For the next several weeks, the Hotel Denouement was my home. Olaf's idea of a honeymoon was several weeks long filled with nothing but extravagant purchases with my parents' money. Every time Olaf bought the most expensive item on the menu for himself and his troupe, my heart sank further into my body; it could have been used for Klaus' college fund or new teething rings for Sunny.

The hotel, I had to admit, was a welcome change from Olaf's disgusting abode. I wasn't forced to cook or clean, so I spent most of my days with my hair pulled back in the ribbon my parents gave me. In the four and a half weeks we had been there that far, I had come up with the blueprints for an elaborate elevator repair machine that could attach to the bottom of the elevator and a mechanism that could predict the weather by listening to birdsong. Unfortunately, I had no way to build them.

Each night, Olaf got drunk with his troupe. Overall, he purchased enough alcohol to drown an elephant. I made it a habit to confine myself to the room he forced me to share with him while they partied in the hotel's restaurant. He particularly scared me when he was incredibly drunk, as the first night of our honeymoon, he struck me across my face for correcting a misspoken phrase.

Because of this fear and stress, I lost weight and, eventually, I missed my period because of it. Briefly, I considered that my missed period was due to something else entirely, but I decided against that theory when I remembered that Klaus had once read that prolonged fear and stress could cause the human body to go haywire.

One night, I had nearly fallen asleep in the hotel room armchair when I awoke to the fact that I was rather hungry for once. I searched the room for something that might have been brought back to the room, but with no luck.

I looked at the clock and saw that it was still early. Olaf and his troupe were still downstairs having a raucous time. I figured that, if I was careful, I could sneak down to the sundry shop and get something.

I left the room and headed downstairs. Even before I reached the lobby, I could hear Olaf's loud voice through the doors of the elevator.

As I stepped out into the lobby, peeked my head out of the elevator to make sure that Olaf or his friends were not around. The deserted lobby felt strange, as there was normally life bustling through it. I thought, perhaps, I might have enjoyed sneaking out in the hotel lobby if it were me and my family, where consequences were not detrimental.

I reached the sundry shop, and, thankfully, it was still open. I quickly grabbed a pack of nuts and approached the cash register. There was no one there, but I decided to wait.

Cold metal snagged around my elbow and pulled me around. "Violet," said the hook-handed man. "Count Olaf was just talking about you!" He snatched me away from the counter and pulled me away. "He'll be so happy you're awake again," he slurred.

Another evening of heavy drinking, I presumed. As he pulled me through the lobby to his boss, my heart thudded in my chest. What would Olaf do to me tonight? How drunk was he?

The hook-handed man brought me to the private room of the hotel's restaurant. The cacophony of their drunkeness was loud, even when the door was closed. He opened the door and pushed me inside.

"Hooky!" Olaf shouted excitedly. "You've brought me my wife! Did she give you any trouble?"

The hook-handed man shook his head. "But she was out of your room."

Olaf's smile of amusement turned villainous. "Oh, dear. We can't have that, can we?"

I swallowed without acknowledging the snickers around the room. I fiddled with my ribbon that was tied around my wrist for safekeeping.

Olaf brought his hand up and crooked his finger at me as if he was coaxing a dog to approach him. I glanced around before slowly making my way to stand in front of my husband. He sighed as he cocked his head while examining me. He dropped his hand on my shoulder and squeezed extremely hard.

"We have been so focused on producing a show for the adoring public that we haven't had much fun ourselves, have we?" Olaf asked his troupe, though his shiny eyes were locked with mine.

A resounding "Yes!" came from around the room with scattered applause.

Olaf stood, leaning slightly on me as he swayed from drunkeness. I stumbled under his weight, but I found my footing. He turned to look at me pointedly. "Who thinks that Violet here should...entertain us for a while?" Another positive response.

I flinched and backed away from Olaf in fear. "Count Olaf—" I muttered.

Olaf laughed derisively. "My Countess, how little you think of me. I wouldn't dream of sharing you! You're my wife."

I shook my head. "Then what..."

Olaf bent at the waist to look me in my eyes. He smiled. "A demonstration perhaps?" Olaf placed a hand on my cheek and ran his thumb over my lips. "Show them what else your little smart-ass mouth can do besides talk unceasingly."

I was horrified. I jerked my head away from his hand. "I would rather die than do that in front of your despicable friends!" I shouted.

Olaf chuckled in response as he stood straight. "I don't think I'd have to kill you." Olaf turned to the hook-handed man. "Hooky, go make the call. Klaus won't be needing his head any longer.

"No!" I screamed before the hook-handed man could leave. I squeezed my eyes shut, but opened them after a deep sigh. "Don't hurt him. I'll do what you want, Count Olaf. Just don't hurt him or Sunny."

