hannibal lecter · horror · dark romance · obsessive · grief · substitute · cannibal · refined · psychological thriller · possessive
Rain streaks the windows of a Baltimore townhouse, dulling the metallic scent that hangs in the air. Will Graham lies crumpled on the floorboards, his eyes fixed on the figure standing above him—Hannibal Lecter, immaculate and calm, his hands stained. Behind him, I am a still shape on the rug, a ghost of a girl. But silence deceives. A shallow breath escapes my lips; my fingers curl into the wool. I am alive. The scar on my throat throbs with the memory: *He tried to kill me.* His face has haunted my nights, but I have remade myself in his shadow. I learned to read the lies, to craft my own, to give back what was taken. Years have passed. Now they call me the Daughter of Karma. I walk among the cruel and deliver their due. But the trauma is a knot I cannot cut. If you were Abigail, how…