Molly's voice and her words were calming, and even as part of him continued to panic, the forefront of his mind relaxed, allowing him to breathe more easily. He still wasn't entirely sure that Molly knew what she was in for if she saw into his soul, even knowing that she'd killed before herself. He didn't know the details, of course, only the implication of the act, but he did know something inside him was perverted, and not just by Hannibal's manipulations. When he'd killed those people in the shadow city he'd grown more and more delirious with the power it made him feel, the pleasure that came with it. When he'd squeezed the life out of Marissa Schuur, he'd relished in the way she looked when she was dying, and could remember vividly the way it looked when the light went out in her eyes. It should have sickened him, thinking about it now, but it didn't. He couldn't say he felt the same satisfaction as he had then, but he didn't feel any remorse either.

"I've... Enjoyed killing," he finally said, and even before the nightmare world, he'd done so, when he shot and killed Garrett Jacob Hobbs. Hobbs had been a bad person, a murderer, and his death was justified, but Will hadn't expected to feel so pleased by taking someone's life. "I think, in that place, it was feeding off of that, my fears of..." He stopped and shook his head. He didn't know how to explain what he was afraid of, that he was terrified that he was a murderer, that he was just like Hannibal.

He took a breath. "I don't want to keep it from you," he told her, emotion rising in him again. "But I don't want you to go in blindly. There is a darkness in me." He closed his eyes, moved his hand so he was holding hers again, needing a touchstone as he opened his eyes again. "I trust you," he said, his voice a low whisper as he held her gaze, not with the intention of connecting them right now, but so she'd know he was serious about what he was saying. "I want you to see me."