Olaf smirked and waved his hand back at the hook-handed man, who sat at the table with the rest of the troupe.

"Very well." Olaf fell back into his seat and gestured around. "It seems as though Violet will be performing for us." The troupe applauded and whooped rowdily.

Olaf gestured for me to stand in front of him. I grasped at the edge of my dress as I attempted to ignore the stares of Olaf's troupe. "What do you want me to do?" I asked quietly.

"On your knees, Orphan," Olaf said. "Let this be an acting lesson for you all," Olaf announced. "Your dear Count Olaf will be demonstrating how to keep your cool under...exciting circumstances." He pointed to the ground when he saw I hadn't moved.

I slowly sank to my knees. In my mortification, I suddenly felt hypersensitive to every sensation; I could feel the flat roughness of the carpet beneath my knees, the stillness of the air around me, the itchiness of my socks. Everything was so incredibly wrong.

Olaf pulled me by my collar in between his knees. He folded his hands and rested them across his midsection. "Unzip."

I looked down to my eyeline to find Olaf's pants tented before me. My lips went into a straight line as I took the zipper of the crotch of Olaf's dirty pants. I tried to breathe shallowly so as to limit the foul smell of Olaf that accosted me. I purposefully averted my gaze away from Olaf's face.

Once the zipper was down, I heard Olaf sigh pleasurably. He stood slightly and pushed both his pants and boxers down over his erection. When it was free, I wanted to gag, as I knew in the back of my mind it had been quite some time since Olaf had bathed properly.

Olaf placed his hand on the back of my head and pulled me towards him. "Now, show me what those lips look like around my cock," Olaf hissed.

I pursed my lips. It was going to happen anyway, so I reasoned that I should get it over with.

I parted my lips, very unsure about everything. Suddenly, Olaf pushed the back of my head to force me forward. Olaf's cock shoved past my lips and brushed all the way to the back of my throat. I gagged and involuntarily closed my mouth around his length. My teeth lightly brushed against his hot skin, but I then felt a sharp tug against my head. I was pulled away, and his cock disappeared from my mouth. A slap landed squarely against my jaw.

"No teeth, you little brat!" Olaf snarled.

I coughed at the pain and the residual sensation of his tip at the back of my throat. Olaf clasped the back of my neck to bring me back to his cock.

I steeled myself again and opened my mouth once again. Olaf forced himself into my mouth, and he moved both of his hands to either side of my head.

My mouth watered around his length, and I desperately tried not to taste anything. I made sure not to involve my teeth in any way to prevent another assault. Tears streamed down my face as I struggled to breathe against his length. I adjusted my tongue against the bottom of his dick, and I heard him shudder.

"Good," he breathed. He forced my head to bob and move my lips and tongue up and down his dick. I accidentally let out a whimper, which caused Olaf's body to tense against me.

As I started to get a feel for the rhythm Olaf wanted, he removed one and then both of his hands from my hair. I then heard a slapping sound gradually getting faster from the place I knew to be where the bald man was sitting.

I went red in embarrassment and tried to pull away, but Olaf kept me in place. "Don't worry, my Countess," Olaf said in a strained voice. "They're only enjoying themselves, too."

I couldn't deny the awful taste of Olaf's cock any longer, and I just wanted him to finish.

Olaf bucked his hips into my mouth. "Yes," he breathed repeatedly. He pulled half of his length out of my mouth so the tip was resting on my tongue. I heard him moan and a salty, bitter liquid exploded in my mouth.

I shrieked and coughed in shock. I fell away from Olaf and turned to the floor, where I gagged and spat out his cum. I felt something light hit against my dress, and I turned to see Olaf holding his spasming cock as a rope of his sperm was launched onto my dress.

Olaf let his head fall back as his dick went limp once again in his hand.

"Not as bad as I thought you were going to be, my Countess," Olaf said as he tucked himself back into his pants.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. "Why didn't you warn me?" I asked, frustrated.

Olaf suddenly stood and scooped me up, bridal-style. He faltered a bit, and, as a reflex, I wrapped both my arms around his neck to stabilize myself. He smirked devilishly. "We're going to bed, my friends. We will meet again tomorrow night. I'd like to give my wife a personal performance of my own." Olaf grinned.

xXx

As I stared, unblinking, at the ceiling, my mind saw shapes swimming in the darkness of the room. Olaf was on his side, snoring so loud I didn't think I would get any sleep at all. I was still where he had left me: on my back, naked, and uncovered. It felt like my insides were turning outward.

The walls of my vagina throbbed in pain, as he had been extremely rough that night, fulfilling his promise that he had made earlier that night to his troupe.

