"The things we do for a love like this are ugly, mad, full of sweat and regret. This love burns you and maims you, and twists you inside out. It is a monstrous love, and it makes monsters of us all."
- Lucille Sharpe (Crimson Peak)
Kate never wanted to be strong. She never wanted to be a spy. She never wanted to fall in love-- she never wanted any of it. All she wanted was to simply exist. She wanted to exist without any of the requirements of life, the negatives and the positives. She didn't want to be a sentient being, but rather a mouse or a bird. This was something that knew all about the world it lived in and yet it didn't matter because this being had no awareness. It has no desires, no grief, no regrets; this is what Kate desired to be. She didn't want to have to pay some sort of price to live. In fact, she wasn't entirely sure she even wanted to live.
"Why did nobody tell me?" Kate asked, pressing her lips together tightly to keep from crying.
"Orwell ordered that you were not to know; it would make things easier that way, you wouldn't fight your conditioning," Whitman explained.
"You purposefully made me into what I am." Kate's voice wavered.
"No, that you're wrong about. We didn't make you into this, we simply kept you under control." Whitman was quick to deny this claim.
"Impossible." She gasped, the tears silently falling down her rosy cheeks.
"I'm afraid he's right this time, my dear." Fyodor placed a gentle hand on her knee. She slowly looked at him with wide, pleading eyes, silently begging him to tell her the truth.
"What?" She breathed out.
"Perhaps it's for the best that you don't remember living these events." He brushed her hair out of her face.
"Tell me!" She begged nobody in particular.
"It's best if I'm not the one to tell her, she won't believe me." Whitman audibly sat back in his chair, listening to everything fall apart for the Doll he had taken under his wing.
"Do you not remember all of the fights you would get into at school? Did you forget how frequently you changed schools? Do you not remember your very first kill at nine years old?" Fyodor asked, twirling a strand of her silky hair around his finger. Kate let out a sound that resembled a whimper as she wrapped her arms around herself.
"Perhaps you do remember." He whispered as he leaned closer to her.
Fyodor was merely a man-- no, he was merely a demon. He had finally grabbed this angelic light that was Kate Chopin and he had yet to decide what to do with it. He loved her but not entirely in the way that one should love someone. This was his problem; no matter how much he loved her and could love her, he always loved power more. He loved the power he had over her, having both a good effect and a bad. His words could make her tremble and he thoroughly enjoyed that he could do this to her specifically.
To be in love with someone, to him, meant you viewed them as God did. He saw her entirely, he alone could understand her and this was where he found himself at a crossroads. Since he was the sole person to understand her, he could do with her whatever he desired. Did he continue to corrupt and break her down or did he build her up in a way that made her much stronger than she was now? Building man in His image meant that He decided what their purpose was, what he should do with them. Since Fyodor was God, he had the opportunity to build Kate up in his image, making her just like him. He could never rid himself of the feeling of wanting to ruin her.
"Please," she begged, not even knowing what she wanted.
"Use your words, please what?" Fyodor hummed, pressing a sickening kiss to her cheek.
"Please stop." She pulled away, the touch of his skin on hers suddenly feeling like hellfire.
"Stop? My dear, we've only just begun." He gave her a fake smile, with no warmth behind it. It frightened her as it reminded her who she really was messing with. He was a demon; there was a reason that he had made his way to the top of the terrorism list.
"Katherine, this is what you betrayed us for. Expect no more help or contact from us. Consider this to be the last time we talk on friendly terms." Whitman interjected before hanging up. Kate felt as though her entire world had been flipped upside down.
"I want to go home," Kate whined, barely able to find her voice.
"Home? Home is here, with me." Fyodor frowned ever so slightly.
"No," she began, looking for any falseness in his words.
"Yes. Your family tried to give you up, something they have done multiple times before. The government just rid themselves of you. I am the one who has taken you in, given you life. I love you, I did say that, didn't I? I meant it, didn't I?" He spoke to her back as she faced away from him. He could see her shoulders slump more and more with every word he spoke.
"You planned all this, didn't you?" She asked, her voice breaking.
"Not all of it." He answered truthfully.
"Why?" She asked, finally looking at him, pleading with her eyes. Her mascara ran messily down her face, and her naturally pink cheeks had flushed, even more, spreading to her nose and t-zone. Her lips were swollen and red. She was a mess, more than he had ever seen from her.
"Because I love you. Isn't that obvious?" He laughed as his eyes gleamed dangerously. Kate could only count a handful of times she had truly feared Fyodor, this was one of them. He was a monster, how could she forget that.
"This isn't love," she cried before muttering, "it can't be..."
"What makes you so sure that you know what love is?" He proposed a question designed to make her doubt herself.
"I... Please, excuse me... I don't feel well." She stood, staggering towards the door.
