"…what her soul desired but her reason dreaded"
Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy
HER BURNING HEART
The Story of Lilia Derevko by JetNoir
Note: I've written quite a lot in the past year and a half (thirty-three stories and poems I believe), and out of all of them, this is one of my very favourites. The odd thing is I have no idea why. I think it is mostly to do with Lilia herself, certainly my favourite (and might I say best?) character I have created. There is a lot of me in her…with the obvious exceptions that I am not female, Russian, or indeed a serial-killer! And for fans of Lilia, could I recommend you check out Penelope S Cartwright's exceptional 'The Lecter Variations', ironically enough the life-story of Dr Lecter(!), where Lilia makes a cameo in the final chapter. It really is brilliantly done! Right, after this chapter, there are going to be eight more chapters, so it looks as if I have my work cut out for me! This chapter is cutting forward a few years, to when Lilia is working for the FBI, and for the next chapter, I'll be going back to Lilia's Graduation. Apologies for the strange chronology…I just thought I'd try some different things!
CHAPTER SEVEN - Her Soul
FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION
The Following File is CLASSIFIED
Unauthorised Viewing of this Document Is Punishable by Federal Law
Case Officer: Clarice M. Starling
Manuscript: written by Dr Lilia Derevko (FBI Agent, and serial-murderer "K.F.C. / Revenant") before her death - discovered at her home (concealed behind a false wall) two months after her murder at the hands of Hannibal Lecter.
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My favourite novel is Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy, my favourite singer is Nina Simone, and my favourite colour is purple.
I do not know why it is so. I only know that it is, and I suppose that is a good enough reason for me.
It is the 25th December 1996. Christmas Day.
I have been working for the FBI for a month now - and have already killed a man. He was a petty man, addicted to vice; pleasures of the flesh, sullying his body with drugs.
I am by myself…tomorrow I will see my Aunt, but I wanted this day to myself. I find comfort in solitude. Again, I do not know why. Merely another aspect of my soul. I am lonely when I am in a crowd. Never by myself.
I have five presents in front of me. From my mum in Russia; my aunt Winona; Special Agent's Clarice Starling and Matt Ito, whom I have spent the last fortnight tracking that same drug-dealer. I am twenty years old, and an agent of the FBI. Strange…I skipped three years due to a lucky accident. My last present is from a girl called Katherine Anderson, although everyone called her Kitty. When I was at High School, she was the most popular girl in school…and she chose to be my friend.
I haven't heard from her in years…and I had no idea what happened to her. I was always the cold one in school. I fear I remain the same.
I open my mum's present first. It is a beautiful gold necklace, with a sparkling sapphire. I put it on immediately…and realise how much I miss her. We write, and speak over the phone, but I cannot afford the plane fare to travel to Russia…or I would be gone in a heartbeat.
Matt's present is a series of Russian Dolls. The one's where you open a doll to find another inside, and so on. A charming, if slightly clichéd gift. Though I certainly find it more charming.
Aunt Winona's present is a copy of Bleak House by Charles Dickens. A strangely double-meaning gift from her. I expressed a desire to read it…and she has always viewed my little house as quite bleak. I rather like it though…and the gift. I shall look forward to reading it.
I open Clarice's gift with reluctance. I didn't get her, or indeed Matt, a gift; indeed the thought had never even crossed my mind. I was exited at being with the FBI, drafted into a squad so early (but not unheard of), to stop this man of vice, myself for forensics and psychology, Matt for his electronically expertise, and Clarice again for psychology. There is a gulf between us, there must be one. I cannot tell her the truth, about what I have done, that I met her in Ohio all these years ago, and meeting with the man called Reeves. One person she knows all to well.
It is a cassette. How did she know? Tchaikovsky's complete Nutcracker, one of my favourite pieces of music. I never told her! I could have sworn I didn't!
I turn to the last package. The one I have been dreading. Funny that a gift given freely should evoke such trepidation. I open the package in a flurry of tape and paper.
It is a book. A first edition of Anna Karenina. There is a separate note in the front (she knows I despise it when people write in books): To Lilia, my sincerest apologies and deepest love. I wish you happiness, and peace - something I know you found little of when we were at school. I hope you are well, and I send this book, from a real Kitty to a fictional one! K.
There was no return address. She must not want me to contact her.
For the first time in my life, I feel utter despair. Why am I doing this to myself? Why do I believe I must suffer so? I move to the phone and arrange to visit my aunt, later this evening. Happier, I put the receiver down.
For now, I move to the window and its comfortable seat as snow falls freely from the heavens, and begin to read.
I do not know why I have written this. At least I have the comfort of knowing that I have.
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Brief Analysis
Clarice M Starling
It is almost certain that Lilia wanted to write more, but felt unable to, for fear of discovery. Why did she work for the FBI, if she felt us enemies? Why did she feel she had to write this? I fear we have lost, by Lilia's own omissions, a valuable insight into her soul…
Note: I realise, now that I have written it what a strange chapter this is…but it is the half-way marker of the story, and for me shows Lilia to be such a lonely person, without actually realising it. Anna Karenina, by the way is one of my own favourite novels, and if you have a period of time free, I sincerely recommend it. I can never remember actually shouting at a book, the only time was when reading Kitty and Vronsky writing coded notes in chalk on a table. It's a really beautiful novel! Anyway, as I wrote before, next chapter will be going back to Graduation Day, and I think I might introduce Kitty for real! I hoped that you enjoyed this chapter, and as always, please review!
Disclaimer: Hannibal is copyright to Thomas Harris; and the story, plus original characters to me. This story has been written on the understanding that you may read it and print it out; but you may not pass it off as your own, hire it out, or sell it for money. You also may not put it on your own or any other web page (that includes links) without my express written permission. Thankyou!
JetNoir