Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Now it’s time to act.

Everyone was doing their own thing, some people had already left, chatting after dinner. I walked out of the dinning room and went to the bathroom. But before I closed the door I heard the harpsichord start playing, it was definitely Hannibal playing, it was my queue to act.

I walked out of the bathroom and walked to the kitchen avoiding the dining room and the entrance. When I got near to the kitchen I could only hear the harpsichord play faster, there was no one inside.

I needed to know, I needed to know if it was him, Will couldn’t be just crazy.

I stood in front of the metal door I’ve seen so many times, always closed. I paused for a second, the harpsichord playing fast and bitter almost mockingly. I opened the door slowly and got in, once I closed the door everything stopped, the room was soundproof so I couldn’t hear anything from outside, I walked down the stairs in front of me with the light from my phone.

The cold crept under my clothes to my bones, my skin crawling with goosebumps. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, but I kept walking. There was meat,  every kind and form, I knew what it was but couldn’t get my mind to understand what it meant until I saw a thigh, a human thigh. My hands started shaking and maybe it was my paranoia that made me think I heard the door opening, I didn’t see any light coming from there. But my gut told me I had to move.

I turned my light off after looking around for a second and I hided. I sat down under a metal table and tried to slow down my breathing. I managed to do so, but then I heard a bang, rushed steps getting near me, I stoped breathing completely and only heard my heartbeat for five seconds. Then I heard two pairs of steps run past me and further inside the basement, I started breathing slowly and silently, but something fell to the floor, I heard tugging and someone trying to breathe, someone was fighting probably with Hannibal.

I took advantage of the momentum and run towards the basement door, I was out. I went to the entrance, no one left in the house, I tried to open the door but it was locked, I run to another room and closed the door, it was some sort of small library. I didn’t think twice before taking a metal lamp and threw it against the only window in the room, but it didn’t break.

What kind of psycho would have bulletproof windows in his house, I thought while catching my breath.

I looked around, there was a glassware, no way I could get out trough there. If I couldn’t get out easily I would fight. I broke a
glass panel and took a glass piece, it was really sharp and cut my hand but I didn’t care, I broke off a piece of a curtain and tied it around the glass, that was when I heard steps and I froze.

I hided behind one side of the door and waited, when the door handle moved I stopped breathing. It opened, and I waited, crouching, I saw Hannibal’s shoes and I attacked, I cut him right above his heel, and he growled. I tried pulling back but he held my head by my hair and threw me headfirst onto the ground, for a second I couldn’t hear anything, but I turned and stabbed his knee with the glass but he dodged it and only got to cut him, but he folded when he stepped on his cut ankle. I could only hear my heartbeat and a high pitch, I crawled backwards away from him but he held my ankle and pulled me to him.

I attacked him with the glass, but he dodged it and tried to hold my head again but I scratched his face and hit him on his knee cut with my knee, he almost let go of me but he elbowed me on my stomach making me drop the glass and scream. He took hold of my neck and cut my breathing and slammed my head to the ground, I probably had a contusion buy then. I scratched his arms with my hands and tried hitting him again on his knee but he pushed my legs down with his and i started getting weaker, but I still tried to get free by poking his eyes with my finger. He let go of my neck and held me by my arms, he was strong but so was I, I fought back.

It didn’t matter, he turned me around and held me there, holding my arms with one of his hands on my back, pushing his body weight on my legs and arms, making it hard to breathe. I felt his other hand on the back of my neck holding strongly. My face was stained with blood, mine and his, my head hurt like hell and probably had a broken rib. I wanted to give up, but my subconscious pleaded me to find a way, so I tried.

- please, joder.- I said under my breath, talking without thinking twice- I wont tell anyone, please let me go.

He covered my neck with his hands completely, I had trouble breathing but still could get just a little bit of air in my lungs.

- You seem almost interesting.- He chuckled.- Tell me, why should I let you go?

He was playing with me, but I didn’t care, I needed to survive, I would do anything, I had done everything before.

- I won’t tell anyone please, I’ve known for some time, and haven’t told anyone- I said, talking was horribly pain-full.

- Yeah? Why would you come and eat everything I put in your plate, week after week?- He paused.- Are you lying to me?

- I’m not, I’m not, I don’t…- I pleaded, having trouble to breathe, I couldn’t speak so I coughed. He chuckled, and loosened his hold on my neck.- I don’t care, please, I wont tell anyone.

