Frantic Thoughts With Fanatic

Lloyd Hansen Fanfic

It was late in the evening when I met him. I was strolling across a bridge over Le Seine in Paris, we had barely crossed paths, but as soon as I walked past him, he twirled me around, suddenly there was a single flower in his hand—a calla lily. His hair was slicked back with the sides shaved, blue eyes dark like the deepest ocean depths. The mustache came later, after he had broken what remained of my heart. Looking back on it, he was charming, calling me 'sunshine', my favorite flower at the ready, asking to get ice cream together if I didn't have any other plans. An instant connection if there ever was one, I wouldn't call it love at first sight, but it didn't take long for me to fall for him, hard.

At the end of the evening, when I had to leave to tend to some . . . business, we exchanged names and he asked to meet me at the same spot in a week. And I did, I didn't know why I chose to, but I liked the man. On our second meeting, we exchanged numbers, both of us having . . . jobs . . . that sent us around the world. I was off to Russia at the time and he was going to Argentina.

Months of texting later, he showed up in Venice out of the blue, knocking on my hotel room door. He had a bouquet of calla lilies. That was when we had our first kiss, but nothing about Lloyd was soft and I loved it. His company didn't want him anymore, so he had decided to go freelance. We met each other more often after that, at least once a week, usually in Paris.

After over a year of our liaisons, he met me in Paris, on the bridge where we first met, and at sunset he got down on one knee and proposed. Though we weren't married anymore, I still had the ring. The band was shaped like two calla lilies with a white diamond between them, it was custom work and quite beautiful.

I settled down in the Caribbean with him, in a small beachfront cottage. I retired my aliases and he returned to me for weeks at a time before leaving again. The stillness made me restless, that's when I went on the pills that suppressed the chaos that was so necessary for my former job, my former life.

We were so very in love, so happy. But then one day, he just didn't come home, weeks went by and then there came the divorce papers and the eviction notice. I signed the papers, moved out and sank into depression for a while, I lost track of the time, which country I was hitchhiking through. When I came out of it, I realized that my husband and I had unfinished business, and I did some digging. I figured out exactly who Lloyd Hansen was and what he did, really I shouldn't have been surprised that we were both psychopaths.

I dug in my bag, grabbed the pill bottle and leaned against the train wall, contemplating it in my hand. It was still half full from my last refill, opening the cap, the pills were red like blood and small, maybe half the size of my pinky fingernail. How could such a small thing change so much?

The man had taken everything from me, lied to me, manipulated me into loving him—or at least believing that I could. Then he had taken everything, my home, my income, my heart—such a wretched thing—and then finally, after loosing everything, he would take one more thing from me; my sanity.

I hadn't had the urge in years to do the things I had, that I had made a name for myself doing, I had hated myself for all the blood that stained my hands. But now, now I wanted to, I wanted the urge back. It was chaos incarnate, the pills put it back in order, but I didn't want order, I wanted blood.

I put the cap back on and returned it to my bag. It would take a day, maybe two for it to flush my system, but I was patient. While I waited, I would reactivate my old life, the urge to return and hunt him down was too strong to resist, and then I wouldn't rest until I slaked it with his blood.

He thought that he got away scot clean, but there was always a trail, and I was good at finding it. They didn't call me Hunter for nothing.

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