Morrigan was out in the city with Hawthorne, Cadence, and Jack late one night, sitting at a table in silence. Well, she was silent. The others were all laughing about something or other, but Morrigan had tuned them out ten minutes ago. She had no need for friends. They were still a fairly new idea to her, even after five years. She didn't truly trust any of them; she had just previously convinced herself that she did. She didn't even trust Jack. Even though she had kissed him about four seperate times. Even though she had nearly made love to him that one- No. She wouldn't think about that. Ever.

A bout of hysterical laughter from Hawthorne literally dragged her out of the deep, dark pit that contained her midnight thoughts as he grabbed her shoulder, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "Ohmygosh, Morrigan. Tell- haha- tell us about the time with the... Dearborn..." He eventually degraded into peals of hilarity, and Morrigan rolled her eyes, smiling half-heartedly. "Not right now, Hawthorne," she said, trying to bring herself back to whatever she had been thinking about before. What was it again? Something about trust? Love? Friends?

If Morrigan's head didn't hurt, then she didn't know what did.

"Oh, come on, Morrigan!" Cadence protested, grinning. "I'm not Mundane. I don't know what goes on over there!"

"I'm not Mundane either, Cade," said Morrigan, using the pet name she had invented for her friend a year ago. She really didn't want to get into anything: not tonight. Not while her head felt like it was on fire. Just not tonight.

"You have a lot of classes in Mundane, though," Jack pointed out. He smirked at her, pleased with himself for becoming part of the peer pressure. Hawthorne thumped his hand on the table, making them all jump and Morrigan wince as her headache got even worse. He had seemingly recovered from his giggles, and said loudly, "Just tell us, Morrigan. Please?" He made puppy eyes at her, and Morrigan facepalmed. "You tell them then."

"I don't tell it as good as you do!"

"It's well. Not good," Jack informed Hawthorne, always the grammar authority in these situations (when Morrigan wasn't).

"Yeah, well, I don't wanna tell it! Cade, can't you make them stop?"

Cadence huffed. "You can't just use me for my powers. I'm not a friend with benefits, inverted commas."

Jack snorted at that. He shot a sideways glance at Morrigan, who flushed furiously and looked determinedly down at her lap.

Hawthorne groaned, flopping against Morrigan dramatically. It had definitely been a mistake to sit next to him. "Pleeeeease! I might die, Morrigan! Mum would be mad!"

"I'll take my chances."

Jack sighed. "Cut it out, will you?" Cadence just looked bored, tired of the repetitive dialogue. "If you just tell us, Morrigan, he'll stop."

"I don't want to tell you," Morrigan declared defiantly, sticking out her bottom lip like Hawthorne's little sister Davina did when she was refused the privilege of orange juice.

"Just tell us, Morrigan!" Hawthorne practically shouted, attracting a few odd looks from passers-by.

That was when Morrigan lost it, shoving Hawthorne off her shoulder aggressively. She felt her blood boil inside of her, and her fingertips tingled with Wunder. She scrambled up from the bench and dusted herself off immediately. "Shut up!" she yelled at them, ignoring the stares of strangers. "If I don't want to tell you anything, I bloody well won't!"

Jack stood up, holding a hand out to comfort her, but Morrigan slapped it away as soon as it came close to her. "Morrigan-"

"I don't care! You don't care! Nobody gives a flying fuck what I want!" Morrigan breathed heavily, realising the enormity of what she had just said, and then raced off in an entirely random direction.

Jack, Cadence, and Hawthorne stared after her, too shocked to say or do anything for a good ten seconds. Then Cadence broke the silence.

"Wow, didn't know she swore."

--'--

At the time Morrigan had stormed off, away from her friends and all the chaos that came with them, she hadn't been thinking about where she would go. Her amygdala had triggered her fight or flight instinct, and her frontal cortex had failed to calm her down. Her mind had been riddled with the instinct to get away from the loud noises, and just run. And so she had. Now she had absolutely no idea where she was, apart from a dark alleyway. Morrigan heard the yowl of a cat nearby, and shuddered at the screeching sound. She grew woozier and more light-headed by the second, and she clutched her head, shaking herself in an attempt to wake herself up and dim her headache.

"Oi, sweetheart!" a voice came from next to her. Morrigan whipped around, and flinched as a middle-aged man smoking a cigar and leaning against the side of the alley winked seductively at her. She stopped for reasons unknown even to her, and replied, "Excuse me, sir?"

The man leered at her creepily. It sent shivers down her spine, and her head throbbed to the point at which it was absolutely excruciating, and she hissed through clenched teeth, "Shit."

"You cut a fine figure, girlie," the man said, and he grinned. His teeth were stained brown and yellow, and his hair was awfully matted. Morrigan began to panic. Who was this guy? What did he want with her? How would she get back to her friends? She smiled nervously, and stammered, "Um. Uh, thanks?"

