Hi all! I'm here again to give you one more chapter of "Last Joy..." I know,
I could write it sooner, but I was near the sea for 2 days – and no access
to computer.
The song in chapter 8 is "Electrical Storm" by "U2". Melody is even more
beautiful than words /smile/.
What is going to happen to our poor Clarice? Ah, D/N still the same...
Chapter 9. Breathe.
Hannibal was sitting on her bed, inhaling her scent, afraid to exhale, as if wanting to keep it all in himself. During the last six months he studied her body and knew it all – from the nails on her thumbs to the last eyelash...
She was exquisite. She always was. And he was glad to hear from Angie she hadn't had lovers. Not if she couldn't hide them, it just wasn't her style. Like Angie said. Always Angie interfering. It seemed like he had this girl inside his head. Always with him, always ready to enlighten him with her wisdom.
But now it wasn't the time for Angie. It was the time for him and his little Clarice only. He was watching her, perfectly understanding he can't let her live like that anymore. Deep inside my little deep-roller needs release. She needs to discover there's no glass ceiling in the sky, so she could roll deep – not falling on the groung but reaching pure blue sky, sky which always looked to him like her own eyes.
When did that "always" begin? He hadn't noticed. That very day in the asylum. He can still hear her light steps. Tic-toc-tic-toc... And a fear mixed with excitement – she was like a little cub, she grew up – and still was a cub, no matter she was getting disappointed in everything she devoted her life to. Her blue eyes – when he first saw them. Eyes that could be the lake on a sunny day – willing to welcome anybody to sink in. Eyes which were a storm on the sea, a neverending fight between Clarice and the rest of the world.
Her voice. Gentle, soothing, making me feeling relaxed and excited both, he thought. Her inimitable Southern accent. Her expensive bag... Like she was going to a date, not to an asylum. And her cheap shoes, giving in a white trash.If only he could speak to her now, to see how she had changed during all those years!...
And the smell of her blood. The only smell which could draw him over the edge if he ever let his self-control go. When he first inhaled it he regretted the glass wall is between them. He imagined he could lick her blood and feel its cherry taste on his lips. Till she screamed with pleasure.
He made her scream with pleasure, though. The remembrance of that night made him shiver with lust. She was holding him tight, crying for more. Only that night every part of her was at his disposal.
Her hair. When he first saw Clarice, her hair was short. Hannibal liked her with long hair, it gave her charm, femininity. Auburn, the colour of sunrise. The colour of the fire in her eyes, when she climaxed.
Her mind. She was always clever, how come she decided to develop her great abilities only after the birth of her daughter? Angie said it was a competition. Was it? Or it was an attempt to be like him? To be closer to him... No, Hannibal thought. She could ask him to come so many times... but she didn't. She preferred to be without him.
But would he come? Angie said... why Angie again? It seemed their daughter had both best and worst of their features. She said it was Clarice's "stupid pride". Well, he thought, and where would my pride be if I received a note from her, where she would be asking me to come?
He didn't know. All those fourteen years he couldn't live a day without a mere thought of her. Her decision was quite sensible, but he expected her back when she was thrown away from FBI. Like being with two lovers, the thought. When one denies a man, he runs to another. But she was stronger than that. She stood till the end to prove her decision was right. What would she do if he didn't help her with money?
What would his daughter be now?
Hannibal looked at Clarice's hands. Those hands killed some people, he thought. She would prefer to forget this. My baby's on the run, killing bad guys... and saving her precious little spring lambs, who can't run away themselves. His Clarice was the one who always knew what is right and what is wrong.
Carefully, trying not to touch the wires, he leaned and hissed her cheek. He saw tears running down her cheek. He kissed the corner of her lips and remembered that once these lips were soft, opened for him, welcoming. He kissed her neck, right where the pulse was beating. Now it's beating artificially. He kissed her fingers. Fingers which once ran along his body, stoke his cheeks, little nails dug into his neck.
Even now he was too courteous to proceed. He couldn't do it without her allowance, but she couldn't give him one. It was so wrong... He should let her free.
But he couldn't. His memories and a strong hope for seeing her alive were fighting with his pity. He should let her escape from the cage of her body, let her go to where her little limpid soul belonged.
