"A dark hunger": A Hannibal fan fiction (not sure about the title yet)

Hello, this is my very first fan fiction, I hope you guys like it! Please review? I would like to know what you think :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Hannibal in any way. (Wish I did though.)

Chapter 1

I woke up to beeping noises and the sterile smell of a hospital room around me. I could feel a needle in my arm and a tube for air in my nose. My entire body was sore and I had a headache as massive as the wall of China. When I opened my eyes, I saw the white ceiling of the hospital room and had to close my eyes a bit and blinked a few times to get used to the bright light. Why was I in the hospital?

I then heard another person's breathing; I was not alone in this room, as I first had thought. I tilted my head a bit and looked to the right side of my bed. Next to my bed, in a chair, was sitting a man I thought I had never seen before. But I couldn't be entirely sure, as I didn't remember much at all. I did know my name. Victoria Harris. I also knew my age. 28 years old. But that was pretty much all I could remember. I didn't remember anything else of my life or why I was in the hospital.

Snapping out of my thoughts, I looked at the man beside my bed again. He had dark brown, blackish curls and rectangular glasses. He had a slight beard and bruises under his eyes, as if he hadn't slept much as of lately. He was dressed in a plaid shirt and a pair of jeans. I guessed him around the age of thirty.

I felt a tickle in my throat and coughed, causing the man to look up from the book he was reading. As he looked me in the eyes, I noticed his eyes were a calming greyish blue. He was pretty good looking, I thought. Handsome even.

When he saw I was awake, he put a piece of paper between the pages of his book and closed it. "You're finally awake" he said. His voice had the same, calming effect on me as his eyes had, and it suppressed the little anxiety and panic I was starting to feel.

"How long was I out?" I asked, my voice raspy. "And what happened, why am I here?"

"You don't remember?" he asked me, his eyebrows slightly raised.

I shook my head and he started to explain. "When I was driving home from one of my classes, you just ran out of the woods and ran to the road, right in front of my car, covered in cuts and bruises. You were lucky I was able to stop, or your injuries would have been worse than they are now. You then came up to my car and jumped in the passenger seat, shouting to me to drive away as fast as I could. And then you fainted. I drove you to the hospital, in which you've been unconscious for the past six days. Do you remember what happened before you jumped in front of my car?" he asked me.

I swallowed and shook my head. "I don't remember anything. I only know my name and how old I am, that's it."

I winced in pain as my headache got worse because I was desperately trying to remember what happened to me.

"Hey, hey it's okay, don't strain yourself, it will come back to you sooner or later, don't force it" he shushed me and stood up from his chair and came to stand at the side of my bed.

I calmed down as I gazed up to him into his eyes. He gazed back, waiting for some sort of answer. I nodded my head.

"Now then," he said smiling, "what's your name?"

"Victoria Harris" I told him.

"And how old are you?"

"I'm twenty-eight."

"All right then," he said, still smiling. "I'm Will Graham. It's nice to meet you, though I wish it would have been under more pleasant circumstances."

That made me laugh. "Likewise" I said.

He has a very nice personality, I thought. I felt like I could really trust him.

"I will go and fetch a nurse or something, let them know you're awake" he said. He started walking to the door, looked back to me once more and walked out the door.

I laid my head back on my pillow and sighed. What has happened to me and why can't I remember? I don't have a bandage around my head, so I don't think I have a head injury. Then how the hell did I get amnesia? Was what happened to me so bad my mind just doesn't want to deal with it and locked it away in some dark corner of my memory?

I knew right then, I was going to remember, some way or another, what happened. Not just out of curiosity, but also because of my own safety. If I was covered in cuts and bruises, I might have been attacked, and I might have seen the face of the attacker. So if I could remember what happened, I might also remember the face of the attacker and put him to justice, so he can't finish what he started, if his intentions were to kill me.

I made a promise to myself that I would remember. But not today, I would do as Will Graham told me.