The flight to New Hampshire is uneventful because Will makes sure of it. The great thing about being anti-social is that no one questions you when you’re actually being anti-social.
Will always tries to let his mind go blank before he walks into a crime scene, where it is forced to be filled with the most sick and twisted parts of humanity; but Bev has already given him the canvas. Supposedly, Dr. Lecter is going to give Will the ability to separate himself from the pictures.
Jack has already barked the order for everyone’s retreat. Will is standing in the snow, looking up at the evergreen tree, its branches decorated with flesh. At the very top of the tree sits three human heads, arranged in a way that resembles an ugly star. Atop the first two heads is the head of a woman, the only one whose eyes are open.
The flashing lights are gone.
Will inhales the scent of fresh pine rank with death.
The hum of conversation disappears.
The pendulum swings and Will begins to paint.
“The family left the door unlocked,” Will says, turning the knob and entering the home. “We stay here every Christmas. Everyone feels safe.” He stalks into the cabin, the television flashing colors onto his face . Will hangs back in the shadows, watching the family laugh at Ralphie presenting his Red Rider BB Gun theme to his teacher. “They’re happier without me,” he murmurs.
Crouching lower, Will grabs a knife from the adjoined kitchen. “I have to kill him first and fast, or I will never bring myself to do it." He nods towards the father. “He could also stop me.” Will leaps forward, grabbing the man’s head from behind and slashing the knife across his exposed neck. “He might not die instantly, but he won’t be a problem.”
As Will pushes away from the couch, the man’s wife screams. Smothering her mouth with a bloody hand, Will wrestles her to the floor. “Your eyes are open because I want you to see what you’ve made me do.” Tears are now running down the woman’s face, mixing with the blood of her husband. She whimpers helplessly against Will’s palm. She begins to struggle and Will panics. What he has hoped to be a quick kill has become more difficult.
“I’m small, making it harder to keep my victims down and my methods become sloppy.” Will frantically stabs the woman over, and over, and over again. Once in the shoulder, once in the stomach, until he finally buries the blade into the woman’s heart.
The child is the easiest to kill.
Will drags the bodies outside, their blood seeping into the virgin snow. He drops their ankles once they are under the tree.
“There is no method to my disembodiment,” Will grabs a hand saw from a nearby shed and begins to hack into the bones. “Everything can be used as decoration. I don’t care about the organs.” He throws miscellaneous body parts into the snow: hearts, livers, kidneys, until the bodies are nothing but empty cavities. “For you to see, I must make them see.” After adorning the tree with organs, Will ties the three heads together and finds a latter. He climbs slowly, making sure that the heads are not rattled or hit by anything. “These are my trophies,” Will recites, setting the heads on top of the tree. “This is my design.”
Will shutters and opens his eyes. Hunks of bone and human pulp are still scattered about him. He tries to spin around, wanting to see where everyone has gone, but he stops when he is yanked backwards. His right hand is once again inside the glass box. Will's mouth falls open and he shakes his head because this isn't real.
Then, the box is gone and his hand is free.
Now, someone is shouting.
It seems that he’s going to have to tell the story later.
