A/N: Fic crossover with Phantom. Um, I'm just writing this on a Muse, and it was supposed to be a one-shot, so uh, if people could give me ideas, that'd be great. I wasn't planning on writing this, but it just... became written.
This chapter is in Rodya's (that is, Raskolnikov's) POV, from Crime and Punishment. It diverges from the scene where he kills the two old women, the first one with premeditation and the second because she witnessed the scene. He forgoes robbing them, and he leaves the axe. Read and review.
There. The deed is done.
Oh, what have I done?
I drop the blade, which falls in wretchedly slow motion. It falls into a growing pool of scarlet blood... oh, so much blood, flowing everywhere. It feels like it is my own blood pouring out. The axe splashes in that pool, causing some of it to spatter on me. Little drops of blood from the ceiling begin to fall from the ceiling, falling into the pool, causing little ripples in the cursed puddle.
So much blood. The air is thick with the horrible, detestable smell of blood. There is nothing worse than the smell of freshly shed blood.
I shiver like a leaf. I cannot stay here. There is too much blood, too much.
I shudder. Oh, God, what have I done?
I close the door and flee away. Oh, God, what have I done? How can I even begin to think I have escaped?
It is as Marmeladov was saying in the bar: do you know what it's like to have no where left to turn?
I am a murderer.
Oh, God, what have I done?
Ah! I am covered, absolutely covered in blood. Thank goodness for night and shadow, and this blackness friendly to sinners.
I am a fool if I think I am well-covered. I feel so naked. My guilt follows me.
Ah, what is this? A trail of blood follows me! Good God, I stepped in the pool of blood! It's stained on my shoes' soles! I am leaving footprints! My lip is quivering and my world sways. The faint stars in the sky are blacking out.
No. I cannot faint. I cannot lose my head.
But there was so much blood... why did she have to see it all? Why couldn't she have been away?
Oh, God, what have I done? What have I done?
Calm yourself, Rodya. The deed is done. There is no reversing that. The important thing now is to not get caught.
Not get caught. Is that even still possible? There's a whole trail of blood dripping from my coat, from my shoes... Oh, God...
No. I cannot look to Heaven. I must cease to call divine witness to my deeds.
But how can I hide from an omniscient eye?
Oh, God. There was so much blood. I can't believe... oh, God. Oh, my God.
What have I done?
The door opens easily enough to my little, coffin-like flat. It's a wonder no one has seen me come in, dripping and sopping in blood...
Oh, why did I return here? Surely, there was a trail of footprints leading here from the scene! Let me check... hmmm... no. The blood dried up on the street... wait, is that a spot? Oh, dear...
My clothes! My God, my clothes, they're covered in blood! They're so wet... and my hands are... they're drenched in blood.
No, they're not that drenched... just covered in a few patches of dry blood... just a little water will wash it all away. But my clothes...
How could I have been so careless! Let me hold them to the moonlight to see better... no, they're fine. Then what hallucination caused me to think there was blood on them?
Oh, my... my face is growing cold with so much dread. A cold sweat breaks out, my skin clammy with horror. My coat is absolutely covered in blood! I can't believe I didn't see it before.
I shall have to burn my clothes. These are stained beyond repair... oh, God. What have I done?
Ok, Rodya, calm down. Lay down for a moment. Don't become delirious...
Don't become delirious! Do you hear yourself? You just killed a woman! There was so much blood... and her head was absolutely crushed... and how can I lay down when there is still so much to do? And Lizaveta... oh, why couldn't she have been away?
Oh, my God... the axe. I didn't put the axe away. Where is it? Didn't I--oh, my God--I left it at the scene. In that horrible, reeking, stinking pool of blood.
That's it. I cannot stay here.
Oh, no, I hear Nastasya approaching. No, Nastasya, go away, don't knock on my...
She knocks on the door. She's calling for me. Oh, dear, the porter's with her. They know! They must have seen the blood! My clothes are covered in blood. I'll be found out for sure! Oh, wretched me! Ah... ah... what to do now? What to do? What to do?!
Feign sleep. Yes, that is what I'll do. The door is locked, I am sure of it. Yes. I will feign sleep... you're too distressed, Rodya... just feign sleep... it's so simple... just... feign... sleep...
--Ah! I fell asleep! How can I do such a thing, when there is so much left to do?!
Nastasya and the porter. Did they leave? ...yes, they're long gone.
So I must be too.
I cannot leave my coat here; it's evidence against me. I'll... I'll destroy it as soon as I can. But I must be gone, and now. I should have been gone yesterday...
Ah, the sun is almost ready to come up. I slept in cursedly late. The blood on my clothes will be obvious in the sunlight... I'll have to fall in the mud and cover up all the blood. It looks like it rained last night, bless my luck.
Why is God still blessing me? Oh, God... my God...
No, Rodya. You must figure this out on your own. Fate can only lead you so far. You're on your own now. Regain your senses.
Oh, cursed doorknob! It's so hard to open...if only my hands would stop shaking. Dear God, how pale my hands are. Perhaps I really did bleed last night. Oh, the world is spinning--I've fallen ill!
It's too late for that formality. If only I had not lost my senses, I would be fine. I wouldn't have so many problems...
Oh, dear God... are those footsteps I hear in the hall?
I must be gone! Anywhere, as soon as possible! I cannot stay here! But where, where? I must go far, far away... oh, but where? Think, Rodya, think! Have you lost all your senses?
Oh, perfect, Rodya, France. What are you going to do when you get there? Starve? At least they feed you in prison.
They also hang you for murder.
Oh, dear, oh, God... no. Stop wringing your hands, Rodya. You sinned against God. He will not help you now, no matter how many times you call on His name. The only man you can trust is yourself.
Oh, what a horrible fate that is, that I can no longer safely call upon God's name and receive help.
But--worry about that later. You mustn't stay here.
Goodness, I talk way too much. I am becoming delirious.
Germany! There, that's more like it. At least you can speak German. Yes, Germany. I can get a job as a translator, make money... perhaps even become a schoolteacher there, just as I used to be here. I can pay off my landlady in good time...
Ah, but what excuse will I use for my leaving?
I needed a job.
But didn't Razmukhin say he'd offer you work as a German translator once?
That was months ago. But... ah, I must quit stalling! I must get out of here at once!
Nastasya! I can hear her coming. She's knocking on my door. I must be gone, I...
Stop thinking so fretfully. You're going to become delirious. Just go, and don't turn back. Run!
Oh, dear Lord... I feel sick. Running only makes the world spin faster. But what else can I do? I've started what I can't stop. To Germany it is, then. I think I have just enough money... oh, how the world spins...
Oh, God, what have I done?