Olaf sat in a bush, spying on his true love, Kit Snicket, as she stood with her true love, Dewey Denouement, kissing under the apple trees.

The wind was rushing through the trees, the moon was high in the starry sky, it was perfect. Except for the villainous man crouched in the shrubbery, fingering the tip of a bright silver knife and smiling softly.

Olaf was singing. It was a song he'd made up as a child, and it always gave him comfort when he thought about the fire and the poison darts. If you sung it just right, it sounded it was being sung by Chucky.

You're gonna go to hell for this,

You're gonna go to hell.

You're gonna go to hell for this,

And I'm gonna watch you burn.

Kit and Dewey's lips broke apart, but they still embraced. Look at them. So happy and in love. Olaf clutched the knife and fidgeted. The right time would come. He kept singing.

You're gonna burn in hell for this,

You're gonna burn in hell,

You're gonna burn in hell for this,

And I'm gonna laugh at you.

Kit bid goodbye to Dewey and they parted. Kit was coming right for the bushes where Olaf was hidden. As she got closer, she stopped, hearing Olaf singing. Olaf stopped singing. There was a moment of pure silence.

Then Olaf jumped out of the bushes and grabbed Kit. She shrieked, and Olaf heard Dewey call out. No matter. He put one hand over her mouth and another on her waist. He held the knife in his right hand, the one that was over her mouth, and the dull metal was cutting her cheek.

"Say another word, and Dewey dies too." Olaf said, as quiet as he possibly could. Kit nodded fearfully.

Olaf stabbed Kit, over and over and over. In the arms, the legs, the stomach, the shoulders. Kit Snicket's blood pooled beneath them both as her breath came in sobs and gasps. The pale moonlight shone upon them, making the knife have a sinister glow and Kit's blood even more so.

"I always wanted you to die in my arms." Olaf growled in her ear.

Kit choked out, "Fuck... You..."

Olaf ran the tip of the knife down her face, pseudo-lovingly. "Oh, if only you would." He said mockingly, then brought the knife down as hard as he could into her neck.

Blood spurted out of the wound, and Olaf had to duck to avoid getting hit in the eye. She convulsed for a few moments, then lay still.

Olaf threw the knife down, then pressed his lips down upon Kit's blood-soaked ones. The kiss should have been sweet, but it was bitter. Bitter with hatred and resentment and lost love. Bitter with the taste of rejection, and with the memories of so many fires and all the people who'd perished in them.

Olaf looked down at Kit Snicket, his one true love, who didn't love him back. It was best for her to die, he thought. Better than her living in the dark and treacherous world of the schism and the sugar bowl. He carefully wiped the handle of the knife of any fingerprints, and brought out the suicide note. He laid it down beside her quietly and walked away, but not before a few tears had fallen on it.