AN: !!TW!!: scenes of domestic violence/abuse and mentions of sexual assault/unwanted sexual advances. I will put at the beginning and end of the scene(s) from now on if you want to skip them

Wonka knew he would have to open the factory to the world eventually, in order to find a successor, but facing other people after 10 years spent isolated from the human race made him want to curl up in his bed and pull the sheets over his head and never come out. It was just one more reason for him to loose sleep at night.

Currently, however, it was only evening and Wonka was sitting behind a ridiculously oversized mahogany desk doing paperwork. He tried to avoid this room as much as possible, as he much preferred working in the Inventing Room, however making up new candy was only one part of the job and he could only delegate so much of the paperwork to his Oompa Loompa employees.

As the hours ticked by, Wonka felt himself getting increasingly more desperate and anxious. His fingers trembled as he struggled to hold the pen he was writing with. His clothes, a velvet red suit jacket, black shirt with a high collar, and black trousers tailored specifically to feel comfortable to move or sit in, began to feel itchy and confining.

When he was creating, Wonka could keep the intrusively negative thoughts and emotions at bay. It was the only time he could feel joy. At other times, feeling stable and at peace felt like an impossibility. At the moment, the repetitiveness of the tasks he was performing was not helping his heightened anxiety in the slightest.

Dropping the pen, Wonka reached for the pad of colorful buttons and dials on the wall next to his desk, and pressed one purple gloved finger to the button in the center aptly labeled HELP. Within a moment, a hasty knock on the door sounded.

"Enter, enter." Wonka murmured in a slightly strained voice. It swung open to reveal an Oompa Loompa in a suit with a notepad and a frown.

"Dale, if I press the HELP button you really don't need to knock before you come in. That's implied."

Dale fixed him with an assessing look, looking him up and down. Ignoring Wonka's remark he scribbled something down on the notepad.

Wonka rolled his eyes dramatically. "Kindly stop analyzing me. I simply called you here to ask you about starting preparations for the opening of the factory. I want to put on a bit of a show, and more than anything I want to make sure everything goes well, and that people only see as much as they need to. We have absolutely no idea how soon the tickets will be found. We also need to figure out a way of assessing the candidates before they arrive. We need to deal with them appropriately once they get here, after all. Write all THAT down in that ridiculous notepad of yours." Wonka spoke with his regular, airy tone of voice, but his words were rushed and Dale could see his fingertips nervously drumming on the table.

Dale again seemed to ignore Wonka's instructions. After all, sometimes, and when it didn't come to candy, the Oompa Loompas knew better. Especially Dale, who knew Wonka better than anyone. So, instead of doing as he was told, he said "Stop, sir. I am prescribing you a walk outside." Forever a man to get straight to the point.

"O-outttside? But I do not wish be seen and recognized by anyone! Who knows what ill-wishers of the factory I may encounter, and I haven't been out in years. I have no idea what it even looks like out there!" Wonka exclaimed.

Dale calmly checked the watch on his wrist. "11:50 pm. Dark, nobody out, fresh air. If someone sees you, nobody knows what Willy Wonka looks like. You will be seeing others soon anyway." With this, Dale walked around the desk and pulled Wonka out of his chair with surprising strength. Once he was up, he promptly dragged the man out the office door and through the halls of the factory, holding him firmly by a pant leg. Too stunned by this development and also simply too exhausted to care, Wonka simply allowed himself to be led into the glass elevator and stood there until he was pulled again down the hall to a side exit of the factory to an outside courtyard, where supplies came in on trucks. Here, Dale patted Wonka's leg in an uncharacteristic display of comfort and jogged away without another word.

Before he could start to have second thoughts, Wonka put on his sunglasses, opened the door, and stepped outside for the first time in ten long years.

After they had eaten all of the Chinese food, with Arya mostly picking at the portion Allen ended up finishing, Allen got out a bottle of vodka and began to pressure her to drink with him.

"Come on, babe..." He always called her pet names when he wanted something from her.

"Allen I'm really not in the mood to drink with you right now" she replied tiredly.

Allen poured and downed two shots in succession before sauntering over and cornering her at the kitchen counter. He had already began drinking before she got home, downed two glasses of wine with his food, and wasn't planning on stopping any time soon. "I was hoping you could loosen up" he punctuated his words by shaking her right shoulder roughly, "and we could have some fun for once."

"As I already said, Allen, I'm not in the mood honey. I just want to take a warm shower and go to bed"

Here Allen reached for the bottle on the counter and brought it straight to his lips, taking a large gulp. His alcohol-scented breath fanned over Arya's face as he brought his other hand up to grope her breast. His patience with Arya was wearing thin. "Then I can join you in the shower, sweetheart, and you can finally get a chance to prove that you are a good girlfriend."

Arya squirmed uncomfortably, and pushed his hand away gently. Allen stumbled back a few paces theatrically, clear blue eyes dark with rage, and hurled the bottle he was holding into the cabinet next to Arya's head. She let out a surprised yelp as glass and vodka rained down around her. She closed her eyes and slid down the cabinet as she felt his open hand connect with her cheek, driving a small shard of glass into the opposite side of her face when it connected with the wood with a sharp crack. Her ears rang painfully.

"You BITCH" he spat, "look what you made me do." Allen swung his his foot around clumsily and kicked her twice in the thigh, causing her to collapse fully as her ankle twisted painfully beneath her. Her vision blurred with her tears as she lay sprawled on the kitchen tiles and watched Allen stumble away into the bedroom where she knew he would collapse into a drunken stupor. What else had she expected?

Arya wasn't sure how long she had been lying prone on the floor fading in and out of consciousness, but when she finally picked herself up the glowing numbers on the stove clock read 12:05. She stood for a couple of minutes in the kitchen, leaning on the counter, trying to decide what to do. The idea of getting into bed next to Allen right now was unthinkable. She could collapse on the couch, but the entire apartment made Arya feel stifled and she couldn't bear the thought of facing Allen if he chose to stumble out for a glass of water in the middle of the night.

Arya took a deep breath. She needed some air and to see the stars, consequences be damned. Arya limped down the hall, holding on to the wall, and grabbed a light sweater that was discarded on the chair by the door. She wouldn't go into any of the rooms right now to look for a coat, or waste any more time. Face grimly determined, she turned the door on and stepped out into the night.