Fair hair dangled in front of her face and trailed down her neck, ending at the middle of her back. Glasses shielded her eyes with a layer of glass, and braces plastered her top row of teeth. She was dressed in a plain frumpy shirt and a long heavy skirt that dangled around her ankles. She was pretty in the weirdest of ways. She was Carmelita Spats: not to the eye of others, not to the people she was about to attend school with. To them, she was Persephone Wright. A new student from California, a plain boring girl who liked to read and study rocks.
And to Violet Baudelaire, she was going to be known as her killer. Carmelita had been sent by Count Olaf and his troupe of henchmen to kill her: stop the Baudelaire family tree there and then. Klaus was dead; Sunny was dead, yet she was alive. She escaped the blaze that killed her siblings at Heimlich Hospital. And V.F.D wanted her safe back at Prufock Preparatory School, where an eye could be kept on her, and where Olaf could not get to her.
That is why Carmelita had been sent: Olaf would be captured and hanged if he went near the place, but no one would suspect her. And when they finally did, it would be too late-she would have fled, to continue her life of crime. She loved being evil: she loved the control, the power, the adrenaline rush. And in this special occasion: the delight of it when she accomplished her task. Killing Violet, in a slow, painful way. The slowest and most painful way possible.
What had Violet done to Carmelita? It was a good question, one that even the girl herself did not really know. She supposed that she didn't have a good reason for her act, other then that she hated her more then anything in the earth. And she had been sent to assassinate Violet: therefore, if she was a loyal part of Olaf's team: a special princess super fun bunny mascot, then she would do it.
The bell quickly rang, and Carmelita-or Persephone, as she would reply to-began to make her way to Class One, where Violet would be. As far as Carmelita knew, her rival didn't have any close friends, so it would be easy to squirm into her social life, to create a bond, to get close to her. And when the time was right, she'd hatch the deadliest poison on her: the poison of the Parish Ivy Lizard which was in a small tin in her backpack, along with a syringe.
She entered the classroom, and looked around. She needed to act nervous: it was her first day; it was a new experience to her. She opened her eyes wide, and slowly took a seat as close to Violet as possible-two desks away. Drat, it wasn't close enough.
'Today class,' said a fat woman at the head of the class. On the blackboard she had written 'MISS MURPHY' in messy ink,' we have a new student. Would you like to come up, Persephone?' She pronounced it 'Per-so-phone'. Carmelita shook her head.
'It's pronounce 'Per-seph-oh-knee',' she explained, getting up from her seat. She walked up to the front of the class, and Miss Murphy put a fat hand on her shoulder, and she gave a shudder.
'Get your hand off me,' she said politely, with a clever smile and bright eyes behind her glasses.
'Oh,' Miss Murphy said, taking her hand away and holding it awkwardly by her side. They were silent for a while, the class staring up at Carmelita, who was staring back at them. Miss Murphy was staring down at the floor, occasionally looking up at the class, sometimes at Carmelita.
Carmelita looked at Violet, who was looking around, still wearing that stupid ribbon in her dark hair. She looked board, her chin rested in her hands, using the corner of her mouth to blow her fringe up. Poor, poor Violet. She only had a day or two left, if she made it through the night. She would never be given a chance.
'Well?' she asked Miss Murphy. 'You asked me to come up to the front of the class, and now I am. What do I do now? I'm new to this school you know.'
'I do, Miss Wright,' her teacher said. 'Maybe you can tell us something about yourself.'
'I'm nice,' she said, clutching her hands together in front of her. 'I like ribbons, and inventing things.' She knew this would get Violet's attention, and her victim quickly looked up, before smiling and raising her hand.
'Yes, Violet?' Carmelita asked. Violet raised an eyebrow.
'You know my name?' she asked. Carmelita was ready to hit herself. She wasn't being careful enough: any more funny business and she'd be caught out.
'Lucky guess!' she cried. 'Wow, you learn something new every day?' Violet smiled, but looked a little confused.
'Well, I just wanted to know what you've invented,' she explained. Carmelita nodded, and started to think.
'I invented a…time machine!' she cried, happy with herself. 'I went back to the ice age.' Violet snorted, and shook her head lightly.
'What was it like?' she asked. Carmelita tried to picture the ice age. What would it be like?
