An alternate ending to the first chapter. Starts off at the last segment. I actually posted this forever ago on ao3, but forgot to add it here, whoops!

The next day went like many of the previous ones. An endless list of chores, narrowly dodging Olaf and his wrath in verbal spars, and comforting and plotting with one another. Violet didn't listen to her brother's plans much, but not because she thought they were bad per se. She had already made a choice.

The orphans were well-behaved, too well-behaved, but Olaf was too busy to notice. If he did, he attributed it to the discipline he handed out at last night's dinner. Violet was quiet in particular, taking an inventory of the materials around the house. A few pieces of wood, some nails, thin rope, and a hammer. Knives and tarps to put down while painting. A closet of cleaning supplies. A window with a thin latch. So many options for an inventive mind.

The orphans made Count Olaf his precious roast beef. Klaus looked tempted to spit in it, but Violet gave him a dirty look. They served him his food and left to do their nightly chores before Olaf could find something to scold them for. The eldest slipped away under pretense of using the bathroom, collecting her materials in secret. Violet hid them away right on time before Olaf sent the children to bed.

Klaus offered again to come with her, but Violet said she'd wait a night to avoid any suspicion. It looked like he wasn't going to believe her, but she looked so… exhausted. And she was. He nodded and went to douse the lights. The children huddled together in their one small bed and Violet kissed her siblings on their foreheads.

As soon as he and Sunny were asleep, an hour and a half later, Violet slipped out of bed.

There was one area that Violet had neglected to clean during the day. She'd made sure to give her siblings tasks in other parts of the house whenever they started to head in that direction, just to keep it dirty. A hallway on the second story next to Olaf's tower room. She filled a bucket with bottles of cleaning solution and rags, preparing to go there now.

As she got closer, she could hear Olaf reciting in his room. He was chewing the scenery, a phrase that hear means "was becoming increasingly dramatic and cartoonish". Violet supposed he must have thought himself the very height of Shakespearean grace. A tragic figure unappreciated by humanity. Her lips quirked in an unkind smile.

She unpacked her supplies and got to work. She didn't bring water to dilute them, as that would have defeated the purpose. She'd need the chemical smell soon. She had dosed a surgical mask she'd found in Olaf's costumes with cheap perfume to spare herself.

Then she… cleaned. It wasn't hard work but it was tedious. After doing similar actions all day, she wanted this to be over with. She wanted to sleep. She coughed softly behind her mask and heard an answering cough from Olaf's door.

She poured more washing liquid on the floor, more powered cleaner with bleach, dangerously close to each other. She avoided standing over it as she didn't want to poison herself. The coughing behind the door got louder. She wondered what would be easier; what she was about to do or if she'd waited for Olaf to fall asleep and let him succumb to the chlorine gas.

Finally, she could hear Olaf storming to his bedroom door. She pulled off her mask and stuffed it in her pocket. She couldn't let him know this was intentional. She rushed to the window, the one with the latch that stuck, and started frantically trying to open it. Or, at least, looking like she was trying to open it.

"You! What are you doing, you stupid girl? What's that unholy stench?" Olaf shouted, stomping his way down the hall.

"I-I don't know! I forgot to clean this hallway, so I figured I'd do it now. I wanted to be fast, so I mixed some chemicals-"

"You can't mix those two, you idiot, you'll poison the entire house! Don't you have any sense in your head?"

"I-I, uh-" Violet cut herself off, coughing. She covered her mouth with her arm, covering her smile when Olaf elbowed her away from the window.

"Move, let me do it. This window- ah-" He man-handled the handle and pushed against the window, "- it sticks."

"I'm sorry," Violet said, moving away to stand behind Olaf.

"Ooooh, believe me, you're going to be sorry. I need my vocal cords in tip-top shape for the play coming up. I'm not going to tolerate some brat almost suffocating me!"

Olaf shoved against the window harder while hacking and spitting up the chemical-filled air. He had to slam himself into it to finally get it open. The sudden lack of support put him off balance, hanging him half out of the window. He gasped in the clean air and made no move to pull back.

"Not what I meant," Violet murmured. He didn't have time to respond before she'd shoved him the rest of the way out. He'd barely yelped before he was hitting the ground, hard, and the sound cut off.

Violet peered out the window with her hands braced on the windowsill. A puddle of red was oozing ever wider from Olaf's form. In the dim light of the streetlamps, she could see his head twisted at an unnatural angle.

She turned away from the gruesome scene; an accident, everyone was sure to agree. She finished cleaning the hallway, with simple soap and water this time, and headed back to her room.

She slipped into bed beside her siblings and let out a sigh of relief. Tomorrow they'd call Mr. Poe and get a new, kinder guardian. They'd never have to worry about Olaf again.

She hadn't brought her parents back, and things had gotten worse before they would get better, but the misfortune would stop here. If it didn't, Violet would continue to force it to stop. Her siblings would be safe.

It was better than nothing.

AUTHOR'S END NOTES

Originally, I ran a poll to see how I should kill off Olaf. Bludgeoning won, so that's canon, but a lot of other methods were popular as well. I hate Olaf so much that I wasn't satisfied killing him off once, and I bet you weren't either, so let's do it again!

Runner-up method: falling from a window.