As time went on and as I waited for Jacquelyn to discreetly contact me again, I began a routine. I decided to take the path of least resistance and begin my daily chores before Olaf even awoke. This way, I wouldn't have to be around him for most of the day. If I was isolated, I would be able to receive any type of secret message.
My daily ritual of avoiding Olaf seemed to work, or else he was avoiding me. From the evening I was struck by the bald man, Olaf's temperament toward me grew strangely uninvolved and aloof. When he spoke to me, it was never longer than a single sentence.
The number of nights on which Olaf held meetings began to greatly outnumber the nights guests were not over. At the next meeting Olaf held, he had me do exactly what he had told me to do: have dinner on the table and stay near him. Sure enough, the bald man left me alone, yet sometimes I caught him leering at me. Whenever Olaf caught the bald man doing that, he would pull me closer to his side and force a kiss as a show of power.
I grew worried, as days nearly turned into weeks with no correspondence from Jacquelyn. What if Olaf had found out she meant to contact me and killed her? If he had, I reasoned that he would have told me and lorded it over me. As it was, there was hardly any change to our communication.
At one point, I had resorted to calling Mulctuary Money Management in the hopes that Jacquelyn was still there, but she was not. I hoped that she had been able to go on the lam from Olaf.
One morning closer to autumn, I awoke while it was still dark. Olaf was still asleep next to me, snoring away. I stood as gently as I could so as to not wake him. I went to my small trunk in the corner of his room and pulled out one of my dresses. I moved silently without creaking any of the floorboards.
I made my way to the bathroom, my stomach threatening to empty its contents as per usual. I brushed my teeth and pulled on my dress. I was getting extremely nervous, as time was running out to tell Olaf. I was now at least five months along, and my dresses were becoming ever tighter around my middle, as well as other parts of my body that were definitely changing. My hips became subtly wider, and my breasts started getting slightly bigger. Olaf was certainly going to find out one way or another.
As I left the bathroom, I felt something that caused me to gasp in surprise. There was a small fluttering, like the wings of a butterfly, in my belly. I brought my hand to where I felt this movement and smoothed my fingers over my growing bump. Tears pricked at my eyes as I realized that the fluttering had been the baby's first movement that I had felt. It was suddenly all too real for me.
I went back to the bathroom and just stared at myself in the mirror, watching my hand move above where the baby made its home. I didn't know what I expected to see: I knew that movement couldn't be seen at this stage.
I felt the movement once again, and this time, tears did fall down my cheeks. Fear and wonder gripped my throat, making it hard to breathe. I turned to the side to see how much I was actually showing. I was definitely starting to look pregnant. I cradled my small belly and tried to imagine how different I would look in just a few weeks' time. I had a petite frame, but it also seemed as though I might remain rather small throughout my pregnancy. Through my parents, I had met family friends who were smaller than me at this stage; this brought a bit of comfort, as perhaps I would have a smoother delivery if my baby was ultimately small.
I knew what happened with pregnancy as I had seen my mother pregnant with Sunny. I remembered my mother smiling at me as she took my hand in hers and pressed it against her stomach to feel Sunny's light kicks. I never imagined I would experience what my mother felt so soon. As the baby moved once again, I placed my hand on the side of my small bump where the fluttering had come from. A motherly instinct washed over me. I had to protect my baby at all costs.
"What are you doing?" Olaf's groggy voice sounded from the darkness of the hallway.
I spun around, icy fear gripping my heart. "Nothing," I blurted.
Olaf stepped toward me, backing me into the bathroom. His face was expressionless, besides the permanent furrow of his one brow.
"I-I was getting dressed and I—" I stuttered. "I was sick, and I—" My mind was scrambling for excuses and was coming up blank.
"What were you doing?" he asked again, his voice deadly quiet.
Tears began to spill freely from my eyes. "I'm sorry, Count Olaf, I'm so sorry." My voice broke and I cowered under Olaf's height. "Please don't hurt me," I begged as I held my arms up in defense.
Olaf said nothing but drilled his furious gaze into my eyes. His jaw clenched and a vein on his forehead pulsed wildly.
"I'm sorry, Count Olaf," I murmured. I dropped my voice to barely above a whisper. "I'm pregnant."
Time froze as my words hung in the air between me and Olaf. I shook all over, my mind racing as I struggled to read his reaction.
