[Author's Notes: This is set in London, UK. The time frame is present time, years after Lecter's escape from Clarice. The inspiration is from Mads Mikkelsen, NBC's Hannibal, Thomas Harris' Hannibal, and The Collector. Hannibal's age is also not cannon; if figured correctly, Lecter was 42 when he was first caught in Red Dragon and late 40's-early 50's when he escaped in Hannibal. So to adjust it, I cut off a few years and made this Hannibal 47.]

[I do not own anything Hannibal or anything of the Collector. This is a work of fiction meant for utter enjoyment while my fellow Fannibals wait for Season 4 of Hannibal.]

Prologue: The Jumbled Ramblings of a Serial Killer's Survivor

My flight back from Russia had been a long one and it was already night when I finally landed at Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport. My mom was supposed to have been there when I arrived but she wasn't. I waited for two hours before getting tired of waiting so I hailed a taxi and paid him to take me back home.

The driver dropped me off just down the road from my house on Long Island Dr. I wasn't happy that he made me walk the rest of the way down the drive to my house but I couldn't complain too much because it was a beautiful night. The breeze was warm, better than the weather in Russia. I was glad to be back from my music trip. I was ready for my own bed and a very hot shower.

As I hauled my suitcase down the driveway I noticed that all of the lights were off in the house. But I guess it wasn't that unusual considering it was around midnight.

I unlocked the front door as quietly as possible and stepped inside. The house was silent so I locked the door again and left my suitcase off to the side of the door and walked through the livingroom and into the kitchen to grab something to eat.

Just before I got to the fridge I stopped when I stepped on something that sounded like glass on the floor. I frowned and pulled out my phone, lighting the screen so that I could see what it was. It was one of mom's wine glasses.

I sighed and walked over to the wall where the light was. I turned it on before heading to the closet to fetch the broom. I quickly cleaned up the glass and dumped it into the trashcan before I went back to the fridge and grabbed a yogurt from the bottom shelf. It was too late to fix anything big so I figured I'd just settle for a snack.

As I was walking upstairs I thought I heard someone moving upstairs but when I paused and didn't hear anything else I shrugged and continued upwards. I resisted the urge to peek into my parent's room to check on them; instead I went straight to my room and closed the door. I flopped down onto my bed and scarfed down my yogurt, glad to have even that little of a snack. Plane food was just nasty.

When I was done I showered and then dressed myself in one of my silk nightgowns, happy to feel the soft texture against my skin. I'd been wearing cotton nightgowns on my trip because I didn't feel comfortable with the group that I'd gone with. Most of them had been men and they had looked at me like I was a piece of fruit, ripe for the picking.

It was so good to be home.

By the time I got in bed my clock read 1:40 am. Sleep didn't take long to embrace me and I slipped into a dreamless sleep.

When I opened my eyes next my clock read 3:28 am.

I groaned and was tempted to roll over and go back to sleep but something had woken me up. I don't know what it was but I didn't feel comfortable just leaving it uninvestigated.

I pushed my covers back and stepped out of bed, grabbing my robe hanging across my desk chair. I pulled it on as I walked over to my door and opened it. The hallway was still dark. I stepped out and closed my door gently behind me, listening for the sound that had woken me up.

There was a small scratching sound coming from my parent's room. I frowned and walked over, opening and peeking around the door. The room was only lit by the moon coming through the massive bedroom window.

I stepped in, leaving the door cracked open and inched my was towards the bed. I could make out the bed but neither my mom nor dad was in it. I touched the blanket and pulled it back to make sure but there wasn't anyone there.

Just as I was turning back to leave the sight of a large trunk in the middle of the room caught my attention. I took a step towards it but stopped when the scratching sound I'd previously heard came from it.

I moved towards it again and touched it. "Hello?"

There was more scratching from inside so I reached down and unlatched the locks.

I wasn't prepared for what fell out when I opened it.

I let out a scream as a young woman tumbled out, blood pooling where she landed. She tried to lift her hand but it was twisted at an odd angle and she couldn't.

I let out another scream and ran out of the bedroom. "Mom! Dad!" I ran to the stairs and made my way down them as quickly as possible. "Mom!"

When I hit the bottom step something tripped me and I went tumbling onto the floor face first. I could taste blood from my split lip as I groaned and pushed myself upwards.

I was just shoving my hair out of my face when I saw a shadow dispatch itself from the kitchen.

It was a large man, his clothes black so that he could blend in with the darkness of the house. His face was covered by some sort of… mask. It was black but it didn't look like a ski mask. His eyes flickered in the light, reflecting the moonlight coming in from the window of the front door.

I stared up at him for a few seconds as he paused in front of me. I was almost too scared to move but I knew I had to get away.

I sort of crab walked my way past the stairs and when I was past them I quickly stood up, planning on running into the kitchen. The only thing that stopped me though was the feel of something invisible cutting into my cheek. I stopped moving and reached up to whatever was cutting me. I hissed and pulled my fingers away at the feel of the razor wire stretched across the hallway. I couldn't go to the kitchen.

I slowly turned and faced the man blocking my way to the front door. "Who the fuck are you? What have you done with my mom and dad?"

