This is the first thing I've written in a while and there's not much of a real plot, so just be patient with me. Thanks for reading.
Emily
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Clarice had been moody lately, something that was strange for her. She was usually so even-tempered and calm, but this was not the case as of late. She'd yelled at Hannibal for putting her glass in the kitchen sink when she wasn't finished with it; then she yelled at him for not washing the glass. She'd become irrational lately, and he was lost. Where had he gone wrong? What had happened between them in the past month? Even during her 'time of the month', Clarice was not this violent.
Hannibal pondered over these things as he prepared himself for bed. Walking into the elegant bathroom that he and Clarice shared, he saw a blanket of glass shards on the floor. "Oh, no." Clarice had broken something else. He sighed. Hannibal left the bathroom and walked to the closet in the kitchen, where he gathered a dustpan and a small broom into his arms.
On his way back to the bathroom, he heard a soft sound coming from his study. Hannibal stopped at the door to his study and listened for a moment before pushing the door open a bit more. He surveyed the room and noticed Clarice sitting on a small lounge that she particularly liked. She had her head in her hands and was crying quietly. Hannibal walked slowly into the study and silently sat the broom and dustpan on his desk. Clarice did not acknowledge his presence until he softly called, "Clarice?" She looked up at him with desperate longing in her eyes.
Hannibal walked slowly toward Clarice, curious as to what could possibly be wrong. "Dearest, please tell me what's wrong."
"I…I'm fine."
"No, you're not fine. You will answer me truthfully, Clarice, or else." She sniffled.
"Or else what?" she asked rather mockingly. He sighed heavily. There was no response he could give to her. "There's nothing you can do that could make me feel worse than I do."
"Well," he said, scooting closer to her, "why is that, Clarice?" Her eyes were icy and distant. "Why do you feel so awful? Is it something that I have done? Have I offended you, dear?" This started a new flood of tears and he pulled a cotton handkerchief from his pocket, wiping her cheeks. "If you're not ready to talk about it, I understand." He waited for a moment more, giving her a chance to say something. She was silent. Hannibal sighed and stood up.
Clarice Starling looked out the large window of Hannibal's study. She carefully considered the Arno River, the Ponte Vecchio, and all the people milling around the city. She longed to be there, away from the pressure of being wed to Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Only days ago they had talked about having a child together, something that Clarice did not want. First and foremost, she did not believe that she would be a good mother. Not even a mediocre mother. She didn't want a child to go through what she had gone through as a little girl, especially not her child.
So engrossed in her thoughts, Clarice didn't even notice that Hannibal was gone. She felt strangely numb to everything. She felt as though she was in another world, a world where babies and pregnancy and husbands didn't exist.
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So Chapter One is completed. I realize that this was a bad place to stop, but I wanted to group everything that's coming next into one chapter.
Emily
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Clarice had been moody lately, something that was strange for her. She was usually so even-tempered and calm, but this was not the case as of late. She'd yelled at Hannibal for putting her glass in the kitchen sink when she wasn't finished with it; then she yelled at him for not washing the glass. She'd become irrational lately, and he was lost. Where had he gone wrong? What had happened between them in the past month? Even during her 'time of the month', Clarice was not this violent.
Hannibal pondered over these things as he prepared himself for bed. Walking into the elegant bathroom that he and Clarice shared, he saw a blanket of glass shards on the floor. "Oh, no." Clarice had broken something else. He sighed. Hannibal left the bathroom and walked to the closet in the kitchen, where he gathered a dustpan and a small broom into his arms.
On his way back to the bathroom, he heard a soft sound coming from his study. Hannibal stopped at the door to his study and listened for a moment before pushing the door open a bit more. He surveyed the room and noticed Clarice sitting on a small lounge that she particularly liked. She had her head in her hands and was crying quietly. Hannibal walked slowly into the study and silently sat the broom and dustpan on his desk. Clarice did not acknowledge his presence until he softly called, "Clarice?" She looked up at him with desperate longing in her eyes.
Hannibal walked slowly toward Clarice, curious as to what could possibly be wrong. "Dearest, please tell me what's wrong."
"I…I'm fine."
"No, you're not fine. You will answer me truthfully, Clarice, or else." She sniffled.
"Or else what?" she asked rather mockingly. He sighed heavily. There was no response he could give to her. "There's nothing you can do that could make me feel worse than I do."
"Well," he said, scooting closer to her, "why is that, Clarice?" Her eyes were icy and distant. "Why do you feel so awful? Is it something that I have done? Have I offended you, dear?" This started a new flood of tears and he pulled a cotton handkerchief from his pocket, wiping her cheeks. "If you're not ready to talk about it, I understand." He waited for a moment more, giving her a chance to say something. She was silent. Hannibal sighed and stood up.
Clarice Starling looked out the large window of Hannibal's study. She carefully considered the Arno River, the Ponte Vecchio, and all the people milling around the city. She longed to be there, away from the pressure of being wed to Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Only days ago they had talked about having a child together, something that Clarice did not want. First and foremost, she did not believe that she would be a good mother. Not even a mediocre mother. She didn't want a child to go through what she had gone through as a little girl, especially not her child.
So engrossed in her thoughts, Clarice didn't even notice that Hannibal was gone. She felt strangely numb to everything. She felt as though she was in another world, a world where babies and pregnancy and husbands didn't exist.
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So Chapter One is completed. I realize that this was a bad place to stop, but I wanted to group everything that's coming next into one chapter.