'Cold,' she said quietly. 'Very cold.' Violet gave a laugh, showing her bright, clean teeth. Her large brown eyes shimmered in the light. The poison of the Parish Ivy Lizard was said to blind you, and make it feel as if your eyes would drop out. That sounded painful to Carmelita. Good.
'You're funny,' Violet replied, still smiling. Carmelita smiled back. She was funny: she didn't know how -after all, she was just trying to make some common ground-but she was funny, and Violet would probably like to hang out with her.
Miss Murphy stepped forward quietly.
'Well, that's nice,' she said. 'Now, Persephone, would you like to take your seat again. We need to get on with the lesson. Today, we're studying cubic zirconium. Who knows what that is?'
After the lesson, Carmelita waited by the door for Violet to pass. Students poured through the door, but finally after a while, Violet passed, adjusting her back. Carmelita quickly stumbled forward, dropping her books all over Violet. She looked at the floor, and shook her head.
'I'm so sorry!' she cried, leaning down to pick them up. Violet leaned down to help, just as Carmelita had suspected. She had seen it in the movies: the ones where the teenage girl wanted to make contact with the teenage boy so that they could hit it off and whatnot. Carmelita loved those films.
'Oh no, it was my fault,' Violet said, passing a handful of books to Carmelita. 'I'm so clumsy.' They stood up again, and Carmelita slipped her books back into her bag, which hung over her shoulders, down to her thighs.
'So, wanna go get some lunch together?' Carmelita asked. Violet shook her head.
'The cafeteria doesn't open until after next period,' she explained. 'At recess we usually just…hang out outside.' Carmelita snorted.
'Sounds orgasmic,' she muttered sarcastically. 'Talk to me, Violet.' Violet raised an eyebrow, and shrugged.
'What about?' she asked.
'Everything,' she replied. 'Why did you come this school?'
'I was sent by-' Violet began, but stopped. 'My parents couldn't cope, I guess. Beats me why.' Carmelita sneered under her breath-Violet had obviously been told by V.F.D not to tell anyone about them. No one at Prufock Prep was supposed to know about her origins.
But two did. Violet herself, obviously, and Carmelita too.
'Um, can you excuse me for a second?' Violet asked quietly. 'I need to use the bathroom.' Carmelita nodded and smiled kindly.
'I'll come too!' she cried. Violet rolled her eyes, as if she was now desperate to get away from Carmelita, who didn't take the hint.
'Oh, it'll be great!' she cried, trying to be like a normal teenage girl. She didn't know what they did at school: all she did at her time at the school before was make snide comments now and then. 'We can gossip, write on the walls, talk about who's getting fat!'
'I'm not sure if that's' necessary,' Violet replied with a shrug. 'I'm only going for a pee.'
Five minutes later, Violet returned from the small school toilets. Persephone was nowhere in sight luckily: she still hadn't returned from her trip to a vending machine to get them some soy cubes. Violet had forgotten to mention that there were no vending machines in the school, let along soy cubes, but it gave her some free time to herself. Persephone was funny, and kind, but irritating: always in her face. All she did was help her pick up her books.
'Violet!' a voice whispered. Violet groaned. She was back already. Persephone had seemed like such a determined person, and she would have imagined that she'd had looked for the vending machine for longer. But when Violet looked around, her new 'friend' was nowhere in sight.
'Behind you!' the voice cried again, and Violet turned around to see a girl beside a tree, with short wavy hair, and triangular glasses. She was dressed a school girl, in a waistcoat blouse and a pair of smart three-quarter-length shorts, but Violet knew her as Fiona Widdershins, who she hadn't seen in a few weeks. She had joined Olaf: if it wasn't for her, Klaus and Sunny would be alive. She had the power to save them: but to her, staying with her brother was more important.
Violet hated her.
'You,' she growled. 'What are you doing here-haven't you caused me enough pain already?' Fiona sighed, and pushed her glasses up from the tip of her nose.
'I have, and I know I shouldn't be here,' she muttered,' but I'm here to help you.' Violet shook her head, and started to walk away.
'I don't need help!' she cried. 'I'm partially happy here: away from V.F.D, away from Olaf, and his stupid troupe!' Fiona opened her mouth to say something, but Violet's rant cut it out.
'And I like it here,' she explained. 'It's similar to how it was before the fire, when I was just like a normal girl. I have fun here, and I've made friends-' This time, Fiona wasn't going to let Violet interrupt her.
