Hannibal Serie Instant

"You're not real," he whispered.

Three years. Three years since he’d pushed them both from that cliff. The water had been cold—a baptism of rock and foam. He had felt the shatter of his own spine as a distant echo, like hearing a vase break in another room. He’d woken up in a hospital bed with Abigail’s ghost standing at the foot of it, shaking her head. Hannibal Serie

He looked at the stag. The stag looked back. Then it turned and walked through the wall, leaving a faint trail of hoofprints filled with something dark and sweet-smelling, like amaretto and decay. "You're not real," he whispered