His troupe.

I couldn't get the image of Olaf's troupe out of my head. They had witnessed me giving Olaf a blowjob. They saw me spit onto the floor. They had masturbated to my misfortune. The sound of the henchman palming his own cock was one I knew would haunt me for the rest of my life.

I broke out into a cold sweat and my mouth watered. A wave of aggressive nausea overtook me. I leapt out of the bed and literally ran to the suite's adjoining bathroom. I hurled my body over the toilet and heaved. Bile forced it's way up my throat and into the bowl below. I coughed and spit when it stopped coming up. I noisily sucked in cold air, my nose and eyes running.

"I swear to God, Orphan," Olaf slurred sleepily. "If you're sick—"

"I'm not sick, Count Olaf," I called from the bathroom. "I just ate some bad...fish," I lied.

Olaf harrumphed and rolled over. It wasn't long before his snores began again.

I wiped my face with the back of my hand and stood. After flushing and washing my hands, I tiptoed back into the bedroom and headed over to my small suitcase. As I reached for my nightgown, I glanced down to my wrist to find nothing. I panicked as I realised my hair ribbon was gone. I looked over my shoulder to Olaf; he probably had grabbed accidentally during our—or rather, his—romp. If that was the case, and he found it before I did, he would lord it over me and have me do things to earn it back.

I pulled the nightgown over my head and crawled back into bed. I curled up as close to the edge as I could get without falling off. After a long time, I drifted off to sleep.

xXx

It was past noon before Olaf allowed me to leave the bed. I ached all over, especially where Olaf relentlessly pushed himself into me. It hurt to walk, move, and sometimes even standing still.

While he slept off his exhaustion and hangover, I snuck from the room to try and keep away from him as long as I could. I wandered through the hotel, noting the familiar yet vague organisational pattern of the rooms.

I was quickly worn out from walking and in too much pain to continue. I sat down in the lobby and simply watched patrons come in and out of the establishment. Contented customers checked out at the front desk while new vacation-seekers filled their place to check in. It was, surprisingly, very calming to watch.

"Is there anything I can help you with, my dear?"

I looked up, startled to hear a kind voice. A rather handsome man in a pressed suit was smiling down at me.

I allowed my lips to form a slight grin in return. "Not unless you have a library, sir. I'd love nothing more than to read about physics right now," I replied almost jokingly. It had been ages since I last read a book; the last one I read was one about law in Justice Strauss' personal library.

The man chuckled. "Actually, I may be able to help with that." He put forth his hand. "I'm Dewey Denouement. I'm one of the managers of the hotel."

I shook the man's hand. "Violet Baudelaire," I replied.

Dewey smiled again. "Baudelaire? I've heard that name, before. You're parents aren't Bertrand and Beatrice, are they?"

I cast my gaze to the ground. "Yes. They were. They quite recently perished in a fire," I said rather forlornly.

There was a pause. "Dear Violet, I am so sorry." Dewey brought his hand up again and gestured it. "Walk with me?"

I nodded and went to Dewey's side as he began to head off down a hallway off the lobby.

"I know what it's like to lose someone you love. Especially in fire," Dewey said. I looked up to see him staring off ahead of him. Sadness darkened his kind features. "The woman I was to marry died in a fire. Recently, as well."

"I'm very sorry," I expressed.

Dewey glanced to me. "It's very hard. Some days are harder than others. Sometimes you miss them, but then sometimes you miss the little things that made you smile. Like the way they say 'Minneapolis' or how they're favourite food was chicken piccata. Those are the days when you're not sure you can keep going," Dewey explained.

His words caused me to remember how much my mother loved dragonflies and my father's nose would crinkle as he read the newspaper in the morning.

"However," Dewey's clear voice shook me from my thoughts. "I believe that that is what our loved ones would want us to focus on, so that they never really leave us." Dewey looked at me and blushed. "Forgive me, I'm not very good with words at the moment."

"I think that was well put," I said with a consolatory smile.

Dewy gestured to the lobby behind us. "Have you noticed the pattern? Of the rooms?"

It took me a moment to realise what he was talking about. I shook my head. "Not quite."

"It's like a library," he offered as he turned to an ornate door.

"The Dewey Decimal System!" I exclaimed.

Dewey chuckled and unlocked the door. "Exactly, Miss Violet." He pushed the door open and ushered me in.

It was a large room with hundreds upon hundreds of books lining the shelves. My face exploded into a joyful grin that I hadn't felt in such a long time.

"Normally, we only allow certain patrons access to this library, but, others have found that the world is quiet here," Dewey whispered.

I turned to Dewey, my eyes watering at one of the first kind things since my marriage. "Thank you so much. You have no idea..."

