I did not make it a habit to listen in on Olaf's meetings. However, after learning about the fire that destroyed the Hotel Denouement, I found myself eavesdropping whenever Olaf's company was over.
They, or rather Olaf, talked about his plans for becoming famous and his odd ideas for play productions that would supposedly launch him into international stardom.
It had been exactly one month to the day since I found out I was going to have a baby. I figured that I was around 15 or 16 weeks along, and every day it became harder to hide it both physically and emotionally. It didn't help that Olaf hardly let me out of his sight if we went out, which wasn't very often. I couldn't escape, but it was impossible for me to even let someone know that I needed help.
Olaf had demanded roast beef for the troupe's dinner that night, and so I slaved for most of the afternoon in the kitchen to appease him. While I was making dessert, I heard the familiar sound of people entering the house.
Based off of all the previous meetings at dinner, I had gradually worked out a timetable. Exactly seven minutes after the troupe entered the house, I was to bring them drinks until the food was ready, about ten minutes later. This seemed to work, and I never had any complaints outside the usual pestering.
I brought out two bottles of wine from the kitchen and ignored the snickers and snide remarks. I began to fill each of the actors' glasses.
I reached the bald man's glass, and as I poured he stared darkly at me. "Why don't you cast the little orphan in your next show? I'm sure she would be very fun to watch as your leading lady," the bald man sneered to Olaf.
Olaf laughed heartily. "She certainly has proved herself worthy of performing. Both onstage and in private." Olaf waggled his single eyebrow to his troupe, who howled in laughter.
"I'm sure she has, Count Olaf," the bald man replied. He patted me on my hip.
I swallowed hard and glanced to Olaf as I filled his glass. He was glaring at the bald man. "Go bring us our dinner," Olaf ordered in a strained voice.
I nodded silently and went back to the kitchen where I prepared the serving dishes with the roast beef and vegetables. When I came out again, the conversation appeared to have changed.
"How many more do we need to start?" the hook-handed man asked.
"Surely not too many," one of the white-faced women jumped in.
Olaf smirked. "The schism already destroyed many of the volunteers. Trust me, everything is nearly over," he replied.
That conversation digressed to the point where the words they strung together didn't make sense to me as complete sentences.
"I still don't understand how you got lucky with this little lady," the bald man chuckled, interrupting the flow of the conversation. "Such an obedient little orphan."
"It took me a while to train her," Olaf replied, a bit of discomforting anger at the edge of his voice.
I furrowed my brows and brought the roast beef to the bald man and Olaf. The bald man grabbed my waist, his giant hands digging into my hip bones.
"I'd love a little kitchen-maid like her of my own one day," the bald man said. He jerked me against him which caused me to lose my footing for a moment.
I set the serving dish on the table and turned to Olaf. "What else do you need?"
Olaf lightly shook his head and waved me away.
I suddenly felt the bald man's big hand surround mine and press it up against his hard member. "You like that?" he hissed.
I jerked my hand away and stepped back. "What are you doing?" I shouted.
The bald man laughed at my reaction. "Just having some fun, Orphan."
Red hot fury surged before my eyes and I blurted, "You want a little maid like me? You'll never find one with that winning personality of yours!"
The table grew suddenly quiet. The bald man's face turned beet red. "You little bitch!" he roared as he swung his huge hand at my face. I fell to the floor from the impact, my hand covering my throbbing cheek. There was a loud ringing in my ear, so I couldn't hear if the troupe had reacted at all. I looked up at the bald man, who was drawing back his fist for a harder hit. As a reflex, my arms shielded my belly in protection.
Olaf grabbed the bald man's wrist before he could bring it down. With wide and confused eyes, Olaf stared at me.
I panicked and stood quickly, forcing my arms to my side. I hoped that Olaf had not put two and two together and realized what I was doing.
A lump formed in my throat and I began to just silently weep from physical and emotional pain. How could I live the rest of my life like this? I brought my hand back up to my bruised and swollen cheek. There was a stinging sensation on the skin above my cheekbone. The bald man had left a cut.
