Disclaimer: yada yada not my characters yada yada my story.

Echoing hallucinations drifted through his mind's palace. The usually brown and crème walls of the many hallways and rooms were now a crimson color that had never before seemed strange to him. He ran up and down the bleeding halls seeking out what his heart longed to find. He opened door after door, flooding his mind with memories, each spilling out of the doors as though they were locked away waves, their power building over the years. He ran swiftly his memories matching his pace, behind him slipped is baby sister Mischa, her maroon eyes the head of the wave, her cry's its silent murmur.

He came upon a light green door, into it was elegently carvedthe single name "Clarice". His shaky hands reached for its golden knob, twisting it slowly. Greeting him just beyond the door was smiling and laughing Clarice. He had seen her playing about with her mate but a month ago, her hair now cut down to just below her shoulders. (He had once heard her tell Mapp that she would never grow her hair any longer after what happened at Chesapeake.) They had been in a small park near a cemetery. It had been in mid October and tree's leaves were crisp and yellow, falling to the ground in artful displays. Her mate was a tall dark haired man, he seemed to be muscular and about a foot taller than Clarice. They walked slowly hand in hand, speaking to each other through smiling lips. The man had suddenly knelt and picked up a large handful of leaves and playfully tossed them at her, a single green oak leaf landing in her auburn hair. She had smiled gleefully and grabbed her own handful; they proceeded to toss the leaves about until Hannibal watched Clarice draw closer to this man and kiss him passionately, having to stand on her tip-toes to reach his lips. Lecter had then heard her yell "Your it!" and take off running. He had never seen her so happy before in his life.

The squeaky sound of a wooden chair being pulled across laminate floors broke into his palace through open doors and windows. He was suddenly ripped back to reality. "Clarice!" he yelled into her empty home, the only sounds that now resonated through out the house were the buzz of the finished dryer and the echo of his urgent yelling. He looked down to the hard floor of the laundry room. "Like Hansel and Gretel" he grimly thought as he began to follow the smears of blood that transferred from the hard tile floor to the lush white carpet of her family room. They led all the way to the kitchen. He found her standing atop one of her wooden breakfast chairs, scrubbing out her plate cupboard. Her blood was dripping down her arm and onto the white of the painted wood. It seemed as though her cleaning was pointless, she bled onto the white then wiped it up, just to be met with another splotch of crimson to be wiped yet again.

"My deep roller has finally fallen." He thought out loud, the tang of his words still resting on his lips. "LEAVE!" her voice thundered around the room and into his ears. He quietly left the room, making her believe he had followed her orders. She slowly began to sit, weak from standing, sudden pain (not physical but mental) and frustration. After about ten minutes she was quite sure that he was not coming back and began to lean her head back and close her eyes, finally resting. Suddenly she felt a strong grasp on her arm. "Clarice, stay calm, you've lost a lot of blood; how many times did you cut yourself tonight and where?" she looked at him her cool blue eyes meeting his maroon soul stealers. "Nine…On my arm and my side." The last words came out as a sigh.

A/N: Ok once again, if you no someone who cuts TELL SOMEONE! It is very important that you do so. Thank you all for your support.