(Matilda's POV)

I scan down the hall, checking for any indication of oompa loompas likely on the lookout for us. Seeing none, I gesture for the others to follow me. As we head down the hall, I feel a slight sadness inside of me. Apparently it's noticeable.

"Matilda," Sophie asks concerned as she climbs onto my shoulder.
"What's wrong?"

I shrug slightly.

"It's just….after we find the antidote and get out of here, I don't know what I'm gonna do."

"What do you mean?" Billie asks.
"Don't you have your mom and dad?"

I shake my head.

"My mother threatened to send me to a mental hospital the last time we spoke, just because I think a lot. And my father."

Sighing, I think about the last time I saw him.

"My father's been gone for about five years now."

"What happened to him?" Alfie asks.

"Dunno. He just went to work one day and then….never came home again."

"Where did he work?" James pipes up.

I shrug once again.

"A lab of some sort. He never said really anything about it, told me he wasn't allowed to."

I can still remember it.

It was like any other afternoon; I came home from school after playing with James and Charlie, did my homework, and then read or wrote down new candy ideas in my notebook.

I remember I wore a t-shirt with candy on it. And dark blue jeans. I had my hair up in pigtails to keep it out of my face. I was sitting on the couch, writing in that notebook, when the front door opened and in came my father. As usual I ran up to greet him excitedly and I hugged him tightly. He smelled of caramel and cocoa, as usual.

"Daddy, daddy!" I exclaimed.

"Look at this! I wrote down new candy ideas."

Normally he'd be excited about this, but not that night. He didn't say anything. Not hearing the usual excitement, I felt a bit worried and back away.

"Daddy?" I asked a bit more gently.

I stood on my tiptoes and held open the pages I'd been working on.

"I came up with these today."

He looked at me and smiled, but it wasn't a happy smile. It was a melancholy smile. He got down to my height and gently took the notebook, looking over what I'd come up with. But even at the age of six, I could sense something was wrong. I was very close with him.

"Hey," he said with some excitement in his voice.
"These are great. You're gonna go far someday, sweetie. I know it."

I looked at him with sad eyes as butterflies fluttered in my stomach.

"Daddy?" I asked in a half-whisper.
"Is something wrong? Did you have trouble at work?"

Giving a sad chuckle, he shook his head.

"No, I'm fine, Matilda. I've just had a long day."

He then went upstairs, but I wasn't convinced and I think he knew I wasn't. He knew I was pretty perceptive, even at the age of six. After he tucked me into bed, I waited until he was far enough away and snuck over to the bedroom door. Placing my glasses on the floor to use as a cover in case mother or father caught me, I kneeled by the door and listened in.

"—told you this wasn't going to end well for you! And he wants her in exchange for your job?" I heard my mother shout.

"I didn't know showing him the ideas was going to make him demand for her," my father responded weakly.

"And just what are we supposed to do? Just give her to him? He's a madman."

"He's also a genius. I will admit that he did emphasize that her talents would be much more useful there than here. And I think he may be right."

"You're not seriously considering we just give her up, are you? She's all we have."

"No. I'm not. I'm going to go tomorrow and tell him that she's not to be his."

At this, my mom gave a loud gasp with a choked cry or two within.

"You're not serious, are you?" she gasped breathily.
"I can't let you do this! Especially after he said—"

"I know, I know, but it's the only way. If I don't show up tomorrow, with or without her, he's threatened to send spies to abduct her. At least you two will have each other."

"Dorian, you know we don't understand each other. It's going to cause strife between us."

"That may be true, but it's either this or we give her up, whether it be by choice or by force."

"But what if she finds out on her own? You know how much she looks up to him."

"I do, Zinnia, but this may just be a phase. Everyone has phases."

"But what about the disorder? The doctors said that people with the disorder have, what was it? Where they know a lot about what they're interested in?"

"Long-term fixations?"

"Yes, that. She is very fixated on these ideas and on him. If she stays interested in them, she's going to find out the truth."

"Sweetheart, please don't make this harder than it already is. Like I said, it's either her or me. I'd rather be his prisoner than give her up altogether."

I hear my mother give a sigh, before she let's out a soft, prolonged cry.

"Alright," she chokes out after a while.
"What do you want me to do? How can I protect her?"

"Try to steer her away from it a bit."

"Should I destroy the…?"

"No. That's the last thing I gave her. If she's going to remember me by something, I want that book to be it. If she gets too invested, however…."

I soon felt my eyes watering up. I picked up my glasses and rushed back to my room. At the time, I didn't know exactly what was wrong. I just knew that my parents were upset. And when my parents were upset, I was upset.

The next morning, I got up early, at least early for a six year old. Soon father came in and smiled sadly at me before making himself breakfast. I noticed he had very dark circles under his eyes. Mother followed close behind him with his coat and hat.

No one said a word during breakfast. Father only ate two slices of toast before getting up and leaving. I ran to him, tears in my eyes, and hugged him.

"Daddy, please don't go," I squeaked.

He looked down at me and smiled sadly before ruffling up my hair.

"Don't worry, sweetie. I'll be back."

He then gave mother and me very long hugs before heading to the door. Turning back to look at us for what I didn't know would be the last time, he left us.

That afternoon, instead of doing my homework, I sat anxiously at the window, waiting for him to come back. I waited and waited for what felt like years, but I never saw him again.

In fact I'm still waiting for the smell of caramel and cocoa he brought home with him each day.

As I slowly come back to the present, I try to grasp onto that scent; that delicious blend of caramel and cocoa.

Wait a second. Why would a lab leave someone smelling of caramel and cocoa when they got home?

"Caramel and cocoa," I half-whisper as my mind goes into a mode of heavy analysis.
"He worked in a lab. He mentioned a book of some sort."

I then think back to the conversation they had that final night:

"I didn't know showing him the ideas was going to make him demand for her."

"If I don't show up tomorrow, with or without her, he's threatened to send spies to abduct her."

"Should I destroy the…?"

"No. That's the last thing I gave her. If she's going to remember me by something, I want that book to be it. If she gets too invested, however…."

Then another flashback hits me, one from very recent.

"Mom?" I ask worried.
"What-what are you going to do with it?"

She gives me a look of fury.

"Something I should've done to the likes of the kit a long time ago."

"I am the mother and you are the child and what I say goes. And what I say goes next is that."

With an accusing finger, she points at the very thing I plan to take to my grave; my notebook.

My notebook….

At that moment, my mind has pieced it all together.

"No…." I half-whisper, frozen in shock, as my eyes widen in fright.
"It can't be."

"Oh, but it is," a villainous voice behind me says slowly.

I really don't want to look behind me. But I realize I have no choice. I can feel his breath on my neck and he'll make me look anyway. I slowly turn around to face the man who knew of me long before I met him.