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SEVERE DEPICTIONS OF ABUSE, TORTURE, INSANITY, DEATH, seriously, please proceed with caution this is quite a heavy fic.
Also boot = trunk for anyone that didn’t know :)
~
No one came
No one came
No one came
NO ONE CAME
It’s quiet here…
The Baudelaires were clever children, with very pleasant facial features, until three became two and Violet was alone. She had nothing, she didn’t even have a ribbon to tie back her hair.
No one is coming…
Olaf is smarter than he looks, he knows how to keep a child from escaping, after all, those three always relied on each other. She has no one to rely on now.
Alone…
Before it was illegal, there was a special kind of torture that could be found in prisons. It was Isolation, not being allowed to speak, not being allowed to see another person but your own imprisoner for years. Being completely and utterly alone with nothing but your own mind to keep you entertained. Obviously, this kind of Imprisonment targets the victim's mental health. It is much more effective and cruel than any physical abuse.
Wonderfully useful would be how Count Olaf would put it, he would smile to himself knowing that he caused this when the oldest Baudelaire set her first fire.
Lemony Snicket would be left with an incredibly difficult task as everything falls apart at the hands of a girl who’d been raised to be the opposite of what she’d become. How did all of this happen?
~Violet POV~
The Audience applauded, every person in the theatre relieved and happy that I’d signed the paper with my left hand. I couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride, Olaf was outed, and everything would be okay. Sunny was in Klaus’ arms, safe. And everything would be ok. Count Olaf was looking around frantically no doubt looking for an escape route, I doubted he would find one, the Count was an idiot. A very evil idiot.
I shouldn’t have been so cocky…
I should have been more careful, I should have run over to Klaus and kept my distance. I should have done so much more than just stand there and let the real nightmare started. But I didn’t, I didn’t fight hard enough when a rough disgusting hand grasped my arm and pulled me away, into the wings. A should have screamed harder when I was thrown in the boot, I should have pushed harder against the closing door, to buy my siblings more time before the door slammed over my arm, creating a painful bruise that made me curl up into a ball and wince in pain. I should’ve tried to reopen the boot before the lock clicked, sealing my fate, instead of nursing a small bruise that would be nothing compared to the pain I faced in my future. But none of that mattered any more as the grubby blue car sped into the distance, all I could do was cry. No one was coming.
I was alone…
The car drove down the road for hours, the boot smelled like sweat and off meat. I couldn’t fully stretch out in it and was stuffed against costumes that were covered in metal and very scratchy lace. The cheap wedding dress I wore pulled at my shoulders and dug into my waste uncomfortably. The ache in my arm dulled to an annoying thrum and The makeup covering my face smudged against the floor, it was cheap and was getting in my hair which had descended into a lattice of knots.
The thumping of potholes increased the longer I lay there, my voice long since gone from screaming. It had all been hopeless in the end, the engine was loud enough to block me out and as the road became rougher and the hum of engines turned to only the one of the blue car, I knew that I was truly alone. The tar turned to dirt and the smell of the boot became slightly more bearable as the soft rich tang of forest crawled through the cracks between the edge of the door.
I kept waiting, I couldn’t fall asleep, I just prayed for it all to be over soon. I would be able to escape. Klaus and Sunny would come for me. He couldn’t keep me locked up forever, It’s unlikely he even has the proper facilities to keep a prisoner, I was sure that we would just end up camping in the middle of nowhere.
The Count surely didn’t have a second house, why would he need our fortune if he did? Olaf was just a really bad actor, I was smart enough to get out of this situation, I had to be.
That’s what I kept thinking of, relying on, when the car finally chugged to a stop. I tried to find an escape root as I glanced around. Pulling against the Count’s firm grasp as he pulled me through a tall thick set of wooden doors, I felt my stomach sing as they were pulled shut and a dozen thick and complicated locks.
I barely had any time to try and figure them out before I was being pulled into a dark corridor that smelled of mold and dirt, It ended in a stone staircase that seemed to wind down forever. My cramped muscles protested as Olaf pulled me into the dark, I didn’t have the strength to tug my arm from his grasp, and my throat was too raw to make any sounds of protest. It didn’t stop me from trying, my struggle seemed to only satisfy him.
By the time we reached the end of the staircase, my legs had regained feeling and my wrist was singing in pain from being held so roughly. I could barely see in the dark, only a small weak torch held in the count's grasp to guide our way. I did manage to catch rows and rows of cells, each cloaked in darkness. I heard the uneven thumping of water from what I presumed to be a collection of leaks that had been collected through years of abandonment. And the unavoidable scent of decay, I felt sick as I realised what must have happened to the prisoners in this facility when it was abandoned. They had died and there was no one there to remove their corpses. My assumptions were confirmed when the beam of light fell briefly on a corpse so old and destroyed by decay that I couldn’t recognise any significant features except for the grey, horrid skin.
I don’t know how long we walked that row of cells, but I do know that I felt sick and dizzy by the time the count finally stopped in front of a set of dark iron bars. Leering over me, taunting, I knew that this was where he planned to throw me, I knew that this is where I would spend the rest of my life if I didn’t escape.
But knowing didn’t help, I was weak, I hadn’t eaten in a few days and my body was protesting everything. I couldn’t keep this up, and I definitely couldn’t escape in this state. So I barely fought as he threw me into a small damp square, stone room. There was nothing in there except the smooth walls, a heavy lock which was too far from the holes in the iron doors for me to reach or see, and me.
I sunk against the wall, letting myself fall into a begrudging, restless, uncomfortable sleep. I had no tears left to cry.