'Friends?' she asked. 'Like Persephone Wright?' Violet shrugged.
'I suppose,' she replied. 'She's a bit annoying.' Fiona gave a small chuckle, and nodded.
'That's what you'd expect from Carmelita Spats, no doubt,' she explained, with a sly smile of success on her face.
'Carmelita Spats?' Violet asked, and shook her head. 'I thought we were talking about Persephone.'
'Carmelita is Persephone, Violet!' Fiona cried, waving one hand in the air, the other holding schoolbooks to her chest. 'Take away those glasses, rip off that stylish with, peel away those stupid braces, and it's her!'
'But why?' Violet asked, shaking her head. 'So she could have another chance to annoy me?' Fiona gave her a tired look, a look that told her that she was talking crap.
'Yes, of course,' she replied,' Carmelita's risking her life to come and annoy you.' She opened her eyes wide behind her triangular glasses. 'Face it Violet, it's a disguise you couldn't see through: she's here to kill you, Violet. And I'm here to warn you.'
'Kill me?' Violet asked, suddenly afraid. She hoped that Carmelita looked for the soy cubes forever, and never returned. But she would eventually-she'd be at their next lesson, she'd be with her at lunch. Violet no longer stayed in the orphan's shack, but she was sure that Carmelita wouldn't be either.
'But why is SHE coming to kill me?' Violet asked. 'Why not someone who would be able to take me on much easier: I'd stand no chance against Count Olaf and Fernald.'
'You have before,' Fiona pointed out. 'Many times before. But the reason is that you need to think of the secret agents around here, protecting your ass. They're fighting fire with fire and sending in your own. Apparently they don't think 'little ole' Triangle Eyes' is ready enough for this kind of mission, so they sent her in instead.' Violet looked down at the floor, confused. She wasn't sure what to say, or what to do. Should she run, hide, turn Carmelita into the authorities?
No. No one would believe her, and running would only get her away from people saving her from Olaf. Olaf was fighting fire with fire, and now Violet was going to do the same. Carmelita was trying to kill her, so she'd get her back. Tonight, she would sneak into her room, take off her stupid disguise, and get rid of her. She'd knock her out, tie her up, do whatever she could. But she didn't know if she could kill her: it didn't seem right. Violet wasn't as evil as Carmelita surely.
She didn't know: if Carmelita deserved it, or there nothing else that she could do, Violet would kill her. But until then, she would simply try to avoid her and pretend that she didn't know.
'Thanks, Fiona,' Violet replied, looking up with a faint smile. Fiona put a hand on one of Violet's shoulders, and gave her a thumbs up.
'I hope we meet again,' she said quietly. 'I don't like working with Olaf, but I like being with my brother. You'd do anything to be reunited with Sunny and Klaus, Violet. Remember that.' Violet was about to say that Sunny and Klaus weren't evil, but she simply let Fiona sneak through a few loose boards in the fence, and leave her sight.
A bell rang softly, and Violet realized that it was time for her to return to Class One. Carmelita was going to be there: still acting as Persephone. Violet had to avoid her: sit away from her, don't give out any clues that she knew her real identity. Act just as she had before, and sneak away at the end of class, then hide for a short while so that Carmelita walked past her.
'Hey, Violet!' Carmelita cried, holding a few rattling coins in one of her bony hands. 'Sorry, I couldn't find a vending machines. I guess there's no soy cubes for us! Here's your money back!' She prepared to put the money back into her 'friend's' hand, but Violet simply shook her head.
'No,' she said kindly. 'You can keep it, it's only a couple of quarters.' With that, they walked into the gravestone of a classroom, Violet slouching behind as Carmelita tried to grab her hand and drag her along.
-
The sun was down: the moon was up. The stars were twinkling, flashing in the middle of a navy blue sky. Violet was staring out of a window. Everyone else in her dorm was asleep. They were heavy sleepers, much to Violet's luck.
The day had been tricky, and the evening worse. Carmelita insisted of a sleepover, but Violet needed to get away to plan everything. They couldn't sleep in the same room: Carmelita would never fall away into slumber. She'd probably try to kill Violet, who was now, as she looked outside into the night, was packing a brick into her back, along with some rope from the curtains, and a small knife she had taken from the kitchen during lunchtime. Everything was prepared: she'd just sneak into Carmelita's room: a private one down on corridor seven, where the rich children stayed, each dorm to themselves. V.F.D had wanted to make Violet seem normal, and from an ordinary background, so they put her into one of the ordinary dorms, which were pleasant and fruit scented.
