Author's Note: Thank you so much for the reviews. It really helps me out to know that you guys are enjoying this. I'm currently working on a big project which is why I haven't been updating this one as often. If you want to read it, check it out. It's called Luna Lovegood and the Chamber of Innocence. I'm pretty proud of this one, just as I am with Nutty for Wonka, but the chapters are a bit longer on Luna, if you like longer reads. Even if you don't, I still highly recommend it.
(Matilda's POV):
I breathe in and out as I attempt to keep my heart rate down. The man I idolize; has he done this to me? And why?
"Well, we thought that would work on you. I suppose we seriously underestimated you. Wonderful job, my dear. Wonderful. And in a record time too."
I try to move, but I find that my body is restrained by straps.
"What on earth is going on here?"
"I thought I told you not to leave your room!" he growls.
"Were you going to let me leave?"
"Touché."
He paces back and forth. I wonder what the gears in his brain are concocting or operating, but I have a feeling it's not good.
"Virtual reality simulation initiated by chemical injection. How clever."
"Not clever enough so it would seem."
I push against the straps, but they only tighten more.
"Struggle all you wish," Wonka says.
"It'll only make it tighter."
"You don't say," I groan sarcastically against its grasp.
"Oh, I do."
I sigh heavily and roll my eyes.
"Okay, you purple plum face! What do you want with me?"
"Uh-uh-uh!" he scolds.
"You shouldn't be talking to your new father like that."
New father? I shake my head.
"That's crazy talk! You're not my father. Mine's-"
"Not your father any longer. In fact, was he ever?"
"What do you mean?"
"Tsk. Tsk. I thought you were clever, my dear. Your father was never your father."
"You're insane!" I tell him.
"Of course he's my father. He always has been."
"Oh really?"
He clasps his hands together.
"Tell me, Matilda. In the past five years, did he ever try to contact you? Did he ever send a letter asking about you? Did he ever send one telling you that he loved you?"
There's a moment of silence as we stare at each other. One in patience and the other in confusion.
"Because I love you, my sweet flower."
I begin to feel something strange inside of me and it shows on my face. He chuckles evilly.
"How charming. No one has said those words to you for a long time, have they?"
My eyes dart left and right.
"What does that matter to you?" I ask.
"In fact why are you even trying to make me your daughter in the first place? And what about Sophie and James and the rest of them?"
He begins to walk about slowly, his footsteps clicking once per second.
"For the longest time, I've created a variety of wondrous sweets never before seen by man. But now I am getting old and my ideas have begun to diminish. Nowadays I sometimes forget them before I can enact them and the ideas I don't forget right away are often the worst."I began to do some research as to why this could be happening to me. I worked day and night to find an answer. Just before I was about to give up, a theory came to me; children are the greatest source of imagination and creativity there is."
"So you lured children inside to test how imaginative they were?"
"Very clever."
"And those who didn't pass, what happened to them?"
"Ah. You see around that time, my squirrel population had begun to die of a disease that I could not cure them of. I did not know precisely what it was, but I do know that human-squirrel hybrids seem to be immune."
"Then why don't you turn me into a human-squirrel hybrid?"
Hearing this Wonka laughs and I raise an eyebrow.
"Oh. How adorable! Do you actually think I'm going to let you go to waste working day in and day out shelling nuts? Goodness no!"
He goes over to a panel. Pressing buttons and flipping switches, it makes a monitor come down from the ceiling. All I can see is snow until he adjusts a dial. In front of me are two line graphs. Wonka strides back over and points to the first graph.
"This line graph shows the average Creativity, Curiosity, and Imagination Intelligence Quotient in normal children, or Double C, Double I, Q, as I like to call it. What do you notice about it?"
I examine the line and I quickly notice what he means.
"There's a huge decline. It's around the time when television was introduced."
"Exactly. Matilda, do you watch TV much?"
I give it some thought and I realize how little I do. I shake my head.
"No, not much. Not unless I absolutely have to or if it's enlightening like documentaries or something new and creative."
"How much time do you spend reading?"
"A bit when I'm not out with my friends or doing homework or working on new candy ideas. What does that have to do with anything?"
