This is a musical-verse Matilda fanfiction, further detailing the relationship between the little girl and the escapologist in "I'm Here", aka Story 4. Some of the lines in this story are taken directly from the script and this belong to the scriptwriter for Matilda. Trigger warning for physical abuse mentions and death mention. Hope you all enjoy it! :)

My name is Jennifer Angelica Honey. My daddy calls me Jenny, and he thinks I'm a miracle. But he's never around. My auntie is big fat bully, and she thinks I'm a useless, filthy, nasty little creep. And she's ever so mean. My name is Jennifer Angelica Honey…

Repetitive thoughts were of little comfort to Jenny as she sat there in the cellar underneath her father's house, curled up in the tightest ball she could make herself into as so not to let any of the little body heat she had left escape into the dank, musty air that surrounded and suffocated her like a man to outer space. The corner, at least, provided a place of sanctuary from, well, who knew what else lurked out there in the darkness of the immense room. Jenny hated the cellar. It was most pitch black place in the house, and Jenny hated the darkness. So, likewise, the cellar was not high on her list of places to be.

Her body stung with the purpling bruises her aunt had imprinted on her before she threw her below. The mere thought of the belt, hard and viper-like, upon her pale skin made the tears well up and overflow down her chubby cheeks, sobs emanating from her mouth with no way to control them. She had been beaten before, yes. She had been locked in the cellar before, certainly. But this was one time too many for Jenny, and she let out the stress she had been holding in like a wave, the sobs wracking her little body until it shook with trembles so quick. She wanted her daddy, and she wanted him now. He would pick her up and kiss her puerile forehead, and she would hide the scars that marred her being, as best she could, as he carried her off to bed like he did every night when he came home from work. And he would tell her stories of the circus, and her mum, and the adventures they had together…

She could only cry harder, practically screaming her lungs out by this point. She was alone. So alone. With her father not scheduled to be home for several hours, the spiral of worry kidnapped her mind and consumed any shred of hope left in her spirit. What if her daddy didn't find her down here? What if he forgot about her, and went straight to bed because he was so tired?

What if this was the day she would die?

A jarring noise forced its way from her mouth, half a cry and half a scream, which soon dissolved into little whimpers as she pulled herself ever tighter, her eyelids pressed against her kneecaps as she squeezed her arms around herself. She heard banging upstairs, and assumed little of it at first - but only when she heard footsteps on the staircase down to the basement did she raise her head, a brief flicker of fear rising in her frantically beating heart.

Auntie Agatha-

The door flung open with a ear-splitting crash, and before Jenny could shriek, strong, loving hands gathered her into their embrace, rocking her back and forth as the taut arms hugged her, and she felt safe, and she felt warm.

No. Daddy.

Now she cried with happiness, true happiness and she heard her father crying too, his mouth very close to her ear as he gasped for breath in between his sobs.

"Don't cry, little girl… don't cry, Jenny, I'm here, Daddy's here, nothing can hurt you now, you've nothing to fear," he whispered, clasping her even tighter as he lowered them both to the ground, the father taking a knee and the daughter able to stand on her bare little feet. He could barely let her go for even a moment as she stood precariously - he took both of her cold hands into his, tears still visibly streaming down his face, his work hat askew on his sable-haired head.

He looked at her, pain and regret clear on his features, his eyes slowly becoming drawn to the bruises that covered her face, arms, and legs. A sharp intake of breath said all he didn't say - he never even knew his daughter was being abused so badly. He dropped his head, sobbing even harder. Jenny could feel her father's sadness as they held hands - it was strange, but she could. Who knew her daddy could be so sad? Appear so strong, but now act similar as she had?

"Forgive me, Jenny, please… I didn't mean to desert you with… with that woman, that sickening woman, I-I didn't know what she had done to you, and I was just… just..." His voice cracked in places, the tone dropping to a hushed whisper as he rambled on the words he had to say. "Have I been so wrapped up in my grief for my wife, that I have forgotten the one thing that mattered to us most…?"

