I'm actually quite excited for this one. It's over two times the size of my first, so it took a while to write, sorry about that.
I've been reading Crime and Punishment since last month (I'm a slow reader) and I love it a lot. So this is partially inspired by Crime and Punishment. If you haven't read it I highly recommend it. Mind you this fic isn't the plot of the book (I would never do that don't worry).
This fic contains violence and character death, just in case you're not cool with that. I was going to write something more fluffy but this one was nagging at me. Also some more religious stuff because it's truly unavoidable.
I did research on Russian naming conventions before writing. I planned on incorporating them more than I did but that's just not how the fic turned out. Here's some basic stuff you'd need to understand naming conventions (I didn't include diminutives so there's nothing on that here):
- A Name consists of: first name / patronymic (father's name with suffix dependant on gender. 'ovich' for males and 'ovna' for females are common. they change slightly depending on some names) / family name
- Formal referral to a person: first name, patronymic
- It is informal to refer to someone by their patronymic only (it's like calling them 'son/daughter of ____' )
(Y/P) refers to 'your patronymic' if you feel like coming up with one. You can come up with a Russian name or use your own name. It's obviously up to you. If you want to come up with a name or want to read more about it go here: http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/UsefulNotes/RussianNamingConvention?from=Main.RussianNamingConvention
Again the name thing isn't important as I only mentioned it once, but I included it any way.
Also, I am now in summer school. We're writing a lot of essays so there likely won't be any updates until August sometime, sorry.
Haha, sorry for the long authors note. Hope you enjoy. Leave feedback if you like.
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He'd be there. You thought.
He'd definitely be there. It must be easier to hide in a city with a large population like Petersburg... Or that is what he thinks. He may just be enjoying his money and working another illegal business for all anyone knows!
It would be for the good of society if the man were to die. He is to die as all men do, but an earlier death would make for a greater good. Stepan Ivanovich Sidorov... does he have relations? Anyone who may care for him, such as a wife? That is unlikely... so he shan't be missed.
Who will kill him? I won't, will I? That is hardly something a human should do. Yet my intentions... are they not good? Should I not be the one to strike him down?
You had been contemplating this for sometime, laying on your bed in your small room. You had been contemplating it since your uncle had told you what he had heard during his trip to Moscow.
To think that Uncle was in Moscow at the time when the man was at the forefront of the news! Does God wish to have me kill him myself?
Stephan Ivanovich operated under many aliases while doing business, most involving illegal practice. This was how he accumulated his fortune. Your Uncle knew of a few of his aliases, and he had learned that a man referred to by one of these had escaped the authorities in Moscow as of late. He had apparently been seen heading towards St. Petersburg. Of course you hadn't learnt of this until your Uncle had returned a week later, the journey by carriage being considerable.
You had sworn vengeance against the man. He was the murderer of your father, and in turn your mother indirectly. As of late your thoughts had been particular to this subject. You desperately wished to journey to Petersburg and kill him, but you had also realized how unrealistic the idea had been. Your morals were also something you could not fully denounce, though you tried to convince yourself that you should be exempt in this case.
What would I do? How would I get Petersburg? I would also have to leave uncle... what if I were to be killed instead?
Maybe it does not matter if I am killed. Even if I am unsuccessful, does it matter? I am vile for thinking of these things... terrible even. But he is more terrible! Terrible and vile, absolutely more than I. In any case, one terrible person will be removed from society if I go to Petersburg, either he or I.
So there! It's fine then. It's fine, but I doubt I could manage. If God has forsaken me then who will aid me? Perhaps the demons of hell? Then I shall truly have stooped to my lowest. Though I could surely accomplish anything with their help, and if I am to go to hell anyway... there's hardly a problem. No problem at all.
Your rambling went on for some time before exhaustion stole your senses.
-
You stood behind the counter of your uncle's tavern, washing glasses in a bucket with a rag. You had been working here since your uncle had taken you in, doing chores and cleaning the building in place of his other employees. You didn't mind, as he was kind enough to take care of you, and there weren't many ways of you earning your own coin.
