Chapter Four: Troubles and Tribulations

Dr. Lecter inhaled deeply. The thick smoke of the cigar hung about the room. Clarice had not moved a muscle the whole time. It had unnerved him a little. She wasn't smirking anymore. Just staring at him like she was watching some odd specimen at the zoo.

"Would you like anything, Clarice?"

"No thank you, Doctor. Please go on. Your whole childhood has never been discussed before. I take it that I'm the only living person to know the first chapters of your history?"

"Yes, you are. Your case file will be complete, also."

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From the barn, I roamed the countryside for food and shelter. I was able to get employment from a farmer and was allowed to stay in the barn. The farmer was a very eccentric man with a love of books. I stole a couple of them. I needed something to relieve me of my grief. I didn't want to think of the manor, my parents, or Mischa; all three seemed to linger at the edge of my mind. I spent a year with the farmer. Eventually he let me move into a small bedroom in the attic. He was something a kin to a grandfather to me now. One day when I was out in the fields I saw an automobile drive up to the house. From my position I saw a tall man step out of it. He was dressed in a black suit. He walked up to the house and knocked. The farmer let him inside. I finished my chores and went around the back of the barn to wash up. I went through the back porch and into the house as silently as I could. I didn't want to disturb the farmer.

"Hannibal! Hannibal!"

Hearing my name I walked into the kitchen and saw the farmer and the man at the table. Both had large cups of beer with a plate of bread in the middle. I looked between the two of them. You must know that I still didn't trust anyone. Being only seven years, the events in my past made me very mistrustful of adults.

"Hannibal, this is Dr. Konrad Nikolaus. Konrad, this is Hannibal Lecter, the boy I wrote to you about..."

Dr. Nikolaus extended his hand and I shook it. He had thin callouses covering his whole hand.

"It's nice to meet you, Hannibal."

I just nodded and took a seat. The farmer started talking about the school that Dr. Nikolaus ran. He was the Headmaster and was interested in tutoring me.

"You want to tutor me?" I asked bluntly.

"Yes, I do. I've seen some examples of your intellect. The farmer has told me that you like to steal his books and have actually understood them for someone your age."

I stayed quiet. I did not know what to think of this stranger. He seemed alright, but I wouldn't trust him.

"Where are you taking me and for how long," I pressed.

"To the Institution for as long as it takes."

The Institute was the one of the best things to ever happen to me. Dr. Nikolaus tutored me personally from mathematics to the abstract arts.

"Never had I a more willing student to learn," he used to tell the other faculty.

Germany was still rebuilding itself after the war so everything was unstable, even the Institute. Some of the pro-Nazi professors felt it was within their duty to keep up the fanatical nationalism that had been one of the causes of the war anyway. They were carted off campus never to return. I still distrusted many of the Germans. Konrad told me to reign in my anger and put that energy into my studies. I did. I focused my studies primarily on the anatomy of the human body. The structures and functions fascinated me yet I knew something was missing. Man is not only flesh and blood. Konrad explained to me of a new "science," Psychology. I did not believe it was a science then and still do. The human mind could be interpreted into so many things. Layers upon layers of experiences and emotions define a person. We do not have the power to delve into a person's mind and know exactly why he is as he is. I was sixteen when I started studying this subject. Working on the farm had given me an excellent physique. Most of the students were a few years older than me, but that didn't seem to deter some of the younger women from pursuing me. Konrad only caught me once in my room entertaining a young beautiful woman. Said woman happened to be the daughter of my psychology professor. Konrad threw her out of the room and yelled at me for "jeopardizing" my future. He did not speak to me for a week. I formally graduated from the Institute at the age of eighteen. I earned my place in society. I was finally able to manage my own affairs legally. I left the Institution on a very dreary, wet morning. The first stop I made was to the farmers house. The farm itself had become dilapidated and overgrown. The door to the house was open so I went inside. All of the farmers furniture and possessions were still in the house. No sight of the farmer. I hitched hiked the rest of the way to the nearest town and found out that the farmer had died three years after I had left. Konrad had not told me. I had one more stop before I left mainland Europe. I took a train this time to Vilnius. The capital looked fine from what I can tell but had changed since last I'd been there. I paid a taxi to drive me to the ruins of my manor.

