Chapter Text
Although against Abigail's better judgment, she ran, not taking Hannibal's hand was truly a metaphorical slap to the face, she knew that he’d find that rude— but she’d known it would have been her end, and for a second, and only a second she had really considered taking his hand.
Remembering the feeling of languored peace that had washed over her when her father had tried the same.
Rain soddening her hair as she ran, past urbanely elegant homes, the sound of her shoes click clacking against cobbled sidewalks filling her ears. She knew there was a bus stationed not too far away, she also knew that considering the time there was sure to be a bus arriving soon if not now, she's been keeping track of the bus schedule, though not too concerned about where she’d go.
She had been planning this grand escape for a while, it just was hard to dare herself into action— maybe it was a little crude and ill thought out but that wasn't her main concern right now.
Headlights blinded her as the bus arrived at the stop, she picked up her pace catching it just fast enough. Handing the bus driver a couple bills, from the 30 she’d snatched from Hannibal months earlier.
Ebbing towards the back of the bus, crossing her legs and keeping her arms close to her torso so as to not become noticeable.
Stops came and went, throughout the whole night, it must have been early morning by the time the driver announced this to be the very last stop— Abigail wasn't ready to stop moving though she needed to get farther, perhaps across the states, Washington or California, far from Hannibal, Will, and whatever scraps of her life still remained. She stepped out the steep steps onto the new sidewalk, somewhere she’d never been.
The sun was peaking up behind the array of clouds, the remnants of rain still sprinkling from them.
It was one of those mornings she’d have enjoyed, her mom would brew some tea and they’d sit outside in that feeling, before the world got loud again, before school, or work, just the chirping of song birds and the rustling of trees— the memory started flooding with blood— bruising and discolouring it. Staining.
Shaking herself out of it she kept walking. She spotted a red sign that said "Ellicott City” in bolded letters.
She was far from where she’d ideally like to be but that was to be expected, maybe she’d catch a train or hitch hike. She walked further for lack of any better action, all she knew was that she had to keep going.
Away and away. Walking down a road titled Frederick road and further, turning into another road by a quaint brick building, past a pizza place. A brick wall opposite her had a mural of warm spring flowers painted on its surface.
A truck came driving down the direction, without much thought Abigail held out her thumb in hopes the man driving would stop, maybe show her enough kindness to at least get part of the way to wherever she was going.
To her surprise it came to a stop. The man inside rolled down his window, he was older than her dad or Hannibal, his hair graying around the root, wrinkles around his eyes and mouth from a life well lived.
He gave a sociable smile
“Where are ya headed young Lass?”
“Away”
The man nodded, widening his smile, he was almost maddeningly polite and she’d barely spent a second with him.
Abigail pulled herself into the truck, filling with an uncomfortable silence, and the hope nothing negative would befall her.
“So what's yer name?” he posed
“Abigail, yours?”
“John”
Thankfully after that he stopped talking whether that was because he could sense Abigail's discomfort or because he himself was uncomfortable. She wasn't sure.
The silence didn't last for long, as John picked up conversation though he seemed much less concerned about actually getting a reply of any kind.
“Im headed to Montana so I figure yer free to jus get off whenever ya please”
He continued to talk about his family, his work or even simply his hobbies and taste in music. He never got angry when Abigail didn't reply.
After he’d grown tired of talking he switched on the radio— the soft strum of country flowed through the car, like a lullaby, juxtaposed with the waking city around them though they’d soon get out to the free way, she thought at least.
Leaning her head against the window she felt the plushy feeling of sleep, something that had become a dreaded sensation for Abigail— Nightmares followed her like friends these days, images of burying a knife in her fathers throat, sometimes even her own, new flurries of Hannibal gutting will, antlers infesting every corner like a virus.
When she woke they were driving through Maryland into Pennsylvania, just past Pittsburgh if she had to guess.
The sun had nearly completely risen and the rain had come back full swing crashing against the windows.
John still seemed perfectly content, and only gave a small nod as he looked over at Abigail. After several more hours of drifting in and out of sleep, John decided to stop at a gas station for a bite to eat.
Abigail stepped out to stretch her legs while she waited, breathing in the unfamiliar air.