- What would you give up to keep living?

- Please, please-I couldn’t think, I couldn’t follow his game, my consciousness was starting to fail.- Anything, I would do whatever you ask, please don’t hurt me.

- Oh? But that’s the fun part, maybe… maybe I don’t kill you, not yet anyway.- He paused, I couldn’t say if it was a second or an hour but then he spoke.- What can you give me? What can I get from you?

- I…- I thought, but couldn’t figure a way to manipulate him, I couldn’t figure out what he would want from me, apart from my flesh.

He let go of my neck, and I felt something piercing my arm skin, I freaked out, I looked back and he was injecting me something. Fuck, where did he get that from? My heart beat slower, my breath almost calmed down, my body stopped shaking completely. He turned me around, I couldn’t feel my legs or my arms, I could only move my face, he looked down at me, scanning me, his eyes darkened, his face stained with blood from my hands and
from the scratches I gave him, his shirt stained too. Drugged and with a concussion I came up with an idea, a way to survive.

- I can give you…- I talked slowly, I felt my face wet, probably from blood but also from crying.- I can give you my freedom.

He gave me a crooked smile.

Chapter Text

Dreams haunted me, they always did, dreams of a better future, nightmares of a wounded past kept me from opening my eyes in the day, but kept me awake at night. But now, the world had stopped, there were no days, no nights, no wasted time, no light. When I first regained consciousness, my brain was muted down into an animal instinct, no light, no sound, I was alone, tired and drugged. I didn't know if I was asleep or not, if my eyes were open or closed, if I had eaten, nothing, but I didn't question anything. Was this how my life was always supposed to be? Was this the radio silence of the world that I always were searching for? The silence of my own mind? I knew I was tied by my ankle to a wall, in a small room, maybe a storage closet, just big enough for a mattress, caged between 4 walls, one of which I couldn't reach because of my tied ankle, standing up I touched the walls, as far as I could go, bare walls, I couldn't reach the ceiling, so all I could do was sleep, or doze off in the drugged state I seemed to forever be. I didn't remember being drugged since I woke up, but time stretched itself to an impossible length where the drugs lasted for hours and hours.

Before I could drown in the darkness, light blinded me, a door opened, where I couldn't reach, a figure, a man, standing in the centre, the devil. He said something, but I couldn't understand a word. I was breathless and in shock one moment, the next I was trying to fight him, but I couldn't reach him. He left a plate on the floor next to the mattress and left, leaving the door open. 

Just like I thought, there was a door at the wall I couldn't reach, after screaming and crying my eyes got used to the light, I could see a corridor outside the door, the dark wood floor, the dark door, shiny metal handle, and the place I was caged in, the white sheet I had taken off the mattress in the dark to search for something, anything really, the gray walls, the dark ceiling. There was no room for anything else, just the mattress, touching 3 walls, and one way out, no windows, no decorations, nothing, the mattress was, probably, directly on the floor, and next to it, between the door and the mattress, the plate with orange-ish substance, probably pumpkin puree. If I layed down and stretched my hand I could reach the plate, which was warm. I picked it up, and after smelling the pumpkin smell, rage filled my mind. I threw the plate against the corridor wall, the plate shattering spectacularly, pumpkin puree staining the wall and dripping down. I knew he was coming back to me, surely to hit me, or even kill me, but I waited, the puree reached the floor, and he didn't appear. So I waited, remembering one conversation.

"What's your favorite food after a stressful day?" He asked. I debated for a couple of seconds before answering.

"Probably some kind of puree, potato or pumpkin, surely, or soup, the kind with star shaped pasta, nothing fancy, nothing greasy, easy to eat and warm. What about you?" I couldn't quite remember what he answered. Dozing off to the drugs, the puree dripping, the plate shattered, but not any piece near enough I could reach, I cursed Hannibal and all I had said to him. 

Awake, my skin prickling, I resolved my purpose of getting another plate I could break to get a weapon. And so I waited, still feeling drugged, my nose irritated, my eyes puffy from crying, my throat stiff, with time I started shaking, the same rush after you get down from a ride, adrenaline pumping through my veins. Having a purpose felt like breathing again, my mind unfogging slowly.

