Charlie later has a dream that triggers a flashback of his mother crying out, “He's normal! He's normal! Charlie confesses his attraction to Alice over dinner.
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- Kaira - Complicated Lives
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His new group of friends introduce him to drugs and alcohol. One night, while playing truth or dare, Charlie is dared to kiss the prettiest girl in the room. Instead of kissing Mary Elizabeth, he kisses Sam, which results in Charlie being ostracized by the entire group. Throughout the movie, Charlie has flashbacks of his Aunt when something upsetting happens such as his sister getting hit by her boyfriend.
After being shunned by the group, he begins to have more flashbacks of his Aunt and his mental health begins to deteriorate rapidly. While sitting at lunch one day, Patrick gets in a fight and Charlie steps in to help. Since he protected Patrick from being beaten by a member of the football team, the group forgave him for kissing Sam and they all become friends again.
Charlie feels better after being reunited with his friends and the flashbacks of his Aunt Helen stop. This episode results in him being readmitted to the psychiatric hospital where he meets Dr. With the help of Dr. Burton, Charlie is able to revisit the memories he has been suppressing about how his Aunt sexually abused him when he was a small boy. He returns home to his family and continues to see Dr. Burton in outpatient care. Sam and Patrick visit Charlie and Sam tells Charlie that it gets better. Throughout the movie, we see Charlie develop friendships.
Kaira - Complicated Lives
It is when his support group is the strongest that his symptoms subside. When his support group leaves him, we seehim struggle the most with flashbacks. Charlie felt closest to Sam because it appears that she was sexually abused as a young girl. Thus, the sexual relationship with Sam most likely triggered the memory of what his Aunt did to him that resulted in his blackout and hospitalization. Diagnosis requires the presence of the following clusters of symptoms: Charlie experienced intrusive symptoms associated with the trauma that he experienced as a child including distressing memories, dissociative reactions e.
Charlie also displayed avoidance of stimuli associated with the event. He needs to have contact with other children his own age. Even if they aren't all that you—or we—could wish. And the matter was closed. Charlie continued to go to school every day as always The bright eyes blinked, refocused, and turned to him. You're not a child anymore, you know, starting today. Charlie kept his attention firmly on the contents of his backpack, arranging and re-arranging. If he could just pretend he didn't hear them, didn't know they were there…. A hard shove against his back sent him clanging into the locker.
With a sigh, he turned to face them. And the worst, Lewis. They'd gone from false friendship to open hostility over the past few months. In his heart, he knew he couldn't blame them. It was just that he had everything now. He'd gone from being a skinny little nobody in patched clothing to the heir to Wonka Industries. He'd grown six inches in just over a year, and put on weight and muscle. He knew it was immodest of him, but he thought he was good looking too.
Davis, Thompson, Lewis, and their crowd—they were ordinary. And he'd become extraordinary. He put more than a trace of Wonka-sarcasm in his voice and replied, "If you mean Mr. Thank you for asking. He wouldn't do anything like that. He's not like that. When the others joined in, there was only one thing to do. Do what your parents do then. Just call me 'Wonka', without the 'mister' in front. Can you do that?
Wonka had become…not alarmed, exactly, but certainly concerned…when Charlie hadn't shown up for their daily cup of hot chocolate after school. And now it seemed he had reason to be concerned. The boy—no, almost not a boy anymore—was curled beneath one of the bridges in the Chocolate Room, sobbing, his jumper torn and bloodstained, one eye already darkening, his lip split… It was a scene Wonka was all too familiar with, and his throat caught with fear.
Wonka went to one knee beside him, dropping his cane and reaching out to touch his chin and lift his face. Was that relief on the boy's face? Wonka suddenly felt there was more going on here than a simple altercation born of jealousy. But Charlie looked so miserable…in so much pain…that he let it go.
Charlie would tell him when the time was right. Expressions of affection were still new to him. Sometimes he wondered if they would ever come as naturally to him as they did to the other members of his new family. But he kept trying. And right now…this minute…he somehow knew it was important that he get it as right as he could. He went into the hug eagerly, dropping his head on Wonka's shoulder, wrapping his arms around Wonka's waist and clinging as his body shook with sobs. Wonka lifted a gloved hand to stroke the boy's hair in a way that he hoped was comforting.
They sat that way for a long time, until at last Charlie lifted his head. Reluctantly, Wonka released him, and he sat back wiping his eyes.