She decided to walk in after him, for lack of a better pastime.
Spotting a magazine with the words Abigail Hobbs resurrected a second time! by Freddie Lounds, with Abigail's face plastered over it, Will and Hannibal off to the side.
Quickly skirting away to the other side of the store, lest someone recognize her.
Much to Abigail's dismay someone did
"Hey!" aren't you that girl who helped kill all those girls?” a blonde boy yelled from behind her, he couldn't have been younger than 12, 14 at most.
The truth of the accusation made the shelves of the store cave in around her, aisles narrowing,sweat dripping behind her neck, the room seemed to stretch itself out, her with it.
crushing with guilt.
Guilt ate away at Abigail Hobbs like vines crawling through her trachea, wrapping around her lungs replacing the air she breathed with coarse dirt and weeds.
maybe it always would. Abigail was a creature made of fear and guilt, some days she wasn't sure there was much else left.
she feared one day she may break and people will be right.
Abigail Hobbs is her fathers daughter.
Somehow she’d ended up with her hands over her ears, like an overwhelmed toddler. The boy was gone, likely satisfied with the effect of his comment and left.
John had found her, clearly confused as to what happened as he shook her
He was kind, reminded her of her father—- Well before…
“are ya okay, lass?”
“Yeah—-”
He nodded, not prying—- he was good at that.
they got back in the truck, if he figured out Abigail's identity he made no mention of it.
“Want a slim jim?” John asked in passing handing a slim jim her direction
Abigail furrowed her brow awkwardly
“Uh i’m— a uh Vegetarian, given recent experiences" she replied tucker her hands under her armpits.
he gave her a strange look then shrugged
“Suit yourself”
Rain let up after a while. Abigail didn't even want to imagine what a mess she likely looked, not that it mattered.
Once they’d gotten to Indiana all the forests faded away, transforming into miles and miles of farmland, Abigail was far from home now.
Abigail continued for several hours to balance consciousness and sleep.
John continued to babble, she thought he’d probably do that whether she was there or not, but it was a small comfort, the sound of another person speaking kindly.
They arrived on the far side of Indiana as the sun was just starting to set, it felt like an eternity ago that she saw Hannibal and Will, since she ran.
“We’ll have to stop at a motel— cuz I certainly ain't driving through the whole night and then some”
Abigail nodded in response
“Girl of few words aint ya?”
Abigail simply flashed him a small smile.
they found a motel in a ‘middle of nowhere’ town, it was a sad old thing, not different from the kinds of places Abigail and her father would go if they needed to.
It had white cement walls and a large sign that seemed to have worn off with time spelling Motel.
John checked the two of them in for a room with two beds, Abigail thanked him for all did, though he simply shrugged it off, like it didn't matter to him—- he was one of the people that were just naturally good, the kind of person Abigail once believed herself to be, but now the thought left a strange taste in her mouth.
The room wasn't half bad, it had a working lock, a bathroom and two beds, although they were unimaginably stiff, though that never really mattered to Abigail.
she hadn't brought any change of clothes, so showering wasn't an option—- she’d have to get a job once she arrived… wherever, till then she would live off the kindness of strangers, as guilty as that made her feel. The vines tightened.
after using the washroom, she saw herself in that dirty old mirror, she saw her reflection for the first time in months, but it wasn't her anymore, and it hadn't been in a long time, a bit of blood still stuck to her cheek, though barely noticeable.
A glass shard pricked in her hair, yanking bits out as she pulled it free, examining it, then getting rid of it.
Her hair was still up, she pulled it out of its band—- a last attempt to seem normal, normal to herself at least. It clumped messily down her shoulders, framing her face in awkward ways.
It is a strange feeling to look in the mirror and find a stranger staring back, a stranger with sunken eyes. So exhausted it couldn't possibly be the girl she grew up with, the girl she was.
washing her hands, splashing some of the chilly water over her face. She left and laid down, under the white duvet.
staring at the popcorned ceiling, John was in a bed diagonal of her, likely fast asleep. The sun had already set, street lamps flickering.
Abigail lay awake for many more hours, afraid of what she might find if sleep took over her. Eventually she lost that fight, sinking into a still quiet sleep.