Name: Abigail Starling
Nicknames: Abbie
Age: 21
Hair Color: Born with brown hair, but dyed for black for reason known later
Eyes Color: Blue
Parents: Father :( Unknown,) Mother: Clarice M. Starling
Brother(s)/Sister(s): None
Friend(s): Rebecca Reese (Dead, Cause known later)
Body Art(s): None
Quotes:"She was all I had left…"
"Yes, I've heard about Hannibal Lector. My mother worked with him, she was Clarice Starling."
Chapter 1: Train ride to Paris
"9...10...11...ah yes, 12!"I said to myself, opening the compartment door. I was riding on a train to Paris from England, which I just got there a few days ago. I was born in Maryland and lived alone with my mother. She had me at the age of 26, but then gave me to her friends, who always wanted a girl, because I got in the way of her dream of being the FBI. She met Hannibal Lecter at the age of 35, and then I was 9. And by the age of 45, ten years later, she wanted me because she was alone. I was 19 at the time, and had a life of my own, but I lived with her…til my best friend died.
I was now restarting my life over in Paris, one of the few places my and Rebecca always loved to go, but our lives would never let us. I was offered a job as a dancer at a dance studio. It's the only thing I've been during my whole life I was good that. I've saved my money, which gave me enough for an apartment, rent and food for a month. With a job paying 1000 dollars a week, I should be able to get a house with a few years.
I sat on the left side of the compartment so I could look at what I go for, not what I'm leaving behind. I took out my drawing book and my headset. I started to draw when the door opened. I looked up, not wanting to be rude and ignored the person, to see it was a middle age man. His hair was slicked back and he dressed upper class. He looked calm and I did the same.
"I reserved this compartment for myself alone." he said ever so calming.
"Well," I said, pulling the ticket out of my pocket, "I was assigned to this compartment, but I just leave then." I was about to get up when he stopped me.
"Oh no, dear. You can stay, it would nice to have someone to talk to." he held out his hand to me. "Dr. Ryan Johnson."
I shook his hand, "Abbie Starling."
He looked shocked for a second, but quickly covered it so I wouldn't see. "Starling? Like the special agent Clarice Starling?"
"Yes, actually I'm her daughter."
"But you like to old. You have to be 20." he sat down across from me, looking more interested in what I have to say.
"I'm 21. She's had me before she went into the FBI. She didn't want me. She wanted me back 2 years ago after something happened with the FBI and she was suspended. She didn't want to be alone or something, se I lived with her…until last week."
"What happened?"
"My…she just didn't want me again. I left and now I'm on my way to Paris."
"She didn't want you?"
'I shouldn't be telling him this! I've only known him a few minute now. What if he's a stalker or a rapist, or a murder! I should stop talking, but….it's weird. He's giving of the vibe like…I could trust him.'
"Ummm…ya. She got back to work and I didn't see her much. She told me a lot about her life. Special about this one person she worked with back about 13 years ago named Hannibal Lecter. He was confusing yet fascinated me, a lot like he did my mother." I light hit my on top of the head with my fist and smiled. "Wow, I talking a lot. I haven't talked this must since…never mind!" I waved my hand in front of me. "So, what type of doctor are you?"
"I'm a psychiatrist, though I did study in necrology."
"Wow, the most I've been with my life is dance and draw, but I'm better at dance."
'SHUT UP ABBIE!" I yelled at myself. I off my headset, but continued to draw. It was a picture of Rebecca. Drawing her like she was. Her blonde hair at always seem to fly in the wind, even if there was none. She silver/gray eyes that always had love in them, for life, people, and me. She lips at always held a smile no matter what. She was the bestest friend anyone could ask for. I missed her so much. A water drop hit a part of her hair, when I noticed I was crying a little. I wiped my tears away, but it was too late. Ryan saw.
"Who is that, my dear?" he looked down at the tear-strained picture. I close the book and felt the train starting to move.
"I don't want to talk about it." I looked out the window and watched as tree moved along. Before I know it, I was out like a light.
Hannibal's POV
He wondered why his sweet Clarice wouldn't tell him about her have a child. He watched as the girl fell asleep. She was turned and tossing in her sleep, just like her mother. He carefully moved her into a laying position and took off his jacket, putting it over here. He looked her over, wonder if she really was Clarice's child, but a ring interrupted his thought. Her bag was ringing, must be a cell phone. He looked into the bag and pulled out the phone. The caller id said 'Mom'. Must be Clarice.
He answered and listened.
"Abigail! Don't you hang up on me, or so help me-"
"So, the girl was telling the truth, you are her mother." there was silence on the other side
"Hannibal? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY DAUGHTER?!"
"Tell me Clarice, is it true?"
"What's true?"
"You didn't want her anymore, so she's, so to say, running away?"
"I want her home, Hannibal. She just left after Rebecca dead a week ago."
"Why didn't you tell me you have a daughter?"
"You never asked."
The was a few moment of silence.
"Please, don't hurt her Hannibal, she's…she's all I have left."
"Don't you find it strange that after I last left you, you wanted her back into your life?"
"I've always been a part of her life-"
"Not by what little Abbie told me. You gave her up. Why? To pursue your own dream Clarice?"
"I WANT HER HOME!"
"I'll send her your love. Good bye, Clarice."
He hung up on here and turned the cell phone off. He knows once they were in Paris, the FBI might be on his tail now that he reviled that he was with Abigail. He now was going to try and convince her to stay with him, in order to keep and eye on her, just in case. You never know what teenagers today. Saying one thing and doing the next.