She had a key to the room; she had sneakily gone to the reception of the school, claiming that she had lost her key. She told them that her name was Persephone Wright, and she in room 106-Carmelita had helped with getting that information. And now she had a key tightly in her pocket, ready to break into her room.
Over in room 106, a similar situation was occurring. Carmelita was kneeling on her bed, still in disguise, putting stuff into a neat little pink backpack.
She too had planned everything out. She'd pick the lock with a small lock pick that Esme had given her. It was very stylish and spray-painted bright fuchsia pink, perfect for sneaking into doors. When she got in, she'd silently make her way to Violet's head, and pull her hair back, to awaken her. Then she would stick the syringe into her arm, and talk to her. Tell he that if she moved, she was dead. If she screamed, or did anything to awaken her fellow students, she was dead.
Then, she'd remove her disguise dramatically, starting with the braces, then the wig, then the glasses. It would be cool, like something on the movies, a spy movie when everything is revealed, but the hero could do nothing to tell anyone, or get help.
The heroes always got away in the end in those types of films, but it didn't worry Carmelita. The hero was supposed to get away, or the ending wouldn't be good. The good had to come over evil, James Bond, or Superman would always save the day in the end.
Good thing that in real life, evil had a much stronger force.
Minutes later, Violet left her room, closing and locking the door very carefully and quietly behind her. She didn't want her situation to tighten around her fellow students. They didn't need to know a thing: it was between her and Carmelita only. She slipped down the hallway, dressed in all black: a black polar sweater that covered her neck, and bottom of her face, a pair of black pants that were tight around her thighs.
She tiptoed carefully down the hallway, looking carefully around to see if anyone was up. It was past midnight: no one would be up. Everyone had lights off, and the teachers had gone to their special apartment. Miss Murphy was probably lying in a huge bed, letting her body weight push it down. She came to a diversion. She remembered passing this earlier: both the hallways she could take would curve around would take her to room 106.
Violet quickly chose the left hallway by random, and quickly started making her way along, feeling her backpack shuffling along against her spine. She kept walking up, unaware of what was going on, as Carmelita made her way down the right corridor, and ended up at the hallway Violet had just left.
Carmelita looked around behind her, and saw that she had just come from one of two paths. She supposed it didn't matter: she was only a few steps away from Violet's room, and she was ready, a syringe in her hand, filled with deadly poison. She too was wearing black: people did it on the movies to hide with the shadows, and she always trusted what she saw on movies. Then no one would see here.
As she thought about it, there really was no one to see her. Everyone had been asleep for hours: the whole hallway was silent except for her own breathing, and the breathing of Violet Baudelaire, but she wasn't aware of that. She was expecting to find her asleep in her bed, ready to be a victim.
And Violet was expecting the same, as she put a hand in her pocket, and pulled out the Room 106 key. She ended her walk as she passed room 104, 105. She stopped at the next-door, and quickly shifted the key through the thick metal lock, her cold and shaking hand preparing for the worst. She was ready. She was going to do it.
Kill Carmelita. She deserved it: she was evil, right? She deserved to die. Violet was fighting fire with fire. Surely there was no problem with it.
Of course there was, Violet told herself, and prepared to walk back into the dark hallway. But what would happen if she did? Let Carmelita kill her, let her succeed her mission, and get away? That couldn't happen, Violet couldn't accept it. She quickly twisted the key sharply in the lock, and with a large crackling noise, Violet realized that she had unlocked the door, and slipped the key back into the pockets of her pants before placing a pale hand on the doorknob, and walking inside, just as Carmelita finished picking the lock and took a few steps into Violet's dorm.
Violet looked around. It was silent, as she had expected. It was a grand room, it looked sinister, bathed in shadows, with one large window letting in the moon's light. Violet walked over to the bed, quietly and carefully, just as she had planned. It looked weird: the duvet was all ruffles up, but it didn't seem as if anyone was there. Violet raised an eyebrow, and lifted the duvet up.
Nothing.