The tavern was open most hours. Most didn't drink until later though, as many people in your village were peasants and therefore farmed for most of the day. This quieter time was when you did your work. Occasionally someone would enter, therefore you were aquatinted with the different types of liquor available, their cost, and the amount to serve a person.
You focused almost all attention on the glasses you were cleaning. Continuously thinking about how you might carry out your plan, how you might kill the hateful man. In the midst of this someone entered the tavern, though you did not notice. He sat at one of the stools by the front.
"You seem quite determined. Is that glass particularly dirty?" the stranger commented, sounding slightly amused. This gave you quite the start, you quickly placed the glass down and approached him.
"I'm terribly sorry sir. What would you like?" you smiled despite your embarrassment. "Just tea, the type doesn't matter." he replied. "Alright sir, if it really doesn't matter, I'll make you my favourite." you then went to prepare the tea.
As you worked you were no longer consumed by your thoughts of revenge but of the stranger instead. He was quite pale, with dark black hair and strangely dark eyes. You had never seen a man this attractive before, and by his dress he was surely not from the country. His jacket collar and hat were both of white fur, his suit was also white, his jacket a deep red.
What was he doing in this town of all places?
When you had finished making the tea you brought him his glass and noticed that he was now reading a newspaper. One he had seemed to produce practically of thin air.
Had that been in his coat all this time?
"Thank you." he said. After a pause he continued to speak "are you in any way curious as to what I am reading about?" "I suppose so sir" you replied.
"I'd like it if we could talk more like acquaintances," he began, smiling at you "my name is Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky." "Good to meet you. I'm (Y/N) (Y/P) (L/N)" you replied.
"So, about the paper. I brought it from Moscow when I was there about a week ago. There was a story in it that interested me" he stated. "Ah" you said, and then paused.
Moscow... a week ago. Was it about Ivanovich, this story? That would surely be too much of a coincidence. So then it would be God's work? If it is... if it is that then I must go, I suppose.
You had paused for a while, and of course hadn't realized that Fyodor had been watching you intently. His smile had become more of a slightly unsettling smirk, though when you looked up at him again this was quickly undone.
"It seems that one of the men from the group they caught producing illegal notes in Moscow escaped. Likely to Petersburg," he continued "I was heading there myself when I figured that I'd stop here."
Your eyes widened and you felt shudder travel down your spine. Your hands, not visible to Fyodor behind the counter, were curled into tight fists in an attempt to regain your composure. "Ivanovich..." you muttered involuntarily. You only felt half conscious of your surroundings.
It's happened again! It must be what I am meant to do. How can I not, all signs are pointing to the opportunity. I must look mad... I am mad, most likely.
"Is that another name for the man? They said he was likely under alias during this crime." Fyodor said. He had heard you.
You could barely hold yourself together, therefore you resolved to let it out. Something urged you to tell him about what Ivanovich had done, somehow you needed to get it out.
"Y-yes, I know of him..." you almost mumbled "do you wish to hear what he did to my family? The story might take some time." "If you don't feel uncomfortable with telling me, I'd be glad to hear it" he replied.
You stared at him for a few seconds. He was looking at you with inquisitive eyes, a small smile on his lips.
"Um, alright. I'll begin." you said "My mother was the only surviving child of her family. They had a disposition to get sick, so her siblings died quite early. Her mother died after she had her fifth child. Her father, also became sick later in life. Somehow the family had inherited a considerably large amount of land. Due to her fathers sickness she was forced to quickly decide on a man to marry so that he would receive the property, as she could not own it herself. She had two suitors that were after her, she was tremendously good-looking despite being a merchants daughter in simple town such as our's. My father and Stepan Ivanovich were the two. My father had known her since they were children, and pursued her for love, he too was a merchant's child, and he ran a shop with his father. Ivanovich was constantly in pursuit of money, and was highly mistrusted especially by the peasants. He did not have much love for my mother herself, he loved the land he would receive. He also had some strange idea, ideally he wanted a wife with less money than himself, or just generally a wife that could only rely on himself. My mother, with no other family, would have been in this position. It absolutely sickens me. She chose my father of course, and fell in love too. He was a good natured man, she was good natured as well.
