Where there's a will there's a way . . . right? Not always. At least, not in my opinion, it's not. My name is Micheline. No there is no last name attached to it, at least, none that I will acknowledge as my own. When I was born, my parents sent me and a small letter in a basket to a local orphanage doorstep and where never seen again. For years, I tried to discover the identity of my real parents, but it came to no avail.

However, that is not the story about my life which I plan on telling you. I plan on telling you about my life as a slave, abused and used from the age of fourteen by a man crueler than anyone else on the planet. I also will tell you about my life as a foster child, and how I became known as the eldest child in the home of Lecter, Hannibal Lecter to be precise.

You are probably wondering how such a phenomenon could be possible. Surely, the author of the book would have written about such an interesting character, especially when she plays such a large role in the life of the man who would one day become Hannibal the Cannibal, most feared human being in modern day society. After all, she was his adopted older sister and she was the one who . . .

I'm getting ahead of myself. If I continue on in such a manner, I would spoil the entire story for you and what kind amusement would that be for you? Anyway, as I have said, my name is Micheline and, although I have taken up different last names such as Lecter, I have no true name which I would ever acknowledge as mine. Micheline was the name on my parents' letter and Micheline is what I've always been called, even by the man who treated me as his slave for 15 years. Who is this man? A man so cruel even Satan himself would hang his head in shame. However, in a world where everyone hated him for his cruelty and his heartlessness, one woman managed to fall in love with him. Once again, I'm getting ahead of the story. After all, it's a little unfair to tell you all the plot line and fill in the details later. That's just inconsiderate and rude and, unlike my master, I am nothing of the sort.

The story begins at a small unknown orphanage in Germany. I was a year old at the time and had been left on the front doorstep of the Mistress of the orphanage, Frau Hertz. She was a strict woman, but she cared for every child who had been sent to the orphanage as if it were her own. She took me in and took care of me until I was six, which was when I was sent to live with a Jewish family not far from the city of Berlin. However, my time with them was not long. The Jews were discovered by a band of German soldiers two years after the Second World War started - my age at the time being eleven - and I was taken to an orphanage once I was properly identified as a German.

That as when I first met this man I would later be forced to call master and lord. Even at my age of eleven years, I could sense a deep aura of evil surrounding him and was uncomfortable near him and the rest of the men in his squadron. Their eyes were filled with hatred and pain from the war from which we were all suffering. When I was first pulled from the arms of the woman I called Mama, I fought hard against the men and was forced painfully into a wall by whom would seem to be the leader. "Sweig, oder wir töten dich vor deiner Mutter, Kind." (Silence or we will kill you in front of your mother, child.)

I immediately stilled and looked up into the eyes of the man. He knew how to attack me effectively, even if he had only known me for a few moments, and that chilled me to the bone. His eyes reminded me of the artic wolves I had seen hunting in the woods not far from the place I presently called home and were the color of the ice hanging from the gutters. I swallowed hard as 'wolf man' knelt down so we were at eye level. "Sie sind kein Jude, oder?" (You are not a Jew, are you?)

I kept silent as a returned the evil glare he was giving me. After all, he had told me to be silent. He smiled cruelly as he touched my cheek. "Sie sind, sogar an solch einem frühem Alter zu schön." (You are too beautiful, even at such an early age.)

Wolf man looked me over from head to toe and I did everything in my power not to flinch at his cold touch. "Kannst Du nicht sprechen?" (Can you speak, miss?) When I nodded, he smiled and a chill ran up and down my spine. "Warum sprichst du nicht mit mir?" (Why don't you speak with me?) I turned away and focused my attention on Mama, so he could understand why lack of communication. "Ich verstehe. Du willst nicht vor deiner Mutter sterben, ist es das?" (I understand. You do not wish to die before your mother, is that it?)

I nodded and his smile faultered slightly. He glanced toward one of his soldiers and gestured toward Mama. The soldier gave a swift nod before approaching her with his gun at the ready. "Mama!" I screamed, attempting to rush to her aid as the man rose the rifle and prepared to fire. Wolf man held me back and I watched in absolute horror as she was murdered in front of me. I struggled against the firm grip of the wolf man as I cried for her and my inability to prevent her death. Wolf man pretended to attempt to comfort me, telling me to hush and whispering softly, "Alles ist gut, Liebes. Ich beschütze dich." (All is well, dear. I am here to protect you.) All the while he was smelling my hair and groping my body, apparently looking for something in me I would never give willing to a cruel man such as him.

"Nein, Sie sind hier, mich zu zerstören!" (No, you are here to destroy me!) I screamed and, without thinking about endangering my safety, I bit his left hand until he bled in my mouth, the coppery taste a new sensation on my tongue. He yelped in pain and released me, allowing me to fall painfully on my right side. He raised the other hand and prepared to strike me across the face.

"Hören Sie auf!" (Stop!)

Wolf man stopped at the order and glanced over at his commanding officer. "Was sollen wir mit dem Mädchen tun?" (What are we to do to the girl?) The distaste for the more respectable soldier was obvious with the venom dripping from his words.

The man stepped closer and made a quick inspection of me before he said, "Nehmen Sie sie zum nächsten deutschen Waisenhaus. Sie ist dort sicher." (Take her to the next German orphanage. She is safe there.)

Wolf man merely nodded as his commanding officer offered me a helping hand up. I took it cautiously and stayed close by his side as we ventured into the next German town the squadron inspected, Brandenburg. I dared not venture too far from the commanding officer's view, especially when I would notice wolf man's intense stare following me. When we arrived in Brandenburg, it was he who took me to the front steps of the orphanage under the careful watch of the commanding officer.

He placed a hand on my shoulder and, while it would appear to most he was giving me a reassuring squeeze, it was a dangerous signal to me. "Wir werden uns wiedersehen. Du wirst immer zu mir gehören." (We will see each other again, miss. You will always be mine.) He squeezed my shoulder once more before he left me with Frau Engel, the strict Mistress of the orphanage.

I spent three months with Frau Engel at the orphanage, worrying wolf man might catch me once the war was over, before a couple, whom I had only referred to as Mother and Father Lecter. They treated me like one of their own and enjoyed watching as I played with five-year-old Hannibal and took care of two-year-old Mischa, both of whom I loved very much. Unbeknownst to all of us, our happiness would be short lived as the horrors of war would soon consume us all.