viii. blurred morality

                                    

                                          
Hannibal kept you in the cellar for two more days after that. He wanted to make sure you understood what happened when you disobeyed. He set a new precedent between the two of you. 
Once you got back into the cabin, Hannibal would lock you in your room during the day. It wasn't until the man got home from work, that you could spend some time in the rest of the house. He had installed bars on all windows during your three night stay in the cellar...
Awesome.
There wasn't much you could do. Hannibal was gracious enough to give you a notebook and a pencil. He decided to give you a sharpener, as well. So, you spent most of your days drawing and writing.
All the jumbled thoughts that ran through your head, all the people you miss, the life you used to live, lay within that book. It was the only reason you haven't completely lost it, yet.
The days turned into weeks and you found yourself completely domesticated. The times that you ignore him or even physically keep him from touching you, aside, you rarely put up a fight. The reward suddenly felt like it wasn't worth the risk. Hannibal feeds you, clothes you, allows some freedom, and you're afraid of losing all of it. 
One mistake is all it takes. 
He'll put me back in the dark. 
Lock me away. 
Things are okay, right now.
Aren't they?
He hasn't hurt me since...
If I disobey, he'll get angry.
I can't make him angry. 
...Disappointed. 
"Fuck..." You muttered under your breath. Things felt complicated. Your thoughts on the situation have shifted completely and contradict your original perception of it all. What the hell were you supposed to do? 
It's not like you were in the greatest condition before you met with Dr. DuMaurier, but you've never felt so disconnected from your own life. It's as if you're watching a movie. Your decisions and choices are nothing but a script that's been written for you. Hannibal became your director. 
Fighting with your director? Well, that usually means you'll be replaced with someone else. Someone pliable...
He'll get rid of you, Y/N. 
"Are you being a good girl, today?" Hannibal's condescending voice travelled through the door. 
This. This is what upsets you and briefly snaps you out of your crazy haze. He waves his power over you like a dictator. So, instead of entertaining the psychiatrist, you remained absolutely silent. 
 As you predicted, he unlocked the door and popped his head in. You sat expressionless on the floor, leaning against your bed frame. The anger mixed with the constant daydreams almost left you in a comatose state. Things were becoming messier in your head.
"Y/N, I asked you a question." Hannibal said, hoping to prompt you to speak. 
Quiet... Once again. 
"What's bothering you, dear?" 
"Nothing." You lied, briefly looking up at him. Hannibal took a seat beside you. 
"Y/N, I'm still your psychiatrist. I'm here to help you." Hannibal's hand rested on your knee. That broke your numbed down state. You stared into his amber eyes, hoping to decipher some sort of tell. 
Alas, the doctor's eyes look as dead as they usually do. 
Surprise, surprise...
You gently rested your head onto his shoulder, letting out a tired sigh.