The world was never quiet

Lie 19 : I'll end you

I've never been much to the theatre in my life, maybe once or twice with my father when I was a child but really, that's all. Yet I lived through enough ludicrous and tragic situations to be able to write a master piece – you don't need me to know that my whole life is a stupid play. But nothing I could write would get even close to the Baudelaire's trial.

Well, the trial. That word is as unsuitable to the circumstances as the world "fair" would be to describe our world. It was a mascarade, a poor joke, you'll find synonyms yourself if you want (I know Volunteers love it). Of course I had to wear this stupid mask that blinded me and made me enjoyed to a hundredfold the screams of the crowd during the whole audience. I don't exactly know next to whom I was sitting – I didn't care, really. I knew Olaf was nearby. I also knew the Baudelaire were. I heard a few familiar voices but honestly, I couldn't tell where their owners were placed.

I swear I didn't do anything for a while. I forced myself to keep quiet when the whole room wanted to give evidences of the Baudelaire's guilt. It's only when they began their tale and Justice Strauss stopped talking that I understood something was off. I took off my mask, furtively enough to ensure no one would notice, while the kids were recounting their awful story. And I saw where the judge was. Wrapped in Olaf's arms. Obviously. I crept in between my bench and the one in front of me and, slowly, managed to reach the central alley. He was too busy to notice me so I took my knife (well, still his) out of mere caution and got closer. I gave Violet a gentle nudge to make her react.

"They took off their mask!" one of the magistrate screamed. He was the man with a beard but no hair who apparently had survived the fire of Mortmain HQ. "The Baudelaire and this woman… This murderer!"

A turmoil grew in the room while I pounced on Olaf to take the harpoon gun from his hand. He struggled, pushed me hard enough to make me fall and have the time to reach the elevator. Thank god, the Baudelaire were always clever and pounced on him too. They blocked the elevator to be able to take it. You may wonder how everything happened in such a crowded place, but I remind you that they all had a mask – court offense, all this mess, you know? I barely had enough time to bounce back on my feet and sneak between the elevator's doors before it began its descent to the basement. He wants the sugar bowl.

"Well Cassandre, I thought you were dead," he grinded, his eyes on the knife in my hand. "You're running after the sugar bowl?

- You're running after a failure.

- Ha! Their mother told me the same thing, back then." He burst out laughing – barked was more adequate. "And who ended up burning in her house's flames?"

I couldn't reply – the elevator reached its destination. In spite of themselves – and myself, the Baudelaire and I followed Olaf to the laundry room's door. He didn't have the answers to the Vernacularly Fastened Door, obviously, he wasn't either clever ou cultured enough, but he had the judge. The stupid, imbecile, naïve judge that, since the very beginning, had helped Olaf follow the Baudelaire by telling every each one of their woes to the woman with hair but no heard and the man with a beard but no hair. How brainless do you need to be to do such a thing?

I knew that the sugar bowl wasn't inside the laundry room, of course. I was going to give him every answers to his questions to spare the children and the brainless judge, to show again that I wasn't either noble or a Volunteer. I was expecting quite everything, except what Klaus said.

"I'll tell you what the first phrase is.

- You will?" Even Olaf looked dumbfounded.

- Certainly. It's just like you said, no one ever did anything for us. Everything gave up on us, even the good people, even the noble hearts. Why should we protect the sugar bowl?

- Klaus, no," I intervened. "I'm…

- No, Cassandre."

I let him do it. I let him type the medical condition they all shared and I let him type what had left Olaf an orphan – and killed my mother too, and I let him type the famous unfathomable question in the best-known novel by Richard wright. I let him do it because who was I to stop him from saving his sisters? I let him do it because, when his sisters asked him why he was helping Olaf, he smiled and said that the sugar bowl wasn't there. Especially for this reason.

There's always feel a strange pleasure in seeing someone you don't like trampling on his own nobility. Like, I don't know, any stupid Volunteer. I didn't care about mine, but knowing that Klaus Baudelaire wasn't setting his own on fire, dramatic irony, comforted me. So I let him do it, let him enter the laundry room to see that the sugar bowl was, indeed, not there. I watched Olaf walk around, rant and wave while I weighed my bag. Happy for the first time that the sugar bowl was inside.

We often say – well, Justice Strauss often says, that it's at this point that the Baudelaire crossed the line. When Olaf decided to release the Medusoid Mycellium in the Hotel to kill Volunteers and Arsonists, noble hearts and criminals alike. When he decided to escape on the boat that was still in the rooftop's swimming pool. When Violet offered her help in reaching the sea without damages. When, a few minutes after, Sunny Baudelaire offered to burn the Hotel.