Olaf raised one side of his eyebrow in mere disinterest. "Well, duh. Of course you are." He shrugged. "Why do you think I haven't fucked you as much?"
It took me a few seconds to register that he was speaking. "What?"
"I'm not as dumb as you obviously think I am," Olaf added. "And I'm not at all surprised that I was able to knock you up on our wedding night." Olaf smirked.
"I don't know when it happened," I admitted. "All I know it was about around five months ago."
"Our wedding night was then." He put his hands on his hips.
I shook my head. "When did you know? That I was…?" I asked meekly. Olaf rolled his eyes. I flushed when I realized. "When the bald man hit me…"
Olaf shrugged again. "That, and you've been sick for forever, but you keep getting fatter. Again: duh," Olaf said, exasperated. "I just don't know what you want me to do about it."
My eyes widened. "Wait, what?"
"You're still my wife. I still need stuff done," he replied.
"But—" I started.
Olaf huffed in frustration. "Can you walk?" I nodded. "Can you clean?"
"Yes, but—" I interjected.
"Can you still cook?"
"Yes—"
Olaf shrugged once more. "Then I don't care if you're pregnant or sick or have breathed in the spores of a poisonous mushroom; if you're still standing, you'll still cook and clean for me. Get busy." He turned to leave his room.
"But," I started. "I need to see a doctor. I'm going to need medical attention!"
Olaf called over his shoulder, "You'll see a doctor if and only if your head falls off."
Against my better judgement, I went after him. "But, Count Olaf, you're the father!" He descended the staircase without another glance behind him.
"Obviously," he said nonchalantly.
"That's not what I mean!" My brow furrowed and I stomped to the edge of the stairs. "What do you want me to do?" I screamed, my voice cracking in rage. "I need help! I don't know what will happen if I don't get proper medical care!"
Olaf spun around and ran up the steps to face me. "I don't fucking care!" he bellowed in my face. "Here's what will happen, though: you will never leave this house again without me! You will never see you cockroaches of siblings again, and you will be under my control until the blessed day you die!"
I gaped at his outburst. He had never been this angry while sober Of course he had yelled before, but it had never been this terrible. I looked down and wrapped my arms around my midsection. "I hate you. You're nothing but a villain." I was surprised by how soft my voice came out.
Olaf sneered. "I don't care for you that much myself." He spun with a flourish.
I had dinner on the table before his troupe arrived, as he had instructed. I had never actually been there with him as his friends came in, but I found he greeted every guest as though he were a king allowing his court into his private dining hall.
He had pulled up a small chair that was right beside his at the head of the table. When he ushered everyone into the dining room, he had me sit next to him while everyone reached to plate their own food.
Olaf reached over to the floor on his other side and produced a bottle of white wine. He placed it on the table and stood.
"My henchmen—and women—tonight, we will not discuss any work, as I have amazing news!" Olaf announced. He grabbed my upper arm and pulled me up so I would stand. He put his arm around my shoulders. "My little Countess will be having a mini Olaf in just a few short months!"
His troupe cheered loudly and applauded. I looked up at Olaf, how was grinning at all of the attention. He held up the wine bottle. "My finest wine for everyone!" he called out and another cheer sounded.
"I thought you said you didn't care," I sneered to Olaf, his troupe still celebrating.
He leaned down to me. "Why don't you be a good little wife and shut the fuck up while you go get more wine?"
I glared at him, but went to the kitchen and brought out two more bottles.
That night, I was made to sit at the head of the table and watch as everyone got extremely drunk. I couldn't leave, as Olaf was hanging on to some part of my body all night. Even while intoxicated, Olaf was acting, as he made a big show of fawning over my belly. He even went so far as to kiss it.
None of his friends actually left. They all passed out by two in the morning, except for Olaf.
My head was splitting from the barrage of noise and the lack of sleep. I propped my head up on the table, my eyes feeling heavy with exhaustion.
Olaf staggered into the room holding a whiskey bottle and vodka bottle in either of his hands. "I'm all out of wine, but I got these," he slurred, holding both bottles up.
I rubbed my eyes and stood. "Everyone's asleep. There's no one else," I said.
Olaf stumbled toward me, trying to set the bottles on the table. "Let's go to bed," he muttered. He held out his arm. "Help me up the stairs."