Ivanovich left after their marriage, he was absolutely enraged. He returned to the town years after I was born, and had made quite the large sum of money. He may have believed that he was now entitled to do whatever he wanted. He got drunk one night and saw my father in the street. He backed him into an alleyway, shouting insults at him.
My father's business had not been going quite well. Ivanovich criticized this. He apparently called me useless, and said that they should sell me to a whorehouse, or maybe to himself. This was according to people who witnessed it from their windows or in walking by of course. This comment angered my father in just the right way, to the point where both were now insulting the other.
My father commented on Ivanovich's character. His narcissism and his greed, saying that these factors contributed to him not being chosen by my mother. Also, that because of this he would never find a woman who would be devoted to him, because he would never be devoted to her.
Ivanovich was set off terribly by this comment, and in a drunken rage picked up a nearby axe and smashed my father over the head multiple times with it. It killed him! Well of course it would... with how many times the axe was heard coming down. He ran immediately... must be quite fast. No one caught him, he never returned."
You almost felt frantic now, you were shaking, eyes brimming with tears. You took a deep breath on continued.
"So... my mother became ill that winter. I'm not sure if it was her family line, or the fact that my father was not around. We had barely any money left... scarcely enough to buy proper medicine. I could barely keep up my father's already struggling business. So, she died before the winter ended... and it's his fault. All of it is Ivanovich's fault! H-he, took them... my family... I only have my uncle here."
You were crying, silently but steadily. You felt embarrassed, you should have known it would end in embarrassment, you thought.
Fyodor reached over the counter and placed his hand on one of your shoulders. You simply stared at it, everything felt unreal.
"Is there anything that would make you feel better?" he asked, his voice was quiet now. "He is wicked. You should not blame yourself, you don't do you? What should we do to the wicked who have not been punished? Do we punish them in the place of God?"
You stared at him, your crying had almost stopped. You felt incredibly bewildered, your brain struggling to process what he had just said. He made some kind of crude form of a smile, and withdrew his hand from your shoulder. You made no movement; there was something wrong. The air in the room was stifling, and all your senses screamed at you to run.
"W-what are you saying?" you pronounced slowly. "Do you want to kill him?" he asked, it came from him effortlessly.
You started to hyperventilate, you had never been this frightened before, you thought. "H-how? Your not in my head are you? Get out of it! If you are!" you exclaimed "If you are... if you can do that... w-w-who are you... what? what are you?!"
"It wouldn't be a problem if I helped you, right?" Fyodor asked, his smirk was wider now "you said it yourself. 'if I am to go to hell anyway, there's hardly a problem', that is what you said."
"No... It couldn't be. You... a demon? But for you to know, there's no other way. So then it must be true." you muttered, suddenly feeling strangely calm "So that's what I've done? If so, if I've already gone this far... maybe it's fine? He is terrible, better off dead. Demon, why do you offer your help? Simply to take my soul, or to see humans suffer?"
"I only help the righteous kill truly terrible sinners. God no longer punishes those who commit only sin, therefore another must take his place in that respect. Don't you agree?" he answered.
"Why don't you kill them yourself?" you questioned. "Ah, I don't have the power to take a human soul without the fulfillment of a deal." Fyodor replied "Speaking of which; my proposal to you. I will help you kill the man you spoke of, in exchange for your soul after he is dead. Do we have a deal?"
Fyodor stood from his chair and held his hand across the counter towards you. You had practically made up your mind, though you still found yourself hesitating. With a deep breath you stood and held his hand. It was cold, very cold. You shook hands quickly.
-
You parted from your village almost immediately. Your uncle had still been asleep so you had written him a note so he would not worry, you wondered if he would miss you.
The carriage ride was spent in silence. You stared at nothing in particular, trying to picture the face of the man you were to kill, you had only seen him once as a child after all.
Fyodor chewed on his fingers lightly, glancing at you occasionally with an amused smile on his face.