Then came the moment. He turned the main switch off, let her free of all the wires, kissed her lips one last time and went away. Pain crushed his heart, his hands were shaking, he couldn't believe what he had done. With the great effort Hannibal forced himself ot to look at her. He closed the door.
And the sound of the closing door muffled another sound, so soft and quiet, that only experienced ear could catch it. And it definetly wasn't an ear of the man being in a great sorrow.
The sound of the air being inhaled.
At last it happened. She understood she was free to leave. She could go back to the place where her soul belonged. She didn't worry whether it could be Hell or Heaven. She only knew she was happy to leave. She always needed action, motion, they brought her peace.
And then she inhaled. Hell, Heaven or both elements of them on Earth. The taste of air was wonderful, and the ability to move was fabulous. She exhaled. Her lungs were working.
Then she opened her eyes. What happened?
How long she was lying awake in the dark? She didn't know.Her body regained her old reflexes too quickly for her to realise it. A voice deep inside her head told her she must get outta here. As soon as she could. And she did it. In search fot the clothes she founnd a pair of ner jeans and a T-shirt with the inscription: "I'm with stupid". Angie, she thought with tenderness. Who's Angie? Her daughter...
Not remembering how she escaped from the building throught the staff entrance. She tried to avoid people – and succeeded. When she went out of the building she sawit was already a night. And no buildings around except this one. The hospital, she thought.
Then she saw a man wearing white fedora, getting into a car. Alpha-Romeo. Her car, she thought again instinctively. And who is the man using her car so freely?
Hannibal, she thought. And suddenly she felt a great need to call him, to let him take care of her, to kiss him, to let him take her away from this terrible place. She tried to cry out his name, but only a slight whisper came out. He, of course, didn't even look a her, started the engine and drove away by his car – her car!
She stood there not knowing what to do. Then she understood there's no other way than to go along the road. Her bare feet hadn't made a slight sound when she moved from the entrance.
Where was she going? To follow this man? To come to her daughter? Where was she? And – who was she?
Suddenly the knowledge dawned on her. Her name was Clarice.
Now, be patient and you will deserve the last chapter /grin/. Thank you for all of your kind reviews.
Protégé.
Chapter 9. Breathe.
Hannibal was sitting on her bed, inhaling her scent, afraid to exhale, as if wanting to keep it all in himself. During the last six months he studied her body and knew it all – from the nails on her thumbs to the last eyelash...
She was exquisite. She always was. And he was glad to hear from Angie she hadn't had lovers. Not if she couldn't hide them, it just wasn't her style. Like Angie said. Always Angie interfering. It seemed like he had this girl inside his head. Always with him, always ready to enlighten him with her wisdom.
But now it wasn't the time for Angie. It was the time for him and his little Clarice only. He was watching her, perfectly understanding he can't let her live like that anymore. Deep inside my little deep-roller needs release. She needs to discover there's no glass ceiling in the sky, so she could roll deep – not falling on the groung but reaching pure blue sky, sky which always looked to him like her own eyes.
When did that "always" begin? He hadn't noticed. That very day in the asylum. He can still hear her light steps. Tic-toc-tic-toc... And a fear mixed with excitement – she was like a little cub, she grew up – and still was a cub, no matter she was getting disappointed in everything she devoted her life to. Her blue eyes – when he first saw them. Eyes that could be the lake on a sunny day – willing to welcome anybody to sink in. Eyes which were a storm on the sea, a neverending fight between Clarice and the rest of the world.
Her voice. Gentle, soothing, making me feeling relaxed and excited both, he thought. Her inimitable Southern accent. Her expensive bag... Like she was going to a date, not to an asylum. And her cheap shoes, giving in a white trash.If only he could speak to her now, to see how she had changed during all those years!...
And the smell of her blood. The only smell which could draw him over the edge if he ever let his self-control go. When he first inhaled it he regretted the glass wall is between them. He imagined he could lick her blood and feel its cherry taste on his lips. Till she screamed with pleasure.
He made her scream with pleasure, though. The remembrance of that night made him shiver with lust. She was holding him tight, crying for more. Only that night every part of her was at his disposal.
