"Miss Trunchbull!" Matilda cried, jumping about a foot in the air. "You mean she is your aunt? She brought you up?"

"Yes," Miss Honey said.

"No wonder you were terrified!" Matilda cried. "The other day we saw her grab a girl by the pigtails and throw her over the playground fence!"

"You haven't seen anything," Miss Honey said.

~x~

"I broke your arm once before, I can do it again, Jenny!"

"I am not seven years old anymore, Aunt Trunchbull!"

Aunt Trunchbull was angry.

That wasn't unusual. Little Jennifer Honey was constantly tip-toeing around her aunt's moods. When she started shouting, the seven year old girl knew to stand up straight and not cry. When she started pacing like an irritated bull it was best to go in a different room entirely. When she gave an order it was to be obeyed immediately and without question. Jenny knew these things, and tried her very hardest to please her aunt. That seemed to be impossible, for nothing pleased Aunt Trunchbull more than terrorizing her niece, but Jenny tried.

Today was different. Aunt Trunchbull was yelling cruel and hateful things, but all Jenny could do was curl in on herself and cradle her arm close to her chest. Tears streaked involuntarily down her face, and they wouldn't stop no matter how hard she wanted them to. It hurt, and she didn't even know what she had done wrong. Why had Aunt Trunchbull, at the mention of her brother-in-law, stomped over and grabbed her arm? Why had she twisted so hard that Jenny felt something snap? Why, why, why?

"Get up, you festering pissworm!" her aunt barked.

Jenny whimpered as Aunt Trunchbull loomed over her like a giant. The veins in her neck bulged as she continued to spew vile filth, and her face was turning an ugly purple color.

"I said get up you pathetic excuse of humanity! You lazy, senseless, child!"

"I c-can't, Aunt Trunchbull," Jenny said, cowering under that intimidating gaze. "M-my arm. I think it's broken."

Aunt Trunchbull went completely still, her lips pinching together in a nearly invisible line. The utter silence that dominated the house was more terrifying than anything than Jenny could ever remember. Leaning forward so much that Jenny could smell her breath, Aunt Trunchbull smiled. It was the look of a shark about ready to devour its prey.

"And tell me, dearie, what does a broken arm have to do with your ability to stand?"

The words were saccharine and patronizing and Jenny didn't hesitate to do as she was told. This was an unfamiliar side of her aunt, and instinctively the girl knew that this quiet, demeaning persona was infinitely more dangerous than the loud, demanding version she was used to.

"See, that wasn't so hard, now was it?" Aunt Trunchbull grabbed her injured arm with meaty hands and pulled it roughly away from Jenny's body. The girl stifled a cry as her guardian examined the damage.

"Pathetic. Truly, utterly, pathetic. You've the strength of an overcooked noodle. I barely touched you. Stop that blubbering, you disgusting snot rag, or I'll give you something to really cry about!"

But Jenny couldn't stop crying. She hunkered down, defeated and browbeaten. Her aunt's punishments were always severe, but for some reason this one was worse. Aunt Trunchbull had broken something inside her, something that wasn't as easily mended as a bone.

"There's nothing for it," Aunt Trunchbull continued, "Get two sticks and some cloth."

"Wh-what?"

"To set it, you idiot! Are you so stupid that I have to explain the simplest of concepts? Take the two sticks and tie them around your arm. And don't think this gets you out of chores! I expect this place to be in top form by the time dinner comes around."

"B-but Aunt Trunchbull…"

"Are you arguing with me?" she asked, the soft voice returning. Eyes wide with fear, Jenny shook her head.

"No, but…"

"No buts!" Aunt Trunchbull bellowed. "You will do as you are told! Magnus might have coddled you, but I will not! For order to be maintained, strict discipline must be used. And trust me, girl," Aunt Trunchbull said, once again taking hold of her injured arm, "You haven't seen anything yet."

Sharp, white-hot pain shot up her arm. The strength in Jenny's legs gave out as a choked sob escaped her throat. Aunt Trunchbull let her fall to the ground, vicious superiority dancing in her eyes.

"That's right. Know your place. Trash like you shouldn't have the right to lick the dirt off of my shoes. Now get up before I whip you like the dog you are."

"Y-yes, Aunt Trunchbull." Jenny sniffed, flinching at her aunt's annoyed snort. She stood, trembling before the monster of a human being that towered over her. Slowly she shuffled outside, and Jenny felt the hawk-like gaze follow her to the backyard. For a second she considered running and never coming back. But that was just as impossible as stopping the tears that fell down her face. Aunt Trunchbull was an Olympian, and Jenny was nothing more than a small, frail girl. Even if she knew where to go, there was no escape.

