The Sad Tale of Darcy Taylor
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to anything connected to the Silence of the Lambs, Hannibal, or Red Dragon movies or books, nor am I making any money from this in any way. Any resemblance to anyone, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Author's Note: Ever since I saw "Red Dragon," I've been intrigued by who Darcy Taylor was. This is her story. If you read, please review!
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Prologue
My name is Darcy Taylor and I am about to die. No, wait. Let me back up a bit, so this will make some sense...
My body feels like lead. My eyes flicker open in shock when I realize that I am lying on a cold steel table. And I'm naked. Well, that wasn't a complete surprise—my clothes were still lying on the floor when he ripped them from my body. I had done the same to him before we fell on the bed, our limbs entangled as they usually were when we fucked. He's old enough to be my father, but he's given me the best sex I've ever had.
I look around as best I can and I'm in what looks like an operating room. I blink my eyes and try to see clearly. No, I'm not in a hospital. I see the dull grey walls of a basement. There are no windows.
I force my dulled brain to remember something, anything that might explain where I am and how I got here. Then I remember the feel of his lips on mine as he kissed me that last time.
"Again?" I asked, tracing my fingers over his face in the dim light. Most men were only good for one fuck in a night, but not him.
"No," he said with a slight shake of his head. "That was goodbye." He stretched out his hand and I saw him take something from the top of the nightstand. It took me a minute to realize that it was a syringe.
"What the--?" I managed to say before I felt the sharp prick of a needle entering my neck. Before I had a chance to react or ask him what the hell he was doing, he depressed the plunger, sending the drug straight into my jugular vein. There was a sad, almost apologetic expression on his face.
"I'm sorry, Darcy," he said. "Everything good must come to an end, even us…"
Before I had a chance to ask him what he meant, I blacked out.
I heard the sound of water running and I know he's close by but I can't see him. Above the beating of my heart, I hear music. Mozart. Marriage of Figaro, I think.
I heard the sound of footsteps and I am barely able to turn my head towards him. He was dressed in a doctor's scrubs. "Ah, you're awake I see," he said. A surgical mask covers the lower part of his face but I can see the skin around his eyes is crinkled and I know that he is smiling. Before he comes closer, he wheels an instrument cart to my left. The bastard brings it close enough to me so I can see what it on it. Scalpel, clamps, probes….everything that a doctor would require to perform surgery.
"What…why? Why are you doing this?" I asked.
"I've waited long enough to taste you. Oh no, not that way," he said, smiling, "although, I do admit I will miss that particular aspect of our relationship."
Despite the freezing temperature of the room, I felt a warm flush between my legs. He had been so damn good at that. A lot of men don't like to go down on a woman, but he didn't mind at all. In fact, he asked if he could. The first time he did it, I looked down and just as his mouth hovered over my cunt and I caught the expression on his face, it seemed as if he'd died and gone to heaven. God knows, that talented tongue and mouth of his sent me there every single time.
"Are you going to kill me?"
"Eventually," he replied casually, as if he were referring to the weather.
"Please…please don't do this to me. Let me go. I won't tell anyone, I swear to God!"
He sighed. "I can't do that, Darcy."
"Someone will hear me. You won't get away with this!"
"Oh? I have gotten away with it. Many times, in fact. And as for the noise you'll undoubtedly make when I begin to carve your flesh, this basement is soundproofed. The concrete walls swallow sound; I've made sure of that."
Realization of what he was talking about flooded over me. He had killed before. He was going to carve into me like a roast he purchased from a butcher shop. No, there was more to his statement than that. He ate flesh. Human flesh.
And I was next on the menu.
He saw through every one of my tricks from the start. I should have known better than to try to outsmart him. How could I have been so fucking stupid?
It's ironic that me, Darcy Taylor, used men for anything I could get out of them. Jewelry, money, a place to live…I've fucked a lot of men to get what I want. Once I squeezed everything I could get from one man, I'd move on to another. And another. And another. Each one older and richer than the poor slob that shared my bed before him. Now, during my last moments of life, I know what it is like to be fucked.
My name is Darcy Taylor and I am about to die. As I wait for my end, I can't help but think that this whole mess started because I was short on cash and about to be evicted...
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A/N: shall I continue?