Chapter Text
25th of March. 1985.
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It was a quiet night. A rather cloudy night, the white fluffy clouds some say are as soft as pillows are barely visible at this time of night.
Though, white fluffy clouds would be wrong as seeing as they weren’t that visible, it’s hard to say what colour they were.
Some say they were white. Some say they were grey. Some even say they were black.
Ready to drop every single rain drop down onto the city of Boston, Massachusetts. Like hail. Almost.
The Baudelaire Mansion lived amongst a small town, one of the tallest and biggest buildings in the area. The owners of the mansion. Beatrice and Bertrand Baudelaire, were currently sleeping in their queen sized bed as most people do at 1am in the morning.
The mansion contained a lot of rooms. Such as: “Kitchens”, “Dining Rooms”, “A Library”, “Offices”, “Living Rooms”, “Inventing Stations”, “A Lab”, “Study’s”, and many many other rooms, such as “Playrooms,” and of course “Bedrooms.”
Bedrooms are considered a safe space in one’s home. Lying your head down on a soft fluffy pillow like it was a cloud, having the warmth of the bed cover over your body to keep the cold out, and of course the feeling of comfort and safety just being in your bedroom.
I’m sorry to tell you this, but as comfort and safety had completely engulfed Violet Baudelaire, the first child, at current age: “5”, that comfort and safety would be broken as she is started awake by two loud bangs coming from down the hall.
Violets brown eyes opened slightly with the first bang, before the second bang went off and widened her eyes in surprise, jolting up. “Mom?” She called out. Wondering if she was ok, considering the loud bangs came straight from her mother’s and father’s bedroom.
“Dad?” She called out to her father in hopes of him answering. She twisted her rooms door handle and exited her bedroom, her breath cold and body freezing, the house truly felt like a freezer so early in the morning. She passed her younger brother’s bedroom, who seemed to be still sleeping. She creaked open his door a bit to make sure he was ok, she smiled when she saw him lying there possibly dreaming of reading a book or going on adventures like in fairytales and movies. She closed his door and started to tiptoe closer to her parent’s bedroom, thinking it would be safe. Knowing it was safe. It was her parent’s bedroom, why wouldn’t it be safe?
She saw a light from under the door and tugged her lips into a small smile. She creaked the door open and said almost too quietly.
“Mom, Dad I heard a loud bangs are you ok-“ Her sentence died at the image she saw.
Her parents laying there in bed, not moving, barely even breathing, her mothers hand dropping off the side of the bed barely even moving, her fathers leg hanging off at the edge barely even kicking.
Her eyes opened with shock when she saw the red.
Red. As the soup they had for dinner. Red. As the flowers growing in their backyard. Red. As her pyjamas. Red. As her hair ribbon. Red. Her favourite colour.
It flowing like a waterfall into the stream below. As the floor started getting covered in the red. Violets eyes got wider as she noticed the two responsible for this. One girl. One boy. Both grown adults. Both doing little at hiding their identities. The woman having a ponytail. The man had slight spiky hair. Both of them holding objects in their hands, sure they were guns, but they didn’t look like ones in cartoons, they didn’t even look like ones seen in the movies Violets watched.
No no no. They looked real. And recently used. Violet looked at them. They looked at her. Both in complete fear and shock. For complete different reasons as to why they feel these emotion’s.
Violet watched as the man pulled out a little silver box. Violet watched as it went up into a little flame. Violet watched as it was hanging over her parent’s corpses. Violet watched as the woman spoke to her in a quiet voice.
“Sorry, Violet.”
Violets eyes went wider at the mention of her name coming out the woman she hardly knew mouth. Violet watched as the lighter was dropped and her eyes went wider than before as her parents were swallowed whole in flames containing reds, oranges, yellows. Colours Violet once saw as pretty now turned into an aura of dark and deception.
Violet ran out the room. Grabbing her slightly awake brother and not looking back.
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The two kids sat on the bench as the officers spoke to them. Klaus was in tears. He was confused. Scared. He was only 3 years old. Still unsure of the world around him, thinking it was beautiful and full of life. His home engulfed in the flames of revenge shattered his whole world. Letting every single tear flow down his cheek like an open wound, crying his heart out into Violets shoulder.
Violet on the other hand sat quietly. The police asking her questions she silenced out. Keeping her sight on the fire that destroyed her home. Her life.
Flashes of her parents corpses laying there in bed plagued her mind. The figures corrupted her mind. Her brother’s cry’s being the only thing she could hear, aside from the extremely loud siren.
All Violet could think about was revenge. As her eyes lit up like the flames she sees before her, and her expression turned from one of no emotion to extreme rage. She wanted nothing more than to make those horrible people pay for what they did.
Not only for her sake. But also for Klaus’s sake.
Red. Is all she could see. Red. The colour of revenge. Red. The colour of fire. Red. The colour of blood.