Sticks. Aunt Trunchbull had said to get two sticks. Jenny's stomach twisted itself into knots when she thought about what she was being forced to do. The idea of doing the housework with a broken arm made her want to vomit. Only fear and blind obedience drove her forward. She couldn't think of what tomorrow would bring, or even the next hour. Right now she needed two sticks and something to tie them with.

In the search, Jenny accidently jostled her arm. She couldn't bite back the low moan in time, and she looked back towards the house nervously, hoping her aunt hadn't heard.

Apparently she hadn't, because Aunt Trunchbull didn't come out. Could Aunt Trunchbull hear such a quiet sound from so far away? Jenny thought she probably could. Her aunt's ears were specially attuned to the sound of misbehaving children, and making noises of pain was bad.

Jenny leaned against the sturdy trunk of the big oak tree that dominated the yard and wiped her eyes. The tears were falling faster now, and every once in a while she would let out a soft hiccup or sniffle. She wanted desperately to be brave and face her problems like the heroines from her books, but her courage had died with her father. Aunt Trunchbull was right in that regard. She was pitiful and weak.

"Jenny?"

The concerned voice made the girl jump. At the very edge of the property stood the mailman. Jenny had always enjoyed talking to the kind, witty man before…before. Now he never came up to the house to deliver the mail, and he never stopped for a quick chat. Aunt Trunchbull had that effect on people.

"Jenny, are you hurt?"

"It was an accident," she replied automatically. That was always the excuse used to explain any marks that couldn't be completely hidden. Usually Aunt Trunchbull did the talking (Oh, that? The nitwit tripped. Stupid, clumsy girl), but Jenny had heard often enough to know the words by heart.

"What happened?" the mailman asked, crossing the threshold of the property.

"I-I fell and hurt my arm," Jenny stammered. "From the swing."

She instantly regretted the lie, but the mailman seemed to believe it as he kneeled down by her. "Jenny, this looks serious. Have you shown your aunt? You need a doctor."

At that exact moment Jenny heard the door to the house slam shut and Aunt Trunchbull march over. The mailman drew himself to full height, which was still half a foot shorter than the behemoth of a woman.

"What's going on here?" Aunt Trunchbull thundered.

"Agatha, have you seen this?" the mailman said. "The girl's obviously hurt!"

"She'll be fine," Aunt Trunchbull said dismissively. "There's not even a scratch on her."

The mailman seemed rather put off by Aunt Trunchbull's demeanor. Moustache twitching with indignation, he took a small step forward. "You're joking."

Aunt Trunchbull's eyes narrowed. "I never joke."

"If you can't tell this child needs to go to the hospital, you're obviously unfit to parent."

Jenny watched the showdown between the two adults anxiously. Aunt Trunchbull's face flushed a spectacular shade of red at the accusation and she flexed her fingers, as if she would like to do nothing better than to pick the mailman up by the ears and throw him over the fence. The mailman noticed this and shrank back for just a moment before he steeled himself.

"If you will not take her, I will," he said brazenly. "Magnus would roll in his grave if he saw this scene. To think, the doctor's daughter not receiving medical attention. It's ludicrous."

"Need I remind you Magnus isn't here because he shot himself?" Aunt Trunchbull spat before grabbing Jenny roughly by the neck. "I'll take the damn girl to the hospital, but I'm footing you with the bill once it becomes evident that there is nothing wrong!"

Jenny tried to give the mailman a thankful glance, but Aunt Trunchbull's vice-like grip made it impossible to move her head. It was difficult to keep up with her aunt's long, marching strides, and before she knew it Jenny had been thrown in the back seat of the car.

"Meddling, good-for-nothing, busybody," Aunt Trunchbull snarled under her breath. "Who does he think he is, sticking his nose in other people's business?"

For one horrible moment Jenny was sure that her aunt wasn't going to take her to the hospital after all, but Aunt Trunchbull pulled out of the driveway and started down the street, barking instruction all the while.

"You tripped and fell. That's what you're going to tell the doctor when we get there. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Aunt Trunchbull," Jenny answered softly, wincing as her aunt jumped the curb.

"Do you know what they do with little girls who start spewing terrible lies to doctors?" Aunt Trunchbull asked. Jenny could see that sadistic glare through the rearview mirror and shuddered.

"N-no, Aunt Trunchbull."

"They send them to juvenile detention. They have the right of it there, using hard labor to weed out undesirable character traits. The vipers would eat you alive. You wouldn't even last a day"

Jenny's mouth was suddenly to dry to give a proper response. Her aunt didn't seem to mind, and continued drilling the story they would tell into her head. By the time they had reached the hospital she almost believed it.

Sitting in the emergency room was almost worse than being back home. Jenny didn't know the rules here, and that scared her enough that her heart threatened to beat out of her chest. She didn't want to be sent away for disobeying. She didn't want to be in trouble.

