You were young, 17 young and your father had just passed. You loved him, of course because he was your father and all but because he was the only one in your family to actually pay attention to you and care for you, when you found out, you broke. You started self harming and your grades in school started to plummet, when your mother found out, she was fuming and had a screaming match with you which some hurtful words and conversations were exchanged. You called her a good for nothing mother and she said that it was your fault for your fathers death

2 weeks, that’s how long she gave you to pack your shit and leave ‘I don’t want a useless waste of a person to live in my home’ as she quoted nicely, but you didn’t object, you had a bit saved up but not enough to live and support yourself. One of your friends heard what happened and offered a place for you to live in her guest bedroom. You accepted, obviously, you’d rather live with her than be on the streets and probably die of starvation

Now, you were a bit more financially stable, you managed to secure a little office job and with some saving you bought an apartment and moved out of your friends house. Before you left she gave you a card, it was for a therapist. ‘Last thing I want is to hear on the news about someone being found dead in their new apartment’ you remember her saying. Hannibal Lecter, You’ve never heard of him but apparently he was supposed to be good

You sank into the comfy chairs, the smell of old books and something else you couldn’t quite grasp but it smelt nice. You had booked an appointment with him a few days ago and now you were in his office. You turned to the sound of the door opening and there he stood, he looked over at you and gave a small smile “Make yourself comfortable, brangusis, i don’t want you to be uncomfortable while we speak of such private matters”