As the phone rang in the dimly lit apartment, a sense of unease settled in the pit of your stomach. It was past midnight, and calls at this hour were never good news, as you were a detective, those calls mostly mean a new case or problem. You reached for the phone, your hand trembling slightly as you lifted the receiver.

"Hello?" Your voice was cautious, barely above a whisper.

The voice on the other end was stern, almost cold. "This is Agent Crawford from the FBI. I need to inform you that Dr. Hannibal Lecter has escaped custody."

A chill ran down your spine. Hannibal Lecter, the brilliant yet terrifying psychiatrist-turned-cannibal and also psychopath, was out there, somewhere in the night. The walls of your little apartment seemed to close in as you struggled to process the gravity of the situation.

"How... how did this happen?" You stammered, trying to keep your composure.

"Details are classified for now," Crawford replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. "But I need you to be on high alert. We believe you may be a target."

Your heart raced, the sound of blood pounding in your ears. "A target? Why me?"

Crawford hesitated, the silence on the line growing heavy. "You’ve been corresponding with Lecter, haven't you? His letters... they’re more than just harmless exchanges. He’s fixated on you."

The room spun, and you gripped the edge of the counter for support. The thought of Hannibal Lecter, the man who could read the deepest corners of the human mind, having an obsession with you was too much to bear

"I suggest you leave your home immediately," Crawford continued "We’ll have an agent meet you at a secure location. Don't take any chances."