When's Hannibal coming back?

I wore four winter coats layered onto one another. Mischa clung to my chest underneath the layers. Her little hat covered head poked out and rested at the base of my neck. There was no more fire wood. The scrap pieces of wood that a few furniture sets could spare brought little heat. I didn't want to ruin all the furniture because Hannibal would be upset.

The hissing of oil added noise to the horribly quite house. I laid another piece of meat on the pan, the sizzling louden.

I stopped viewing the meat as human, instead as food. Falling into self hatred and guilt every time I was hungry got exhausting. I wanted to live. I wanted Mischa to live. I have to do this, I had no choice. As long as I keep myself alive long enough for Hannibal to come back I'll be alright.

I ate and then pulled down my jackets and shirt to allowed Mischa to breastfeed. While she ate I tried to let my mind drift off but there was nothing to daydream about. Everyday was the same, the only difference to today is that you could spot soggy grass patches through the melted snow. Maybe I could try to find help, but I doubt Mischa would last long traveling that far and in the cold. Something had to change. Food was running low and now that we ran out of logs I don't know if we could survive another snow storm. Hannibal needs to come back soon.

My hand pulled my attention as Mischa continued suckling. The swelling didn't go down much and the bruising worsen around the cut on my hand. A scab hadn't properly formed yet. Occasionally pus oozed from the wound when I moved it around too much. I tried cleaning it but only antibiotics could fix it now. I ignored the pain.

When Mischa finished I brought her near the fire place and wrapped her in blankets. She's small but heavy enough to cause pain if I held her too long. My back needed a break from her weight. I laid on the couch and let my eyelids fall.

When I woke up I had hoped hours went by but when I checked the clock it was only minutes. The boredom and loneliness was worse than the cold. I tried to fall back to sleep but my bladder refused. I dragged my tired body to the toilet. When I pulled down my pants I saw the scar on my stomach. The scar tissue was an angry red and stretched as long as my hand. I slid my fingers along it.

Although I was in so much pain and was barely awake at the time I remember watching Hannibal's serious face as he performed my c-section. I dryly chuckled. I knew Hannibal use to be a surgeon but I never realized how skilled he was till I was his patient.

I rubbed the scar again. He saved mine and Mischa's life. All I did to repay him was slap him in the face. Tears started to gather and my throat shrunk. I kept telling myself that he'll be back any day now but I don't know if I believe that anymore.

The scar hurt when I pressed down on it, yet I kept doing it to stop myself from putting the truth together. But the pain wasn't enough to hide the fact that Hannibal is not coming back. I released the tension in my throat along with the tears as I coughed. One of the last things I called him was a bastard.

I tucked my face in my hands and fell to the floor. I miss him so much. I don't care anymore, I don't care what he has done. I just want to see him again.

I grab my hand and pushed my finger into the wound. Wake up already. Please wake up from this dream. I didn't want to believe that I'm never seeing him again.

I sobbed into my hands. Hannibal isn't coming back. He hates me. I didn't accept him for who he was so he left me. It's my fault, everything is my fault.

I grabbed the sink and pulled myself up. Snot dripped down my face and my eyes stung. I wanted to sleep in order to escape from this reality. Maybe when I wake up he'll be here or even better I'll forget and all of this pain will fade along with the memory of him. I crawled back to the couch and tried to sleep but I couldn't. I screamed and slammed my hands against the cushions.

If I can't go to sleep I'll make myself sleep.

I opened the medicine cabinet. Not to look for aspirin for the throbbing pain in my hand or antibiotics for the infection. No, not for any of that.

I poured each orange bottle into my hand and then slammed my pill filled palm into my mouth. I used facet water to wash it down. I did these till each bottle was empty.

I will finally sleep. I just wanted to go to sleep.

I started to feel calmer already. My heavy breathing slowed I led myself back to the couch and let the pillows catch my head. I didn't feel any sadness or pain. Everything just felt numb. I closed my eyes and finally went to sleep.

~