~a/n: holy pigsnot batman!! Mmmkay, my fine feathered friends, welcome to
chapter 3. I'm enjoying this quite a bit. I just figured out my formatting
error, so I can finally get this disturbing piece of literature to you.
Sorry for the delay.
C h a p t e r T h r e e
It was a dark night, overcast and threatening rain. Violet changed quickly into her nightclothes and curled up in the big double bed she slept in. The Winters had offered them a hotel room to sleep in, and Violet had chosen one on the sixth floor at the end of the hall, room 665. The color scheme was soothing, and Violet found when she was in there she could almost forget Olaf's chilling last words.
Almost.
She fell asleep quickly, having exhausted herself trying to figure out what was wrong with Mrs. Winter's small space heater. She slept peacefully for three hours, never noticing the slight shifting at the foot of her bed where a dark shadow sat. The figure rose and crossed over to sit on the other side of the bed next to her.
God, he thought, but she does look pretty in the moonlight. Despite the fact that he had returned her hair ribbon, her hair was still pulled back into the scrap of yellow fabric. He leaned very close to her ear and whispered, "Good morning."
She woke gently, making a soft noise and yawning before her eyes opened slowly. She sat with a start, pulling her blanket up over her and wedging herself into the corner of the wall. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" she shrieked.
"Relax, girl, it's not like I was planning to hurt you or anything."
"GET OUT!" she squealed.
"Calm the hell down, I just came to say hello, damnit. I checked in to the room across the hall a few days ago. It's rather ironic, because I didn't even know you were in this room--666 is my lucky number--but I broke in here the other night just to see if I still could. Picking hotel room locks is a skill that must be practiced, you see. Imagine my surprise when I saw you in here sound asleep, all serene and ethereal in the moonlight. So then the next night I snuck in here and returned your ribbon. I had to come and see you again tonight."
Violet's head was spinning. She felt ill, dizzy, and all that really got through to her was the plain and simple knowledge that this man was very, very sick; just being alone with him in the darkened bedroom made her shake with fear. She meant to ask him if he was going to kill them, what he wanted from them. But all that could come out was, "Why won't you leave me alone?"
He sighed in frustration. "I know that obnoxious little bookworm has explained to you what an obsession is, but do you understand the nature of obsession? Do you really know what it's like to have someone on your mind constantly without any logical explanation? I know this is unpleasant for you, but do you think it does me any good? Do you think I want to be fixated on someone who is little more than a child?"
She was dumbfounded--she had never thought that he was any less than a willful participant in this queer relationship. But in the faint light filtering in the window his face looked tortured and angry. She felt that little twinge of pity for him stab at her heart.
"Speaking of that little four-eyed snot, he's on the next floor, isn't he? Ironic that your sweet, innocent little brother is on the same floor as Esme."
***
"Ironic that your kind, angelic sister is on the same floor as Olaf," Esme said about twenty seconds after her lover astounded Violet with the same phrase on the floor below. "Wouldn't it just be horrible if something happened to that poor girl?"
"You wouldn't dare," Klaus whispered from the bed of room 779. He was unfortunate enough to be roomed next to Esme, but this was no coincidence. He groped around on the little bedside table for his glasses.
"Wouldn't I?" Esme said, her voice dripping a sugary sweetness. Klaus knew that tone had to be as dangerous as poison honey.
Klaus put his glasses on and stared hard at her. She stared back at him, her face changing slowly from mocking kindness to a hard, cruel glare.
"All this time," she said slowly, more to herself than Klaus, "I knew there was a reason why I hated you. More than any of you stupid orphans, it was always you that I loathed the most. And now I see why."
"What?"
Without another word she swept her hand forward, pulling a tuft of his hair and yanking his head to the left. "I'll kill this memory yet," she hissed, swinging her fist into his nose.
~a/n2: hello brutality. I've always rather liked Klaus so I decided to center a side plot around him. If you disagree, please don't hurt me.
C h a p t e r T h r e e
It was a dark night, overcast and threatening rain. Violet changed quickly into her nightclothes and curled up in the big double bed she slept in. The Winters had offered them a hotel room to sleep in, and Violet had chosen one on the sixth floor at the end of the hall, room 665. The color scheme was soothing, and Violet found when she was in there she could almost forget Olaf's chilling last words.
Almost.
She fell asleep quickly, having exhausted herself trying to figure out what was wrong with Mrs. Winter's small space heater. She slept peacefully for three hours, never noticing the slight shifting at the foot of her bed where a dark shadow sat. The figure rose and crossed over to sit on the other side of the bed next to her.
God, he thought, but she does look pretty in the moonlight. Despite the fact that he had returned her hair ribbon, her hair was still pulled back into the scrap of yellow fabric. He leaned very close to her ear and whispered, "Good morning."
She woke gently, making a soft noise and yawning before her eyes opened slowly. She sat with a start, pulling her blanket up over her and wedging herself into the corner of the wall. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" she shrieked.
"Relax, girl, it's not like I was planning to hurt you or anything."
"GET OUT!" she squealed.
"Calm the hell down, I just came to say hello, damnit. I checked in to the room across the hall a few days ago. It's rather ironic, because I didn't even know you were in this room--666 is my lucky number--but I broke in here the other night just to see if I still could. Picking hotel room locks is a skill that must be practiced, you see. Imagine my surprise when I saw you in here sound asleep, all serene and ethereal in the moonlight. So then the next night I snuck in here and returned your ribbon. I had to come and see you again tonight."
Violet's head was spinning. She felt ill, dizzy, and all that really got through to her was the plain and simple knowledge that this man was very, very sick; just being alone with him in the darkened bedroom made her shake with fear. She meant to ask him if he was going to kill them, what he wanted from them. But all that could come out was, "Why won't you leave me alone?"
He sighed in frustration. "I know that obnoxious little bookworm has explained to you what an obsession is, but do you understand the nature of obsession? Do you really know what it's like to have someone on your mind constantly without any logical explanation? I know this is unpleasant for you, but do you think it does me any good? Do you think I want to be fixated on someone who is little more than a child?"
She was dumbfounded--she had never thought that he was any less than a willful participant in this queer relationship. But in the faint light filtering in the window his face looked tortured and angry. She felt that little twinge of pity for him stab at her heart.
"Speaking of that little four-eyed snot, he's on the next floor, isn't he? Ironic that your sweet, innocent little brother is on the same floor as Esme."
***
"Ironic that your kind, angelic sister is on the same floor as Olaf," Esme said about twenty seconds after her lover astounded Violet with the same phrase on the floor below. "Wouldn't it just be horrible if something happened to that poor girl?"
"You wouldn't dare," Klaus whispered from the bed of room 779. He was unfortunate enough to be roomed next to Esme, but this was no coincidence. He groped around on the little bedside table for his glasses.
"Wouldn't I?" Esme said, her voice dripping a sugary sweetness. Klaus knew that tone had to be as dangerous as poison honey.
Klaus put his glasses on and stared hard at her. She stared back at him, her face changing slowly from mocking kindness to a hard, cruel glare.
"All this time," she said slowly, more to herself than Klaus, "I knew there was a reason why I hated you. More than any of you stupid orphans, it was always you that I loathed the most. And now I see why."
"What?"
Without another word she swept her hand forward, pulling a tuft of his hair and yanking his head to the left. "I'll kill this memory yet," she hissed, swinging her fist into his nose.
~a/n2: hello brutality. I've always rather liked Klaus so I decided to center a side plot around him. If you disagree, please don't hurt me.
