(A/N: Yeah, I'm back! Before I continue with this, I just want to say my heart goes out to all the hurricane Katrina victims. What happened was horriffic, and the terrible stuff that's going on there is completely unfair. You're with me in my prayers.)

"One more mile till I lay rest/ I have put myself through this wretched test/ But the mile is never ending/ No distance has been gained/ I do not see greatness I wanted to obtain/ Where in my embrace/ From the race he died of running/ I've kept a steady pace/ But still I have not won/ Rest easy, have no fear/ I love you perfectly/ Love drives out fear/ I'll take your burden/ You take my grace/ Rest easy in my embrace"
-'Rest Easy,' Audio Adrenaline

Some days later, Willy had finally decided to turn on the TV and see what the latest was on the fire damage. The images flashing on the TV screen weren't as horrible as they had been, but every so often they'd flash something that would make him want to turn off the TV.

"Why is God punishing us?" cried an old woman to the news reporter. "What have we done that's so horrible?" The camera moved to a family standing beside the ruins of their house. An old man and three children.

"Momma went in to save the baby," said the littlest girl, tears falling down her face. "She never came out so then daddy went in after her. None of them ever came back out."

"We're all dying out here!" shouted the next woman the camera cut to. "People have lost everything they own, and I don't see how they could possibly rebuild this place. I honestly don't."

"Despite the ever rising doubt," said the news reporter finally. "It's been confirmed that the town will be rebuilt. For information on how you can lend your support, visit our website at- click!" He shut it off, needing to run his sleeve over his eyes, and left, trying not to think about what he had seen.
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Willy couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something wasn't right with Mandy. Ever since that night in the Bucket's house she was much more quiet than before. He couldn't do anything to make her smile, and lately there had been more tattoos appearing on her body. Mandy had also taken to holding her hands out in front of her occasionally to find her way, and he knew it was too late to save her eyes. Any day now he knew she would be fully blind, and it pained him to think of it, knowing that it was mostly his fault.

Whenever he passed her room, he could hear the sounds of her crying inside, and wished there was something he could do about it. That was the first time he realized that sometimes not even chocolate can cure a sad situation. But it wasn't healthy, leaving her there crying like that. He was sure that she would dehydrate soon, or someday the pain would just be too much and...

That tore it. He had to go in there and do something. He never had thoughts like that, and he didn't want to even begin to imagine her doing something as horrible as that. There had been enough d... dea... he couldn't even think the word! He gagged on it almost as much as he had 'parents'. So he went into her room one night so check in on her.

An oompa-loompa stood in front of Mandy, handing her a piece of paper with a drawing on it. He couldn't see what was on it from that distance, so he got closer, Mandy not seeming to notice. The oompa-loompa had drawn her, at least... he thought it was her. She was smiling which was substantially different, and she was wearing her hair down in free curls. Lately she had been wearing her dark chocolate hair in a ponytail, revealing yet another design on her neck, or near it at least.

"It's beautiful," she said softly to the oompa. "But that's not me. Not anymore." The oompa-loompa, not really knowing how to communicate with her properly, placed a hand on her shoulder, pointed to the picture and then at her, signalling that he knew it was her. With that, the oompa left silently and Willy gave a half sad smile.

"I see you've met Jed," he said softly. Mandy looked up at him. "He's an artist and comes up with most of the candy wrapper designs. I think he was trying to help you."

"No one can help me," she said softly, setting the drawing down on the blue nightstand, not seeming to care about it anymore. Willy stared at the bizzarre tattoos she had created all over her right arm and cringed.

"When you make those," he said softly. "Do they hurt?"

"A little," she said softly, fingering one absentmindedly. "Can I help you?" she asked after a minute. He seemed to have forgotten why he had come in there at all, and kept on staring at the tattoo. She decided to ignore him and climbed back on to her bed, grabbing one of the needles and proceeding to create a new one on her leg. It looked painful, and part of him wanted to walk away from the sight, but he stayed. He watched every drop of blood fall, every careful movement she made, forming the design, and then before he knew it she was done.