As silent tears rolled down Jenny's face, whether from happiness or guilt she couldn't tell, she watched intently as he pulled one hands from hers, and the shiny white scarf - her mother's scarf - that the former escapologist always wore, fell away from his neck as he wrapped it around hers, gingerly. Finally, he managed a small smile, taking her little hand back again. Jenny could only stare at him; her little eyes said all the emotion she was feeling - depression, elation. Both.

" ...I love you so much, my daughter," the father reiterated, the tears staining his dark mustache even darker, as he broke down with sobs again, placing his sweaty forehead to her hands. "I shall spend the rest of my life making it up to you. We shall be together, forever."

Silence fell. Jenny stood there, surrounded by the love of her mother's scarf, and heartbroken by the feeling of her father's tears as they fell onto her hands, muted, yet, their salty warmth holding so much meaning for Jenny as she felt them dissolve into her skin. Her daddy cared, she knew. But she didn't realize how unhappy he truly was until now. This was not a one-time catharsis, no - this was months of harbored grief, and seconds of sudden realization of his daughter's suffering, all rolled into one. And she didn't want to see her strong, brave daddy this way. She took a deep breath, gathering the courage to speak.

"Don't cry, Daddy."

One more time, he looked up at her, all broken and defenseless. "Jenny… I…"

"Don't cry, Daddy," she repeated, getting to her knees as well. "I'm alright. I promise. Here, let me…" With her childish fingers she took the edge of the scarf and lifted into to her father's face, patting one wetted cheek, and then the other, gently as a cloud. At this, they locked gazes, and she let the scarf fall back, hoping that her words would reach her father's brooding heart.

"Daddy… please, don't cry. It's not your fault. It's m-mine. I should have told you what was happening… but I didn't want to upset you…"

"Jenny, you could never upset me… I would have listened-"

"-But still, Daddy! You seemed so sad!" She cried, her feeble voice growing louder. "With mummy being dead! And you not liking your new job, Daddy! I didn't... want you to worry about me… But now you're here, and… and…" Tears anew blossomed, as she cradled herself in her own arms. "I don't have to be scared anymore, of my auntie… I'll be alright, with you by my side, Daddy…"

And she hugged him, for what felt like the first time in a long time. Likely, it truly was. She was always the one who got picked up, and now, as they were alone together, she could finally love her father back with the little bit of love she had gained from him. His strong arms enraptured her again, and there were no tears, just love and warmth and the gently swaying motion that he always did when they embraced. They just stayed like that, not speaking, for what seemed to Jenny like hours or days - but only when she began to grow drowsy, her head lying against his shoulder, did she come back to reality of the cold cellar just hovering over their little center of two.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, angel?"

"I'm sleepy…"

A light chuckle from her father. "I know you are. Come on. Let's get you to bed, and I'll tell you a story. About your mum. How's that? And tomorrow, I can get you all cleaned up and we'll go somewhere special. Away from here."

With a half-mumbled, happy 'okay' from his daughter, the father gathered her into his arms like a baby. She rested her head neatly against his chest, his heartbeat a lulling comfort to her weary soul, even as the thunderstorms she feared picked up just outside in the humid air. She barely remembered the trip back up through the house to her room, only the sound of her slowing breathing as she drifted into half-sleep as her father laid her down in her toddler bed and pulled the blanket over her. The muted blue colors of the ceiling above her, with the shadows of the trees blustering on and off the walls and the lightning flashes coupled along with it were like swells of the sea, placating and mollifying. She could imagine her mother there, bending down to kiss her cheek goodnight, her soft hair brushing her shoulder as she pulled away and left her husband to do the storytelling. But she was gone. Jenny knew that she wouldn't come back. So her imagination had to to the best that it could - good thing Jenny had an exceptional one. Especially for the story her father began to tell, as he took her little hand in his, and she closed her eyes, drifting off into the most peaceful sleep she had in a very, very long time.

"Once upon a time, the two greatest circus performers in the world - an escapologist, who could escape from any lock that was ever invented, and an acrobat, who was so skilled, it seemed as if she could actually fly - fell in love and got married…"

...So they say. And they had a little girl named Jenny Honey, who loved her father more than anything in the world - and that was enough for her.

Review are appreciated!

-Anais