"Done already?" Hannibal's friendly voice caught your attention, the smart male standing in the living room still. "That was fast." Your eyes swivelled to the sofa, noticing that your mother's neck had been taken care of. She was unconscious, but that was to be expected.

You dipped your head as a nod - not being able to say anything, due to Freddy's words messing with your mind. "None of this would've happened if you'd just agreed in the first place." Lowering your gaze, you thought about it properly, guilt swirling around your heart as you stood still. "If you'd have accepted what we wanted from the start, your mother wouldn't have gotten hurt." No... Were you too slow on making your decision...? "So I guess what I'm saying is—" "It was technically your fault." It couldn't have been your fault...

...could it...? "Your mother's hurt because you didn't listen to us. Because you let it happen. God, she could've died because of you." His dark remarks made you feel even worse; toying with and twisting your thoughts to the point where you had no idea what you should or shouldn't have done.

"(Y/n)?" Your eyes widened while your head snapped back up - Hannibal softly touching your shoulder and sending you a soothing smile. "You look terribly disturbed." He commented in concern, using his forefinger to delicately wipe away the tears you didn't even know were there. You flinched at his touch, but didn't do anything about it. "Did Norman trouble you up there? Or are you still recovering from before?"

"Norman didn't trouble me. At least, not intentionally." You quietly replied, "And what, you think I'd just brush off what happened before? You could've killed someone I loved! How am I meant to recover from that?" You questioned coolly, staring at him in disbelief.

"You will, my dear." Hannibal used his other hand to cradle your cheek, "Traumatic events such as this always fade with time. Besides, (Y/n), the four of us are always going to be here to help and protect you from any sort of danger."

"Protect me from danger...?" You couldn't even comprehend what he meant. In your mind, you were already in a perilous situation. "What kind of danger could I be in?"

"You never know," His voice became more serious, now running his first hand through your hair as his second hand still cupped your face. "Danger often resides in the darkness of other people's thoughts and actions. Not to mention it can lurk within the shadows." He spoke ominously, his persona changing from pleasant to pensive.

"Oh..." You didn't really have a reply to that, finding it to be a very melancholy topic.

"My apologies, I do believe I made that far too dismal." Hannibal switched back to his regular self, smiling once more. "All that aside, are you ready to leave quite yet?"

"How do I know that my mother will be alright?" You spoke suspiciously, glancing back at your mom. "I mean, I literally just watched Michael attack her." Your tone was unintentionally sharp; your trust for all of them having vanished from the previous event.

"I understand your distrust, but please, the only reason we had to go that far was because you were leaning towards the consequences option." Though his voice was silky-smooth, his reply sounded like he couldn't care less - like it was of little interest to him. "Though fear not, at the current time your mother will be just fine."

You were beginning to see right through his fake façade, your fear fading as your courage returned slightly. "I get it." You responded, breaking away from his hold.

"Ah, you understand why we—"

"I understand that...that you're one of those people." You said slowly - snapping internally.

"One of those people?" Hannibal repeated calmly, waiting for you to continue.

"One of those people who can...who can get close to someone, if it means you get what you want. Even if it...Even if it means hurting the people around them. Hurting the people they love - without a care in the world. With little to no emotion. With little to no feeling. You say you have feelings for me...but do you really?" Your voice turned cold while you looked him straight in the eye.

Before he could speak, you continued. "Lack of empathy. Lack of guilt. Lack of remorse. Fake charm. Acting insincere. Those people... The ones that rarely show emotion. The people that share those traits...they're what you call psychopaths. That's what I've learnt from my psychology classes." You narrowed your eyes a tad, wanting nothing but the truth. "Is that what you are? Are you one of those people? Are you...Are you a psychopath?"

Then again, you also wanted to know something else before you received the truth. "And another thing, you say my mother will be fine at the current time, yet that felt like an underlaying threat. Like you would hurt her again if I didn't comply with something you wanted from me in the future. You say trauma fades with time, but how do you expect me to forget about what you four have done? How do you expect me to fall in love with any of you, after what's taken place here?"

