I do not own anything from Charlie and the Chocolate factory. All rights and likenesses belong to Roald Dahl, Johnny Depp and Tim Burton. No profit is being garnered from this work. To the reviewer who asked me about Oompa Loompas, I have asked Tupik-Ra to step in and answer them in the upcoming updates. Question 1 is from SrtchPlyr23: Hey, why are you guys so short? Tupik-Ra answers: You try running through a jungle without whacking your head on a branch! Taller Oompa Loompas don't tend to survive long enough to have children. – Stealth Phoenix
Warning: Adult content ahead – not for sensitive readers if matter of adult sexual practices offend you. You have been warned!
Chapter 26
Time crawled by for Veronica. No matter how fast and hard she worked, it seemed like there was simply too much to do. Music pounded through the small room, setting a relentless beat that her worn body labored to keep up with. Caffeine only took her so far and she was already cruising on the wrong side leading to a full-fledged collapse. Still she labored.
Tick.
The Oompa Loompas had given up trying to coax her out of the studio. It had fallen to Charlie to gain entrance and force her to slow down enough to grab a bite to eat and suck down more life-giving coffee. If there hadn't been a small functional bathroom in the back, she would have been in real trouble. There was no question that she would rest.
Tick.
Willy attempted to come by once or twice, but his knocks and yells couldn't be heard over the heavy bass beat that acted as a metronome to her movements. Only Charlie, who had been inventive enough to crash repeatedly into the door with a stainless steel cart, had made enough noise to crack her concentration and gain entrance. Veronica draped the sculpture and cracked open the door only wide enough to allow the slender youth to slip inside.
Tick.
Charlie never spoke of what he saw in there, but his dreams were haunted with nightmare figures in glossy green and black for several days. Willy had closely interrogated him when he deemed the Oompa Loompas far enough away to speak in privacy, but Charlie would only shake his head, "I'm not sure what it is. But whatever it is frightens the heck out of me."
Tick.
Veronica channeled used the terror and frustration as a source of energy - all of the nightmares, the panic attacks, the constant looking over her shoulder for an imaginary threat. All of these took energy – and she used it as inspiration for the piece before her. The Oompa Loompa had lived with this soul-blackening terror for generations, they would recognize the form before her, and that was what counted.
Tick.
Sher-Man-Ra and the other members of the senior council gathered together to discuss the matter. Ver-Oni-Ka seemed to be sinking deeper and deeper into darkness and they were worried about both the woman who had come so suddenly into their lives and their beloved employer.
"Cast the bones – let them speak what they may," commanded Mic-Ka cutting through the arguments with a decisive gesture.
Sher-Man-Ra took the sacred bones in their leather pouch, carved with mystic sigils with meanings that had been passed from generation to generation of medicine men, shook three times and cast the bones from the pouch to the cleared area before the fire.
Tick.
They crouched around to study the result, although only he could read them.
"It looks like a pony…or it could be a duck," someone suggested, only to have the rest glare at him.
"The bones show the return of the great enemy – although greatly diminished," Sher-Man-Ra said, crouching and furrowing his brow in confusion. "We must devour the enemy to step forward unhindered."
"What does that mean? I though you asked it about Ver-Oni-Ka?" Mi-Ka scowled at Sher-Man-Ra.
"I did."
"So why do they mention the great enemy back in Loompa land?"
"Beats me - although what a bunch of dusty bones knows about interpersonal communication I'll never know."
Tick.
There were signs that Veronica was working on other things as well. It was a few days before Christmas when the Buckets woke one morning to find a package delivered to their doorstep. Willy admitted his ignorance as to the source and the Oompa Loompas shrugged and shook their heads in confusion. The taller people gathered around the kitchen table and workers crowded at every window and stuffed themselves into doorways to see what was inside.
Mrs. Bucket gently untied the ribbon of the package and the sides fell open to reveal a beautiful Christmas poinsettia inside. The leaves faded from dark red at the tips to a deep pink at the heart, delicate spider veins laced the surface in light green. There were a few withered leaves at the bottom and the rich soil was contained in a glazed ceramic pot in deep blue.
A rather innocuous Christmas gift if not for its mysterious arrival inside the factory.
It wasn't until Mrs. Bucket collected the card that they realized that it was made of candy. "Happy Christmas – Veronica Carmichael" she read. Willy took a pinch of soil from the pot and subjected it to intense scrutiny. Everyone was astonished when he popped it into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.
"Eating dirt?" Grandpa George scoffed.