Morrigan felt very uncomfortable in this situation. Her head continued to stab itself repeatedly, and the man took a step towards her, discarding the cigar like an autumn leaf. He came closer. Closer, closer... and then he was right next to her. He placed a large, rough hand on her breast, and Morrigan froze as he whispered in a condescending manner, "Don't accept that compliment, sweetheart. Accept this one."

The man hit her over the head with something, and Morrigan fell to the ground with a pained cry.

She knew no more.

--'--

When Morrigan awoke, she lay bound and gagged by ropes on a bed in a room that strongly reminded her of a prison cell. This was what she imagined in all her books in which there were prisons. This- the dingy, dusty floor, the stiff wooden bed, the dim moonlight entering the room from a tiny barred window at the very top of the wall- was how she had imagined prison for years.

It was exactly as she had thought it would be.

She didn't know where she was, and she hated it. Loathed it with all of her being. Her head hurt more than ever. Morrigan wanted Jupiter, wanted Hawthorne, wanted Cadence... wanted Jack. She loved him so much. As hot tears spilled down her cheeks and dropped sideways onto the bed, she knew she would do anything to be with him just then. To kiss him, to touch him, to embrace him like she had never before.

Morrigan lay there sobbing quietly for a time, until the man who had approached her in the alleyway walked into the room, banging the door behind him. He swaggered over to her with the air of somebody who had just won a large sum of money gambling, and Morrigan shuddered at the sight of him. He bent down, and she tried not to throw up at his repulsive breath as he whispered, "Let's have some fun now, shall we?"

He untied her, but as soon as Morrigan lifted her hand up to touch her face, he slapped it back down furiously. "You do not move without permission! Do you understand me?!"

Morrigan gasped, and nodded, which earned her jaw a punch. "Ah-ah-ah," the man said, wagging his finger at her like she was a naughty little child. "No moving."

"Y- yes," squeaked Morrigan eventually, resisting the urge to stroke her burning cheek. The man nodded craftily. "Now, my name is Hannibal, but you must call me Master at all times."

"Got it," Morrigan replied hastily. She would call him a different, private name in her head. Shitbreath, she decided. Then she noticed what he was doing.

Hannibal was touching her, moving his hands up and down her behind, and even touching her crotch occasionally. She visibly stiffened, and he chuckled. "Don't look so surprised, sweetheart. There's more where that came from." He smirked suggestively. Morrigan felt sick. But it was nothing compared to what he did then.

He pulled her dress off her aggressively, and her leggings came off soon after. She squirmed the whole time, and he hit her repeatedly. He touched Morrigan's breasts, pinching them in all the sensitive spots, and eventually he moved down to her groin region. Morrigan's breath fastened its pace. No. No, no, no. This couldn't be happening! She poked herself discreetly, hoping that she'd wake up and find that she'd just fallen asleep with the others, and they'd all be laughing at her. And she'd laugh too. And it would all be okay.

It wasn't a dream.

When he got undressed himself, and shoved something disgusting inside of Morrigan's mouth, she cried freely. Screamed herself hoarse, begging for him to stop while he moaned in what seemed like satisfaction. Retched countless times, but nothing ever came out. Hannibal wouldn't let it. Her head pounded relentlessly. She thought about Jupiter, and how kind he was, and how he would never do anything like this. She wanted Jupiter. She wanted Jack. Wanted kindness, wanted warmth, wanted pity, wanted love for something other than her genitals.

Eventually he took his genitalia out of her mouth, and Morrigan felt bile rise in her throat finally. She leaned over the side of the bed and threw up, her meal from the night before coming back up in front of her, as well as some disgusting translucent liquid that Morrigan had no idea what was. Hannibal watched her smugly throughout all this, and clapped his hands slowly once she was done emptying the contents of her stomach.

"Well done," he congratulated her. On what, she wondered. What had Morrigan done that was so brilliant? "You're very fuckable."

Morrigan sighed, and felt her eyes close. She still felt sick, and her head still hurt like anything. But she slipped into a restless sleep plagued with nightmares and hopes that somebody would find her and rescue her.

It was just a hope anyway.

--'--

Jack, Cadence, and Hawthorne were a little worried.

They had been searching for Morrigan in all the places she could possibly be, and yet they found no traces of her anywhere. They had checked in cafés, parks, bars- everything. Eventually Jack groaned, stretched, and said, "She's probably just gone back home. Come on, let's go. You guys are staying over, right?"

"Yep."

"Mmhm."

They hurried down streets until they finally made it to the Hotel Deucalion, laughing and grinning.

They knew not of the pain and suffering Morrigan was enduring at Hannibal's place. They were oblivious to her kidnapping.

They didn't know.

--'--

Wow, hi guys! I've done it. I've made my wacky dream into a fanfiction. This is my first multichapter fanfiction for Nevermoor- I have the whole story planned out in my head, so I should have the next chapter up soon. Hope whoever reads this enjoys it! And yes, this is a very dark story. Sorry...

-Idri