Once you'd finished speaking, you brushed past him and pulled your suitcase to the door, leaving the living room and Hannibal behind. But before you left, you turned around and said one final thing to the psychiatrist. "Madness and blackmail may not be the same thing - but using emotional blackmail on the one you supposedly love...that doesn't seem like a smart idea. At least...not to me."

After that, you opened the front door and left your house; Michael shadowing your footsteps and following you out. He moved to the side of you and stopped you with his usual hand-touching-the-shoulder action. "What is it? Am I meant to regret what I said to Hannibal?" You questioned flatly, "Because the things I said were from the heart. From what I felt. I won't take any of that back. You can't fake how you feel. It doesn't...It doesn't do anything if you do." Your hand tightened on the suitcase handle, unable to stop yourself from spilling your thoughts.

Michael shook his head, writing down what he wanted to say like he always did. "I'ᗰ ᑎOT ᕼEᖇE TO ᗰᗩKE YOᑌ TᗩKE IT ᗷᗩᑕK. I ᗰᗩY ᑎOT ᗷE ᗩᗷᒪE TO ᖴEEᒪ EᗰOTIOᑎᔕ ᒪIKE YOᑌ ᗪO, ᗷᑌT I ᑕOᑌᒪᗪ ᔕEE ᕼOᗯ ᗰᑌᑕᕼ IT ᕼᑌᖇT." [A/N: "I'M NOT HERE TO MAKE YOU TAKE IT BACK. I MAY NOT BE ABLE TO FEEL EMOTIONS LIKE YOU DO, BUT I COULD SEE HOW MUCH IT HURT."]

He showed you what he'd written and you shook your head, remembering what he'd done to your mom. "What do you want, Michael?" You asked icily; tired from both the emotional blackmail and the hurtful events from earlier, not to mention how late it actually was.

"I OᑎᒪY ᖴOᒪᒪOᗯEᗪ YOᑌ TO KEEᑭ ᗩᑎ EYE Oᑎ YOᑌ ᗩᑎᗪ ᑕᗩᖇᖇY YOᑌᖇ ᔕᑌITᑕᗩᔕE." [A/N: "I ONLY FOLLOWED YOU TO KEEP AN EYE ON YOU AND CARRY YOUR SUITCASE."] The stalker wrote back, his dark eyes staring at you with the utmost intensity.

"Keep an eye on me?" You were about to ask why, but stopped yourself. You knew why. You were his obsession. The one he would stalk and follow indefinitely, until the day you died.

There was nothing you could do. Your freedom had been ripped away from you. It was like...like you were their possession now. Sure, your life had been a bit repetitive before you'd met all of them, but you should've valued your freedom more. Cadence...Laura...Amber... Would you ever even see them again? "You all...You all intrigue me. I know you've all...hurt people, and I know you're all...unstable, but I...I just want to see why you five act the way you do." What a silly thing to say. Why did you even say it? It's not like you understood any of them still. All you did was make them fawn and fight over you.

"If you insist on carrying my suitcase, then I guess you can." You passed the handle over to the silent male and let him pull it instead. "It's not like you'll listen to me anyway. You just follow your instincts and try to control me."

Michael didn't disagree with your statement - in fact, he gave a gentle nod, knowing that he did want to control and protect you. Until the end of time. "At least try and hide your obsessive tendencies towards me." You muttered; the stalker just tilting his head and staring at you with a hint of confusion.

Then, he held your hand with his other one - gripping it tightly. Almost as if...as if he couldn't physically let go. How were you meant to live with any of them? When one consistently stalks you, one continuously haunts your dreams, one uses emotional blackmail, one that randomly switches personalities, and one who tries to kill anyone that steps foot into Crystal Lake.

Just what...Just what were you to do...?