But most of all Jenny didn't want to hurt anymore. She hunched over, trying to guard her arm as best she could, while Aunt Trunchbull took up the two seats beside her. She had told Jenny (loudly, in the most humiliating way possible) that since she wasn't in any danger of dying they would have to wait, possibly for hours. The implication was clear: Jenny was wasting her aunt's time. There were chores that needed to be done and training regimens that needed resumed. This foolishness only proved what Aunt Trunchbull always said: Jenny was worthless.

That realization made the sick feeling in her stomach worse, but this time Jenny kept the tears away. It was one thing to be bad at home. Shaming her aunt in public was an offense so grave she didn't even want to think about it.

"Jennifer Honey?"

Jenny flinched at the sound of her own name before she realized it was just the nurse. Aunt Trunchbull stood and pulled her up by the collar of her shirt, forcing her to do the same.

"Present!" her aunt barked.

The nurse looked from Jenny to Aunt Trunchbull, a look of plain shock on her face. They made quite the pair, the small slip of a girl and her hulking aunt. If you didn't already know it was impossible to tell that they were related at all. Then again, technically they weren't. Aunt Trunchbull was a step-sister to Jenny's mother. They shared no blood whatsoever.

It seemed almost blasphemous, but Jenny took no small comfort in that knowledge.

With admirable effort, the nurse tried to regain her composure. "And what brings you to the ER this afternoon?"

"I told that receptionist already," Aunt Trunchbull said, voice dripping scorn. If there was anything at all she hated, it was having to repeat herself. "She fell."

There was an awkward pause as the nurse waited for her to elaborate. Jenny, feeling the need to say something, added, "I tripped on the stairs."

Immediately Aunt Trunchbull's terrible gaze was focused on her, and Jenny looked at her feet. She was so stupid. Children are to be seen and not heard. No one had asked her anything. There was no need to volunteer information.

"…I see," the nurse said slowly. "And what's your relation to Jennifer, Mrs…?"

"Trunchbull. Miss Trunchbull. I am the girl's aunt and guardian."

If the nurse was offended at Aunt Trunchbull's tone, she had the good sense not to show it. She was fairly young herself, at most twenty-five. There was a sharp look to her eyes, though, that didn't completely disappear when Aunt Trunchbull spoke. Jenny wondered how that was even possible. Everyone in their right mind was terrified of her aunt.

"Okay, Miss Trunchbull. I'll take Jennifer back now." Aunt Trunchbull nodded crisply, and made to follow them. The nurse gave an ice cold smile. "Oh, you'll need to stay here. Someone will come get you a few minutes."

"I am that girl's guardian, and I demand to be present for whatever testing she goes through!" Aunt Trunchbull managed to make it sound like a threat, and for a moment Jenny thought her aunt was actually going to strike out in public. The tendons on her thick hands stuck out, and the dangerous, predatory tenseness returned to her shoulders.

"Jennifer will need an x-ray, Miss Trunchbull," the nurse explained, the barest hint of fear hidden behind her professionalism, "and it's against hospital policy for anyone extra to be present for the procedure. It's the radiation, you see. Someone will come get you when we're through. It shouldn't take more than a few minutes."

Eyes narrowed menacingly, Aunt Trunchbull sat. She shot Jenny one last meaningful glare, its intent perfectly clear. Jenny made her understanding known with a tiny nod, and her aunt smirked.

"Feel free to take the ungrateful terror. I look forward to the results."

"So, do you prefer Jennifer or Jen?"

Jenny was being led by the nurse to the x-ray room. Confusion only added to the sharp, ever present fear that ate at her constantly. She was unfamiliar with the hospital or nurses, and there was no reason for this woman to be acting so kindly. It had to be an elaborate test set up by her aunt, trying to stomp out any misbehavior that Jenny might consider. Yes, a test. Or a trap. It was her duty to obey her aunt's law without question.

"People call me Jenny," she answered reluctantly.

The nurse smiled, and it seemed so warm and genuine. Jenny just wanted to soak it up so she could hold onto it forever. But the smile turned sad as the nurse glanced down at her arm.

"Did you get hurt any place else, Jenny? Or is it just your arm?"

She didn't know how she was supposed to answer. "N-no, ma'am."

"I see. And can you tell me what happened? I know you've already said, but I want to know if you'd like to add any details."

Jenny almost said the stairs, just like she had been told, before she realized something. When people fell down stairs they twisted ankles and got bumps and bruises all over, injuries that Jenny lacked. This woman suspected something. Jenny didn't know what, exactly, but she did know that she didn't want to go to juvenile detention for being bad.

"It's okay to tell me," the nurse prompted. "It's just you and me here."

"I misspoke," Jenny said, surprised by how even her voice sounded and by how easily the lie came out. "I fell off my swing. I wasn't supposed to, but I did anyway. It's my fault."