And now let's go get you cleaned up and see about that eye. A warmth—like the very best and sweetest chocolate—rushed through Wonka's body. And I love you too. You and your family are the best thing that's ever happened to me. I'll never tell you about it, because it would hurt you, and I'd do anything in the world to keep you from being hurt.
And speaking of mysteries…can you guess what I've gotten you for your birthday? You know, someone once said a surprise is the best prize. The shift in Wonka's expression was so sudden that it startled Charlie. The lean face went tight, closed; the eyes shuttered; all the humor was gone in a heartbeat. And then he was lost again After his separation from his father, he'd found himself alone, homeless, underage, and burdened with the massive dental headgear. Luckily, Josiah Green, the owner of the small candy store where he had found his true life's calling, had seen him staring forlornly into the window and taken him in.
The braces had been removed. He had begun to work for and work with the candymaker, learning and exploring.
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And he had returned to school, where he could be with his friends. He had been happy. Everything had been going fine. The hulking young man standing in the doorway ignored it. Da doesn't like to talk about me much, do you, Da? There was something desperate in Mr. You sharing a bed with him, too? It wasn't a nice laugh. He silenced his father with a curt gesture, still staring at Wonka. I think you and I are going to be very good friends…". After that, Wonka's life became unbearable.
It began with taunts, hurtful words, crude accusations. It moved on to shoves, being tripped as he walked through the house. When it escalated to beatings, Wonka began to withdraw from the company of his friends. He changed the way he dressed, wearing layers of clothing and adding gloves so that no one could see the cuts and bruises. So that no one would touch him. He skipped school for the first time in his life, more and more often, as his need to hide grew. And finally, just after his sixteenth birthday, he ran away from the second home he'd ever known.
There were other candy stores who were eager to take on a creative, intelligent apprentice, even if that apprentice were a bit odd One of the Oompa Loompas—Charlie thought it was Samuel—had come dashing up out of nowhere. He leaned close to whisper into Wonka's ear, then scurried away. Still, this is a very special day, so it calls for very special preparations. But he couldn't seem to stop himself, the words spilling out. I think it's being here that's kept my grandparents alive and healthy.
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We need you and we love you and You're a very bright young man, and you're a very good young man. I knew that about you from the moment I first saw you. I knew you would be the one to inherit my factory someday—to take over when it was time. And I was right. I'm not like other people. But I've tried to do the right thing by you—to be your friend and your teacher and your mentor. But now that you're sixteen, I think things need to change.
Charlie's heart began to pound in a manner that was almost painful. He's not going to say we can't be friends anymore. He can't be saying I mean real plans, plans for your life. You mustn't let yourself become stuck here like I did. Even if we're both adults, I don't think I should ask that, should I? It's none of my business, really. Oh my dear, dear Mr. Wonka, if you only knew He really was too big to be tucked into bed at night, in every way, and his mother hadn't done so in a long time, but tonight was special—his fifteenth birthday.
Bucket smiled and ruffled his hair as she pulled the covers up around him, then perched on the edge of the bed. You deserve it, Charlie. And what did you wish for, when you blew out your candles? When he hesitated, she went on quickly, "I know, I know. You're not supposed to tell.
We seem to have everything now. She leaned closer, her brow furrowing with concern at the hesitancy of his tone. But tonight he wanted to share it with someone else, someone he loved, someone who would understand…he hoped. He just wanted to talk to someone about it, but he wasn't sure how to begin. And how I would never tell you what started them. And that the reason I won the contest was because he and I had I couldn't bear them saying those terrible things about him. He had to struggle to meet her eyes, afraid of what she would say.
Never even hinted at it. He doesn't even hug me much, not nearly as much as he hugs you and my grandparents and even Father. I wish he would. That's what I wished for. The way I love him. The way I have loved him since…since I knew I loved him. I'm just telling you And I love him I guess I love him the way I should one of the girls at school, but I don't care about them.
They're not as bright or as funny or as Bucket took a deep breath.
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I can't deny that I wish you were telling me that you had fallen in love with one of your classmates—even one of the boys. Because I think loving Wonka that way is going to be so difficult for you. I mean, it's okay to tell Dad, but not anybody else. She made an "X" across her chest. It'll be our secret. Why didn't you just That would've been easier. I lost the art years ago. I always got on well with them. But remember how long it took me to learn with you and your family. Even with my father. No, this was the best way. He'd only had eyes for the strange, charismatic man leading them through the factory.