After a while lying in the dark, the door opened again, and here was the devil himself, wearing a human suit, a beautiful one, leaving me a sign of peace, food, food I loved. I waited, looking at him, I waited for him to leave the food on the floor. But this time, once he left I saw that the food was in a plastic bowl, the same pumpkin puree perfectly warm. I left it where it was, and I sat at the furthest away corner of the mattress. Just then I had realized that I wasn’t wearing my own clothes, not the ones stained in blood, my hair was clean too, clean from the hair gel I had been wearing, but also from the blood that must have stained it. I also had a couple of stitches on the side of my temple, right next to my eyebrow. I tried to scratch it in an act of rebelliousness, but it hurted too much. 

The door opened again, I should pay attention to where steps come from, but I can’t even hear them. This time, he kneels down on one knee, and looks at the untouched bowl, then at me. “Eat, you have to”

I don’t answer, “You need to.” He insists, I look at him, he gets up leaving the bowl on the floor, and leaves.

The next time he comes, I am not ready for what’s going to happen. He comes inside, gets on the mattress on his knees, I’m seated down with my knees to my chest as far away as I can, I growl at him, like an animal, but he keeps getting closer, and when there’s almost no space between us, I throw a punch. I hit him, quite hard, on the chest, but he doesn’t care, he grabs my arms, and this time i spit at him. He seems surprised, and angry. In half a second his hand was on my face, covering my nose and mouth, keeping it closed with his grip.

“You are being extremely rude, I’ve made you food, food you like and need. You will eat, now.” I tried to scratch him, but his other hand already had a syringe, and was injecting me with it, and his face before began turning soft, my heart slowing. He let me breathe, holding me by the neck, still looking at me for a couple of seconds, but then left. Not for long, because he came back with yet another bowl of puree and fed me. At first I tried to spit it away, but as soon as he got the food in my mouth he covered my mouth and nose with his hand, making me swallow before I could breathe. I would kill him for this, I promised myself. “If you dare throw up, I will make you eat everything again, I promise you.”

By then I was too tired to fight, so I just stared at him, the light coming from the corridor wasn’t natural, so it could be either day or night, I would never know. 

Chapter Text

Since I spat on his face I knew I couldn't keep fighting him forever, he was the devil, I had to be careful, I had to lose something to survive, I would give in to his game, little by little, so he might think that the was able to manipulate me. 

Time after time he forced me to eat, the first 3 times he drugged me to be calm, but when the third time I didn’t try to bite his hand off, or spit at him, he gave me a plastic spoon. “Eat, by yourself, like a good grown up girl.” I almost tried to do so, but as soon as he said that, I really didn't want to, so I threw the spoon across the mattress, staining the sheets. He picked it up, looked at me, and just took the spoon again, and gave it to me again. This time I ate, and he got up, satisfied, and while he was away I ate half of it and broke the spoon in half, keeping the sharp-ish stick up my sleeve. He came back, with new sheets. As soon as he looked down at the plate, I threw myself at him with the improvised weapon in hand. I almost got to his neck, but he grabbed me by the arm, and in less than a second I was pinned against the mattress, food on my hair and neck, he grabbed me by the hair, and held me there with his legs and arms. Looking me in the eye he warned “You made me a promise, you will fulfill it.” That scared me, I stared at him, my breath gone lost, my eyes stinging with tears. “But not now, not yet” The devil whispered to me, and as I was trying to get away from him he injected me with yet another drug. And everything went dark. 

My head hurted a lot. I was in the same place, but now with clean sheets, new clothes which smelled like Hannibal's cologne, and clean brushed hair. I braided it, needing to do something. By now I didn’t have any sense of time, sometimes it felt like hours passed before Hannibal gave me food, sometimes it felt like days, sometimes I slept so much and so deeply, because of the drugs, that there would appear a bowl of food in front of the door. 

In between time I theorized, I came to the conclusion that from somewhere above me there was a ventilation hole where probably some kind of sleep drug gas came from, maybe nitrous oxide, because there was no smell, nor color I could see. And also the food varied, always something I might have mentioned to Hannibal I liked, at some point, maybe after 5 meals, or 8, there was also meat. At first I didn’t eat, I knew what it was, but when I didn't, Hannibal made me eat it, the same way as in the beginning. One day, I felt so weak I couldn’t even get up completely, feeling how my muscles were starting to soften, my back and neck less stiff but the pain from my concussion kept me from being able to fight. That day, or maybe the next, Hannibal came and sat down by the door, letting the artificial light from the corridor lighten up the room. He started reading out loud a book, and soon I recognized it. It was the “Divine Comedy”  by Dante, I had just recently bought it, but hadn’t even started. 