Carmelita must have been expecting it: she must be hiding somewhere within the room, ready to jump out, ready to kill. Maybe she had gotten Fiona to tell Violet just so this could happen: Violet dies because of her own wicked plans. Violet waited for a second: ready to attack if Carmelita emerged from the shadows. But she didn't: she was clever at thinking: just when Violet would relax, she'd come out.
But Violet was too sneaky and clever for her: she was like the wind as she rushed back to the door, not even locking it behind her as she slammed it shut.
Carmelita was having the same problems back in Violet's dorm. She had crept past the other beds, being careful that they weren't awake. She too had thought the bed looked funny, but guess that it was the dark playing tricks on her, making it look as if Violet wasn't there.
But when she kneeled on the end of the bed, and kneeled in to jab the syringe into Violet, one hand ready to pull at her hair, she notice that the dark hadn't done any such thing. Violet wasn't there: she had disappeared. Carmelita looked around the room: Violet wasn't there at all, she should be asleep.
Carmelita opened her eyes: the only reason she would have for not being in her bed was if she knew of what was coming: she knew that Carmelita was Persephone and that she had fled, run away, gone back crying to V.F.D. That wasn't good enough! Carmelita's mind fired up. That meant she had failed: she was sent to kill Violet, and she had failed.
But then a creaking came from a door that led to a bathroom, and Carmelita aimed the syringe as if it were a gun: determination in her eyes and rushing through her brain, flowing around every thought. Maybe she wasn't too late: Violet had just gone to the bathroom, and now she was back, with a pale nightgown draped around her body, dangling at her feet.
'Aha!' Carmelita cried, holding the syringe ready. 'Prepare to-' She stopped, and looked at her feet. That wasn't Violet: it didn't look anything like her from the curly blonde hair to the silver hoop nose pierce.
'Be fooled?' Carmelita said. 'Sorry Hazel, just fooling.'
'Hazel?' the girl asked. 'I'm Jennifer. And who are you?' Carmelita quickly tried to think up an excuse as she hid the syringe behind her back.
'It's Violet,' she replied, looking down, trying to cover any obvious signs it wasn't. Like her glasses, or her blonde hair that were hopefully draped down with shadow.
'Oh,' the girl replied, as if she weren't sure what to say. 'Why are you fully dressed Violet? It's late.' Carmelita thought quickly again: she didn't like thinking, it made her brain ache and it wasn't something she had time to practise.
'I'm going for a walk,' she said quietly. 'I'm not feeling well-I need some fresh air. Get back to bed, Hazel.'
'Jennifer,' the girl corrected in a bored tone, walking towards her bed. 'It's against school rules to be out at this hour. Be careful Violet.'
'Yeah, yeah,' Carmelita replied, and gave a small yawn, before walking quickly towards the door, still looking down at the floor. The girl clambered into bed, wrapping herself in the thick duvet and looked at Carmelita, as she returned back to the door, and entered the hallway again.
'Drat!' both the girls cried as they entered the hallway again, charging down the soft-carpeted floor. They were both annoyed and concerned: they were wondering where the other one was, what they were planning, what they were doing, certainly not away that they were doing the same thing.
Until they arrived at the diversion, and both chose the same corridor, both heading down before they'd end up face to face. Unlike before, neither of them were expecting it. They were expecting to go back to their rooms, go to bed and fall asleep, annoyed and disappointed with themselves.
And then they met face to face. They had both been looking down at the floor, so they were just a few metres apart when they saw each other's shadows pacing on the floor, and looked up. Violet wasn't sure what to do: keep up the act, and pretend that she still thought that she was Persephone. She held her hands behind her back, holding the knife and the brick tightly in her sweaty palms.
'Persephone!' Violet cried. 'What are you doing?' Carmelita looked up, thinking hurriedly again.
'What are you doing?' she asked. Violet shrugged.
'Just taking a walk,' she replied.
'Me too,' Carmelita quickly snapped, holding her hand in her pocket, hiding the syringe. 'I'd better be getting back.' Violet yawned, stretching her arms over her head wide.
Wrong move: Carmelita quickly saw the knife and the brick in her hands. She didn't know what they were: a sharp looking object in one hand, and a thick box like object in the other. She decided not to mention it: she had a plan at that time.
''Night,' she said quietly, and they both started walking past each other. Another wrong move: Carmelita leaned back as Violet walked past her and, shoved the syringe into one arm.