"Find me when you feel better, I'd love to talk to you some more." He called out to her, making her stop momentarily. A chill ran down her spine and she shivered as she left.
Kate made her way to the bathroom and entered, locking the door behind her before falling to the floor in front of the toilet. Her back arched as she released her entire stomach's contents into the toilet. Her eyes watered and her throat burned.
Meanwhile, Fyodor simply had one thought in his mind: 'am I a monster or is this what it means to be a person?' Had he taken things too far? Perhaps he did. Perhaps this was why he felt so ill about his words towards her. He hadn't meant for things to get out of hand like that, but it just happened. He couldn't control himself, especially when it came to her. He was sorry but he would never say those words aloud, especially not to her.
It was not that he expected Kate to react badly, it was just that she would forgive him. She would even hold his hand as he struggled to apologise. But if he were to apologise it would mean putting her above himself in terms of priorities. He couldn't risk doing that. He had given her a halo and this he knew, but her holiness was now greater than his own and he didn't want to acknowledge that.
Kate's stomach was empty and so she sat on the floor of the bathroom, feeling more helpless than ever. She had done this to herself though; Nikolai warned her, Whitman warned her-- but she didn't listen. She allowed Fyodor to cover her ears and enchant her, she wasn't going to listen to anybody that wasn't him. She didn't know how he did it, how they became like this. They were toxic together, their relationship was always rocky and never guaranteed happiness but she held on, foolishly believing she could make it happen. She was so naive. All this time she wanted to believe she was strong, that she mattered to people, but she was weak and nobody ever cared about her.
Kate was an enemy of her country now, she was like Fyodor. This thought made her want to spill her stomach contents but there was nothing left other than acid. She had spent so long trying to be perfect for everyone else, she had finally cracked under the pressure and lost everything. No, not everything... she had Fyodor whether she liked it or not. He had taken care of her thus far, clearly, it was not all for nothing, there must've been a good enough reason for him to have done all this.
While Kate's mind whirled, her stomach did uncomfortable flips as though it became a displaced abomasum. She felt cold, so unexplainably cold and yet her face felt like it was made of fire. She couldn't find the strength to make it back up to her feet so she sat on the bathroom floor, tears running down her face. She was weak, she always was.
Fyodor was waiting outside of the bathroom door for her, she was unaware of this. He listened to her strangled sobs as she struggled to muffle them. His heart broke at the sound of her falling apart behind the door. He gently placed one hand on the door and closed his eyes, wanting to console her and tell her he was sorry for everything. When her crying ceased suddenly, he became concerned, knowing damn well just how prone to illness she was.
"Kate?" He knocked on the door with a single knuckle, not wishing to frighten her too much. When there was no response, he began to knock harder.
"Kate!" He called out again, getting no response.
Ivan appeared behind his master, ready to help with whatever he needed.
"Kate, please answer before I open the door. You have five seconds." Fyodor stated before counting silently. Again, no response. When the five seconds were up, he tried the door but it was locked.
"Ivan," Fyodor spoke, stepping away from the door. His servant nodded and instantly picked the lock, opening the door.
Kate was unconscious on the floor, sick once more. Fyodor was not surprised but he still was fearful for her well-being once again. Ivan appeared more distraught than Fyodor but it was only because Fyodor had seen her like this more than Ivan had. He knew that staying calm and allowing her time to heal was the best course of action. Besides, Fyodor had the miracle drug that Kate had previously taken for her sickness, she would be fine yet again.
"Master, I'll take her to her room," Ivan spoke with his back to Fyodor, something he narrowed his eyes at. Kate had taken Ivan from him it appeared. Fyodor said nothing as Ivan lifted her up and carried her to her room with ease.
Fyodor was losing to her. She had a better hold on Ivan than he did. She was closer to Nikolai than he was. She was better than he was. She had accomplished much more with these people in a much shorter time than he did. She had stolen everything from him and she had the ability to do much more harm. For the first time in a very long time, Fyodor felt threatened by someone, and this someone was the doll, Kate Chopin. She had nothing and yet she had so much more than he did. She was kind, after all, she was polite and attractive, and so much more than he could ever be.
"Ivan, you can leave her," Fyodor spoke as he stared into the now empty bathroom.
"I must clean her, she doesn't like to be dirty and look unwell." Ivan rushed back into the bathroom to wet a washcloth with warm water. Although this action was seemingly innocent and kind and would have even been praised at an earlier date, it was now upsetting Fyodor thoroughly. Ivan directly disobeyed him and even had the audacity to ignore him, and it was all for her.
She had entered Fyodor's life as an Angel, there to fight a Demon. The entire time he was winning, at least that's how it appeared. She had planted her roots and grew like a weed, taking over everything he held dear. She won without him ever knowing. The Angel had beaten the Demon and this was now a fact. Fyodor laughed as he realised this. Darkness is the absence of light, not the other way around. She had him beat from the very start.