It was a bad idea.β You knew what he was like, what your boyfriend was like; Hannibal. A man driven to his ideas, who didn't hesitate to be effective when it came to taking revenge. He had no empathy, he wanted everything he could take from you, squeezing out every last drop of juice, all and only for him.
You were clear about that, but it's like you had forgotten about it when you decided to cheat on him with one of your coworkers, blinded by the desire to free yourself for a moment from Hannibal's clutches, tired of being in a steady relationship for more than six years straight.
So there you were, seeing your boyfriend in front of you after coming home from work, tired after a hard day, but grimacing at the sight of his disappointed face, sweaty, with a frown and the darkest eyes you've ever seen, as if he felt sorry for you, as if he was blaming you for everything that was happening.
His hands were stained with blood, as was his white, half-open shirt; he had been struggling with someone. He had a knife in his hand that he had recently used.