You wondered about him to. You never considered that a demon might look like a good-looking man. He probably made himself look that way so that I would be more likely to agree, you concluded. You shuddered slightly. It was likely that demons had many different forms.
-
In Petersburg you arrived at an inn. Fyodor told the innkeeper that you were newlyweds and were staying until you found a permanent home to stay in. You couldn't help but blush at this, likely making the whole ordeal more believable.
"Only one bed?" you exclaimed upon entering the room. "We're newlyweds, remember?" Fyodor whispered almost directly into your ear from behind you. You jumped away from him almost immediately, feeling yourself blush once again.
Fyodor smiled, he seemed to enjoy teasing you. "It would be strange to say that we're siblings, we look nothing alike. Newlyweds commonly try to move to a city together. Besides, we will only be staying here for a couple nights at the most. Our transaction will be done with little preparation." He said.
The room had only a bed and a dresser, and was quite small. Its single window overlooked a street below. Neither of you had brought much luggage, so the size of the room was hardly a problem.
Fyodor opened his bag, from underneath the clothes inside he produced a few knives and an axe. You stared at the weapons as he set them down on the bed. "As you can see I already have weapons for you to use. Use whatever you would like." he stated "All that's left to do is find where he's hiding and find a time to catch him when he's unaware."
-
Dinner was provided later by the innkeeper's wife, it was quite good. The sun had set fairly quickly as the season was mid autumn.
"You should get some rest now," Fyodor began "the day you kill Ivanovich will likely be tomorrow." "What are you going to do now?" you asked. "I'm going to find him for you, it should not take me longer than tonight. I'll be telling the innkeeper that I am meeting a friend to go drinking."
You laughed "you don't seem one to be into that sort of thing. Are you demons even capable of being drunk?" "Of course we are." he replied "I'll be leaving now."
"Goodbye" you said, resigning yourself to sleep feeling slightly giddy.
Tomorrow is to be the day then. Tomorrow will be the day that he is removed from this filthy earth, along with myself.
-
Come morning you woke with a start. You were surprised to find that Fyodor had in-fact returned that night, and slightly perturbed when you saw that you had somehow cuddled into him. You quickly pulled away, blushing like mad.
"Sorry" you mumbled. "I don't mind," Fyodor began, you hadn't realized that he was awake. "humans are very warm. They have warm bodies, and warm blood. It's pleasant." You felt yourself blush a bit more at what he had said.
He sat up from the bed, "I've found Ivanovich, just as promised" he continued "we'll go after him tonight."
A strange shudder ran up your spine, it was like no other shudder you had felt before. You felt slightly feverish. "Tonight then..." you mumbled dreamily.
-
Before the night had come you had sewn a pocket and a tied rope into the inside of your long coat. The pocket contained a knife, the rope held an axe. You weren't sure which would prove to be more useful, so you had taken both.
Upon entering the busy streets Fyodor held your hand to play more into the act that the two of you were a young couple. This was not good in your opinion, as you were already feelings anxious due to the act you were about to commit. Being embarrassed was not helpful.
Fyodor glanced at you almost consistently, likely checking up on your mental state.
Was there a state of mind that was most suitable for killing? Surely most murderers don't get away from the police because they don't think logically during and after the deed. ...Though escaping does not matter to me, I'm to die soon after.
Eventually you were lead to a sad district containing many decrepit buildings and dim street-lamps. A few people dressed in rags walked aimlessly down the street.
"Is this where you found him?" you asked. Fyodor nodded "he's staying in one of these buildings. He payed the landowner a large sum of money to rent the whole thing out".
"Convenient for us," you muttered "almost as if he wants to be found."
You could see Fyodor smirking at you despite the dimness of the street. "Do you want to see him suffer? Plea for his life?" he asked in his usual smooth tone. You clicked your tongue "Perhaps... That's wrong isn't it though? Deriving pleasure from suffering."
Fyodor continued to smile at you, and while leaving your question unanswered, pointed to the three story building in front of you. "He's there," he stated "in the room at the top story. Be prepared, I'll follow close behind."