I sighed and went to placed myself beneath his arm. I led him to the stairs and adjusted myself as I braced for his stumbling. "I can't handle all of your weight, so you need to move your feet," I told him.
He chuckled drunkenly and dragged his feet slowly up each stair. There was only once when I thought I was going to buckle beneath him, but I caught myself.
When we got to his room, I let him go. Instead of stumbling to the bed, he suddenly snatched me and pinned me against the wall.
"What are you doing?" I asked as I clenched my fists against the wall.
He shoved his knee between my legs and pressed his forehead against mine. "Come on," he said. "I know you've missed me fucking you…"
Olaf slammed his lips against mine in an unrelenting kiss. I wiggled against the wall, trying to get away from him. Instead of letting me go, he kissed harder.
"Stop—!" I attempted to cry out, but his mouth swallowed my voice. He released his grip on my hands and yanked my dress over my head, his lips only leaving mine for a second. I took that moment to duck away from him.
He was quick, however, even while he was completely drunk. He wrapped his arm around my ribcage and pulled me back so that I was flat against him.
"You're drunk! Stop!" I shouted. I attempted to pry his arm away from me.
"Shh," he hissed in my ear. He used his free hand to undo his pants and pull them down with his boxers. "Just give me what I want, Violet," he slurred.
He pushed me to the bed and, before he forced me down, he ripped my panties down my legs.
I realized in that moment that I was incredibly aroused. I was disgusted with myself, but apparently, my hormones decided that I was craving sex and that it didn't matter how I got it. I still didn't want it.
Olaf straddled me on the bed and forced my legs apart. He swayed back and forth, trying to keep himself up. "I know I've missed your tight little cunt, my Countess," Olaf said. His oily grin spread across his face. He lowered himself, his arms propped on either side of my head.
"I don't want this, tonight, Count Olaf," I said through gritted teeth.
Olaf chuckled, disregarding me. He reached down to my nether regions and tucked his fingers deep into my folds. He smiled. "You're so wet for me, aren't you?"
I turned my head away so that I didn't have to face him. I decided that I was too tired to fight him that night. He was going to take whatever he wanted, and that would be that.
Olaf took his fingers away and replaced them with his cock. He pushed himself further into me. He rolled his hips against mine and started an incredibly rough rhythm. In shock, I cried out as he rammed into me again and again.
"Count Olaf, please!" I called out as I braced my hands against his shoulders to prevent him from completely going all the way down.
"You like that, Violet?" Olaf slurred, his mouth turning up in a drunken grin. He groaned and snaked his hand up my neck to my cheek and tried to kiss me.
"You're hurting me!" As his cock continued to bury deep within me, I felt something sting to the point where my eyes screwed up in pain. I screamed.
At that, Olaf moaned loudly and came, his body tensed above me. He panted in exhaustion, his lips still on my cheek. I could smell the alcohol on his terrible breath, and I coughed.
Olaf swayed unsteadily, and his body suddenly went limp. I shrieked as I rolled out from underneath him as he fell to the bed. My hand went automatically to protect my belly. He could have seriously hurt the baby being that careless. I whipped my head around to tell him off, but I heard him start to snore: he had fallen asleep.
Now incredibly angry, I got out of the bed, ignoring the now dull ache from Olaf's roughness. I put my panties back on and took my nightgown to the bathroom to get dressed and brush my teeth.
As I spit into the sink, I realized that that was most likely the strangest encounter I had had with a drunk Olaf. I did have to wonder if Olaf would end up drinking himself to death, and how he wasn't already dead from alcohol consumption.
I left Olaf's bathroom and got back in the bed after shutting off the light. I rolled on my side to face away from Olaf.
"Violet…" I heard him mutter after a short while. I didn't answer, hoping he would just go back to sleep. "Violet," he hissed. He tapped his hand groggily on my shoulder.
"What do you want?" I whispered, turning my head to face him.
"Issforyou," he slurred. He dropped something over my shoulder onto my side. "Fuckin' thing was in my jacket…" Olaf laughed. "It wuzza joke…"
"Go to sleep," I replied. I turned back over.
"Fuck off, bitch," Olaf snarled, but he rolled over and began to snore again.
I looked down at what Olaf dropped on the bed and picked it up to hold it to my eyes. My sight adjusted to the dark, and I realized with a start that it was my beloved ribbon.