Chapter Text
The forest was dark. So dark. She couldn't see a thing. She tried grabbling around, but she could only feel the texture of wood around her. The area was huge, but it was covered with all those trees to the point it was hard to walk. It was quiet to the point she could hear her heartbeats and her blood flowing in her veins.
That's when she heard it. A deep breath next to her.
– Hello Willow.
She ran as fast as she could. She had no idea she could run this fast. As she tried to reach for her gun, she noticed she didn't have it with her. She cursed herself in her mind. She ran towards nowhere, letting her body guide her.
She suddenly saw light. She ran towards it with the intention of asking for help or to try to find a gun. She ran and ran, but she didn't seem to get any closer. Her legs ached. She ran and ran and ran. This went on for about five minutes before she was finally able to move. Just as she reached the light, she saw the woman's cadaver.
– See?
///
Willow Graham woke up suddenly, sweating. Once again, Gargot Hobbs didn’t allow her to have a full night of sleep. She was trembling, cold sweat dripping against her warm back. Those moments always made her uncomfortable. The wet coldness against her skin sent shivers through her spine.
She slowly left her bed, trying to not make any sounds, afraid to wake up her dogs, which slept by her side. She felt the wood against her bare feet as she walked towards the direction of the bathroom. She picked up a towel as she removed her shirt. She could see herself in front of the mirror, only wearing a bra and underwear. She was thinner than she was supposed to. She barely had any time to eat and she barely worked out, so she was pretty much skin and bones.
Her curly and dark hair was longer than ever, and definitely looked messier than it should, even for someone who was just rolling from one side of the bed to the other. It definitely needed a trim. She took a mental note on doing that once she had time, which essentially meant never. She dried herself with the towel and allowed herself to take one more quick glimpse before returning to her room.
It was cold. The breeze felt freezing in her bare skin, almost as if her skin was about to congeal. Still, she was sweating buckets. Her nightmares hadn’t stopped ever since she killed Gargot Hobbs to save the woman's son. Her face just before she was going to pass was burnt into her memory forever. Willow looked at the sleeping pills standing by her nightstand. She had gotten it some weeks ago, since people said that it “should definitely help her have a better sleep”. She had read all the possible side effects, but still decided to take it. It hadn’t worked so far. Yet, she picked three pills and swallowed them without water.
She stood in front of her bedroom window, placing her forearms into the wood panel. Her house was located almost in the middle of nowhere, so she had a beautiful forest to look over when she couldn’t sleep. This was where she went to have walks, where she took her dogs to play and run. It was the main reason why she chose that specific house, besides the distance from the real world. She wanted peace. She wanted a beautiful view to calm herself down.
Admittedly, that deer was certainly ruining that experience. That black deer. It had feathers just like a crow. Was that what Edgar Allan Poe was thinking when he wrote that poem? Was he as unstable as her? Unstable to the point of having a deer following him no matter where he went? She hoped not, she wouldn't wish that on anybody. She was sick of it. She knew she was hallucinating and hoped it was some sort of side effect of the pills telling her to go to sleep. She knew it wasn’t a side effect, she just preferred to hope it was.
She sat by the side of her bed and placed the towel in the middle of it. She laid on top of the towel and covered herself with the slightly wet bedsheets. It was 2:58. Her eyes felt heavy, but not because she was about to sleep. She was exhausted. She definitely needed some sort of vacation. Not that she would be allowed to take one, either way. She was essential to the force, as Jackeline Crawford would say. Come on, what about worker's rights and all that stuff? Bunch of bullshit. She just needed some weeks outside of the country, not thinking about cases, not having to worry about gory images on a daily basis. She closed her eyes and relaxed her body, which was tensed up.
She allowed herself to imagine Venice. She had dreamt of visiting the city ever since she first read about it in middle school. Her history teacher had shown the class some pictures and made them do research on its history. She fell in love with the city right away.
