Willy Wonka And The Chocolate Factory But it's a Horror Book

Chapter Twelve 🍬 Behind The Curtains

A/N: CHILD TORTURE AND EMETAPHOBIA
This is just a small chapter but I wanted to show you guys what happened to Voilet. Inspired by 'Wonka Incorporated' by Arkayen on ao3. Go give them some love :)

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"I'll kill you!"

Mr Baureguard was pulled by a small orange worker, following his daughter who was being rolled by some other men. They were now silent, thankfully, but Mr Baureguard preferred to be comforted in situations like this.

Well, actually... He hadn't been in a situation like this ever. Never would he expect his daughter to become a blueberry. Who did? If he would've known this was physically possible he would've come prepared.

Voilet was spewing out a dark sticky blue substance, almost black in fact. Some of it was coming out of her ears and nose, and Mr Baureguard expected it would come from her eyes next. Her large plump body turned a corner and Mr Baureguard followed.

"Why did he do this?" He asked himself. He hadn't meant to speak out loud, but it didn't matter either way. He wanted answers.

And answers didn't come. The small little men were silent and the only thing that could be heard were footsteps on the silver metal floor and the sounds of his daughter gagging. He had never liked to see his daughter ill, usually aiding her whenever she said so. But this was different. He knew he couldn't do anything. Just watch. He would like to scream out to his daughter that she was going to be okay but he couldn't find it in himself.

Another corner. Great. How long was this walk going to be? Shorter than he thought apparently. He passed yellow hollow hallways and the small men paused. They stood in front of a single door no different from the inventing rooms door. Large, silver, metal, no handle, and definitely heavy. With practiced ease, an Oompa Loompa opened it. Mr Baureguard would like to think that these painted dwarfs weren't that strong.

"Where are you taking my daughter!?" He yelled in a hushed voice. He grit his teeth. He had had enough of this place of tricks. "Take that paint off and just talk to me!"

Before he could threaten to sue Wonka for the fiftieth time, an Oompa Loompa tugged at his suit jacket. Mr Baureguard looked down, probably about to slap the life out of it, but instead the small fellow dragged him by his suit. Okay, he thought, he wants me to follow him. Okay... One step at a time...

The room was absolutely decayed. Rust camouflaged silver metal walls. The age was visible and it looked as though it hadn't been cleaned for... Well, forever. Mould spread all over metal tiled walls, even the ceiling which looked about two stories high. The floor was covered in yellow and brown stains and footprints were visible through mould. Small tiny lights were the only thing that lit up the room, yellow and orange lighting up metal tiles. At the end of the room, was an oxidised mechanical mess. It looked like a heap of metal parts stuck together with glue. Pumps pressed and spun and turned and whirred-

Yes, decides Mr Baureguard. He would sue Willy Wonka.

'SQUEEZING' Was written on the side. Okay, thought Mr Baureguard. We're here.

The machine was humongous, the size of the room nearly. It looked just like the machine that produced the gum that did this to his daughter, except for a circular glass sliding door that went into a tiny claustrophobic space where the floor beneath it had an odd little metal slide. And that it was half as big as the ceiling.

An Oompa Loompa guided him to the squeezing machine, and as much as he wished to be as far away from it as possible, Mr Baureguard followed. The two paused right in front of the machine. Then he saw his daughter roll into the room. Tears sprung in his eyes. He hated to see his daughter like this. He noted that she was even bigger than before, her body begining to tear at the sides and bleed out black goo.

Before he could go to her and comfort her as a father should, she was uncomfortable shoved into the small glass room. She screamed one final time before the glass slide was locked.

Suddenly, with a click of a button from an Oompa Loompa, she started to rise. The floor was moving upwards, slowly. Antagonizingly. Her father watched her scream and scream. He wasn't sure what she was screaming at. Well that was until he saw the ceiling on top.

It was moving downwards towards her. rather quickly in fact. His father instincts kicked in, and he rushed over to start ponding on the glass. He screamed at them to stop, to let her baby go. To free her. But the rising didn't stop. Slowly, slowly, slowly she was risen higher. And all her father could do was watched. He recognised this glass as plexiglass since he worked with it at the car shop. He knew he couldn't do anything. Only watch.

With a swift motion, the ceiling collided with Voilet. Blue blood spurted all over the glass, covering the view of his crushed up daughter. The ceiling and floor separated, revealing the tangled bloody mess that his daughter was. Mr Baureguard yelled out. He had failed. He failed saving her.

Blue liquid began to pour from under the ceiling and poured down to the metal slide beneath. The metal slide opened up and the juice fell into it. The glass slide slowly opened, and Mr Baureguard just gaped at his daughter crushed body. He wish he could've helped his baby.

He felt a collision on his back, and hit his head on the rusty aged wall. He slipped on his daughters crushed skin and yelled out. He was stepping all over his child's dead body. He turned around to get out, only to have a glass door shut in his face.

He screamed and banged on the door, even though he knew it was useless. Well, he may was well see who has pushed him. Reluctantly, he wiped away his little girls blood staining the glass. All he could see was a middle aged man smiling and staring. A man wearing a large hat and a purple frock jacket. A very familiar man.

He stared at the chocolatier before the floor began to slowly rise. He screamed, yelling, kicking at the window separating the two. Like a child, he called him names. A vulnerable child. A child just like Voilet. All he could see was the ceiling covering his vision, and his chest pulsating every two seconds. He lost his hope. He lost everything. He lost his daughter. Just give up, he told himself.

"Oh well. At least she ain't chewing that gum no more," he told himself, giggling at his stupid little joke before the ceiling collided with his body.

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