Doctor Hannibal Lecter was found guilty. And it hurt as his world crumbled. But not as much as finding the pieces left behind.
If someone had told him that a frying pan would one day make him cry heâd have thought they were crazy. But here he is. Curled in the corner of his kitchen, back pressed against his cabinets. Copper skillet just in front of his feet. It wasnât his. Nothing like the bargain bin, dented yard sale pots and pans he had.
No. This was Hannibalâs. He vaguely remembers when the other man had brought it. When he was recovering from his encephalitis. Hannibal didnât trust that he would feed himself. It must have gotten left behind.
In the corner under his coat rack, covered in dog hair and dust a pair of argyle blue wool socks were nestled. Getting his house cleaned up because the realtor told him she couldnât sell it in its disarray. He remembers thinking Hannibal would have thought she was rude.
Hannibal hadnât left these behind. Will took them. Well, they were given to him in a roundabout way. Showing up at Hannibalâs house after a sleepwalking episode, the doctor had warned him in front of a fire and fed him while his snow damp clothes washed and dried. But Will never returned the socks.
Plum and black paisley tie.
This one took him some time. He knew heâd never bought it but he couldnât place exactly who it belonged to. Laying in his bed, half asleep when he remembered that Hannibal had taken it off after Buster left a muddy paw print on it. Will had promised to clean it and return it. But that never happened.
Sage green ceramic dish with a succulent.
âYou need to brighten up in here. And succulents are perfect for someone who is busy. They donât require so much attention.â
Those has been Hannibalâs exact words. Will had huffed a laugh and put the little plant in his kitchen window. And immediately immersed himself into everything cactus related. The poor thing had barely survived.
One ebony and gold cuff link.
Will is truly unaware of how this was left in his house. But abandoned it was. Without its mate. The irony thereâŠ
After its discovery it quickly found its way into his âpocket stuffâ. The things he picks up daily and, almost without thought, and carries with him on his daily journeys.
Eventually all of these things find themselves in a box. A special box. Wooden with leather straps. Like a miniature steamer trunk.
Except the little cactus. Which he keeps on his nightstand in Mollyâs house.
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