Trying to follow the whirlwind of ideas in his mind, Raskolnikov remembered the loud banging on the door done by Nikolay the painter and remembered his intense fear. ' What if it had not been Nikolay, but rather somebody behind that door that had been listening to my insane talk, and had come to take me away on suspicion of murder,' he wondered. I would have been forced to confess everything! But no, this had not been the case, and Raskolnikov feeling relieved, fell quickly into a deep sleep.

The door banged again and Raskolnikov remembered his fear once more. Opening the door to Porfiry's office, Nikolay barged into the room with an intense look on his

"Here, drink some water, calm yourself, take some deep breaths," replied Porfiry, curious to hear what Raskolnikov had to say.

Porfiry shook his head and gave Nikolay a pitiful look. "That wretched soul still will not confess to his sins. . . . " he mumbled to himself.

"It was I who. . . . . . murdered . . . . the old woman and Lizaveta with an axe in their flat." He spit out. Raskolnikov took a deep breath and swallowed loudly.

Every single person in the room gathered around Porfiry's office and stared at Raskolnikov. Despite the fact that he had practiced his confession many times, Raskolnikov still had not expected a reaction like this, and certainly wasn't prepared to explain himself to a group of people. Instead, he remained silent.

face. "It was not I who murdered the old woman, " he passionately screamed. "It was him-HIM I tell you! I could recognize that voice from the next country over." He yelled as he pointed his thin finger in Raskolnikov's direction.

On the way down to the station, Raskolnikov felt surprisingly goo

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Approximate Word count = 713
Approximate Pages = 3 (250 words per page double spaced)