After a long silence, Willy finally spoke up. "Why do you do that?" he asked. She looked up at him but didn't answer. "You've got to have a reason."

"It helps," she said dryly.
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"I just don't know what to do," said Willy sitting on the comfy leather couch in his shrink's office. It had been a long time since he had found himself needing to talk to him. "I want to talk to her, but every time I try she says such horrible sad things, and I agree with most of them which is nuts. I've always tried to be as happy as humanly possible, but it's like she knows just what to say to keep me down and feeling like -choke!- normal people... ugh!" The shrink eyed him in surprise, seeming to know this was very serious. Anyone who could make Willy feel like a normal person had to be very powerful. "Obviously things are getting serious," said Willy after a few minutes, letting the poor oompa-loompa recover from shock. "Oh, by the way, do you happen to know anything about self-injury?" Again, the shrink eyed him with shock. "No!" cried Willy. "I'm not doing it and I'm not thinking about it so don't you dare write that down. It's Mandy. She makes these... tattoos I guess they are, all over her arms. I don't know if that qualifies as self-injury really because the whole idea either way is gross. But either way it's not healthy and I was wondering if I should be doing something to stop it."

There was silence and he could hear the oompa jotting something down. "I can't just go raid her room of anything sharp. That's unreasonable, isn't it? It'd be stealing..." He stopped and thought about it. "But that's it. If I did steal those, I'd be stealing her only hope of getting through this, so in a way it's her way of recovering. I shouldn't take that away from her then should I?" The oompa didn't answer and he sighed, still not knowing what to do. ----

Mandy walked around silently through the candy garden. It was night time and dark, but the fake moon above her was convincing enough, and just as beautiful as the real deal. Around her neck was her headphones, the volume cranked up so she could hear the music faintly. She had never been able to be in the dark and actually wear them on her ears. It would be too easy for someone to sneak up on her, but if they were around her neck, she would have a better chance of hearing that.

Freddie Mercury (god forgive me if I spelled his name wrong!) sang about being a poor boy with his golden voice, and she smiled, knowing she would die a Queen fan. She wished the man was still alive so she could go to an actual concert, but some things just weren't meant to be. "Momma... oooo... I don't wanna die! Sometimes wish I'd never been born at all!"

"Goodness, I hope not!" came a voice, and she turned to see Willy Wonka, standing under one of the candy trees. She smiled almost ghost like and he stepped up to her, tipping his hat in a corny fashion. "Aren't you out a bit late?"

"Couldn't sleep," she muttered. "What's your excuse?"

"Well, I thought I heard a shrieking coyote in a trash compactor in here, but then I came and found you... I guess you could call that singing... if you're a banshee anyway." She rolled her eyes.

"Cute," she muttered and turned, but he stopped her.

"You like Queen?" he asked. She nodded.

"A lot," she answered. "My dad's the reason I've heard of them. He used to play their old records all the time. When I was five I'd dance to them in my underwear-" She stopped, turning bright red (enough to be seen in the dark), and turned away from him. "...and that's probably more than you needed to hear..." He giggled nervously and looked away from her.

"Yeah. Kinda." She looked so embarassed, and he smiled sympathetically. "Well... It's not like we all didn't dance around in our underwear at one point or another. I mean... I've done it."

"Exactly! See? Nothing wrong with it. I think everyone should have the freedom of dancing in their underwear and not be discriminated against."

"That's what this country was founded on, the freedom to dance in your underpants."

"Precisely!" They stopped to actually think about what they were preaching about and laughed nervously, realising how embarassing the topic really was. In reality, she didn't want to picture Willy dancing in his underwear, but it made her wonder if he wore boxers or briefs. Boxers, she hoped.

"You see?" he said after a minute, and she looked at him, trying not to think about what she had just been thinking about. "You can smile." She smiled, his purple eyes catching her attention. Now she wondered if they were natural or contacts? They both sat down in a patch of grass near the waterfall, talking for a while before without meaning to they both crashed right where they were, sleeping peacefully under the fake stars.
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