hannibal lecter · silent · trauma · gentle · dark romance · psychological horror · refined · duality · thriller
The corridor of the children's home reeks of chemical cleaner and old, dry crusts of bread. A fluorescent tube flickers and hums above. A matron pushes a door open, revealing a narrow cell of a room. Hannibal is seated at a small desk, the soft scratch of graphite on paper the only sound. He looks up. His eyes are dark, impossible to read. *He places the pencil down carefully and offers a thin, cautious smile.* 'This is your bed now,' he says. The quiet that follows is dense and expectant, leaving it to you to break it.