The World is Quiet Here

Chapter Two: A Strange Similarity

Violet shrugged. 

"We have nothing but time. Are you hungry?" 

The girl, Michelle, shook her head. "Not really." She looked at them strangely. "Do you really want to hear my story? Most people don't really care."

Violet nodded. "Yes. Why wouldn't we?"

Michelle, sighing, said, "I guess you're not going to lay it off until I tell you."

Beatrice babbled "Rewatako," probably meaning something in the realm of "Of course we won't lay it off. Hurry up!" 

Michelle started, "I was born in China, and moved to here in the US around three. I had a brother, named Bo, who would always sit in the corner of our house drawing or painting or something of that sort. I preferred photography. 

I guess you could say that my family was rich. Very rich. My parents had diamond mines down in Africa somewhere, so we were pretty spoiled, as one could guess. But life was not all easy. We studied eight hours a day, six days a week, but our parents were kind and not to strict about it.

But something happened. Two years ago. 

There was a fire." 

Here the Baudelaires looked at each other.

Michelle continued, her voice barely wavering.

"My parents were killed. So was Bo. I was the sole survivor. I was thirteen when it happened. 

Then, I was passed around from old family friend to distant family member to random person who was kind, or dumb, or evil, enough to pick me up off the street, like a hot potato. 

But every single time, there was one person who kept chasing after me. With a tattoo on his ankle. Of an eye. I learned he was a part of a secret organization."

Violet gasped. "Was the secret organization called the VFD?"

Michelle stared in shock. 

"Yes."