"The old Lecter estate, sir? Why would a young man such as yourself want to go there? The whole village is deserted and the only thing left of the manor are the floors and basement."

"Just drive, please."

The whole ride took thirty minutes. We drove straight through the village. The houses were dark and grimy. Some had missing windows and roofs. Occasionally, we saw a stray cat or dog lurk near the road only to disappear when they noticed us. About ten minutes outside the village we saw the trees grow thin and scarce. The barn in which a dozen children including myself were imprisoned came into view. The paint had peeled and caome off most of the building. The dark wood looked rotted and eaten away in some places. I stepped out of the car dressed in one of three suits Konrad had given me. I ran my fingers a long the cold surface. Prying open one of the doors I saw the remains of hay and spider webs long forsaken. Turning to the manor I saw the outline of where it use to be. The outhouse was still there also yet I couldn't go there. Mischa became very real to me then. Shadows of the past flew around in my mind. I imagined that I could actually hear her soft little laugh in my ear. The driver's voice interrupted my musings.

"What is your name? No one has come to this place for years. Everyone believes that it is haunted. No one who lived here survived; even the bones of all the children were found in shallow graves. How do you know of it anyway?" he said eyeing me.

I decided to tell him the truth to curb his talk.

"My name is Hannibal Lecter. I lived here until my parents were killed."

The man stared at me as if he was seeing a phantom. He took an unconscious step backwards in fear.

"I'm ready to go now."

I walked back to the car and sat down. The man pulled out a cigarette and lit it nervously. His hands shook. He did not go back to the car until five minutes had passed. It was silent going back to Vilnius. From Vilnius, I stopped again at the deceased farmer's home and gathered all the books I wanted. From there, I walked to the nearest train station and headed for France. Paris was my second to last destination. I was able to get help from speaking Italian and German. I was able to buy passage onto a streamliner heading towards London. The voyage itself was one of the most uncomfortable and sickening experiences I have ever endured. Very early, I developed sea sickness and was confined to my cabin for the rest of the time. Pale, very thin, and shaking, I departed from that wretched boat. I've only taken a cruise once since then, having developed an aversion to sailing. Once I was on dry land, I recovered quickly and headed to the prestigious Oxford University. Getting a translator I was able to enroll in a more advanced medical field. I was speaking and writing English in a month. I was accepted into the doctorate program and became a favorite of my teachers. By then I knew I wanted to become a psychiatrist. I had seen the way they had helped and in some cases manipulated them. Manipulation was and still is an unethical procedure in psychology. I only used it in cases of severe mental disturbances. I delved deeper into the subject and decided for myself that it was and still is an art form. It is an art form that some people (the former Ferderick Chilton, for example) only dreamed of mastering. I researched into the different branches and found that I enjoyed the cognitive and behavioral aspects best. I still used some Freudian tools such as free association but not many. I did not want to spend years with an idiot interpreting dreams. I wanted to know about their worst experiences and that was it. I could build up effective case studies in a few short hours. I was able to get my doctorate early. By then I was earning a very good income as a resident. I saved and "hid" some of it for "just in case." Don't assume why I did that. You know how 'ole Jackie boy felt about that word. I did not have dreams or urges to kill anyone yet. No that chapter of my life came later.

Meeting Rachel is the only significant event that happened when I was in London...

Author's Note: I am so terribly sorry for the long delay! Time is a being a bitch to me right now! Still I am very grateful for all of you guys' patience! The next chapter will be up sometime next week. I work nine days straight and won't get a day off until Thursday, and even then I won't be able to update (I'll be at the theater all that day enjoying a performance of Wicked! And then off for a night on the town, L.A., with one of my buds, Natalie!) So thank you all again for reading!