She could see herself sat in a gondola, looking at the beautiful buildings passing by, slowly. They were old, but still very well preserved. She would be surrounded by history, she could even allow herself to forget she lived in the 21st century. It would be gloomy and coldish, just enough for her to wear one of her trusted flannels. It all seemed perfect, going all by herself to see all those hidden beauties. Yet, when she turned her head to see the other margin, she could only see those blonde hair strands. Those strands that followed her around.
The strands moved to reveal a face that smiled. At first an innocent smile, sharing the opinion on how beautiful it all was. But then it was a “but not as beautiful as you” smile. She then felt a hand between her legs…
That thought allowed her to sleep as peacefully as her condition could allow her to.
///
Her phone started loudly ringing at seven. She woke up feeling slightly hazy. She took some seconds to process what was happening. “You have to pick up the phone” she ordered herself.
It was Jackeline. Great, she had barely woken up and was already being disturbed by her boss. She ignored the call and saw the 3 new messages.
Hey, we found something
Get up now.
We think is the Ripper
The last message made her get up. She texted Jack telling to pick her up in 15 minutes. All her dogs were walking around her. They must have woken up due to all the noise. She quickly placed some food for them and went into the bathroom.
She bathed fastly and got on some clean clothes. She made some black coffee and picked up an apple from her countertop. “An apple a day keeps the doctor away” she chuckled to herself, tired. She could hear Jackeline honking in front of her house.
///
She was standing in front of what was believed to be one of the Chesapeake Ripper crimes. A white woman, with long, dark, curly hair, and a peaceful appearance. She didn’t suffer while dying. Probably an overdose of sleeping pills. Willow shivered at the thought. Her hair was positioned in such a way that it looked like a halo, covering from the back of her head to a few centimeters on top of it. She laid in the middle of a road, her arms open. Below them, two puddles of blood were intentionally made to look as if she had wings. The lower part of her legs were removed, but instead of her guts, wild flowers came out of the cavity on her stomach. They all had a light colour, almost similar to the ones used to represent halos in paintings. The killer definitely was someone into arts, especially sacred art. Her eyes were closed and she smiled. What scared Willow most was how close they looked. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
—
I saw the woman on the street. I had an appearance in mind, anyone that had that specific appearance would do. I only think about the ends that I want to reach, it doesn't matter what I need to do to reach it. Even though there's some moral to what I do, it's minimal.
I saw that beautiful young woman leaving somewhere. Probably a store considering her expensive clothes. I started following her around in a car. As soon as she reached a quieter street, I left my vehicle and pretended to want some information from the woman. Just as she was looking at her phone to answer my question, I hit her in the head.
I brought her to my car. I made the woman swallow many sleeping pills. Around 20 or 30. Deadly dose. She didn't deserve to have a painful death like my other victims. No. She was a random person, she was good. I drove calmly towards the place of the crime scene.
(that place had a purpose, it was intentional, why?)
I made sure the woman was dead. I slapped her sometimes and moved her like a ragdoll. I placed her on an improvised medical bed. With the correct tools, I cutted down the woman's leg and removed her gut.
I placed her in the middle of the street. It was late at night, no one would disturb me. I picked up two big molds in my car. They were shaped like angel wings. I made two long cuts along her back so that it would bleed into the mold’s shape. I carefully picked up the flowers on my car and placed them into her stomach area. I fixed her hair, while wearing gloves, so that it looked like one of the many halos I had painted before. I admired my work before walking away with the legs on a plastic bag. I headed somewhere. Where was it?
I wanted to worship someone. Tell them how much I loved them. How much I would risk for them. Show them just what I'm capable of in hopes of reciprocation. That's my design.
—
– So, is that our guy? - Jackeline said, walking towards Willow. She seemed worried. Willow likely was thinking for a long time.
