Lost.
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me. They belong to Thomas Harris.
Chapter one:
Nothing mattered anymore. Her life was over. Clarice sat in a chair, looking out of the window. Big white snowflakes was falling down outside. Everything was white. People were wearing big warm jackets and coats, but still they were shuddering and freezing. A few weeks ago, the view had been entirely different. Instead of snow, it had been sun. Instead of the street covered in snow and the houses on the other side, also covered in snow, she had seen a nice little beach, a lake and trees on the other side of the lake.
It felt like it was years ago now, but the truth was that it was only two weeks ago. It was only two weeks since she had last been happy. Happier than she had ever been before. Now she was sadder than she had ever been before.
It had started as a nice day. She and Hannibal had decided to go shopping. They bought lots of clothes and jewelry. Then, just as they came out of a shop, they heard the voices, "FBI, don't move!" They had been found. It was over. Hannibal had been sent straight to prison and Clarice had moved in with Ardelia. In the house that she once had used to live in, before she ran away with Hannibal. Now Hannibal was gone and Ardelia was the only one she had. Luckily, Ardelia had forgiven her and allowed her to stay with her. It was good to be with Ardelia again, but she missed Hannibal so much. She hadn't even been allowed to visit him. Ardelia had quit the FBI and now worked as a guard in the prison where Hannibal was and had tried to help her, but it had been useless. They had told Clarice that she was lucky not to be sent to prison herself. She had told them that she wished she had been.
It was better to be trapped with Hannibal, than to be free without him.
Everyone thought that she was mad. You had to be, they thought, to run off with a serial killer. But they didn't know Hannibal. No one really knew him, except from her.
A tear escaped her eye and ran down her cheek. She heard the door open, followed by Ardelias voice. "Clarice, you home?"
"Mm hm," she answered.
Ardelia came into the living room. A worried expression appeared on her face as soon as she saw Clarice.
"Oh. Poor girl. You just can't stop thinking about him, can you?"
"No." More tears started to fall now.
"I understand," Ardelia said as she came over to comfort Clarice.
"No, you don't. No one understands," Clarice whispered into Ardelias neck.
The following night was just like all the other nights. Clarice was having the same dream that she had had every night for the last weeks.
She was in a room. Not alone. There were many other people around her. Ardelia was standing beside her. Jack Crawford stood by her other side with a satisfied smile on his face. Paul Krendler was there, John Brigham, Pearsall, Noonan, even Barney. They stood around an open place. They were waiting for something. She didn't know what, but everyone seemed to be happy and in a good mood.
Then, a door opened and Hannibal, strapped to a bed, with his mask on, was rolled in. Suddenly she understood what was going to happen. He was going to get the needle. That was why everyone was in such a good mood. Everyone except from her. Hannibal looked at her. There was something in his eyes, not the love and warmth she was used to seeing there. No. It was something else. His eyes were. accusing. Just like it was her fault that he was going to die. When she thought about it, maybe it was. Maybe it was her fault that he was strapped down, waiting to be killed, instead of being free. It was her fault. She had killed him. Then she noticed that everyone was looking at her, like they were expecting her to do something. She looked down and saw a needle in her hand. She was going to kill him. No. She wouldn't do it. But something dragged her towards him. It felt like she wasn't controlling her own body anymore. She was moving closer and closer to him. She felt her hand move upwards. No! She couldn't do it. She tried to fight, but it was too strong. She lifted her and inserted the needle into his arm. She had killed him.
"Nooooo!"
She was awoken by her own voice. She was soaked through with sweat. It was in the middle of the night, but she couldn't find sleep again. She didn't want to sleep. She didn't want to dream. She only laid there and imagined Hannibal laying next her, holding her, stroking her hair, comforting her. But he wasn't there. He was gone. She was alone.
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me. They belong to Thomas Harris.
Chapter one:
Nothing mattered anymore. Her life was over. Clarice sat in a chair, looking out of the window. Big white snowflakes was falling down outside. Everything was white. People were wearing big warm jackets and coats, but still they were shuddering and freezing. A few weeks ago, the view had been entirely different. Instead of snow, it had been sun. Instead of the street covered in snow and the houses on the other side, also covered in snow, she had seen a nice little beach, a lake and trees on the other side of the lake.
It felt like it was years ago now, but the truth was that it was only two weeks ago. It was only two weeks since she had last been happy. Happier than she had ever been before. Now she was sadder than she had ever been before.
It had started as a nice day. She and Hannibal had decided to go shopping. They bought lots of clothes and jewelry. Then, just as they came out of a shop, they heard the voices, "FBI, don't move!" They had been found. It was over. Hannibal had been sent straight to prison and Clarice had moved in with Ardelia. In the house that she once had used to live in, before she ran away with Hannibal. Now Hannibal was gone and Ardelia was the only one she had. Luckily, Ardelia had forgiven her and allowed her to stay with her. It was good to be with Ardelia again, but she missed Hannibal so much. She hadn't even been allowed to visit him. Ardelia had quit the FBI and now worked as a guard in the prison where Hannibal was and had tried to help her, but it had been useless. They had told Clarice that she was lucky not to be sent to prison herself. She had told them that she wished she had been.
It was better to be trapped with Hannibal, than to be free without him.
Everyone thought that she was mad. You had to be, they thought, to run off with a serial killer. But they didn't know Hannibal. No one really knew him, except from her.
A tear escaped her eye and ran down her cheek. She heard the door open, followed by Ardelias voice. "Clarice, you home?"
"Mm hm," she answered.
Ardelia came into the living room. A worried expression appeared on her face as soon as she saw Clarice.
"Oh. Poor girl. You just can't stop thinking about him, can you?"
"No." More tears started to fall now.
"I understand," Ardelia said as she came over to comfort Clarice.
"No, you don't. No one understands," Clarice whispered into Ardelias neck.
The following night was just like all the other nights. Clarice was having the same dream that she had had every night for the last weeks.
She was in a room. Not alone. There were many other people around her. Ardelia was standing beside her. Jack Crawford stood by her other side with a satisfied smile on his face. Paul Krendler was there, John Brigham, Pearsall, Noonan, even Barney. They stood around an open place. They were waiting for something. She didn't know what, but everyone seemed to be happy and in a good mood.
Then, a door opened and Hannibal, strapped to a bed, with his mask on, was rolled in. Suddenly she understood what was going to happen. He was going to get the needle. That was why everyone was in such a good mood. Everyone except from her. Hannibal looked at her. There was something in his eyes, not the love and warmth she was used to seeing there. No. It was something else. His eyes were. accusing. Just like it was her fault that he was going to die. When she thought about it, maybe it was. Maybe it was her fault that he was strapped down, waiting to be killed, instead of being free. It was her fault. She had killed him. Then she noticed that everyone was looking at her, like they were expecting her to do something. She looked down and saw a needle in her hand. She was going to kill him. No. She wouldn't do it. But something dragged her towards him. It felt like she wasn't controlling her own body anymore. She was moving closer and closer to him. She felt her hand move upwards. No! She couldn't do it. She tried to fight, but it was too strong. She lifted her and inserted the needle into his arm. She had killed him.
"Nooooo!"
She was awoken by her own voice. She was soaked through with sweat. It was in the middle of the night, but she couldn't find sleep again. She didn't want to sleep. She didn't want to dream. She only laid there and imagined Hannibal laying next her, holding her, stroking her hair, comforting her. But he wasn't there. He was gone. She was alone.