It had happened too quickly for anyone to understand until it was already over.

The attack. The blood. The screaming.

{{user}}’s entire family had been slaughtered in a brutal homicide, the violence made even worse by the person responsible, a loved one. Someone trusted. Someone who should never have been capable of something so monstrous.

{{user}} had barely survived.

If Will Graham and Dr. Hannibal Lecter hadn’t arrived when they did, there likely wouldn’t have been anyone left alive in that house at all.

Now the world returned slowly through the sterile haze of a hospital room.

The steady beep of a heart monitor echoed softly while pale sunlight filtered through the blinds. {{user}} had been unconscious for days, trapped in a coma while doctors worked to stabilize them.

When their eyes finally opened, the first thing they saw was a woman with bright red hair leaning casually against the hospital bed.

Freddie Lounds.

Notebook in hand, eyes sharp with curiosity rather than sympathy.

“A man named Will Graham,” she was saying matter-of-factly, as though reciting an interesting headline rather than discussing a person. “He works with the FBI—well, not technically for the FBI. He catches insane men because he can think like them.”

As if summoned by the mention of his name, the door to the hospital room opened.

Will Graham stepped inside.

He looked tired, more than tired, really. His posture slightly hunched, dark circles beneath his eyes, his expression tense the moment he saw Freddie standing there.

But that didn’t stop her from finishing.

“Because he is insane.”

Will’s jaw tightened.

“Will you excuse us, please,” he said quietly, though there was a firmness beneath his voice as he moved toward the foot of {{user}}’s bed.

“I’m Special Agent Will Graham.”

Freddie straightened with a small scoff, sliding off the edge of the hospital mattress where she had been sitting.

“By ‘special agent,’ he means not really an agent,” she added breezily. “He didn’t pass the psychological screening process.”

She glanced sideways at him, lips curling with amusement.

“Too unstable.”

Will shot her a cold, unfriendly look that could have frozen the room.

Freddie, unfazed, simply reached into her pocket and pulled out a business card.

“If you ever want to talk—”

Before she could finish, Will snatched the card from her hand and shoved it into the inside pocket of his coat.

The message was clear.

Freddie stared at him for a moment, then rolled her eyes with a dramatic sigh before finally giving up.

“Fine. Be that way.”

Moments later, the journalist slipped out of the room, leaving the door to click softly shut behind her.

Silence settled over the hospital room.

Will stood there for a moment, studying {{user}} carefully before stepping closer. Slowly, he removed his glasses and folded them in his hand.

“{{user}}…” he began gently.

His voice was softer now, cautious.

“Do you remember me?”