And I agree with her, for the first and probably last time. At this point, the Baudelaire understood that no one would help. That they were alone. So indeed, they crossed the line – the line of childhood. Once and for all.

"Olaf, will you stop laughing," I ordered under the judge's aghast eyes. "There's nothing funny in this.

- You kidding? Those kids are following my path, and willingly that is!

- Call the elevator instead of fantasizing on heirs. And hush this imbecile.

- No!" she screeched. "I'll do everything in my power to…

- There's nothing in your power, you senseless fool!" She shut up, terrified. "You never had any. You surrendered those kids to Olaf for months, your dear Volunteers run in circle screaming in the lobby. And you think you can do anything with your stupid book?!"

A long silence lingered. Olaf stared at me for a few seconds, a tiny smile on his lips as if he'd realized I also followed his path. At last. He laughed again and grabbed the judge by the shoulder, his harpoon gun aimed at her. Help them start this fire. You're quite skilful, he said with his crueller voice. I gulped and turned to the Baudelaire who were staring at me too with pleading eyes. Lost eyes. I smiled and started to spread sheets on the floor. I was grabbing a stain remover can when Olaf stopped me.

"No, actually, no. Let them do it. The kids must learn.

- No way, Olaf. They already did too…

- You're scared for their conscience?" He laughed. Again. "Come on. Hearing this from you is just so funny. You weren't this careful when we got rid of Josephine, or back in the Hospital…

- It has nothing to do with anything. My conscience…

- I'm bored," he winced and aimed his weapon at me. "If you move, I shoot. Go ahead, orphans, finish what she began."

And they did it, because those children were the only noble persons left in this lowly world. They just learnt I was involved in their aunt's death and in the fire they were blamed for. If it'd been me, I wouldn't have done anything. I would have let him shoot. But didn't I say it enough? I'm not noble. When they were done covering the sheets with the stain remover, Olaf threw the judge's book, his eyes and weapon still on me. He eventually lowered it and threw me a box of matches.

"Finish the work, deary," he said with an awfully sweet voice. "Destroy VFD.

- I'm not following your orders.

- You know I wouldn't be sad if you died. Maybe I would regret the waste.

- But I won't die." I burnt the match and threw it behind me without looking. "I promised to kill you."

He smiled the widest smile possible and burst out laughing. He took the judge with him in the elevator and I looked at the Baudelaire. They turned their eyes away. Congratulations. You lighted your first fire – at least, you were involved in it. I hope you'll recover better than I did. But I have no doubts of it since their first reaction, once in the elevator, was to push absolutely every buttons. I didn't comment but put my hand on Violet's shoulder for a few seconds, long enough to make her understand it was the best idea they ever had.

At every floor, they shouted fire. At every floor they received different answers. Some believed them, others didn't. But the elevator always proceeded with its rise to the rooftop, with us inside. I don't know what I thought I would do, once on the roof, apart from watching Olaf getting away with everything he did again. And see thick black smokes rising in the sky. Lemony will be on the beach, I thought. The idea comforted me. Only a bit.

Because I indeed saw Olaf getting away with everything thanks to the children's help. The children he'd been chasing for months. They were preparing the boat when he got closer to me and grabbed my arm. I stared back at him for what looked like an eternity, enough time for him to look for something in my eyes and find it.

"You'll take for me," he whispered to my ear. "For me and those kids. Like Snicket did for you. I hope you'll suffer the same fate.

- I told you Olaf." I took off my knife and ran in on his chest, just enough to scratch his skin and see a red ribbon appear. "I'll end you."

He grabbed my face with his enormous hand. For a second I thought he was going to kiss me – god, no, but he only stared. And then he went to the Baudelaire. They looked at me one last time, as if they were wondering if they should asked me to come with them. I shook my head and watched Justice Strauss screaming to her legal gods that she would never let them run away. I understood that I wasn't any better than every adult they'd had in their life with their good will and beautiful speeches. Like them, I had promised them the world. Just like them, I failed them. Even if I stopped them from leaving, I wouldn't be able to protect them because I couldn't even protect myself. But… They were able to save themselves. So I did, for the first time in ages, what I had to do.

Without a word, I grabbed her gown and pulled her backward while the Baudelaire's ship sunk in the vacuum beneath the Hotel and brutally hit the waves. And they disappeared from my eyes as fast as irremediably. I felt like it was the last time I saw the Baudelaire, but not the last time I saw Olaf. This thought is more depressing than the thought of the Hotel burning under my feet. I don't know what they remember about me today – the smiley young girl from before? the less smiley one who told them she had to go home? the one who helped them save Violet? or the more violent and sinister one who helped Olaf run away, kill their aunt, set fire to every safe places without any regret? I hope I'll see them again, one day, to apology. I owe them this much. Though I did find them, and kept my promise, nothing went well. And nothing well ever go well.

