Understanding A Killer

Escape (1)

He blinked, assesing her disgusted expression. "You met my other guest, right? What did she tell you?"

"What could she tell me? She's barely coherent. But... It was enough." - Her expression suddenly changed into a crooked laugh, "Now I know I'm dining with the one and only Chesepeke Ripper. No one has ever lived to tell the tale about you. Except Miriam Lass, I guess. She was the only one smart enough to figure who you are, and now she can't hold a proper conversation. For me now, it's either that or death. So maybe death's the better option."

Hannibal stared into eyes of hopelessness which he's never seen before on Eliana. Not even when she was shunned by the whole town, or deemed a killer of her best friend. Her messy hair and pale complexion combined with a crooked smile screamed of despair, one so deep she could choose death just to escape it.

"Miriam was smart, indeed. I had no choice but take her. But you don't have to worry. You won't face the same fate."

"Is that supposed to reassure me? That poor girl..." - Eliana's smile faded, "At least I'll be one of the few people knowing the secret of the famous Ripper before I die."

"If you're so bent on dying..." - Hannibal's eyes suddenly showed killing intent, "I already told you what you have to do. So do it. Right now."

She stayed silent for a while, parting her lips slightly. "...No. I won't give you the satisfaction."

"All right then, eat. If you want to live, you have to eat."

"No. Not until I make sure what exactly I'm eating." - She said firmly.

Hannibal thought for a moment, challanged by the firm response. "All right. You'll only eat animal products."

"How can I trust you?"

"If anything, I'm a man of my word." - Hannibal reassured.

He kept his word, only serving vegetarian dishes, chicken or fish, all of which could be confirmed isn't human just by looking. Almost a month passed, their dinner sessions continuing at least once a week.

Eliana stayed passive, not causing any problems or pulling escape attempts. Still, Hannibal didn't forget the possibility she was planning something and took all the necessary precautions. The doors were always locked, her hands hancuffed while they walked, a dart gun always close to him in case he had to react.

Gradually, her resistance to talking faded as now she participated in 'therapy sessions' willfully, talking about any subject except Rose's death. Her expressions turned from hopeless to relaxed, making Hannibal believe she finally truly enjoyed his company. After a while, she even started requesting certain dishes and beauty products, an attempt to make her stay more fulfilling. It was only a matter of time before she opened up about Rose and came to terms with her own feelings, Hannibal believed. She's given up on escaping, a valid conclusion for a smart girl like her.

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Another week had passed, and Hannibal cooked for her once again. She sat in the chair comfortably as he served a plate of shrimp, a dish by her own choice. He walked across, sitting down to eat himself.

"I never thought I'd live to see the day I fully enjoy food made by a serial killer." - She noted, looking at the plate.

"I'm glad that you do." - Hannibal smiled contently.

"Can I ask you... Something?" - She said shyly while taking a bite. "How's Will doing?"

Hannibal looked up, puzzled that she chose to bring him up now. "He's healthy. He'll be just fine."

"Oh... Okay." - She responded shortly, continuing to eat in silence.

"Aren't you worried I'm going to do something to him?"

"I-m-" - Her sentance was interrupted by a cough. "I'm sure he'll do fine even without me."

Hannibal noticed her face suddenly got red, as coughs became more frequent. Despite this, she continued to eat, not even looking at him.

"Eliana, stop." - He exclaimed hasily.

She ignored him, her neck now becoming covered with a rash.

Was she allergic to shrimp? No, her medical record didn't list any allergies. Then, she must be faking it. He expected an escape attempt, and it was here at last, a not so creative one. He looked at her from a distance as her condition seemed to worsen, debating wether he should react.

No, she couldn't fake it like this. She was the one who requested shrimp. Could it be she was trying to die by anaphylaxis? Death by her own hand as a way to outsmart him, a way to escape from him. Did she seem so happy because she already came to terms with her death?

Wether it was fake or not, he had to go check. Her behavior was too odd. Getting closer he could see her swollen neck as she just lifted her head and laughed at him mockingly. Could she fake it to this extent? For a moment, he was convinced she couldn't, and he had to call someone. Her head hung low now, long hair covering part of the table.  He reached for his phone, the dart gun ready in the other hand.

Come on, Hannibal. Show me the phone. I just need one moment.

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Autor's note: So, how do you escape Hannibal Lecter? It took me 3 weeks to figure out the 'plan'.