She could see in Jackeline’s eyes that she noticed the resemblance between Willow and the victim. She knew how unstable Willow was. Was she worried she wasn't able to picture the murderer's point of view? Was she worried she could only see herself getting murdered? Although this also disturbed her, that was not the case. She could only picture herself killing that woman. Could this be considered some sort of suicidal tendency? She didn't quite know how to answer her own thoughts.
Willow kept quiet for a second. She closed her eyes and thought, trying to organize her conclusions in order for it to make sense for the rest of the team.
– I imagine so. I get the Ripper feeling. - Jackeline stopped by her side and gazed at her - Is there anything missing besides her intestines?
– Her stomach is also missing. - Bridget Zeller said, kneeling by the side of the body - He did not cut her besides this cavity and her back, so he definitely got the organs through here. - she pointed towards the hole - The holes on the back are too small.
Willow got quiet for some moments. She gazed at the deceived body.
– Where are her legs?
– We are looking though nearby dumpsters, but we haven't found anything so far. - Jackeline said, catching Willow’s attention - Do you think he could’ve taken her legs as another trophy?
– No, too big to carry around. - Willow looked at the deceived woman. She must've been about the same height as Willow, so the legs would be about 71 to 76 centimeters - A guy walking with a big bag at night would definitely raise some suspicions, especially in the middle of nowhere. He would need to carry the bag around at least in front of his house. That would raise some suspicions. Someone would've called us.
Willow got quiet again. Worship, devotion… This was all very christian-like. Almost as if the Ripper left a clue for them. Unusual, but she tried to follow that idea. A flash of herself inside a church with the woman's legs appeared for a second.
– Are there any nearby churches?
Jackeline looked at her confused and sighed.
– Yes, there’s one a kilometer away. - Jackeline answered, raising one of her eyebrows - Why?
The place was indeed intentional.
Willow got quiet for one second. It usually took her some time to explain her way of thinking. All her thoughts flowed inside her head and made connections she herself couldn't explain. It took time to get the correct words to not sound as psychotic or delusional.
– This is… - she gestured, pointing to the body - Worship. This doesn't seem like humiliation. The flowers, the halo, the expression… This woman didn't do anything wrong. She died peacefully. Likely sleeping pills. This seems more as if he was worshiping someone. This is a gift, a tribute to someone he admires.
– Was this some sadistic form of showing love to his beloved? There are many works of fiction where one of the people from the couple kills the other and cannibalizes them. Is our guy into this kind of stuff? Were they dating?
– No, the Ripper doesn’t kill people who he loves. He might want to, but he keeps it under control. He can only love people he respects, and once someone gains his respect, he will almost always stay by their side. This is a tribute to someone else.
They both got quiet for an instant. It was obvious who the tribute was for. They didn't dare to say it for some time.
– To you. - Jackeline said, her voice a bit lower.
Willow remained quiet for some seconds. Her head was going around at full speed. A sudden headache made her head tingle.
– Just because she looks like me doesn't mean it’s directed towards me, Jack. This could be just a coincidence. I have some very common characteristics. - Willow said, her voice louder, her body tensing up. Her vision started to get slightly blurry.
– Oh, it certainly is for you. Our guy knows about the investigations. He’s in touch with the news. He’s probably an avid reader of Tattlecrime, as you yourself say. He knows you’ve been working on the case. He must have some sort of respect towards you. That is the least you can say. Stop pretending it's not or else you'll drag us down.
Another moment of silence. Yes, Willow knew it was directed towards her. The resemblance was almost uncanny. Too much to deny. The Ripper likely spend weeks looking for the perfect victim. She would be a fool if she ignored such an obvious sign. She placed her fingers under her glasses and pressed them against her closed eyes. She sighed.
– Just… Take me to the church.
///
It was a very small place. It could barely fit twenty people there. It was comprehensible, this was in the middle of an almost desert road after all. Yet, it was beautiful. It was noticeable that whoever built it really took its time and made it with love. There were some statues on the wall made of the same wood as the structure. They jumped towards the direction of the devotee, sticking out. Willow touched the finger of one of these statues and felt shivers against her spine. No gold, just wood and some paintings here and there. It was certainly disturbing, to say the least.