"Nope – It's Oreos crumbled up. Nice touch, very realistic." Willy admitted.
Charlie bravely took one of the withered leaves from the bottom and pulled it off with a faint snap. He sniffed at it carefully and his eyes widened in amazement, "It's peppermint." He bit off a piece of leaf and chewed. "It tastes a bit like marshmallows or meringue."
"So the whole thing is eatable?" asked Mr. Bucket, regarding the plant with suspicion.
"Looks like it. It'll make a lovely centerpiece." Mrs. Bucket smiled and placed it in the middle of the kitchen table where it remained throughout the holiday season – although by New Years it would look a little ragged from being snacked on.
Tick.
There was a loud pounding on the door and Veronica jerked up in alarm. She'd been dozing over a piece of intricate filigree work and had nearly broken the piece when she'd jumped. Carefully setting the piece down, she went to the door. It was only because the music had cycled through and stopped that he had heard it at all.
"Yes?" she called, grabbing the drape to cover the nearly completed project.
"It's me. May I come in?" Willy's plaintive voice called through the door.
"Just a moment," she said, rushing to the small basin to give her appearance a once over before opening the door. Ugh! That was a wasted effort – she looked like a corpse. She scrubbed her teeth with her finger and rinsed her mouth out the best she could with water before popping a peppermint in her mouth. It had to be good enough.
Tick.
Willy wore purple today. Dark coat and pants with a lighter violet vest that matched his eyes and a pale lavender shirt that would have looked effeminate on any other man, but worked for him. It brought out the rich tones of his hair and warmed his pale skin. Realizing that she was staring, she invited him inside.
Willy looked around; the studio was fanatically neat considering the hours spent there. The sculpture was draped with a bedsheet preventing curious eyes from seeing what lay underneath. The pounding music that had frustrated previous visits was turned off and many of the lights had been shut off, leaving only her work area in a circle of light.
Veronica looked terrible. Her face was drawn with sunken cheeks and deep circles under her eyes made it look like she's been the loser in a bar fight. The normally bright hair was dull and looked oily and tendrils escaped and lay limply against her face and neck. She looked like she had lost even more weight, her clothes draping off a near skeletal frame.
"When was the last time you slept? Ate a meal?" he asked in shock.
"Um…what day is it again?" she asked, moving to take a seat on the stool and slouched weakly at the countertop.
"Monday? Dec 22nd? Evening?"
"Oh…then I'm not really sure. I've been busy." She said softly, exhaustion weakening her voice.
Tick.
"Veronica!" Willy said sharply. He was drawing the line – this was the last straw. "I don't care if this project gets finished on time, I don't care about what you think you have to do to 'prove' yourself to me. I won't let you kill yourself!" he shouted, angry and scared.
She didn't react beyond leaning one elbow on the counter and using it to support her head, "Yes. I know."
"I'll shut down this room if that's what it takes to get you out of here and to take care of yourself," Willy threatened, stalking over and grabbing her slender shoulders.
She stared up at him with weary green-gold eyes. "Have you ever been in love?" she asked quietly.
Willy was taken aback, "Why are you asking me this now?"
"Have you ever been in love before?" she asked again with quiet resolution.
"I….I… I don't think so," Willy stuttered. Not until lately anyway…
Veronica gestured to the next stool and he slowly sat, sensing that whatever she was asking about was important.
"I thought I was once…back in college. I was in my third year at university, studying away to get my degree in culinary arts. My parents didn't really think much of my choice of career, but I was stubborn." Veronica smiled softly, and for a moment, Willy could see an echo of that fresh-faced young girl.
"I never really dated or anything so I was terribly sheltered and naive. Reggie was starting to show signs that he was gay and I kept quiet and covered for him. I was more preoccupied with worry about him than I was about dating."
"That was when I met Marcus. Marcus was a boy from my chemistry class. We hit things off and started going out. He was my first…" she trailed off, an expression of profound pain flashing briefly across her features.
"Mum and Dad seemed to like him, but Reggie tried warning me off. You see, he'd heard things about Marcus and what had happened to other girls he had dated."
Willy started to get a sick feeling in his stomach at her words. He'd known that she had a bad past, but something told him he was about to find out how bad.
"Marcus was kind, but he kept pressuring me to try things I had no interest in and wasn't ready for – I'm not one for great sexual exploration and wanted no part of it. I eventually decided that it was time to break things off," she smiled sadly "I was a fool."
"It was Easter break. Reggie was sneaking off to meet one of his boyfriends and I told Mum and Dad that I was spending the break with a group of girlfriends at their home in the country. I snuck out to meet Marcus and to tell him we were through."
