video

[am_i_a_monster]

[The video shows an art print, a portrait of a woman with black paint covering the woman's ear and the word 'ugly' written below. Abigail holds up another portrait with an ear painted over and a scar drawn on the neck and the word 'monster' scrawled over the top. She holds up another and another, with ears painted over and scars drawn on the neck. She drops the prints onto a table and frowns.]

I work at the Van Don't Gogh Art Shoppe. I could have let myself think that it was some sort of reference to van Gogh's ear. But..

[She holds up another portrait, with the words 'cut off her other one and send her home']

This clearly says her. And with the scars drawn on the necks, and all the other stuff that's going on, I know they mean me. There were more. Pretty much any piece of art with a face got painted on.

[She won't show the ones that said 'murderer' or 'cannibal'.]

I spent a long time, back home, being told that I would have a new life. A better life. But I didn't. Not there.

I thought this was my new life. Here.

[She shakes her head.]

I don't know anymore. Everything feels so messed up.

Comments

[am_i_a_monster]

Yes. Very similar.

[That is what she told Hannibal, Will and herself. That she didn't have a choice.]

There was someone. I couldn't say no to him. It was them or me. And then after he died, there was someone else. I didn't know what else to do, so I did what he told me to do too.

[Even what she'd done to Alana, hadn't saved her life though. Hannibal had killed her despite her loyalty.]

Who was the person telling you what to do? Was it your dad?

[d33tached]

[More hesitation, particularly over that question. It almost brings about a laugh - a bitter-sounding snort as he shakes his head. Not his dad, no, though the man would have liked to think of himself as a father figure.]

I never knew my father.

[It's another cop-out answer, despite the honesty of it. He doesn't bother to retrieve his knife this time, taking out another one and holding it firm in his hand, eyes glued to it as he fantasizes for the millionth time about plunging it through the man's heart.]

He was my boss. [Make it sound like a job, then. But this answer isn't as honest - he was his leader, his lover, his God. Another humorless chuckle escapes him, and this time when he throws this knife, it's with a new sense of force, a great and angry through the plunges deep within the heart of one of the dummies.]

[am_i_a_monster]

You might be better off not knowing your father.

[Abigail is certainly biased. She's often thought of what her life would have been like without her dad in it. She watches the way D33 throws the knife. It reminds her of when she cut the throat of her father's corpse and she reads the same emotion in it.]

He was more than a boss to you.

[She knows they might have had the same messed up love that she had with her dad, but she isn't thinking of a lover, especially not at fourteen. Her father's abuse had never crossed that line. She does think of leader, family, master, god, all the things her father and Hannibal were to her.]

You accepted him. You bonded him with him to survive. Didn't you?

[d33tached]

[D33 freezes where he stands. He hadn't been moving much anyway, but there is something noticeably more still about him in the wake of Abigail's words. He stays silent for a long moment, making no move to retrieve the knife. He might look as though he's thinking - his eyes narrowed at the dummy, jaw clenched in agitation - but, really, at least for a moment, his mind has gone entirely blank. That is to say, it's gone somewhere else. Back to a bed with red sheets in a warm room with a voice whispering in his ear, "There's my little pet."

[All at once, the stillness is broken, and D33 is whipping around to face Abigail with his nostrils flaring. He opens his mouth to speak, to combat what she's said, to threaten her perhaps - but he knows better. With skills like what she has just demonstrated, he certainly wouldn't do well to threaten her. Even so, somehow, she knows, and it leaves him feeling all-too exposed.

[He takes a moment, takes a breath, and eventually, much to his own surprise, he feels a small but dangerous smile creeping onto his lips.]

Mind your assumptions, if you will. [That's as good as a yes - he's still smiling.] You are speaking for yourself, now, Abigail.

[am_i_a_monster]

[Threats could work. Abigail's fear is stronger than any logic. It's driven her actions, and at times lack of actions, and kept her alive. The smile drives her curiosity instead.]

Am I?

[Abigail teases. There is truth in what he's saying. She's formed those bonds, to the point where's she's been called a victim of Stockholm syndrome. She'd still accept Hannibal if he were to return to this place. She still loves both the men who cut her throat.]

Calling it an assumption doesn't make it wrong.

[She walks to the targets and collects some of the knives she threw earlier, looking at the deep marks they left behind instead of looking at him.]

You don't broadcast things about yourself, not like other people do. I admire that about you.

[She can read almost everyone so easily. She turns to face D33 again.]

But sometimes, I get a glimpse of something more than what you choose to tell me.

[d33tached]

Mind your assumptions.

[He repeats himself slowly, smile quickly fading from his lips as she begins collecting the knives. Now isn't a time for teasing, Abigail, and D33's warmth for you is rapidly dissipating.]

Is it your father that you speak of when you mention this "bonding", Abigail? Or is the man whom killed you?

[The man she's claimed to associate with D33 himself - he hasn't forgotten.]

Perhaps both?

[When in doubt, turn the focus back around to Abigail.]

[am_i_a_monster]

[Abigail gives a little nod, then looks away.]

Both.

[She can still hear their voices sometimes, whispering to her. She knows it's only her imagination. They're gone and she feels like she just drifts without them to cling to.]