You gulped, suddenly feeling extremely tense. You resolved to take the first step, then the second, eventually you were to the door. The door creaked as you entered, as did the stairs as the two of you attempted to climb them slowly and silently.
Before opening the door you took a few deep breathes. You right hand hovered near the weapons on the inside of the left of your coat in preparation, you used your left hand to open the door. You felt as if you could feel Fyodor grinning wickedly behind you.
Ivanovich was apparently at leisure, he sat in an old chair reading a book. Just seeing him calm like this enraged you. To think that he could live like this while he has caused others to suffer! Only a terrible man like him would kill out of impulse! But I... I am killing justly... to avenge my family. I will serve for my crime in hell, as will he, but I will still stand by the justice of my crime.
You gritted your teeth, Ivanovich finally looked up from his book. You looked him dead in the eyes, everything that came out of your mouth flowed naturally, almost as if without your control. "Good evening sir! Do you remember me?" you asked in the most pleasant tone you could manage, one still splattered with anger.
"No. Who are you?" Ivanovich practically spat. You hand clasped the axe in your coat. "You should remember me... You killed my father... I'll be sending you to hell" you said.
"A child like you? Ah, were you the child of the woman who denied me? Turns out she was a foolish cow anyway, much to my dismay" he laughed, seemingly unthreatened.
That had set you off, and everything happened in a flash. You rushed at him "You're damned to hell! You're damned to hell!" you screamed, the axe was pulled from your coat.
Ivanovich jumped back quickly, but the room was small. You smashed you elbow into his chin on pure instinct, and he flew backwards into the wall. As he was stunned you moved the axe mechanically over his head with both hands, the blunt side facing downward.
Everything felt like a dream. "One... two... three" you mumbled, and brought the axe down with all the force you could on top of his head. The process was repeated, the sick crack of his skull could be heard and blood seeped from the wound.
You started to laugh hysterically as you watched his body tumble to the floor. It's like a dream, you thought, staring down at the lifeless thing you had created.
You dropped the axe promptly to the floor and it then occurred to you that this was the same way that the dead man had killed your father. Part of you felt like this was the most satisfying part of your revenge, the other part began to scream. Just like him... just as terrible... just as vile.
You dropped to the floor, your hands landing in the blood pooling around the body's head. You felt warm tears pouring down your face, and not registering the blood on your hands, moved them to wipe the tears away. Not as good as I thought it would be. Not at all.
"So it wasn't satisfying then?" a voice asked, you had forgotten that Fyodor had even been there watching. You almost threw up.
"Y-yes, in a way. I feel both happy and terrified" you replied. Fyodor helped you to your feet.
You looked up at Fyodor, he was smiling, his hand clasping your's. He slowly brought your hand up to his mouth, and then gently licked the blood off your fingers and your palm. You shuddered, you felt as if your entire body was going numb.
"We must go now," he whispered "somebody surely heard your screams."
You nodded, and he quickly pulled you out of the room by the hand. The two of you ran down the stairs and out the building, Fyodor lead you for a while down many more practically abandoned streets. You then stopped in an alleyway.
"You did very well," he purred "the sinner that killed your father will never plague this world again."
Demon... No, maybe...
"Were you an angel once?" you ask him. Fyodor stared at you "Maybe," he muttered "but it's not important now."
"In any case," he continued "it's now time for me to collect my part of the deal. This won't hurt, you will be blessed with the greatest of silences."
You felt slightly afraid, though you renounced the feeling. Fyodor placed his hands on both sides of your face and brought you towards him. Somehow fully aware of what he was going to do, you wrapped your arms around his neck.
The kiss was long and incredibly pleasant. His lips were soft and cold. You barely registered the fact that you were becoming increasingly weak and tired, even though it had registered with you before hand that it was to happen.
You felt your consciousness fade, slowly but surely, almost as if you were drifting into oblivion. You felt nothing, a complete neutrality of emotion that you had never experienced before.
The last thing you registered was your arms falling from his shoulders.
-
Two days later, a body was found someways from where Ivanovich was murdered. Its hands were covered in blood, some was spattered on its clothes. The body had a serene look about it, as if the person had fully accepted and loved death himself.