The air smelled intensely of candle smoke and oddly assorted wax scents. Yet there was not a single candle in sight, and no smoke in the air around her, that she could see anyway. The room was a light crème color and looked far too big to be a bedroom or a simple living room. The walls were high and covered in beautiful paintings. One painting stood out in particularly. On a rough piece of wood was painted a little girl holding a scrawny, bloody deer next to what looked to be a young Hannibal Lecter. In Hannibal's left hand he held a few small milk white teeth, each had a single drop of blood resting either on them or in his hand.
In the middle of the giant room lay a newly awakened Clarice Starling. She was wrapped in a soft, blood red quilt, which had a few white stripes going through the center.
From a corner of the room she hadn't noticed Hannibal Lecter watched Clarice as she stood and walked around the front of the room slowly looking at every picture, stopping for a moment at each. He could tell she was quiet interested in the painting of his sister Mischa and himself. Clarice's red/brown hair was matted against the back of her head, stuck to it with a small amount of blood. When she had fallen to the ground after he hit her, her head must have scraped against something, which was also the cause of the cut on her left shoulder blade. She wrapped the quilt around herself further as she walked. She must be cold… he though to himself as he walked out of the room.
Clarice turned at the sound of footsteps leaving the room. The only thing she could see of the person was a black shoe and half of a black paint leg. Suddenly her surroundings and situation came back to her. She was in a strangle building, which was located in who knows where and she assumed she was here because of a psychopath with some taste. Clarice also didn't have her gun. She listened to the footsteps go on then a door shut and lock. "Damn" she whispered to herself. Starling followed the path she thought the person might have taken to get out. She couldn't find any doors. All of the walls looked exactly the same, except for the paintings on them. The smell in the air began to fade away as she walked further into the shadow filled hallways. It also began to get colder as she looked for the door. What the hell is this? Her mind questioned. She couldn't come up with an answer. She had never seen anything so odd.
Hannibal had heard her start to follow him. "You're going to get lost Clarice…" he said to himself with a coy smile. He was the only one who knew where the door was and how to get through the maze. Even if she found the door she wouldn't know it. It was made to blend in perfectly with the wall. He stood just beyond the door listening to her footsteps. They were very quiet even when she was right next to the door. Hannibal walked to the air vents that lead to the maze. He then put a few drops of knockout fluid into the vent. He returned waited until he was certain she was far enough into the maze until he opened the door again. With him he carried a syringe and a surgical mask. The cold air that was rushing in to the back of the maze from the back air vents was filled with evaporated knockout drops. He hoped that when he found her she would already be unconscious, but if needed he had the syringe. Lecter knew that if he approached her with the idea of showering in his home, let alone being in his home at all her reaction could be costly on her part. He didn't want to see her hurt, but he would cause her harm himself if he had to.
He found her lying against a wall in the maze. She was still awake and jumped as he turned the corner. "Get the fuck away from me Lecter!" She yelled as she stood up, letting the quilt drop to the maple, hard wood floor. She was quivering with the cold, but he could tell it was more than that; she was afraid. "Clarice, I don't appreciate the use of prophanity unless it is truly needed. You aught to know that by now." He said calmly. He looked her over slowly. In her right, trembling hand she held a Swiss pocket knife. "What the Hell! This isn't a needed time to use it? You kidnapped me, and I was unconscious for how long? Who knows what the fuck you did to me?!" she screamed at him, her voice thick with her south Virginia accent. "Clarice, I am appalled you would think I would do something that ungentlemanly." He slowly took a step towards her and she held up the pocket knife in front if her face.
Clarice knew she wouldn't win in the situation. She could smell something odd in the air (also Dr. Lecter had a mask on so there was something he obviously didn't want to breathe in) and she was armed with only a pocket knife. He could tackle her and she would go out in a second. "Shit." She said aloud.
He knew she had just registered what was going on and knew she would have to cooperate or get hurt. She didn't drop her knife and he assumed she was going for the get hurt option. He lunged at her with all of his force. She tried to swerve out of the way but was pinned against the wall face first. Her right arm was being held against her back and her left was still at her side. She felt the knife being pulled form her grip as she began to cough. Clarice then felt something sharp touch the inside of her arm. With all of her strength she pushed herself and Lecter from the wall and knocked him onto his haunches. Dr. Lecter stared at her, his eyes filled with anger. She ran through an opening and into a long hallway of the maze.
Lecter didn't bother to follow her in her situation. She would be unconscious in a few moments anyway. When she had jerked away from the wall she had made the needle of the syringe go far into her vein. In his anger he walked back to the door of the maze and left Clarice to herself. Rube, trailer trash... the insults flew through his mind. He hadn't wanted to hurt her but she was never going to give up. When she had walked off into the next hall he noticed her left shoulder blade begin to bleed again.
Clarice slowly pulled the hot syringe out of her arm and stared at it. "Son of a bit" her voice trailed off as she slipped into a forced dream. Hannibal came in half an hour later to find Clarice asleep, standing up. In her hand she held the syringe. He picked her up; sure she wasn't going to wake. He carried her through the maze and to the door leading into the rest of his home. The room they entered was filled with grey stalactites, protruding from the roof of the underground cave Hannibal had made into a home. "You are beautiful when you sleep Clarice."