šššššš & šššššš @cbitus
Violet could only agree with what Mrs. Bach was saying. The justice system had not listen to her, or her siblings, when they were children. Without status, influence, or power. And while she had tried (so hard) not to become disilusioned by the world, cynicism had crept up inside her. Or maybe it was realism.
"I discovered as a child that adults are quick to be corrupted, and even quicker to be fooled." And even now that she was an adult herself, Violet found the statement to hold true. She could only hope that Mrs. Bach was not so easily corruptible -nor fooled.
Her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, and Violet wondered when was the last time she had not felt tense and knotted. "Thank you," she exhaled, the sound almost a sigh of relief. But, even now, Violet could not fully allow herself to hope. When had the system ever worked for her? Over and over again she had watched as the police ran around like headless chickens, unable to catch Count Olaf.
This was a difficult case. Violet had walked into Mrs. Bach's office with the unshakable certitude that it might all be doomed to fail. But her question still felt like a painful reminder of how hopeless life could be, sometimes.
"You need to understand that my siblings and I were on the run from Olaf for years," she explained, as if to soften the blow. (There was no evidence to be found.) "Our house burned down. He chased us, hunted us. Everything we owned, we lost. His murder weapons are long gone, and his body is rotting on the Island where we buried him. Count Olaf's specialty was fire. He burned everything in his path. Any evidence, any proof, anything that could have gotten us closer to understanding the misfortune that had befallen us, he burned. Or he forced us to burn it."
"I cannot prove, not years later, what he did to me in the hospital. And since my head is still attached to my body, I cannot prove that he tried to cut it, either. Klaus' bruises have long faded. And Sunny is too big now to fit in the cages where Count Olaf so loved to lock her in." Her tone was bitter, hardened by years of despair.
(Unbeknownt to Violet, Lemony Snicket had spent years assembling pieces from the long string of unfortunate events in the Baudelaires' lives. Alas, she had no way of telling Mrs. Bach about something she did not know herself.)
But even in the midst of all her anger and grief, the cogs in Violet's brain began to turn. "The marriage license." It was the only tangible thing left. "Justice Strauss might still have it. There is Count Olaf's signature on it, and mine. I realize it is not much, but... it's all I can think of."