Dewey placed a hand on my shoulder. "Books can remind us that we are never truly alone. They're a gift. Enjoy them."

Dewey nodded and left the library, closing the door behind him.

Completely ecstatic, I rushed to a bookshelf and immediately began searching for science books.

Soon, I found a wonderfully thick tome on college-level physics. I ran my fingers down the spine: I got chills as I remembered how heavy with knowledge books felt in my hands. As I grabbed the book and started to pull the book down, another book spine caught my eye. Nausea began to bubble up within me as I reached for that book instead.

xXx

After I got back to the room I shared with Olaf, I found he was still asleep, albeit fitfully. It was probably sleep apnea as I had read in the medical textbook I saw in the library. I knew I could invent some type of contraption that would help patients breathe by themselves. However, without my ribbon, I didn't think that I could envision anything clearly.

"Orphan!" Olaf shouted groggily. I jumped and spun around to see him sit up slowly in bed. He squinted his eyes and scratched his bare chest. "We're leaving. Go up front and collect my bill." Olaf gestured to the door.

"Leaving?" I repeated.

Olaf sighed. "Fucking hell. Yes! Honeymoon's over."

"Is there a reason why it's over?" I asked.

Olaf's dark eyes glared at me. "Why? Are you enjoying yourself? It's because I say it's over. Now, go!"

I quickly snatched up the borrowed books and hurried out of the room.

Down in the lobby, I approached the front desk where I saw Dewey with a guest.

"Enjoy your stay," he said to the departing woman. He turned to me and smiled. "Frank Denouement. How may I help you, miss?"

I raised an eyebrow. "I...thought you were Dewey..."

For a moment, the man looked confused, but then smiled. "Oh, Dewey is my brother. I'm also one of the managers here. What can I do for you?"

"Count Olaf is checking out. He needs the invoice to the room," I replied.

Frank looked down at his desk. "What profession is he?"

I rolled my eyes. "He says he's an impresario."

Frank pulled up a piece of paper and handed it to me. "I found it under 'actor.' We hope you enjoyed your stay here," he said.

I placed the books underneath my arm and grabbed the paper. "Is there any chance you could tell me where Dewey is? I have some things to return to him."

Frank pointed over my head, and I followed his gaze. Dewey was busy speaking to a bellhop.

I thanked Frank and walked over to Dewey, who, upon seeing me, ended his conversation and smiled at me.

"Violet! Enjoying those books?" he asked.

"Unfortunately, I have to return them. My..." I searched for the right word, "...guardian is taking us back home today." I held out the books for Dewey to take. My eyes watered involuntarily as I knew it would be a while before I could get my hands on another book.

Dewey looked at my outstretched arms and then at my face. He gazed at me sadly for a moment, put then pushed the books back to my chest. "Keep them. My gift to you. I don't know what you're going through, Violet Baudelaire, but as I said before, books are a precious reminder that we're never alone."

I opened my mouth in shock to say something. No words came out, but a tear fell from my eye. "Thank you. Thank you so much..." I hugged the books close to me.

Dewey smiled sadly. "I hope everything gets better for you, Violet. Unfortunately, I have some managerial matters to attend to, so I cannot stay and talk. It really was lovely to meet you. I hope our paths cross again," Dewey said as he stepped away. He raised a hand in farewell and left.

I stood in the lobby for a moment and watched as Dewey marched off to another part of the hotel.

Some type of smell wafted around, but I couldn't tell what it was. It was not strong enough for it to be a nuisance, but it was new, so it was just noticeable.

"Orphan!" Olaf's bark echoed in the busy lobby. He exited the elevator with his bag in one hand and my bag in the other. He tossed my bag to me. "Come on, we're going."

I picked up my bag and handed him the paper. "Here's the bill."

Olaf took it, crumpled it, and threw it off to the side. "Thanks," he responded. He gripped my upper arm and dragged me along.

"Why did you ask me to get it if you were just going to throw it away?" I asked. Olaf gave his valet ticket to the employee, who ran off to retrieve his car.

"Shut up, Orphan! You ask too many questions!" he snapped at me, his fingers squeezing my arm.

"You're hurting me," I mentioned as I tried to pull away.

Olaf bent down to me. "I'll hurt you even more if you don't shut the fuck up!" he hissed.

His black car pulled up and stopped in front of us. He opened the front passenger door and shoved me in. "I hope you haven't forgotten how to cook." Olaf stalked around and got in the driver's seat after tossing his suitcase in the backseat. "My colleagues will be waiting for us at home, and they'll be expecting a good meal." Olaf peeled out of the hotel's drive and started back to his house.

I then recognized the scent I had smelled back at the hotel with a jolt. It was industrial gas.