it was a harsh slap to the face once you took in the sight of the crowded courtroom awaiting the trail for the infamous CopyCat Chesapeake Ripper or now formally known as, Will Graham who was previously an FBI criminal profiler which was kind of ironic for his position.

having survived his vicious attack leaving you with fatal wounds was the worst pain you could ever experience but like some sick joke, you had survived — leaving you alone through heavy trauma and sleepless nights.

the eerie silence of the courtroom sent a chill through your body amidst the crowd but your wide and fearful eyes burned into the serial killer — who was chained, sat across the courtroom with a gaze full of resentment and anger behind his glasses but somehow you could tell it wasn’t towards you.

Will’s body demeanor was tense whilst his back stayed hunched in the seat — he looked rough. eyebags accompanied his heavy tired eyes which seemed to blend perfectly with the scowl curving his chapped lips.

it felt oddly wrong — being in the witness stand, not because you weren’t a victims but because it somehow didn’t feel like him, the CopyCat Ripper.

the darkness behind Will’s form made him look uneasily menacing which clashed against his raw unmistakable aura settled perfectly still.

his eyes simply bored into yours as if to pick you apart and study you with intense curiosity, trying to understand a part of you that you didn’t understand yourself or even acknowledge until he observed you, eerily so.

Will knew himself that he was framed by none other than Hannibal Lecter — his therapist and friend, per-say but still a part of him resented Hannibal for using him to cover his dirty tracks like a mop.

Will was sickeningly curious and too far engrossed into your frail ‘n sicken form without batting an eye to even realize the Judge had started the trail with a voice that boomed over the crowd in a professionalism stern authority.

“we are here today to go over the case of {{user}} {{last name}} v. Will Graham.”