MATILDA (A Series of Unfortunate Events)

CHAPTER 15: PITTER-PATTERING

As the children were ushered into the house, Matilda could only glance around in awe, the reptilian patterned walls with the warm tones of green and red and brown oozing from all the home. The vibrant green of the thriving plants almost seems to invigorate the mansion with vitality and coaxing those in its holding to embrace the sense of almost overwhelming veracity. Matilda could perceive these things, but it's not until she was pulled along by Klaus and saddled adjacent from the Baudelaire's, that her shoulders loosened.

Monty discusses with the children, offering cake and trying to be as accommodating as possible, yet the strange girl tagging along retuned her eyes to her feet. She felt out of place, undeserving of the beautiful home she was in with the kind man and the lovely children; condemned and accustomed to cold rooms and terrible chains and cruel acts. A stain tarnishing the perfect trio of the Baudelaire's, pristine in their presentation, lovely in their manner and utterly undeserving of the misfortune thrust upon them. She faintly remembers dismissing the slice of cake offered, predicting the onslaught of bile that would most probably rise as the cause of her currently vacant stomach. The familiar tightness of organs thrumming underneath her skin. Detaching, Matilda finds herself swarmed in a dark uncertainty, as the idea of her supposed freedom catches up to her. Free of Count Olaf, she did not know what to do. What she could do. What she wants to do. The screeching iguana clock fading into background noise as a novel buzzing fills her ears and her skin prickles. Violet had glanced back at Matilda, finding the blonde to be staring into nothingness, no seeming display of discomfort, just zoning out, and she was tired from her previous situation. With a cautious look, the elder Baudelaire turned to face Monty again.

Matilda felt herself fade away, fading into the walls and the shadows, letting the light in as she disappears. Trying to breathe in this newfound liberty she's acquired but finding a weight on her chest, prisoning any possible deep breaths. Trying to grasp onto something in the reality but only finding teasing, dancing blankness waltzing across her vision. Trying to scream within as she drowned in the empty dark world, full of confusion, doubt, and a destroying grief. Ruthless tentacles stemming from her own mind, latching onto her, creating invisible marks that burned as they tore her from Monty's manor and into the unsafe space of her mind. The danger being her own self, as she willingly followed these tentacles, anything to escape the life she now found herself in. A life she could not deserve as a broken child filled with nothing. Dirty in every essence of the word: scars netting over her body, bruises exploding in galaxies of colour, dullness in all complexions and no true innocence to speak of. Utterly ruined. Vaguely, her arm movement to her injured shoulder, the one she has recently reset, and started pressing into the wounded joint. Nothing. Numbness. Foreignness of Violet's touch in the Count's manor coming back to her, the way her skin purred in content yet now her mind can only recoil at the though of her peach skin grazing her sullied flesh.

As they all went to move up the stairs, Klaus touched his hand onto the tranced girl, causing her to flinch out of her quickly swallowing mind, moving to follow the children mindlessly. Noticing the odd behaviour, he observed her hand slipping away from her injured shoulder and the reclaimed darting of her eyes. Klaus's frown deepened considerably, Matilda swiftly meeting his eyes - but just barely - and providing a small smile to rid the boy of any discomfort. He could see the swarming of her blue eyes, charging at one another in great splutter - a storm brewing. Nevertheless, he manages a tight smile. Matilda can practically smell his scepticism, his wariness and need to protect his family. Brows set in determination and warm eyes at the ready to sneer and distrust. Moving up the scaled stairs, Monty continues his stories.

"- can't believe you parents never told you about me. I loved them dearly. Look, here's a picture of us..." he continued to babble on, but Matilda could not concentrate, her sane thoughts analysing the bizarre and terrifying experience of losing to her own mind. Falling and falling and falling and falling. Why would it happen now? She was away from Count Olaf and finally somewhere safe, with people she finally trusts and would willing defend with her life. To stop herself from once again sinking into that spontaneous pit of despair, she takes a hold of Klaus' sleeve, the coarse fabric tethering her to this reality, reminding her of where she is and who she must protect. Klaus briefly glances down at her hand grabbing her sleeve and send her a small twitch of his lips and she lets out a quiet breath.

She holds on and follows him closely down the scaled stairs, a haze warping her hearing, she still couldn't quite make out Monty. And so, she focuses on the material in her hand. The fibres rubbing across her fingerprints, tethering her to the moment and protecting her from that overwhelming feeling that looms and threatens to attack once again. Boring into the blazer in front or her, she watches the movement of Klaus' back, his tense shoulders moving slightly with his walk and occasionally she could catch sight of one of his breaths. Violet was behind her with sunny in her arms, and with each step, the infant's leg would brush against her back.

As Monty begins his grand spiel about his work, the Baudelaire's no longer tense with wariness, but with anticipation. The distant whirring of the intricate door evaded Matilda as she tried to keep breathing. The door opened; even though she was curious to see the room, she could lift her eyes. Awe rippled from the Baudelaire's as they split to look around the room, Matilda still holding tightly onto Klaus.

A magnificent, winged lizard was released into the air, graciously flying with brightly coloured wings and wide, bulging eyes. It flew down to land on Matilda's shoulder softly - luckily her non-injured one. She didn't jump or flinch as the light creature perched on her shoulder and gazed into its eyes. Dark eyes with innocence only a creature could conjure. Crawling down her arm, it nestled into her warmth. The pitter-pattering of its feet across her skin providing an anchor to reality. Constant movement of the creature's breath reminding her of the present. She resettles into her body, content with the reptile's presence, she followed the others, gently petting the smooth scales. Admiring the grand windows, curling with serpentine patterns and the green vivaciousness the filled the room from every corner. And she was able to breathe. Catching up to the children, she gave Violet a smile in response to her asking look. A smile that said, 'I'm okay.'

For now.

A/N

Thankyou all so much for your patience! I hope you are all still enjoying the story (despite my depressingly slow updates).

Thankyou, thankyou, thankyou so much for 9.2k and 250 votes! It's actually amazing, thankyou so much my lovelies!

(p.s. I've gone over all of the previous chapters and fixed them up. I'm so sorry but when a pasted it onto wattpad, the ' and " disappeared for some reason. I think I've put them all back in now. I'm so sorry, I know how frustrating it can be to read)