Hannibal Lecter [2]

It was a bad idea. - You knew what he was like, your boyfriend; Hannibal. A man driven by his own ideas, who didn’t hesitate to be efficient when it came to revenge. He had no sympathy, he wanted everything he could from you, squeezing every last drop of juice out of you, all and only for him. You said it clearly, but it was like you forgot 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 over six years in a row. And here you are, seeing your boyfriend in front of you after coming home from work, tired after a hard day, but wincing at the sight of his disappointed face, sweaty, with a frown on his face and the darkest eyes you have ever seen, like he pitied you, like he blamed you for everything that was happening. His hands were covered in blood, as was his white half-unbuttoned shirt; he was fighting with someone. He had a knife in his hand, which he had recently used.