But there was nothing to worry about. I knew she wouldn't win. I knew none of them would win. Salt standing in almost this very spot, talking about how the Oompa Loompas' song had seemed rather rehearsed. But I might have taken a look at everyone who found a ticket and decided who I didn't want to win and maybe made it easier for them to lose. All they had to do was not give in.
That little boy could've stayed away from my river. The little girl could've spit out the gum, like I told her to. The other little girl could've stayed with us instead of demanding a squirrel and going to get one. And that other child I'm surprised he lasted as long as he did. But I knew technology would be his downfall. I knew you were the one. I knew it when I heard that you'd offered to sell your Golden Ticket to help your family—". I didn't understand about families then, but I did understand about loyalty and sacrifice.
Offering to give up something you wanted to help somebody else. And then when you came into the factory You understood that there's not supposed to be any point to candy. And I knew I'd picked the right one. Haven't you ever thought about I don't want to know that you were in love with somebody else. I don't want to hear things that are going to make me feel young and stupid and hopeless.
Things were going very well—sales and production. I'd actually started sort of talking to some of the workers. That's how I met her. He'd spotted her in the lunch room one day, during one of his impromptu visits. She was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen—golden hair, blue eyes, a sweet, shy smile, and a way of looking at him from beneath her eyelashes that made him feel He couldn't believe it when she spoke to him.
Asked him if he'd join her at her table for lunch. Hung on his every word as if it were golden It had been a long time since he'd had friends.
And he couldn't remember ever having had a 'girlfriend'. He was flattered by her interest in him, in his work, in his life—not that he'd really had much of a life, outside of work. He went out of his way to be where she worked. To have lunch with her. To talk to her, haltingly at first, then with more confidence. Given his lack of experience with women, he really wasn't surprised that he couldn't quite sort out his feelings for Amelia.
He enjoyed being with her, yes. But during the weeks he was away building Prince Pondicherry's doomed chocolate palace, he didn't really miss her, not like he thought he should if he were falling in love with her. In fact, he didn't really think about her at all. You need to run a background check on everybody. Search the employees when they leave. Be more careful with—". Seeing her again was To his surprise, she leaned up and touched her lips quickly to his cheek. He felt himself blushing.
But that wasn't right, was it?
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You weren't supposed to feel that way when somebody you liked kissed you. He was so lost in thought that he missed her whispered words. It wasn't all right. But it wasn't all right to be afraid either, not of Amelia. He liked her, didn't he? She was his friend , wasn't she? He forced himself to nod. He bolted the door behind him, tossed his hat to one side, and barely managed to lean over the toilet before he began to throw up.
At last, he managed to pull himself together. He washed his face, brushed his teeth, and called the kitchen for a calming cup of cocoa. He didn't go back into the plant, afraid he'd run into her again. Instead, he cowered in his office, trembling, trying not to think about what might…could…maybe would…happen later that night.
The sound of the factory whistle startled him so badly he spilled his cocoa across his desk. He forced himself to be still, waiting, counting the minutes until he knew the workers would all be gone and the factory locked up for the night. Then he crept through the darkened rooms like a thief, past the kitchen, to the door which led into the back alley. Taking a deep breath, he flipped the lock open, then turned and fled back to his office to wait in the dark. He wanted to push himself through the back of his chair and vanish.
His voice didn't want to work, and his attempt to answer came out as a low croak. She floated into the room, across to his desk, behind it to him, and placed a hand on his shoulder. He managed not to flinch. Her mouth covered his, tongue probing between his lips. Her hands slid under his coat, up beneath his vest, moving, grabbing, as she began to rock her hips. And Willy Wonka suddenly realized that whatever he had felt for this woman—whatever he had wanted from her—it wasn't this.
It's here in the factory, right? Dim as the lighting was, it must've been enough for her to read the truth in his terrified expression. Her posture changed, her shoulders straightening, head lifting, and she muttered, "Fucking hell. There was a sudden flurry of movement and he was sitting up, then standing, then moving to the bank of the river. He went still there, staring blindly at the chocolate waterfall.
Hesitantly, Charlie rose and followed him. It was more than that. What we have here, my dear Charlie, is a damaged man and a woman who pretended to care for him just long enough to get what she wanted. Not nice at all. He moved closer and touched Wonka's arm, feeling the tension in the muscles beneath the layers of clothing. To his astonishment, Wonka leaned toward the touch, the violet eyes closing quickly, then opening again.