Crime and Punishment

Scene: Midnight Confessions – Jessica and Sam Discuss Crime and Punishment

The night was thick with silence, the ocean barely more than a murmur in the distance. The whiskey bottle between them was half-empty, the ice in their glasses long melted. A single lantern flickered on the porch table, casting uneven shadows over the dog-eared copy of Crime and Punishment lying between them.

Jessica tapped a finger against her glass. “So, let’s hear it. What deep existential truth am I supposed to pull from Dostoevsky?”

Sam smirked, taking a slow sip of whiskey. “That depends. You think Raskolnikov was justified?”

Jessica huffed a quiet laugh. “A man decides he’s above morality, kills a woman in cold blood, and then spends the rest of the book unraveling under the weight of it?” She shook her head. “Sounds more like a cautionary tale than a justification.”

Sam tilted his head. “But was he wrong?”

Jessica narrowed her eyes. “Killing someone to prove a philosophical point? Yeah, I’d say that’s wrong.”

Sam raised a brow. “And what about you?”

Jessica went still.

Sam’s voice stayed steady. “You’ve killed, Jess. And I’m not talking about self-defense. I mean cold, calculated, knowing exactly what you were doing.” He met her gaze. “So what makes you different from him?”

Jessica exhaled slowly, setting her glass down. “I don’t kill innocent people.”

Sam nodded. “Neither did he.”

Jessica frowned. “She was a pawnbroker, Sam.”

Sam smirked. “And the people you’ve killed?”

Jessica’s fingers tightened slightly around her knee. “They were part of something bigger. They weren’t victims.”

Sam studied her. “And if they’d won?”

Jessica exhaled sharply. “Then I wouldn’t be sitting here having this conversation.”

Sam leaned forward slightly. “So that’s what justifies it? Survival?”

Jessica swallowed but didn’t answer.

Sam watched her for a long moment, then tapped the book. “Raskolnikov thought he could kill someone and walk away clean. That his idea of justice was enough. But it wasn’t. It tore him apart. The guilt, the paranoia—it destroyed him.”

Jessica’s jaw tightened. “You think I feel guilty?”

Sam was quiet for a beat. “I think you wonder if you should.”

Jessica exhaled through her nose, picking up her glass again. “Maybe guilt’s just another illusion.”

Sam smirked. “That’s what he thought, too.”

Jessica let the whiskey burn down her throat, then muttered, “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Sam chuckled. “I enjoy making you think.”

Jessica scoffed, shaking her head. “So what, you think I’m gonna have some big redemption arc? Turn myself in? Confess my sins and find peace?”

Sam smirked. “You’re not Raskolnikov.”

Jessica arched a brow. “No?”

Sam shook his head. “He was looking for someone to forgive him. You’re not asking for that.”

Jessica exhaled slowly, staring out into the dark. “Maybe I don’t believe in forgiveness.”

Sam’s voice was quiet. “Then what do you believe in?”

Jessica turned back to him, her gaze steady. “Balance.”

Sam nodded slightly. “Then you better hope you never tip too far.”

Jessica took another slow sip of whiskey. “I’ll take my chances.”

Sam raised his glass, smirking. “To criminals and punishment.”

Jessica clinked hers against his.

And for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t sure which side she was on.