The man cocked his head to the side and slowly pulled a long blade out of its sheath on his hip. He tossed it from one hand to the other as he moved towards me. When he was a few feet away he slowly pressed the flat of the blade against my cheek. "Are you strong enough for my collection?"

I was scared but one thing this man didn't know was that I wasn't defenseless.

I grabbed the man's wrist and twisted it backwards, forcing him to drop the blade. He grunted and I used his arm for balance as I kicked my left leg upwards, hitting him across the side of his face. He dropped to his knee and I quickly let go of him so that I could run past him.

I made it to the door and was trying to unlock it when strong arms wrapped around my waist and picked me up.

I let out a scream and tried kicking backwards at the man's legs but he just chucked me at the wall. I slammed into it and slid to the floor, stunned. I tried to focus as the man knelt in front of me and gently wiped the blood pooling at the corner of my mouth from when I had tripped down the stairs.

He leaned forward as if he would kiss me but I used that moment to smash my forehead against his. I heard something crack and then suddenly I was backhanded as the man stood up and cupped his hand over his nose. I slid over sideways onto the floor and just lay there dazed, watching as he walked back and forth, hissing in pain.

I pushed myself up onto my hands and knees, fighting the feeling of nausea as I started crawling back towards the stairs. I'd only made it a few feet when I was stepped on and squished to the floor. My breath whooshed out and I groaned as he pushed most of his weight into stepping on me.

"Pl…ea…se… stop."

I could feel my ribs bending and just when I thought he was going to break them he let up.

He reached down and grabbed my hair, pulling me to my feet. He had to support me because my knees kept buckling. He stared at me face to face for a few seconds and his eyes glittered dangerously. I could see his depravity. He enjoyed killing and hurting people.

"I think I like you." His voice was both whispery and harsh at the same time.

I let out a soft whimper. "Please. Let me go. Please."

He smiled and his mask made it look twisted as he scooped me up into his arms. I could hear his heart beating calmly against his chest as he turned and headed into the livingroom. "I don't think so. I only need one for my collection and I choose you."

He made his way through the kitchen and to the back door. He dropped me to the floor for a moment as he quickly worked on unlocking the four extra locks he'd placed on the door.

When he had the door open he scooped me up again and walked out, not bothering to close it behind him.

He walked down the back porch and over to the garage where a big white van was parked. He sat me on the ground and opened the back doors. My head was spinning so much that I couldn't even attempt to escape. I think I had a concussion or something from when he'd slammed me into the wall.

After a minute of moving things around in the back of the van he picked me up again and sat me in the back. He started wrapping my wrist with rope, tying it tightly until I could barely feel my hands. When he was satisfied that I couldn't untie the knots he picked me up one final time and dumped me into a huge open traveling trunk just like the one that had been upstairs in my parent's room.

After he closed the lid and locked it I was left in darkness and silence. I don't know how long he was gone but it seemed like hours as I lay curled into the trunk.

Finally I heard the van door open and it whole vehicle shook as he got inside. The engine roared to life and he pulled out of my drive. I fought back the tears that were threatening to spill.

Unknown to me, this man, this sick man, had gone back inside and finished torturing my parents.

Later, hours… days… I don't know, but later the police would find them in the basement. My father had been skinned alive and his muscles cut one by one, peeled away from his bones until he died from blood lose. My mother… he'd cut her up and burned her body until it was unrecognizable.

I was the only survivor. That was his plan. That was his game. One for his collection.

[Four Years Later]

The first smell of freedom in four years came with a price; the price of my sanity. Four years of torture, four years of watching other people being tortured and killed in front of me.

Inside my head I'd become the monster that the Collector had been.

My freedom had meant his death.

Now that his blood had congealed on my body and in my hair and the leaves of autumn had crunched under my feet I didn't have to worry about his depravity anymore… except inside my head. I was the monster now. I saw the world through his eyes as I walked away from his castle of torture.

An hour after killing the man who'd kidnapped me and held me as his sick victim for four years, the FBI swarmed that castle in the mountains and found his depravity… his collection.

But they didn't find him.

When asked where he was I had said that I'd stabbed him in order to escape and that he'd slunk off to god knows where.

They accepted my words as truth and started a man hunt for him. They wouldn't find him.

He'd taught me well, this collector, and I wouldn't be telling my secret any time soon.

Nor would I give in to the darkness he'd given me; a gift he said he'd given me just before I began cutting his tongue out.

I was a victim, a survivor, and a monster.

I had no family; he'd murdered them after they hadn't made the collection. I had no friends.

The only thing left for me to do was to move on, to heal as much as I could… and to maybe give back to the world.

Being a monster had its perks, perks that the FBI would pay good money for as long as I went through the proper psychiatric help and finished my schooling.

I would become their monster on a leash.

[Author's Note: I've been working on this story for a few years and finally got the chance to finish it. I know that it is short and that there are canon and non-canon things present, but this is something that came to me in a dream that I needed to write. I have wanted to write something for Hannibal ever since I was a little girl and I got my grubby hands on the books and watched the movies as they came out - now I finally completed that dream! I hope that you enjoy reading! GO FANNIBALS!]