?

Log in

No account? Create an account
 
 
01 March 2014 @ 06:00 pm
the death of bedelia du maurier.  
Title: The Death of Bedelia du Maurier
Author: Rebecka
Pairing: Bedelia/Hannibal
Note: Character death, graphic violence and stuffs.

-

The Death of Bedelia du Maurier

-

"It would seem Jack Crawford is less suspicious of me than you are," Hannibal said.

Bedelia studied his face. There was something suddenly so evil in his eyes, something scary and unfamiliar, and unkind. She paused, then said, "Jack Crawford doesn't know what you're capable of."

It was as if she could see the evil in his eyes, shining at her. "Neither do you," he said, calmly, his gaze boring into her. She felt as if he was coming closer, as if his hands were slowly wrapping around her neck and she had trouble to breathe. She swallowed audibly. Knowing very well that his hour was about to end, she looked down at her watch, her words getting somewhat stuck in her throat, "W-Well," she said, "I believe that your hour is almost-,"

He moved. He moved and her words fell short and she couldn't help but look up at him and into those horribly evil eyes. Those eyes she'd looked into so many times and trusted so much. But they were much darker, much much darker, and filled with a light she'd never seen in anyone before. He moved, his chair making a noise against the floor, and she felt her eyes well up with tears. "No," she said, the single word echoing in the room, "Hannibal, please, no." But she knew that it was too late. Somehow, all of a sudden, it was too late and her friend and colleague and patient of a very long time, he was someone else. He was someone who could do horrible things to people. He was someone who could do horrible things to her.

She was afraid to move, but he was already up on his feet, hovering over her, like some kind of animal hunting in the woods. The darkness in his eyes paralyzed her. But her sudden gasp echoed when he reached down and grabbed her wrist. Pulling her to her feet, pulling her towards him. She was shaking with fear, he looked so different. So evil.

It was as if time suddenly sped up, everything happened so fast. His hand wrapped around her neck and she was pushed up against a wall, gasping for air. "Han-Hanni," she tried to speak, to say something, talking had always been the solution, but it was no use this time. She closed her eyes. His breath was warm against her face, and it was all she could breathe in. His warm, evil breaths filled her mouth, her lungs, and she struggled for more air. Struggled to get away. Her hands found his cheeks, his ears and hair and she tried to scratch him. He was so strong. She felt with her fingers and found his eyebrow and pressed her thumb hard against his skin, digging into him, feeling the warmth of his blood against her fingertip. And she scratched him hard across his eye, getting him to let go of her neck.

She stumbled away on shaky legs, losing a shoe, walking into a table. And he was right there, right behind her, she felt his hand grab a hold of her arm, and she spun around quickly. Her fist hitting his cheekbone, her strength nowhere near what had been hiding inside of him all this time. He grinned. Tears fell down her face when she looked into his eyes, those almost black, shining eyes, she backed away. Slowly, carefully, she backed away. And then she saw it. Somehow, as she had been walking away, he had grabbed the pen he'd used to sign his name with earlier. It shone gracefully in his hand and she looked from it to his eyes to his smiling lips. She saw it in slow motion as he took a steadier grip of the pen, raised his hand, and rushed towards her.

No words could describe what she felt. It was as if time had skipped and she had missed something important happening, because suddenly she was on the floor, and he was stabbing her again. And again. She could feel the pen digging deep inside her chest. Once, twice, three times. Four. Five. Oh, God. Horrible, horrible pain shot through her suddenly and she could feel herself gasping for air. She couldn't breathe, she could not breathe, panic began to form inside of her, her eyes blinking fast, and then she realized that he had stabbed her lung. The pen had punctured her lung and all the air she struggled to breathe out was already gone. She started to sob.

And then she felt nothing. A complete numbness spread through her body and she watched him linger over her. "Hannibal," she said, her voice so much weaker than she knew it, "Hannibal, please." Reaching up to touch his face with her hand, her bloody fingers left traces on his skin. She coughed. Once, maybe twice, her lungs filling with the blood that had once run through her heart. "Hanni-," she started, gasping horribly as he stabbed her lung once again, the jolt of pain shuddering through her whole body.

And then there was nothing. No pain. No smells. No noise. No vision. Somewhere in the darkness of her dying mind, she remembered his face. How he had once smiled at her. How he had knocked on her door late at night and offered to make her dinner. How they had laughed together and toasted with deep red wine, and eaten in silence. Lamb. Veal. Young meat.

And then she gasped one last time.

-

End.