And the Hotel was slowly oscillating like a tired bird. I couldn't stay on the roof if I wanted to survive this fire. Without listening to the judge's laments, I rushed in the elevator regardless of the safety advices, and pushed the first floor button. Smoke had already started to fill the small cabin and I almost ran short of air – a few more seconds and I would probably have collapsed.

A mass panic ruled the lobby and I had to navigate between the knocked down benches, the piles of files and the blinded witnesses – because of course they didn't take off their mask, to find the door and some fresh air. Well, fresh. It was saturated with smoke and I could hardly see in front of me. I walked away, coughing and suffocating, far enough to be able to see the beach. Lemony wasn't there. I don't know why but I turned back. I watched the Hotel burning.

Of all the things I saw, all the horrors I witnessed, every fires I couldn't avoid, Hotel Denouement's arson was the worst thing I ever got to see, even back when I didn't know what was hidden under its foundations. I didn't even hear or feel Lemony coming for me, contradicting what we decided. He didn't need to search for me, I was amongst the first, well, the first one really, to get out. I had surrendered the Baudelaire to Olaf. I didn't fight for them because I realized I wasn't any better than the judge, Jerome, Charles and all the others. But I didn't know what was going to happen – not at all.

I stood still next to Lemony the whole time it took them to evacuate, until the arrival of the firemen. The actual ones, of course – the Volunteers never came. They saw the smoke. They decided, as always, to jump to the easiest conclusion. I didn't realize I had grabbed Lemony's hand. I didn't realize I was squeezing it. He also did it, more softly. My eyes were lost in the flames. They were slowly dying and everything that remains was ruins. Fuming, desolated ruins. I didn't feel any sadness for the Hotel, or for the consequences of this fire. I was terrified for the Baudelaire. For myself, even if I didn't know why. I soon learnt.

"We must go," Lemony told me. "Before they…

- Who did that?!

- Why would anyone do such a thing?!

- It's the Baudelaire!"

Before they start asking questions. It's exactly what Lemony feared. I nodded and we slowly walked away to the taxi. Until my name echoed and I froze. Silence fell on us and I felt the hand in mine tensing. History was repeating itself, as Olaf had predicted. I took a deep breath and turned back. The crowd was looking at me.

"It's her," the man with a beard but no hair claimed. He was still dressed-up as a judge – how convenient. "She killed Jacques Snicket, she helps the Baudelaire since the beginning!

- She helped them escape!

- She's a murderer!

- A villain!

- An arsonist!"

I spare you the rest. Lemony didn't turn, but he ordered me to run like my father before him. To run. To take the car. To disappear. Oh, Lemony. Irony is everywhere in this world. Jacques didn't listen to me when I told him the same thing. I didn't listen to you. But you know what it would have meant if I'd listened. You would have taken for me. That was my fate. For the first time in long, very long weeks, my mind was clear. I'd been running the whole time. From Olaf, the Volunteers, the Arsonists. They took everything from me. I had nothing left to lose, but I still had something to take from them. This thing that weighted in my bag since my father was taken from me, this thing that justified so much bloodsheds and so many fires, this thing that was tearing them apart – I could take it from them. You'll bring me my bag, I told Lemony before I walked to Justice Strauss who had managed to escape too.

"You… You…

- Silence," I ordered her drily. "Arrest me. Judge me, since that's what you do the best.

- Judge her!

- Don't judge her!

- Judge her deeds!

- Judge her face!"

I hate crowds, especially when I need to hide in it. This one called me every names, made be capable, guilty of everything. I wasn't listening. I was staring at the spot where the taxi used to be. Before they took me, I looked at the fuming shell of Hotel Denouement and smiled. It was an adequate ending.

It was more than adequate to end this mascarade under the still threatening shadow of the last safe place that was already so unsafe. If you wonder what happened to it, it's been levelled and replaced by a smaller hotel, even fancier. They kept the pond, obviously – when you know what's underneath, it's only fair, but not the name. The new owner named it Hotel Hope and it's the new Volunteer's meeting place. I don't think the Arsonists know. Anyway, while Hotel Denouement was still called Denouement and while its skeleton still loomed between me and the ocean that had eaten away the Baudelaire, I was satisfied that things ended there. I almost thought I would be judged there. Obviously I wasn't.

Just like it was high time to end this mascarade, it will soon be time for me to end this tale. Not just yet, though. Soon.