DISCLAIMER: CAUGHT IN A BAD ROMANCE! Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah-ah! Roma-roma-mamaa! Gah, that Lady Gaga is so annoying yet so addictive; you know, the kind of song that you only put on your iPod just so you could hear the chorus and then you move past it to something less…annoying. Yeah. So, anywoo, welcome back my beloved reviewers and readers. It's good to be back again, even though I was just here, but okay. Before we start I have a request for all you - reviewers and readers alike, if you have any ideas for this story, don't be shy, either leave it your review and PM me! And I will try to fit as many as I can into the story. So, now, come with me to a journey through time and space!

BTW: In regard to that comment I just made about your ideas, please note that includes using any of your characters, subjects, places, factory rooms, Oompa Loompas, topics, conversations with your utmost permission and trade marking that it is strictly yours as well as a link to your page. And I might even try to use other characters from other shows and movies and such.

BTW2: Roald Dahl owns everything else. © stands for that I own Sonny Salt and all the rest of the other characters that are clearly mine.

Chapter Fourteen

Sonny Salt supposed that stalking back to her empty, absolutely sublimely equipped room would have calmed her nerves. She thought that seeing what she was allowed to sleep in would have eased her over, at least a little. But instead, the room was shouting at her about how she should treat Wonka, you know, because if he was able to trap her in such a room, well that, at least it was a nice room - but then she realized, why should she care, her room was just the same at home, if anything it was better.

She punched the pillow, wanting to see the feathers come out. It's all probably part of his whole little shrewd plan to make me feel guilty, that…that meatball head! She hated using that kind of language; her Father told it wasn't ladylike.

She flopped over one of the large, fluffy pillows, seething for a minute. Her letting that Wonka ruin the rest of her day was fruitless and it wasn't getting her anywhere - I mean, look at me, he even made me scare off poor Randall! You would have not believed how fast an Oompa Loompa could take off when escorting the Salt child back to her room, the way she kept her arms at her side and just…well, she screamed. Loudly. Mostly nonsensical words, lots directed towards the infamous chocolatier.

She was so tired…but making her feet move back towards the lovely bathroom, she persisted and began to wash her face again. Proceeding along she found a toothbrush along with some other oral hygienic supplies in a drawer; it took how long for Wonka to accommodate the needed necessities for his guests? She grumbled and very nearly choked on some toothpaste - she decided that it must have been Randall instead, only he was that considerate.

Slipping out of her now pruned-up dress, she let it fall over a slick-looking chair by the wall outside the bathroom door so that she was standing in her underwear and began to stretch. She was moderately happy with her height when it came to her advantage, particularly with flexibility - reaching past her toes was never a hassle, and that was not very unusual for someone of her height.

She sunk down on a silky white rug, embroidered with a golden W, and started to reach for her feet, calmly. She could already feel herself waking up away from the anger, and that was good. She wanted to some push-ups, at least just ten…she wanted to be able to do ten without all this aching and pain. It wasn't from her weight, though, that part was easy.

Instead she just fell into a disordered fall, her fingers unintentionally tracing some circles into the lower ends of the W.

All of her hurt…and all she could think about were those awful things Wonka said…how he made her feel worse about her figure…how she wasn't a 'toothpick'…why was he so implausibly pompous? She wished her parents would find her…she wondered why Veruca was still such a brat…why am I being so pessimistic.

Then, that's when it happened, every single thing that had been bothering her for the past few years were rushed out now, of all the wrong times, and Sonny couldn't wave them away or even turn the other cheek this time. The assault of anxiety and obsessive compulsive orders and constant mental, physical, and social pressure was just too much to hold back. Just a couple of hours of ago, her eyes were her dam and those tears she first had in her room broke the protective barrier she had been so close to perfecting and now all her work was ruined by, again, tears. Only this time there were bitter.

The curtains didn't block the midday sunlight from giving Sonny a warm sensation, as Randall had moved them earlier, and for a moment when Sonny moved her arm away from her eyes it wasn't dry the tears but to hide the light for her. Because of her dark eyes they seemed sensitive to major amounts of the sun.

Speaking of the sun, Wonka was as pale as a ghost. He probably was never exposed to the light in a few years, or so it seemed…

Damn it…Of all the people, Wonka should be the one she would think of last, if at all. In fact, she was pretty sure Wonka was at the top of her hate list, maybe somewhere below Saddam. He and his annoying, childish, irritating, infuriating way of…manipulating her. He may have had those four other children and anyone else he caught in his web of illusions, but I'm not to letting him turn me into one of his collection of puppets-on-strings!

But, honestly, blimey, how do I ignore him when he's practically made his mark on every corner of this blasted room? All of the Ws were more than a tad bit difficult to ignore. Sonny couldn't wait to put this all behind her, to figure out a way back to Buckinghamshire, and her life would most assuredly go back to its normal, boring old self.

She sat up; running a hand through her mass of dark hair and undoing the dark blue ribbon those female Oompa-Loompas had been nice enough to accessorize for her, and decided a nice shower would do something….not the trick or any hyperbole like that, just…something. Maybe help her clear her head, maybe because she felt sweaty, Sonny wasn't sure but she dragged herself back to the bathroom.

The hot water was very easing on her muscles and what was better, Wonka didn't own it, so she was free to say that it felt quite pleasant if she liked.

Once she was out, she was bit disappointed she'd had to wear that dress again, but she shrugged inwardly - well, life isn't perfect. She was right. It didn't just present you with everything you needed, like a host with decent manners, some sensible shoes, and a fresh new set of clothes to wear, with attentive arms. It wasn't like she was complaining, either. Wonka just needed a new kind of manifestation for his…courtesy.

Oh! And there I go again! Thinking of that impracticable candy man whose main goals in life, it seemed to be, were to make candy and torment her!

She very nearly growled as she pulled on the dress, sucking in her stomach as she felt something was ready to rip. Viciously she hastily combed her fingers back through her hair and placing it in a side-sweep securely tied the ribbon around her tresses, which were starting to get crazily curly because she had forgotten to flat-iron her hair a day earlier, you know, because she was KIDNAPPED.

She didn't bother to make the bed, in a rather juvenile show of defiance to her host, and went to the door, slipping in the heels she was wearing. But then she stopped. She didn't know where she was going or whether or not it'd take her somewhere out of the hellhole. More importantly, she realized as she turned around to take a look at the golden cord beside her bed, it seems to hadn't left her mark and it'd be rude not to leave a present before she left.

She felt a rather dark spot in her heart opening up as she smirked and sauntering over to her bed, pulled the cord. It would have been so rude, indeed.

A/N: YESSS! I know, right? What was the point of this chapter, when i could have wrote the war bettwen chocolatier and Salt?!?! Well, it's the holidays and I had to finish this up early 'cos my family and I are getting ready to go somewhere for a few hours and I didn't want to leave this alone, it'd be bothering me the whole night and I'd feel guilty for not putting it up. And mind you, this is perhaps the first real dark thought Sonny's ever had, since the other one in Chappie 13 doesn't really count, 'cos the only evil thing she did was wear Wonka's heels and the rest wans't really evil, just y'know, very demanding like a certain someone you know...COUGHCOUGHVerucaCOUGHHACK. Now this is where the evil begins, and it needed it's own very vague chapter 'cos as Salt child and the oldest at that she isn't supposed to have evil thoughts - it's not prim and proper. But as the saying goes, que sera sera (whatever will be will be, whatever won't won't) and also so for this lonnng Authors Note and Merry Christmas and such and Happy new Years and I hope you all ahev a lovely holiday.