Olaf turned his attention back to the bald man, who seemed genuinely shocked that Olaf had stopped him.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Olaf snapped.
The bald man stuttered, "She was being a smart-ass—"
"She's my wife, meaning only I can do whatever the fuck I want. You, on the other hand, cannot!" Olaf jabbed a bony finger at the bald man's chest.
"I just thought after, you know, her performance at the hotel, we could—"
"You thought very wrong," Olaf said. He scanned his eyes over his troupe. He threw down the bald man's arm and snatched mine. "All of you shut up until I come back."
Olaf ushered me, still sniveling, upstairs and into his bedroom. He shut the door behind him.
I let out a loud sob. "Thank you," I whimpered.
"You think I did that for you?" Olaf asked. He scoffed. "You belong to me. I'm not very keen on sharing what's mine."
A new wave of tears flowed from my eyes at his statement. I knew I was only crying so badly because of the hormones, but I didn't care. I sat down on his bed and pulled my legs up onto the mattress as well.
Olaf crossed his arms and watched me for a few minutes. "At the next meeting I host, you are to stay next to me the entire time," he said to me once I had quieted down. "We're staging a new production, so expect to be up for well into the night."
I wiped my non-injured cheek. "What about the meal?"
"It should be on the table before they are seated," he stated.
I nodded slowly. "Yes, Count Olaf," I murmured.
"Stay up here for the rest of the evening," he ordered coldly. "I'm not finished with you yet." Olaf then left his room without another word.
I laid down on the bed and pulled the scratchy blanket over me. I felt very nauseous, and I was suddenly concerned about the possibility of a miscarriage. I had read that trauma was one of their causes, and what had just happened was very traumatic in its own right. I pressed both of my hands to my stomach. If I did miscarry, the baby would be gone and Olaf would never have to know. The child would not have to grow up in this house with Olaf as their father.
That was, of course, the best case scenario.
The worst case was me hemorrhaging out before I could get any help.
I waited, curled up and unmoving, for something to happen. I expected there to be some sharp pain or the wet sensation of blood, but it never came. I still wasn't sure of the symptoms of a miscarriage, as my book didn't really mention it, and I knew there were no books in Olaf's house about it. All that was left for me to do was wait and see.
Until Olaf came back upstairs and promptly fell asleep, I laid there in the middle of his bed, my mind racing with half-developed plans on how to escape his hellhole.
As I cleaned the kitchen after breakfast the next morning, Olaf strutted in. "I must 'construct' important business in the city today," he announced.
"You mean 'conduct,'" I corrected before thinking.
"Whatever." Olaf turned to leave. "One of my henchmen will be guarding the door to make sure you don't leave. If you do—"
"You'll kill Klaus and Sunny. You've made that much abundantly clear," I said, exhausted with his threats.
He paused for a moment and pitched up his eyebrow. "Good. You're learning," he replied. He left the kitchen and went to the foyer. "Have dinner hot and ready when I return!" he shouted as he left the house.
I finished cleaning the kitchen. Once I did, I went to the foyer and looked out the window to see the hook-handed man seated on the front stoop, his back turned away from me.
I let out a sigh of relief. In all of my pondering last night, I came up with a plan to escape. I hurried upstairs and eyed a landline that was gathering dust on one of the tables I missed cleaning in the hallway. I remembered seeing a phone book in a dresser in the bedroom I once shared with my siblings. I went to the cramped room and rummaged through the dresser until I found it. I rifled through the book until I came to the 'M' section and found who I was looking for: Mulctuary Money Management.
I memorized the phone number and dashed back to the landline and quickly dialed.
"Mulctuary Money Management; how can I help you? a chipper woman greeted.
"I need to speak to Jacquelyn Scieszka. She's the only one who can help me," I replied.
"Let me transfer you." I heard a beep and the line began to ring again.
"Jacquelyn Scieszka," the woman spoke.
"Ms. Scieszka, thank God you answered," I breathed. "It's Violet Baudelaire. My parents perished in a fire, leaving only me and my two siblings Klaus and Sunny alive. Mr. Poe handled my parents' fortune before you, but Count Olaf came to withdraw it."