But what stood out the most was the biggest statue. It was centered in the altar. It was made entirely of wood in a passionate attempt to recreate some sort of Renaissance-esque style. She, as someone who barely knew anything about art, thought it was better. More original. It was Mary Magdalene, crying, looking upwards, her hands located in her chest, praying. She had never seen a representation of the saint so close. It was admirable. She felt her chest getting slightly heavier.
Willow and Jackeline walked slowly towards the direction of the statue. Jackeline had made a quick sign of a cross. Willow had sighed. But, before she could ask her boss about her religious beliefs, she saw exactly what they were looking for. The bare legs of the victim, kneeling in front of the saint, almost as if she was praying. On top of the legs was a singular strand of dark, curly hair. Willow's eyes widened at the sight. Jackeline quickly called someone and ordered them to get there, now.
– This is definitely worship. - Jackeline said as she put her phone in her back pocket - Do you think he sees you as Mary Magdalene?
– I… - Willow’s mind rushed at the thought of a killer admiring her - He sees me as someone who needs to be… Saved. Transformed, in my view. Someone who needs to see the truth of the world. Admire the beauty of the world once it’s been revealed to them. Just like Jesus saved Magdalena and showed her the world of faith.
– Is he trying to convert you?
– Not really, no. I would say he wants me to see... His twisted world. He thinks I understand him. That we think like minded. He sees me as a possible colleague, as companionship. Someone who would join him on his killing sprees and cuddle with him by the end of the day.
– Could he be in love with you? - Jackeline asked, with a nervous undertone.
Willow’s eyes widened. The Ripper being into her was surely a disturbing thought. Her heart started racing and she felt her chest starting to ache. Was she having a heart attack? The mere idea of a killer loving her could make her have such a reaction?
– I can’t say that, Jack. Inside his twisted mind, he might think he is. But this doesn’t seem like love. It's obsession. Going so far to the point of killing someone and displaying them so we can see he wants me… It’s showing much more about himself than he usually does. He's revealing some very personal information about himself.
– So he’s not the Ripper, then? Displaying so much emotion…
Before Willow could correct her, she was in front of Hannah Lecter’s house. Great, once again she had disassociated. Lost track of time. What had she said? How did she get there? Her car wasn't nearby, so Jackeline likely left her there.
Her heart started to race and she started to run out of air. Her legs got slightly weak, and the headache started to get only worse, if that was possible. She felt her brain pulsating inside her skull. Just as she was about to quietly escape and not bother the doctor, she heard the sound of the door opening.
– Willow? - Hannah asked - What are you doing here at this time of the day? You’re some hours early and definitely at the wrong place for our session today.
Willow freezed. She looked at the doctor ashamed, like she was doing something very immoral. Of course, Hannah had already told her she could come anytime she wanted or needed, but it still felt wrong.
– I… I disassociated again. I was at a crime scene with Jackeline, and just as I was going to answer her, - she stopped mid sentence to catch some air - I was here…
Willow noticed Hannah's ominous expression. She could never take much information about how she felt based on her pure reactions. Yet, she caught herself thinking of the same thing as the doctor: how she always ended up there when she had those episodes.
– Come in. I’ll make you some tea. - Hannah said, pointing towards the door of her house.
They both walked slowly towards the direction of the kitchen, Willow behind Hannah. She looked at Hannah’s back: it was strong, yet elegant. Not the kind of people who went to the gym, but enough to be able to defend herself in case some crazy patient tried to attack her. Her blonde, long hair was put up in a bun, but still some strands were hanging freely in her neck. It was noticeable she hadn’t been waiting for anyone. Still, she wore very tasteful clothes. She wore a black pencil skirt, alongside a white button shirt and some black heels. It truly amazed Willow how she wore these clothes even without waiting for anyone. At home, she herself usually wore a flannel shirt, something beneath it and her underwear. They definitely lived in two very distinct worlds.
