A/N: Before I start the next chapter, I need to clear a few things up in my reviews.

ChoFrog09: Violet is NOT dead, and she won't be, yet. Isadora is with the rest of the crew, and is looking for Violet.

Danieli: Thanx 4 the corrections, but u remind me of someone.

Cough. Josephine. Cough.

All Users: My story is full of cliffies. GET OVER IT.

Tyler Quagmire (Who hasn't reviewed yet): YOU ARE THE GREATEST AUTHOR EVER. I think I love u. (Hypothetically of course.)

Chapter 10

Violet gasped, then held her breath, waiting for the pain, then death.

But it never came. She opened her eyes and saw Olaf staring at the door.

The doorknob was shaking, and suddenly Esme's voice rang out.

"HONEY! The drapes are out! We need new ones, NOW!"

Olaf sighed, and then glared sharply at Violet.

"Stay here," he said, his voice dripping in menace, "I'll be back for you later, don't get your hopes up."

He got up and walked out the door, Violet hearing heavy footsteps the entire way down.

She tried to get out of her bindings, but they were too tight. She cursed aloud as her wrist's cuts opened further from when Olaf had cut her.

A single tear fell down her cheek, and she knew she was never going to see her siblings again.

Though she is wrong about this, I am grieved to tell you that this wasn't the only pain she was going to endure.

Suddenly she couldn't hold it in any longer, she screamed out, "WHY ME!"

"Why you?" Said a new voice mockingly.

Violet turned, alarmed, seeing the bald man standing in the doorway, smiling.

"I don't know," he said, with mock thoughtfulness, "But I intend to let you suffer. Perhaps that will answer your question."

"Why?" Gasped Violet, in confusion and fear.

"Because," he replied, "You and your demented siblings have caused us all trouble since the day we met, I intend to show you pain, show you how it feels when we fail, then get punished. You will be tortured."

His face frightened Violet, but she couldn't move, partly out of fear and partly out of the ropes.

He pulled a small jar out of his pocket, and held it up to Violet's face.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Said the Bald Man, "Stole it from Olaf's room."

He turned the jar to where a label was visible. Printed untidily upon it were the words "Medusoid Mycelium."

She looked blankly at it.

"What is it?" She asked, her voice racked with fear.

"Your doom," replied the bald man with a grin.