"Marcus seemed to understand at first, and invited me to have a drink at the pub with him before leaving," Veronica's eyes turned distant and the emotion in her voice suddenly disappeared – changing into a flat recitation. Willy felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up in alarm.
"He drugged my drink. I passed out as I was trying to leave – to go home. When I awoke, I was in his parent's basement in the coal cellar, tied hand and foot and gagged to boot. I heard his parents leave, saying that they would be gone for the weekend. Then I was left alone with Marcus."
"He was furious and I was going to pay. He stripped me naked, and…" Veronica's nerve started to fail and her gaze dropped to her hands, clenched in her lap. No – I've got to finish this!
"Over the course of the next two days I was repeatedly raped, sodomized, beaten and starved. Marcus was so full of rage that I knew that there was no way I was going to survive it. Yet, for some reason I still kept living." She whispered staring at her hands. She didn't want to look up to see the horror and disgust on Willy's face. "I guess I'm just too stubborn to die."
"Things came to a point when he started heating the old iron poker from the fireplace in the furnace. He kept saying that no one would look for me after he got done," she said, clenching her hands and steeling herself not to look at the man next to her.
Willy stared, tears streaming down his cheeks, sobs silently rocking his body a look of horror on his face. How had she managed to survive all that?
"I was tied to the table, stretched out like a side of beef ready for the butcher. Marcus started over with the poker heated to red-hot, ready to brand me," Veronica said softly. "At that point I really had nothing left to lose and knew that if I let him touch me again, I was going to die."
"Since I'd been struggling for the past two days, my wrists were rubbed raw, I guess that the blood lubricated my hands enough that I was able to slip one free and grab the poker before he could touch me with it."
Veronica stared at the heavily scarred palms of her hands, "I fought for my life, and Marcus grew even more furious with me for fighting - for not just laying there and dying like I was supposed to."
"I've never felt pain like that before and haven't since. – I could actually smell my flesh cooking. I clung to that poker with every last ounce of strength. It was only after he threw it away that I was able to let go."
"He went mad then, punching, kicking, biting…it was as if he was trying to kill me with his bare hands. I lost consciousness."
"Reggie tells me that the police found me in the park near my home. Marcus had left me for dead – after all that I was more dead than alive. I was taken to the hospital and treated. But things would never be the same again." Veronica finally looked up at Willy.
"My parents were there for me in the hospital, but as soon as I was home and bruises faded, Mum and Dad sent me to various psychiatrists. At first I thought they were trying to help, but all they really wanted me to do was forget what had happened and move on."
"They were actually ashamed of me for working with the police to throw Marcus in jail."
She shook her head, "I used to think that it was Reggie coming out of the closet that caused me to break ties with my parents. Thanks to Sherman, I now realize that it was this time, when I needed their help so badly – their support – that they abandoned me first."
Veronica curled in on herself and despite her iron self control, a few tears started to leak. Her voice trembled as she continued, "I found out later that the damage Marcus inflicted on me ruined any chances for me to ever have children – so on top of losing my innocence, I also lost the chance of ever becoming a mother. It was a few days after finding this out that I testified against him in court. It was that anger and what he had done to me - this fury - that helped me tell a room of complete strangers what had happened. Thanks to my testimony and the evidence left behind that Marcus was convicted and sent to jail."
Her voice throbbed with suppressed emotion, she stared at the wall and Willy watched her profile, "I had intense nightmares for years in addition to frequent panic attacks in stressful situations. Things only started to get better when I found out that Marcus was killed in prison nearly three years later."
Willy could see her shaking with the effort of holding herself upright and he stood to gather her into his arms. She held herself rigid, refusing in even the depths of her exhaustion to show weakness. She hugged him for a moment before gently pushing him away, tears gathering in her eyes.
"So now you know. This is why I push myself so hard. I know you promised that you would be patient with me, but then again, you also had no idea how badly damaged I really am." She started to stand, but drooped against the counter, the last of her energy gone. "I'm giving you a graceful way out, Willy. You deserve a woman who is stronger and braver than I, who can give you a family of your own. There's no need to take care of me. Just let me complete this project, collect my pay and I'll be out of your hair forever."
Willy couldn't listen to this self-flagellation any more. He lunged forward to grab her, just as she started to slip to the floor, face and lips a ghastly grey. "Veronica!" he yelped, alarmed.
"Just give me a moment," she murmured, closing her aching eyes.