I know it's weird, but I miss them sometimes.

[Beyond the hate and fear, the love is still there. The dependency too.]

I'm alone without them.

[She looks back at him slowly.]

Are you alone?

[d33tached]

[Abigail isn't the only one that hears voices. She also isn't the only one who feels that they are drifting without a tether, no matter how toxic their old anchors might have been. She certainly isn't the only one who's alone. It's almost funny how much these two can relate - or, how much they would relate could D33 swallow enough of his pride to bother attempting a connection.

[That isn't likely to happen any time soon, despite the strange feeling that Abigail's question brings about in his stomach.]

I prefer to be alone.

[That might as well be a lie. Perhaps at one point it had been true, back when being alone was a rare and treasured privilege. In this world, it has become positively maddening. There's a reason D33 doesn't sleep.]

[am_i_a_monster]

[Abigail nods, accepting his words as true. She suspects that Hannibal preferred being alone until he met Will. And D33 still reminds her of him.]

I'm the opposite. When I'm alone, it's bad. Do you ever think you might feel differently if you met the right person?

[Oh, hell. That sounds very wrong when she hears the words out loud.]

I didn't mean me. The man who killed me preferred being alone. Until he met someone who could understand him. Not me, another man.

[She's not sure if she's making sense. Best to go back to the demonstration. She picks up a small butter knife, one that shouldn't be able to cut through anything and stabs it through the body armor on one of the dummies.]

[d33tached]

[D33's eyes narrow a bit, curious at the girl's fumbling explanation. What she'd said hadn't sounded all that strange to him until she'd bothered correcting it. Now, recalling again that this man of whom she speaks apparently holds something in common with him, D33 finds himself wondering what Abigail's motivations might be in suggesting such a thing in the first place.

[He too has found someone in this world whom reminds him of the man he once served. If D33 had to choose one person with whom he might like to spend his time here, it would very likely be that man.

[He wonders vaguely if Abigail might feel the same way about D33 as he does Shinigami.]

You've mentioned before that I remind you of him - the man who killed you.

[D33 still isn't entirely sure that he's comfortable with that equation, but it is fascinating if nothing else.]

Should that be the case, do you suppose that it is comfort you seek in spending your time with me?

Or is it, perhaps, the discomfort that you miss?

[Both isn't an unreasonable answer.]

[am_i_a_monster]

[She continues to busy herself with the knife, finding new spots to stab.]

There wasn't much discomfort with him. Not until the end.

[There had been moments when he had scared her. The moment when she realized Hannibal was a killer and the day he killed Beverly Katz had been bad. Most of the time, he'd been good to her, filling her mind with the promise of a bright future, giving her his unconventional therapy and providing her with a sense of family]

He accepted me. I could talk to him about anything and he'd never think of me as a sociopath or a monster. There was a lot of comfort in that and I do miss it.

[She still remembers Hannibal telling her to never be ashamed of who she is. Maybe it takes a killer to give her that feeling of acceptance. She puts the knife back on the table and looks over at him.]

I guess I get that comfort from you too, yeah. Does that bother you?

[d33tached]

[D33 hesitates to respond. It doesn't particularly bother him, no, though he isn't quite sure that he understands it. He certainly doesn't seek to comfort the girl or forgive her whatever sins she seems to be blaming herself for. It is true, though, that he does not judge her for what she's done - he's certainly in no place to do that. Above all things, D33 knows that Abigail is no "monster" - he knows what those look like, and it isn't guilty teenage murder victims.]

I suppose not.

[He picks up his own knife then, dragging the tip of it slowly across the table before lifting it up and tossing it back into one of the dummies - it passes just by Abigail's head as it flies, but it was never in any danger of hitting her.]

I suppose it would be dishonest of me, Abigail, should I say that I do not somewhat enjoy our conversations as well.

I find you to be quite fascinating, I must admit.

[am_i_a_monster]

[Abigail doesn't flinch as the knife passes by her. With her power, she could have grabbed it out of the air if she wanted. She does give him a smile. People have been fascinated by her before, because she is the shrike's daughter, or because of her connection to Hannibal, or for her missing ear and scars. Her father had his sick obsession. She fascinated Hannibal because he saw her as a surrogate daughter he could manipulate her into the killer he wanted. Freddie saw her as fodder for a book. Alana thought of her an interesting patient. And Will because he saw her as the innocent victim he saved, the redemption for killing her father and later as a suspect. D33 may have been the first to be fascinated by her for her.]

I find you kind of intriguing yourself.

Do you want something to drink? Water? Juice? Pop? I could make coffee or tea.

She keeps her alcohol for when the nights are bad.

[d33tached]

Water will be fine, thank you.

[He murmurs this, eyeing the targets one last time with his knife poised and ready to throw. At the last women, he folds it and sticks it back into his waistband, turning toward her and waiting for her to lead the way inside.]

[am_i_a_monster]

[Abigail nods and leads the way into the kitchen.]

Do you want anything with the water? Lemon? Ice? I have fruit infused water.

[It's easy to play the eager-to-please hostess when he reminds her of Hannibal so much and she actually is eager to please.]