Okay, this chapter is going to be three things: Creepy, From Olaf's POV (sort-of), and SHORT. Yeah. I don't think I can get any clearer than that. It took me forever to decide exactly HOW creepy I wanted it to be, if it would only be Olaf's thoughts or not, and how short it would be. But, that was on paper. Now, it's in digital pixels on your computer screen. Enjoy. Or not.
Disclaimer: I don't own Violaf or Olaf himself, but I do own the Ima Fealon Maximum Security Prison and this fanfiction. So don't steal either from me, or I'm going to hunt you down, chop off your head, and use you for fishbait. Or not. Maybe I'll do something far worse. Remember: I know where you live. :) (Okay, so maybe I don't, but it sure set the tone for creepyness in this chapter!)
That night was a warm one. How close he had been to his goal. His ultimate goal.
And he had been beaten by two teenagers and a baby.
The scene had once been a large factory, but was, at the time, a massive inferno. They were cornered. And he had been in control. But, in his haste, he had forgotten a fundemental rule of villainy:
Never draw attention to yourself.
He remembered running as fast as he could from the area, only to be stopped a half mile away by the police. He recalled people yelling, sirens wailing, and car tires squealing. And he, Count Olaf, master of disguise, apex predator, artful arsonist, and master at evasion, had been caught at last.
The Baudelaires were watching, wide-eyed in astonishment that he had finally been captured. How stunned they had looked, and how angry he had been. What was it that he had yelled at them? Wasn't it a threat? Had he not said that he would someday return for her?
He was ashamed and hurt. Not for what he had done to them, but for what he had put her through.Even after he had met Esme, he didn't stop thinking about his true desire. He and Esme never quite clicked. He had only been in it for her money.
And so, once she and him had broken up, and Esme had been killed in the blaze at the Hotel Denounment, he went back to chasing his true love.
Olaf shifted onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. The uncomforatble metal was cold, and he could feel it even through his orange jumper. It didn't matter about the color. Orange was one of his favorite colors, and he looked good in it. At least to himself he did.
"I'm sorry, my dear," he murmured to himself. "I'll not disappoint you again. I never could tell you how much I loved you, but I will not make that same mistake again. I never wanted to hurt you, simply your siblings. I'm sorry, Violet. I hate the man you married. I hate that you got that fortune instead of me. And I'm going to set things straight. I'll get you and your money if it's the last thing I do. I won't rest until I get out of this cell and I am near you."
He glanced at his reflection in the dirty mirror above the rust-stained sink. His eyes blazed with a fierce determination. The time to act was now.
"No one shall have you but me."
My best friend read this chapter and was saying "Eew" like five hundred times. Then, she felt so dirty that she went to the bathroom sink and washed her hands. I'd like to thank my best friend, Brianna DeWitt, Or Contessa Shanee on this site, for coming up with that last bit: "no one shall have you but me". It was for her report on TPP, so I bummed it off of her without asking. Sorry, Nee. Please review and I promise that the next chapter won't be so disturbing.
