Disclaimer: I own nothing. At all. Nothing. Not even the pebbles on the ground these people walk on. Not mine. Nope.
There is a briefly depressing moment here. I'll explain why I put it there to begin with in later chapters, 'kay?
"Why didn't you tell me, Mr. Wonka?"
Willy looked at Charlie, sighing through his nose after telling him (not in detail, of course!) what had happened the night of the date, and a possible reason for why he had freaked out and accused James of violating him. And the reason why James didn't accept his apology.
The two—Willy and Charlie, that is—were on their way to the glass elevator, and as Charlie had already asked why Willy was still wearing the goggles, Willy simply replied with, "Just 'cuz." The truth was because he was afraid his eyes were still red from crying and the brief sob-attack he had just moments before he entered his own factory. He hadn't cried like that in…he couldn't even remember the last time he cried like that.
"I didn't tell you," said Willy, stepping into the already open elevator and stepping aside to let Charlie in, "because I didn't want to scare you."
"Scare me?" Charlie scoffed. "Why would that scare me?"
Willy paused, shutting the elevator doors with a push of a button. "Well, let's see." He turned to Charlie with mock emotions. "Oh, Charlie, I lost my virginity to James, isn't that exciting? Oh, but I'm not excited, in fact, I feel like one of my own squirrels crawled into my body and died, decomposing slowly and agonizingly in the deepest abyss of my guts."
Charlie stared. That did scare him. To hear Willy Wonka say that was like hearing a priest talk casually about how wonderful Hell is.
"See?" Willy pressed the button that would take them to the Balm Room, already thinking of a new flavor of Balm….
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
"Why are you writing this?"
James stared at his desk, not looking up at Peter and Michael, who were standing in front of him, Peter reading the paper that James had handed him and keeping it out of Michael's reach. For good reason, since the paper had some pretty gory things written on it….
"Mr. Barrie…what's this?"
James raised his gaze to look at what Peter was pointing at. He immediately snatched the paper out of the boy's hands. "It's nothing," he mumbled, stuffing the red-spotted paper into his desk. "Get to bed, boys, I'll be there in a minute."
Peter stayed a bit after Michael ran off to bed, singing loudly and badly and not to mention unintelligibly. It was quite random, and James hid a chuckle. But he kept his eyes on Peter, who watched him, not showing any emotion on his face whatsoever.
"I might be asleep when you get up there, Mr. Barrie."
When Peter left, James rested his elbows on the desk and rubbed his face with his hands. What was he doing to himself? He had lost himself completely. He was so sure of things before that night. He was so confident. But just like betting, he gambled his entire life on being with Willy, and because Willy lost, so did he.
James peered through his fingers at the desk, and after a few moments' hesitation, he pulled the paper back out again.
I'm stuck here all alone
I have no one who's there
In the darkest times in the shadows
Where comes in the rush of cold air
Searching for the light
Wherever there's dark, it's right here
It's not there anymore
And here I stand, crazed with fear
The deepest desires scorch my soul
The ones I've tried not to appease
The symptoms I've tried to hide
My withdrawal slides in with ease
Sinking into the black void
Shot out of control, my mind protests
I need the light to stop this madness
To put my insanity to rest
The deepest penetration digs in firm
Beneath fires of hell on my skin
Rusting the sturdiest metal
And corrupting the thoughts within
Caged and trapped in solitude
I feel like I cannot let go
Swirling in my mind are the memories
Into which my whole existence flows
It's right there where I need it
Before thelethal kiss
I could not repel I had no control
Crashing right into bliss
You're captured you're inside my soul
It's too late you can't turn back
Get away, I need to stop
The train has fallen off track
My mind is where we found it
The heat of the room burns my mind
You're my want my need my life
You have me in a powerful bind
I can't get enough of you
You're not with me this is true
My heart is you it tears at my nerves
I'm not going to pull through
It has to hurt it did when we stopped
Now it's an addiction of all my fears
Its passionate mind has fallen for you
Got me living on the verge of tears
Right under that—James sighed as he looked at it again—was a blood stain. In his hands—James drew in a deep breath as he looked at it again—was the gleaming, sharp culprit.
James put the razor and poem back into his desk, scratching very lightly at the marks on his arm under his sleeve as he got up to tuck the boys in for the night.
Before you murdelize me, there IS a reason for all that. By the way, I wrote the poem. No, seriously, I did.