars on her wrists. Her will to live though was very strong.

"Are you contemplating suicide again?"

"No. I can't– couldn't go through that again. Not unless I knew I could do it fully. I've tried razors, ropes, pills, anything I can get my hands on. Your not the first psychiatrist to see me by far."

"But I'll be the first to finish the job for you..."

She looked at me with wide, clear eyes. Her breathing hitched and her heart beat faster within her chest. Her eyes then moved across the room and finally settled on the door leading out into the foyer and to freedom and misery. She moved faster than she looked. I met her at the door and was able to grab both her wrists.

"No! I don't want to die!"

"Your not well, my dear. I don't think your coherent enough to make that decision on your own."

She struggled with me as I twisted both her arms behind her back. She was stronger than she looked also. With one hand I was able to hold both of hers and with the other I applied enough pressure on her throat to render her unconscious. I carried her to my basement lab and put her on the slab. When she woke up, I slit her throat. It was a clean incision from ear to ear. I turned her over on her stomach and examined her back. With my best carving knife, I cut two large pieces of flesh which I put in foil and then into the freezer. I knew an excellent recipe these would do well with. I left her body right next to the Chesapeake City Hall on Cedar Road. They found the body immediately the next day.

The evening papers went wild about it. 'Another Ghastly Murder in quiet Town' was the headline of one article. The police hadn't shown up nor connected myself with any of these murders. I suppose no one knew the patients were coming to see me, all the better for me really. I tended to spread out my urges to once a month. I must add my own analysis of my psyche in here. You're a lucky one, Clarice. Many professionals have died wondering what I thought and think of my acts of violence. Most classify me under "sociopath or a pure psychopath." I disagree with them. I do have a conscience but only apply it when I see fit. You must know I've applied it to your case numerous times. I digress. Dr. F. Chilton was very wrong when it came to understanding myself. I did not commit these so-called atrocities to fulfill fantasies or other nonsense like that. I did them because I could. Does that make sense? Who was there to stop me? Who was there to stop those devils when they took my precious Mischa away?

She always lurked there in the back of my mind. She never spoke to me nor did she ever become a real apparition. I could just feel her there. For months at a time I would forget about her and then one night she would flood my mind and mood again. I couldn't be free of her.

One night when she came back it almost became too much for me. I had purchased my beloved harpy a week before that night. It was easy to conceal and very portable. I wore it attached to a release on my left arm. My shirt and coat covered it completely. I almost ran out of the house that night. Flashbacks of her eyes and the eyes of her killers shadowed my mind. Anger bubbled deep within me. I found myself walking down Fallsway Street at around midnight. I couldn't remember how I came to be there. A young couple walked a hundred yards from me and were clearly inebriated. The man finally pushed the woman against a brick wall and began to grope her there. When I got closer, I could hear them. He was whispering to her and kissing her neck while his hands moved from her waist to her breasts.

He was a tall hispanic man with a strong Bronx accent. He looked Puerto Rican. He had the long thin body with dark hair and eyes. His right hand moved down to the girl's skirt. She started to regain her composure.

"Andreas, we can't. Not here!"

"Come on, baby, this will just make it more exciting!"

"I believe she told you to stop."

I couldn't help myself. The girl took this chance and ran from under his grasp.

"Cindy! Cindy, come back! I'm sorry! Fuck!"

He clenched his fists and turned to face me. He was a good four inches taller than I was. Anger was etched into every line in his face. His frustration was also evident.

"Why did you do that, cabron?"

I stayed silent as I observed him. The silence only fueled his irritation.

"That was a good piece of ass gone to waste now because of you, gringo. Don't you know how to talk. I'm going to fuckin' kick your puny ass for that!"

His fist never made contact with me. He gasped as I thrust the harpy into him again and again. Blood smeared the sidewalk. Blood splashed onto myself, also. I dragged his lifeless body next to the building he had pinned the girl to. I gutted him and cut out his stomach. I was too disgusted by his acts to eat it. I fed it to a stray I found the next morning.

Author's Note: I am still here! I'm sorry for the delay every one, especially Katherine! I just got a new job working at my college. I have much better hours (not to mention better pay) so I will be able to update again more quickly. I want to finish this story before the real book comes out! Thank you all again for your support and reviews! It means a lot to me and helps me through the slow process of this story. Never fear, I will finish it!