Work Text:
Dr. Lecter,
I know you have been trying to get ahold of me since my arrest and I apologize for not getting to you sooner. I've not been allowed any phone calls in paranoia that I have some sort of accomplice, though a guard has just given me a pen and a piece of paper. I figure my one letter should be addressed to you over anyone else.
If you've been wondering, I'm having an amazing time here. I've actually never been better! It's so great rotting in prison for things I have no memory of, or assurance that I even did them at all. I've been doing very well with the fact that my surrogate daughter, who I never got the chance to get close to, despite wanting to, is dead, and it might have been me who held the knife. I hope you're doing good as well because I'm having the time of my life here!
Of course, the one piece of evidence that I would possess, one that would prove without a doubt whether I did it, memory, is not present at the moment. I can't be sure if Alana’s defense is true or if my gut is, and my gut is telling me that I've been massively fucked over.
If my suspicions are true, know that whoever is doing this to me is going to pay, and I don't intend to play by the rules that they have already been breaking. I don't care about Jack anymore, or the FBI. I've given up good and evil, so save your energy in trying to save me. I do appreciate your effort in trying to, it means a lot to me, but I am already underneath the surface, sinking—no point in trying to grab my hand now.
I'll end this letter by saying that I really valued you as a therapist and as a friend, and I hope one day I'll be able to peek under that mask you're so good at wearing. I'd like to see what's been hiding under my nose this whole time.
Sincerely,
Will