Her hair. When he first saw Clarice, her hair was short. Hannibal liked her with long hair, it gave her charm, femininity. Auburn, the colour of sunrise. The colour of the fire in her eyes, when she climaxed.
Her mind. She was always clever, how come she decided to develop her great abilities only after the birth of her daughter? Angie said it was a competition. Was it? Or it was an attempt to be like him? To be closer to him... No, Hannibal thought. She could ask him to come so many times... but she didn't. She preferred to be without him.
But would he come? Angie said... why Angie again? It seemed their daughter had both best and worst of their features. She said it was Clarice's "stupid pride". Well, he thought, and where would my pride be if I received a note from her, where she would be asking me to come?
He didn't know. All those fourteen years he couldn't live a day without a mere thought of her. Her decision was quite sensible, but he expected her back when she was thrown away from FBI. Like being with two lovers, the thought. When one denies a man, he runs to another. But she was stronger than that. She stood till the end to prove her decision was right. What would she do if he didn't help her with money?
What would his daughter be now?
Hannibal looked at Clarice's hands. Those hands killed some people, he thought. She would prefer to forget this. My baby's on the run, killing bad guys... and saving her precious little spring lambs, who can't run away themselves. His Clarice was the one who always knew what is right and what is wrong.
Carefully, trying not to touch the wires, he leaned and hissed her cheek. He saw tears running down her cheek. He kissed the corner of her lips and remembered that once these lips were soft, opened for him, welcoming. He kissed her neck, right where the pulse was beating. Now it's beating artificially. He kissed her fingers. Fingers which once ran along his body, stoke his cheeks, little nails dug into his neck.
Even now he was too courteous to proceed. He couldn't do it without her allowance, but she couldn't give him one. It was so wrong... He should let her free.
But he couldn't. His memories and a strong hope for seeing her alive were fighting with his pity. He should let her escape from the cage of her body, let her go to where her little limpid soul belonged.
Then came the moment. He turned the main switch off, let her free of all the wires, kissed her lips one last time and went away. Pain crushed his heart, his hands were shaking, he couldn't believe what he had done. With the great effort Hannibal forced himself ot to look at her. He closed the door.
And the sound of the closing door muffled another sound, so soft and quiet, that only experienced ear could catch it. And it definetly wasn't an ear of the man being in a great sorrow.
The sound of the air being inhaled.
At last it happened. She understood she was free to leave. She could go back to the place where her soul belonged. She didn't worry whether it could be Hell or Heaven. She only knew she was happy to leave. She always needed action, motion, they brought her peace.
And then she inhaled. Hell, Heaven or both elements of them on Earth. The taste of air was wonderful, and the ability to move was fabulous. She exhaled. Her lungs were working.
Then she opened her eyes. What happened?
How long she was lying awake in the dark? She didn't know.Her body regained her old reflexes too quickly for her to realise it. A voice deep inside her head told her she must get outta here. As soon as she could. And she did it. In search fot the clothes she founnd a pair of ner jeans and a T-shirt with the inscription: "I'm with stupid". Angie, she thought with tenderness. Who's Angie? Her daughter...
Not remembering how she escaped from the building throught the staff entrance. She tried to avoid people – and succeeded. When she went out of the building she sawit was already a night. And no buildings around except this one. The hospital, she thought.
Then she saw a man wearing white fedora, getting into a car. Alpha-Romeo. Her car, she thought again instinctively. And who is the man using her car so freely?
Hannibal, she thought. And suddenly she felt a great need to call him, to let him take care of her, to kiss him, to let him take her away from this terrible place. She tried to cry out his name, but only a slight whisper came out. He, of course, didn't even look a her, started the engine and drove away by his car – her car!
She stood there not knowing what to do. Then she understood there's no other way than to go along the road. Her bare feet hadn't made a slight sound when she moved from the entrance.
Where was she going? To follow this man? To come to her daughter? Where was she? And – who was she?
Suddenly the knowledge dawned on her. Her name was Clarice.
Now, be patient and you will deserve the last chapter /grin/. Thank you for all of your kind reviews.
Protégé.