Disclaimer: I don't own "Hannibal" or any of the books by Thomas Harris. I don't own the characters such as Hannibal nor Clarice (but I have them in my closet /grins/)

A/N: Another chapter for you my precious readers /hugs/. Now the story is getting more complicated. I hope you'll understand what I meant. Later everything will be more understandable.

Chapter 2: The Dream

Hannibal Lecter sat next to his wife while she was sleeping. She looked so innocent and delicate with moonlight dancing in her features. He observed every piece of her with great love and was refreshing his memories in Memory Palace. Her chins, eyelashes, skin and lips. Beautiful beyond words.

Meanwhile, a few rooms away, his daughter had a dream. The same dream since she was ten.

She was too petrified to utter a single noise but could feel the knot of strangled screams stuck in her throat. She eyed a tall man with a knife standing opposite of her. A crooked smile disfigured his face. His most recent victims were lying on the floor. Some corpses had no eyes, heads or were lying next to their own guts. The room was claustrophobically small and their warm blood was on her bare feet. Adrenaline, fear, sweat. He was walking to her ever so slowly. On the verge of insanity, she felt like vomiting. She couldn't take eyes off his swollen red lips, off the blood drops. She was disgusted with herself 'cause the only thing she wanted was a feeling of blood in her mouth, human flesh, their lives in her hands. He pinned her to the wall too fast for her to notice his inhuman movements. He held her wrists with an iron grip. All that she could do was to convulse with the sick mixture of pleasure, humiliation and agony and watch her own father rape her again and again.

Sweat was all over her face. She was sitting on her bed, shaking, sobbing and praying that she hadn't screamed. That's her biggest fear. That someone may hear her But no one ever did. The house was big and she wasn't too loud. She tried her best to keep calm but it was beyond her possibilities. She stood up and still shaking a little walked to a big wooden wardrobe and opened it to look at herself in the mirror. Hair on her wet face. Puffy, red eyes. And words on dry lips. "Make it stop, make it stop…". She wanted to gnaw at her own flesh to muffle the screams, to run somewhere away from him, from her dreams and her sick family. She kneeled with her hands still on the mirror too busy crying to notice that someone was in her room. Suddenly she heard a smooth voice behind her.

"I know that you're ugly but don't you think you're overreacting a little?"

She smiled through her tears, turned back and looked at her brother. He smiled too.

"You know sis, you look pathetic." Matt stated and helped her to stand up. They both sat on her bed. Her head on his lap. He was playing with her hair and listening to her soft sobs. She was too exhausted to worry about anything and care that her brother was seeing her in that embarrassing condition. After a few minutes she was calm enough to talk.

"Thank you, moron."

"Never mind, weirdo. That was quite entertaining. "

"Keep it to yourself or I'll kick your fat ass."

"Keep dreaming, bitch"

"You want to test me?"

"You want to die?"

They sat in silence for fifteen minutes. He was soothing her hair 'till she fell asleep then laid her on the bed and kissed her forehead before leaving.

Did I mention nightmares? I must have forgotten. Well it's not too interesting but if you want to know I'll tell you. Maybe I'm a sick pervert but I dream about my father raping me. Not because he ever did it or even tried to. I don't know why I have those horrible dreams. What is the worst, a part of me is enjoying it. It's not my fault. In reality I'm honestly disgusted. Me? With my father? Sex! Not in thousands years. Just look at him! He's old and definitely unattractive. I'm fucking sixteen! I want a handsome young tanned model with big chest! Ok, maybe I don't but you see my point. My brother saw me. He won't understand. Nobody will. But he was kind of nice in his wicked way.

Next day she met her brother in the bathroom. They didn't even exchange a single glance. He tried to ask her a question but her attitude told him not to so he left the bathroom without a word. Distance between him and Melissa was enormous. He never confessed that but he envied her freedom. He had his piano lessons, fighting lessons and supposed to be responsible, noble and obedient. She could do whatever she wanted. As for her nightmares, she would never tell him what happened. That's for sure. "She is not as tough as everybody thinks she is" he thought to himself and snorted.

Another ordinary picture of a school day. Hannibal had his turn making breakfast while Clarice fidgeted with her napkin to heep her hands busy. Matt was standing next to his father having some small talk. He said nothing when his sister entered the room with emotionless "Good morning". She ate her breakfast in silence. Clarice tried to ask her questions about school, new mall and even the weather. She kindly answered, took her second breakfast, her bag and left the kitchen. Clarice released the air she wasn't even aware of holding and glanced at her husband. Melissa headed for school on her skateboard wearing her normal school uniform. Within few minutes she was in her class sitting alone and not paying attention to her history teacher. Nobody cared about her. Her classmates knew better not to make her angry. There were lots of terrifying legends about her.

I'm gonna die in this school! It's so boring! All the teachers are complete morons! Miss Simpson for example. What a horrible taste!Where did she buy this blouse? in the 'Take it or we'll burn it' shop?! She has no husband, no kids, no animals, and has been teaching history for nearly 20 years and now she's history herself. And she's disgusting. Smoking like a chimney. A really big fat stinking chimney. Even dad wouldn't eat her. That's a pity.

She was trying very hard not to vomit while Miss Simpson was smoking another cigarette. Fourth one. When she heard the familiar bell she quickly went to the restroom and drank some cool water. The reflection in the mirror was unfamiliar. Was it really her face or was it a mask? Some giggling girls glared at her and left the room whispering something about weirdness. God, she wanted to kill them. Just crush their little heads on the wall to see their eyes dilapidate. Whatever, just end their pitiful lives. Her anger was growing. With a loud growl she crushed the mirror with her right fist and left the bathroom without looking back. Her hand was bleeding but she didn't care. Adrenaline was rushing through her veins. Rage in her eyes. She was so ready to kill. Nobody dared to speak to her, touch her or even look at her. They all tried to hide as quickly as possible. Everybody but not Miss Simpson.

"What in the name of God are you doing girl! There's blood all over the corridor! Go to the nurse this instant! Who will clean this mess! I was talking with your mother just yesterday. " she was screaming right into Melissa's face. Each eye was on that scene. You couldn't hear a single fly in the whole school.

"Why are you standing here with that odd look! I've never seen such a weird child!"

Melissa was now looking straight into her teacher's eyes. Strangely calm. Red sparkles in her eyes, focused and cool. She looked like an animal ready to jump at its prey. If Miss Simpson had realized what her pupil was thinking about she would have run. She was standing there impatient and irritated. Melissa was near the edge. Repeating like a mantra in her head : kill her, crash her, destroy her, rip her apart. She kindly smiled and very slowly reached for her knife. Behind her belt, was a very small and very expensive knife. She was a few inches away when somebody grabbed her wrist. She looked up extremely surprised at her brother.

"You shouldn't strain it. It may be broken. I'm very sorry Miss Simpson, I'll take her to the infirmary. Thank your for your kindness" he said and rushed his sister through the corridor. She didn't say a word, just let him lead her. When they were alone he suddenly slapped her right across her face.

"What's wrong with you?! You act strangely these days. What about our camouflage! You don't give a damn about our safety! And what do you think you would do, kill her? Give me a break."

"Maybe I would" she replied and left him alone stunned. She felt nothing and didn't care about school anymore. She needed to rest. She needed to meet her friends.