'Drop those objects now,' she whispered. Violet looked back and gasped.
'What?' she asked, unsure of what to do. Her arm stung: something had just shoved its way into it, and she now saw that it was a syringe.
'Drop whatever you have in your hands!' Carmelita cried loudly, yet in a hushed whisper. Violet knew that Carmelita had gotten to her: there was nothing she could do now. She dropped the knife, and let it clatter to the floor.
'There, good,' Carmelita replied. 'Now, I bet you're wondering what's going on: why on earth your bestest pal Persephone Wright has a syringe stuck into your arm. It's because your bestest friend wants to kill you. It's because your bestest friend is-'
'Carmelita Spats!' Violet cried. 'You think I didn't know? It was obvious.' She wanted to make Carmelita feel as degraded possible: that wouldn't work if she pointed out that Fiona told her.
'That what I was doing now: I was going to kill you, because I guessed that that was what you were going to do to me,' she explained. 'But I guess I'm the lesser of two evils. I'm sure whatever's in that syringe is deadly. Press down on that trigger, inject me with that poison. Just get it over with.' Carmelita smiled: Violet was practically waving a white flag. It was perfect.
'I thought that this would be hard, to be quite honest,' Carmelita cried. 'I thought that you would put up a fight. But I've been here for one day, and already I have you wrapped around my little finger!' Holding the syringe with one hand, she used her other to shove Violet back against the wall.
'See how helpless you are, Violet Baudelaire?' she asked. 'And don't think about moving, or you'll dead. Don't scream or make a loud noise, or you'll be filled with the poison of the Parish Ivy Lizard. It's the most horrible poisonous poison ever: you'll die a horrible painful death, losing all of your senses, being trapped inside a helpless body as your organs slowly rot away. It'll be like-'
Violet took her chance as Carmelita rattled away, talking about nonsense, looking around as if she were pondering a thought. The last Baudelaire pulled the brick out from behind her back, and whacked it onto Carmelita's head. Carmelita gave a gasp, and began to tumble to the floor, but as she fell, she pressed her fingers down on the syringe, sending the poison into Violet's body.
Violet's eyes widened as she pulled the syringe away. Only a small amount of the Parish Ivy Lizard's poison was into her body, but Violet was sure it was enough. Carmelita had succeeded: she'd get a bump on her head, but Violet would lose her life.
As her vision started to become slightly unfocused, as well as her hearing, she fell down to her knees, and swooped a hand down to pick up the syringe. She held it loosely with her fingers. It felt weird and slippery; Violet couldn't quite get a grip. But she tried her hardest, working her brain hard for the last time. She fell down to her chest, and held out the hand with a syringe, before lighting poking it into Carmelita's leg. She pushed down the trigger, happy and triumphant. She was going down, but Carmelita was coming with her.
Her rival opened her eyes. She had blood staining into her blonde wig, pouring down to a small puddle on the floor. She peered over at Violet, and got up onto her knees.
'Look who's been poisoned by the Parish Ivy Lizard,' she sneered, but Violet could barely hear. It sounded like a huge crash attacking her ear. Her vision was darkened, as if all the faint lights in the hallway had gone off. It was hell: Carmelita was right. In her blurred and darkened vision, Violet saw her feel the pain two. She couldn't hear much more then a squeal, but Carmelita fell to the floor writhing in pain, her mouth opened wide as she tried to scream.
Carmelita pulled herself over to Violet, and placed a hand on Violet's side, pulling her over so that she was on her back. Violet's arms felt numb, all her organs felt as if they were exploding inside her. The last thing she ever felt properly was Carmelita falling onto her helplessly.
'Sorry,' she muttered, as she placed her lips on Violet's tightly. It seemed weird, and insane, and Violet would have liked to have had more thoughts on it, but her vision went completely, there was a huge horrible pain tingling through her whole body as her organs collapsed. She muttered something to Carmelita with her final strength, but she couldn't hear what it was.
And then she died.
Carmelita and Violet were found the next morning by students going down to breakfast. They had been distraught: Carmelita was draped over Violet, their lips planted together, their faces pale, their eyes wide, their bodies still.
Around them was a knife, scattered by them on the floor, a brick down by Violet's foot, and a syringe filled with Parish Ivy Poison, the thing that had killed them both. The final act had finished, the curtain's had fallen back against one another.
The audience had gone home.