"Oh, yes. I am sincerely sorry about that, Violet. What can I do for you today?" she said.
"I need your help. Please, you're the only one who knows what's going on!" I was growing rather hysterical.
Jacquelyn instructed calmly, "Ok, breathe…." I took a breath. "Now, start from the beginning: what's going on?"
I looked towards the staircase to make sure the hook-handed man had not heard me. "Count Olaf is…" I started.
"Just tell me what's wrong, Violet," Jacquelyn urged.
"Count Olaf is a horrible man who has done horrible things. He tricked Justice Strauss into allowing me to marry him. Once I did, he sent Klaus and Sunny away and won't tell me if they're all right or where they are. He constantly threatens to hurt or kill them if I don't do something he wants me to do. He set the fire at the theatre that killed Mr. Poe and Justice Strauss and he set the fire at the Hotel Denouement. He—"
A lump lodged in my throat as I recounted everything Olaf had done.
"Keep going, sweetheart," Jacquelyn said.
I began to cry. "He's…he raped me. Several times. I've said no. I've always said no, but he just does it!" I began to weep into the phone. "He beats me and he's threatened to kill me!"
There was silence on the other end for a moment. I feared briefly that she had hung up without me knowing. Finally, Jacquelyn spoke. "Violet, you are so very brave for coming to me. I'm so sorry. None of this is your fault."
I sniffed. "I'm scared," I muttered.
"I know you are. I knew there was something wrong when Olaf came in with you to withdraw your parents' money. I tried to prevent it from getting into his hands, but he had all the right answers. There wasn't anything I could legally do."
Jacquelyn paused to let me speak, but I found that I couldn't. "Violet? Are you there?" Jacquelyn asked.
"Yes." I curled the landline cord around my index finger. "There's…one more thing he did," I murmured. I frowned in disgust at myself. "I hate myself. This is all my fault."
Jacquelyn sighed in sympathy. "Oh, Violet…"
"Count Olaf…he never used…" I rubbed my forehead. "I'm pregnant," I sobbed, the fact of the matter finally settling in me. "Please, I need you to help me, Ms. Scieszka. I'm afraid he or his friends are going to end up killing me or the baby!"
"I suppose now would be the best time to tell you." Jacquelyn sighed again, this time with resolve settling in her voice. "Your parents left their fortune her at Mulctuary Money Management because it has been partnered with a secret organization that they were a part of, just as I am. It's called the V.F.D., the Volunteer Fire Department. We put out metaphorical and literal fires."
I shook my head. "I don't understand."
"It's all right, Violet. There will be more time for that later. All you need to know is that we have noble intentions and that we will help you and your siblings escape Count Olaf. Or rather, whoever is left with the V.F.D.," Jacquelyn explained. "But don't worry about that. We will help you, Violet Baudelaire."
My heart soared with a hope that I had not experienced in a long time. "Thank you, Ms. Scieszka."
"I just need you to try and stay away from Olaf as much as possible. It's not just your safety that you have to worry about anymore," Jacquelyn told me. "I will contact you discreetly. Olaf will never know we're communicating."
"But what if he finds out you spoke to me?" I asked.
I could hear a slight smile in Jacquelyn's voice. "I'm going to be going on the lam." She paused. "You know what that means?"
"Yes."
"He won't find me. I promise."
"And Klaus and Sunny?" I mentioned.
"We'll find them, Violet, and we'll protect them," Jacquelyn assured. "I need to get started on everything."
"Wait," I said. "What do I tell Count Olaf about…" I hovered a hand over my stomach.
"How far along are you?" Jacquelyn asked.
I stopped to think. "I think I'm 16 weeks…" I looked down. My dress' fabric did a passable job of hiding the evidence.
"Don't say anything. I will contact you soon in secret." Jacquelyn paused. "Take care of yourself, Violet."
I heard the phone on Jacquelyn's end click as she hung up. I did the same on my end.
I didn't know anything about V.F.D., but at that point, I had no choice but to trust them with the lives of my family.