[Abigail understands the pattern of serial killers, the way they seek the ultimate kill and keep killing even after they get it, because it will never measure up to what they wanted it to be. Still, she somehow thought her case was different. She still thinks that, because she still finds it so difficult to think of her father as a serial killer; he is her father, first and foremost, and she doesn't know how to separate from him as a part of her.]
[Her brows draw together in confusion. If she wouldn't have saved those girls, she doesn't understand what she's guilty about. Nick Boyle's death? Sometimes, but not very often. What his death made her? Maybe - maybe it's that. Maybe Nick Boyle's death really did change her, like Hannibal says. It could have made her something else, elevated her.]
[She folds her hands in front of her and shrugs, noncommittal.]
You can imagine anything, though. It's not exactly realistic, when it comes to me. I can't be anything.
[ Spam ]
[Her brows draw together in confusion. If she wouldn't have saved those girls, she doesn't understand what she's guilty about. Nick Boyle's death? Sometimes, but not very often. What his death made her? Maybe - maybe it's that. Maybe Nick Boyle's death really did change her, like Hannibal says. It could have made her something else, elevated her.]
[She folds her hands in front of her and shrugs, noncommittal.]
You can imagine anything, though. It's not exactly realistic, when it comes to me. I can't be anything.