Before she could notice, they had already reached the kitchen and Hannah was looking at her. She likely had already called Willow and said something, because she was pointing towards a box with a plethora of tea bags. She had a calm smile on her face once she noticed Willow was finally paying attention.
– Which do you prefer?
– Anything is great, honestly. Do you have mint?
Hannah quietly nodded and started preparing some tea. She got a kettle from under her sink and started placing some water in it. Willow sat at the counter on the other side. Hannah would be extremely mad if anyone else did that, but Willow was allowed. She placed the kettle on top of the stove and turned it on at a high temperature.
Hannah turned around and looked at Willow. She smiled gently, that smile that was hard to crack what was behind. They were quiet while waiting for the water to boil. This silence that instaurated between them had become comfortable for Willow. It was usually in these quiet moments that people judged her for something she had said, or looked at her as if she was repulsive. But not Hannah. She barely judged Willow. Only in her few attempts to psychoanalyze her, which were quickly cutted of by her. She was one of the few people Willow felt mostly comfortable around.
– So, tell me Willow, what did you see that caused you such a reaction? - Hannah looked at her with an understanding expression. Almost pitiful. She could hear the oven heating the water.
– Firstly, a woman. Well, the top of her body, at least. She looked just like me. Like, doppelganger kind of looked like me. She was laid on the floor of an almost unused road.
“Her hair formed a halo around her head, she had two cuts on her back, and the blood that came out of those wounds formed two wings by her arms, which were positioned as if she was in a cross. There were some flowers in a cavity where her legs should be. A kilometer away, in a small church, her legs were worshiping a statue of Mary Madalegna. Her intestines and stomach were missing. We think it's The Ripper, but Jackeline only is thinking that the killer is in love with me or something similar because of the victim's appearance.
Hannah quietly hummed in response. She redirected her attention back to the tea. She picked out some mugs that were probably more expensive than Willow's monthly salary and placed a teabag in each of them.
– What do you think, Hannah? I have some ideas, but I want to hear your’s first. - Willow said, trying to revive the conversation.
Hannah stopped her action to think, Willow supposed. She stayed still for some seconds, pondering, before answering the question.
– Love and worship are very similar things. A woman who will do anything for her husband who treats her badly, a child willingly to risk everything for their mother… All of God’s devotees love him, yet not every single person who loves someone else worships them. Don’t you believe that there should be some sort of devotion in love?
– I don’t have any ideas about love, Dr. Lecter. I truly believe I'm not able to deal with such things. But tell me more about that.
– Well… - Hannah picked up the kettle from the stove and started to pour the hot water in the mugs - I suppose that it’s only love when you’re willing to do anything for that person. You should kill someone after just the slightest mention that that person wanted it. - she placed the kettle by the side of the mugs - You should give up on anything and everything if that person wanted you to. - she picked up the mugs and gave one of them to Willow, gazing at her, smiling. It was a weird smile, not like those plain, empty smiles she usually had - Don’t you think, Willow?
Willow hummed in response, not necessarily agreeing nor disagreeing with her. An alarm was blasting at the back of her head, telling her something was wrong. That smile was genuine, but it seemed creepy. It was unsettling. She couldn't stop looking at it, feeling her breath quickening.
– Would you kill for someone, Hannah? - Willow looked at Hannah’s eyes. She hated eye contact, yet this moment felt as if such a thing was needed.
Hannah’s smile widened.
– Wouldn’t you, Willow? - she looked at Willow’s eyes. It seemed as if she was seeing Willow's soul, looking at every single thought and dream she had and analyzing her looking for an answer. Willow could feel her cheeks getting slightly red.
– I’m unstable, Hannah, you know my answer.
Hannah turned her back at Willow and took a sip of her tea.
– Well, then you can say that we're both unstable.