Wonka points to the second line graph. It shows a significant increase over a very short period of time and then a stabilization with some slight increases. I notice that often times, the line goes off the chart.
"What's that?" I ask.
"That, my dear," he answers."Is your CCIIQ level. You exceed the average of at least 99% of the world child population and 99% of the world adult population. Something in your brain is wired to not only use the trifecta of creative genius, but it makes your mind the epitome of said trifecta. A mind like that shall not go to waste on such menial labors like nut shelling."
He takes a finger and gently places it on the back of my head. Slowly he moves it forward towards the forehead and I begin to shiver. He sighs in platonic satisfaction.
"A mind is a terrible thing to waste, especially on such an ordinary and dull world. That is why you are going to remain here as my daughter. For the world in here is far from ordinary. It's even far from extraordinary. Out there is not fit for a mind such as yours."
"What's the big deal?"
"Do you want to go to the asylum? They'll think you're crazy. They'll use whatever they can; lobotomy, electroshock, hypnosis, medications. They'll turn your brain into boring mush and then where would you be? Working 9 to 5 in an office job. I am not about to let that happen. Because you are not crazy. No, Matilda, my dear. You are wonderfully extraordinary and absolutely brilliant."Just imagine all the things you can create with your mind. The endless ideas you can provide. The only way you can increase and harness it is to remain here with me."
"You're a madman if you think I'm going to stay with you!" I scoff.
"You really don't think you actually have a choice, do you?" he chuckles."It's either this or you'd go to the insane asylum. Honestly it would pain me if you took the latter, but there'd be no other option. I won't let you live out on the streets, nor will I send you to another family, and I will certainly NOT let you chose to bring upon yourself a fate that is currently inevitable to us all in due time. Besides, you wished it yourself to be my daughter, did you not?"
The memory of me outside the factory the night before returns to me. Was it a real desire or was it in the heat of the moment that I said such a thing?
"You do want to, don't you, Matilda?" he purrs softly as he waves his finger in front of me.
I begin to fall into a relaxed state. It just feels so peaceful and it makes me feel safe.
But I'm not really safe, am I? I shake my head violently.
"Enough of that! Your hypnosis tactics won't work on me," I exclaim determined."Now, let me ask you something; since you need someone to be the heir to your factory, then why did you send out the golden tickets? Why not just pick from one of the five who won?"
He begins to pace around the room slowly. His shoes click methodically against the floor as if he's trying to use a different tactic to put me into a trance.
"That was my original plan. Until I met you."
"How would you have even determine it?" I ask.
He takes a deep breath and prepares to say something when the door opens. An anxious Oompa Loompa runs in.
"Sir! The ticket winners are here," he pants.
Wonka looks at his wrist, but there is no watch.
"Goodness, is it tour o clock already?" he exclaims."I must attend to the lucky five."
His shoes click-click-click towards the doorway.
"Wait! What about me?" I gasp.
His head whips around and our eyes meet.
"What about you, my dear?"
"Aren't you gonna let me go?"
At this he gives a chuckle.
"Oh, how adorable!" he says as his shoes click-click-click back towards me."Do you honestly think I can trust you to stay put? Heavens, no. Not without some constraints. Physical and mental."
I glare at him in confusion.
"What do you mean mental?"
Soon he stops in front of me and crouches down until we're eye-to-eye. He holds up a finger and slowly moves it from side-to-side.
"And besides," he says, his voice getting softer."You're probably very tired from the stress of the simulation."
I start to protest, but suddenly I do feel very tired. I attempt to suppress a yawn, but the feeling is too strong. Mr. Wonka, seeing my fatigue, narrows his eyes and I swear they're beginning to spiral.
I try to look away, but something compels me to keep looking.
"Very tired, isn't that right, my dear?"
I attempt to distract myself with anything I can think of; arithmetic problems, candy ideas, even the fight my mom and I had, but my work is fruitless. My mind begins to fog up.
"Very….tired…" I find myself droning."Very, very…"
I don't even get a chance to finish. The last thing I hear before I drop into a slumber is the snap of his fingers.