"I'll give you more than that," he said sarcastically. He seated himself cross-legged on the floor and drew her into his lap, one shoulder supporting her lolling head. "I refuse to let you go anywhere! You can't go thinking that I'll toss you aside like some candy wrapper – you mean too much to me."
"I don't know where you get off with this idea that you're damaged goods. It seems to me that you're more like tempered steel."
Willy felt so good, so warm and alive.
"What're you talking about?" Veronica whispered.
"Steel gets stronger through a tempering process. Massive heat and pressure cause the steel to bond tighter, stronger than the raw form," he said quietly, holding her close and rocking.
Veronica felt the tears begin to leak from her eyes, feeling the panic starting to rise,"Willy. You'd better let me go."
"Why?"
"It hurts"
Willy released her gently and looked down at her, his violet eyes bright with worry, "Where does it hurt? Do you need a Doctor?"
Veronica could feel herself shaking, breath coming in quick pants, eyes wide and glassy with fear.
"My heart. It hurts my heart – and it'll hurt more the longer you hold me," she started to sob. "It'll hurt the worst when you let me go."
The horrible pressure in her chest was leaking out as she cried. Her body shook with the effort of trying to hold herself back when all she wanted to do was hold him closer.
Willy made nonsensical noises and held her close as she cried, rocking her like a child. All the emotional pain, all of the stress of losing her home and opening such horrible memories was too much – the dam broke and she was lost in the panic attack.
Through it all, he stayed close, stroking her hair and holding her close, tears streaming down his face as well.
When the attack subsided, she was numb, both physically and emotionally. There was nothing left to feel or say. Willy kissed the top of her head and winced as he realized that his legs had gone numb from sitting on them too long.
She shifted to one side to allow Willy to uncurl his legs, grimacing as circulation returned. They helped each other stand and she wobbled on uncertain legs. He steadied her with one arm around her waist.
"Thank you," she whispered, lost once more. Now came the part she had been dreading, the part where he made his excuses and left while she struggled to put her heart back together. Willy felt her withdrawing and his heart broke – she really thought he was going to toss her aside.
"Veronica look at me," he commanded softly.
Veronica gazed up at him, already bidding him farewell in her heart. There was a snapping sound - then another – then Willy's warm bare hands cupped her face to stare down at her. His bare skin felt smooth and wonderful against her cold face. His lips descended next, to brush against hers with infinite delicate care.
"Veronica….I…I love you. Nothing you have said this evening will ever change that. You are the strongest woman I've ever known and the fact that you've survived that experience to make it here today is nothing less than miraculous," he was shaking with the intensity of his feelings.
That's the way, Bob murmured. Now let it sink in and convince her that she's safe with you.
She shuddered at the impact of his words – he accepted her. She had revealed the putrid filth of her soul and he still wanted her. Her lips stretched in a tremulous smile, "So, are you sure you want to get involved with a mess like me?"
"More than ever. You're not shaking me that easily, missy!" he said softly. "But not right now. You're stopping the project for tonight and getting a bath, rest and food."
"I think you might be right," she admitted. "But did you at least want to see what I've been doing for the last two and a half weeks?"
Curiosity and concern warred across his features.
She chuckled and staggered across to the counter and grasped a corner of the drop sheet, "Mr. Wonka, I present to you my creation for you to present to your Oompa Loompas during the Exodus Ceremony."
The cloth dropped.
So did Willy's jaw.
He felt a cold chill of superstitious fear run down his spine and shuddered. The sharp angles, the cruel curves and the ominous gleam of black chitnous armor touched a primitive fear in the back of his mind and he found himself backing away from Veronica's creation.
It lurked in the darkened room; shadows making it appear to be breathing. It hunted; waiting for its prey with inhuman patience – like death it was inevitable.
It was horrifying, monstrous and…
"It's perfect," he said, eyes agleam with anticipation. He understood the purpose of this sculpture and the meaning went beyond just the Exodus Ceremony.
"I understand now," Willy said, crossing the room to lift the weakened woman from her feet. All the frustrated energy of creation, all of her drive and energy had gone into this monster and he found it beautiful…
…much like her.
"There's still some minor detail work that needs to be completed," she protested as he carried her to the door, using an elbow to flip off the light. Relief so intense flowed through her and Veronica's vision started to grey out at the edges, she felt hot and cold at the same time.
"Work that you can finish tomorrow night after you get back from Reggie's," he said. "It doesn't need much…if anything else. It's exactly what we needed."
She sagged in his arms in defeat, "Oh, good."
Then she passed out.