And so for the next couple of days, if the days were when Hannibal read to me, I tried to make a plan, a pathway to freedom, but how could I do so if it didn’t belong to me anymore? Not since I had sold my soul to the devil. While he read I looked at him, looking at the devil reading poetry about his realm. The light from outside sharpened his features, shadows haunting his face. When he finished Inferno, he brought me a plate of food, not a bowl, a plate, and left. He left me with the plate, alone, the door ajar so just enough light came through. Was this a test? Was this him trying to get me to trust him? Was he trying to trust me? Or was this just another game of his?

I did break the plate, only after I had eaten, and so I took a sharp piece of porcelain, cutting my hand in the process. But I waited, and waited, and when he didn’t come I slept. When I woke up I still had the porcelain in my hand, the shattered plate still on the floor right where I broke it, and I waited. Maybe it had been hours, maybe days, maybe not even half an hour. And so I waited, but he didn’t come. 

Did something happen to him? Did someone catch him? Was him going to just let me die of hunger? Did he forget about me? The door stayed ajar, always that same light coming from outside, no time, no day and night, no Hannibal, no food, no noise. Nothing, I was left to die. 

First I tried to get out, I tried to break the chain, but it was impossible. So I thought about cutting my feet to free me, but I knew I would bleed to death, I didn’t even know where I was or if outside that door there was a way out I could walk, maybe I was in a basement, maybe in his house. My hand hurted, a lot, the wound wasn’t a clean cut, and it was probably about to get infected. I was really hungry, there were no more drugs, no more sleeping, no more reading. 

I cut myself, I had done that before, but never this much, I started to pinch myself with a piece of porcelain when I started to hallucinate, but after a while it became cuts. I thought that ending this the fast way would be easier, I wouldn’t have to fight hunger, nor Hannibal, nor my own values.

Two decisive cuts vertically across each one of my arms made my destiny.

I was alive, breathing, again. My arms hurt, my head too. I tried to open my eyes, a lot of light, I couldn’t see anything. Was I really alive? Or was this the afterlife, Dante’s limbo, was hell waiting for me? Was the devil watching me?

I couldn’t move my arm, too tired or dead, my hand felt tight and swollen, I couldn’t close nor open it. With my other arm I reached to my eyes, trying to attenuate the light. This was a lot of light, not like the light from before, stronger, present, not just a mirage. Actual light, actual natural light, and so I tried really hard to see something. From far away I heard something, it sounded like a whisper but hurted my ears like a scream. “She’s not ready, give me time.” A shadow hovering over me, I felt my consciousness retreat to the back of my mind, just for a while, to take a short break. 

When I first woke up I heard birds, mourning doves, Who were they mourning? Was it me?

Then I realized that meant I was near a window, and my heart started racing. Once my eyes started to focus I knew, I knew I had gotten past the game. There was a window on my left, a panel opened so the sound of nature entered, outside I could only see trees, I was probably on a second floor. On the opposite side of the bed there was a door. 

Still, I wasn’t free, I couldn’t move, my legs and arms didn’t obey me, I wouldn’t be able to stand up anyway, I hadn’t in what felt like months, the trees outside looked like they were starting to change colors, so it was still around September, maybe it had been 3 weeks, but not more, since Hannibal trapped me. Next to me there was a drip, connected to my hand, probably what kept me drugged and unable to move. The room was practically empty, no decorations, no chairs, no closets. There was, when I managed to turn my head to the right, a glass vase with flowers, once I saw them I realized I could smell them from here, fresh and fruity, its scent filling the room. Did I win the game? Did I beat Hannibal at his own game? Did someone had known where I was and had gotten to me in time to save me? Did I really make it? The life that surrounded me gave me hope, the flowers were real, I was alive, time passed, the day evolved, the sun moved, the birds chirped, the wind shaken the trees. 

But no one came, not a nurse, not a doctor. I couldn’t hear anything coming from outside the door, and so the sun setted, and I fell asleep, unable to do anything else.