"Oh, honey, no it's not," the nurse said. Jenny could have sworn she heard disappointment, but she couldn't be sure.

Jenny was left alone as her cast hardened. The doctor left to see another patient, and Aunt Trunchbull was signing paperwork. Jenny stared glumly at the floor as the nurse slipped into the room. Her arm didn't hurt so bad anymore, which meant it was almost time to go back home.

"Hey, Jenny," the nurse said quietly.

She looked up from the floor, eyes wide and somber. "Yes, ma'am?"

Jenny made sure to be as polite as possible. She had overheard the doctor tell her aunt that she had something called a 'spiral fracture'. She didn't know how this was different from any other broken bone, but upon hearing the diagnosis Aunt Trunchbull's whole demeanor had shifted, this time playing the part of the worried guardian.

It just like when her father had been alive. Aunt Trunchbull could pretend to be normal when she had to, but the longer she kept the evil, angry person she really was bottled inside, the worse the result once it was released.

"I just wanted to talk to you one last time," the nurse said. "You're going home soon. Your aunt is working on the discharge papers now."

Jenny's drawn, pinched face fell, and for a moment she felt so miserable that she almost cried. But she didn't. Instead, the nurse sat beside the young girl and slipped a piece of paper in her pocket.

She did not know it, but Jenny's diagnosis of a spiral fracture did make a difference. As the plaster for her cast hardened, the nurse and the doctor engaged in a heated discussion, the question being whether or not was to file a report for suspected abuse against a minor. The nurse, who was fresh out of school and new to the area, was ignorant of Agatha Trunchbull's reputation and wanted the horrible woman locked up. The doctor, a colleague of the late Magnus Honey, did not. He had met the former-Olympian once before and had no intentions of crossing paths with her again. One did not go around poking bears with a stick, he said, and besides, the child wouldn't admit to anything. The nurse had been overruled, and that was the end of it. Any further argument would put her own job at risk.

"It's the hospital's number," the nurse explained, sneaking a fugitive glance behind her. "If you need anything, call and ask for Lynn. Even if I'm not working, you can talk to any of the nurses here."

Talk about what? Squirming in her seat, Jenny shook her head. "No, thank you. I'm sure I'll be fine."

There was a moment of awkward silence. "You'll be starting school again soon, won't you?"

"In three weeks and five days," Jenny said quietly, looking down at her shoes.

"Do you like school, Jenny? Are there any friends you're excited to see again?"

Again, Jenny hesitated. She very much wanted to say she wished she could live at her school, but she couldn't. "I like to read," she admitted.

"Good," the nurse said firmly. "Education is important. A good education can help any dream come true."

Jenny's head shot up. "Really?"

"Of course. Look at me. No one thought I'd amount to much of anything, but here I am with a good paying job, and I'm able to help support my family. Education opens doors. Don't let anyone tell you differently."

At that moment Aunt Trunchbull burst into the room. At the sight of her aunt, Jenny drew rigid.

"Get up, we're going!" Miss Trunchbull said, the volume of her voice making the nurse wince. Immediately Jenny stood and allowed herself to be pulled roughly out the door. No one moved to stop the draconian woman who stormed down the hall, and no one spoke against it. Agatha Trunchbull was a force of nature. One could batten down the hatches and wait for her to blow past, or they could stand in her way and be utterly destroyed.

With the eyes of the whole hospital on them, Jennifer Honey made her way home.

Hugging her knees close to her chest and burying her head in her arms, Jenny tried to stifle the sound of her tears. It was past midnight and she was exhausted, but sleep would not come. The medicine the hospital had given her for pain was wearing off, but Jenny was too scared to ask for more. As expected, she had still had to do her chores, and as expected she failed to meet her aunt's expectations. Aunt Trunchbull hadn't hit her this time, but the tongue lashing and subsequent trip to what her aunt called 'the Chokey' was worse. Jenny had spent what felt like hours locked in the tiny supply closet Aunt Trunchbull kept cleared out for such punishments, until her bladder was full to bursting and her throat bone-dry with thirst. In the end she had broken down into an almost manic terror, screaming and begging for her aunt's forgiveness.

Jenny had very nearly given in and called that nurse. To remove the temptation, she ripped the paper into tiny shreds and flushed the pieces down the toilet without even looking at the number. It wasn't like she could call without her aunt noticing, and telling never did any good.

Her Lissy Doll was her only comfort. Jenny clung to one of the few good things she had left. If she tried really, really hard, she almost thought she could still smell her father's cologne in the doll's hair. The delicate china face was perfect and smiling, reminding her of happier times.

It was getting harder every day to remember what happiness felt like. As Jenny fell into fitful slumber, broken and hurting, she dreamed for a day when she would finally be free of the monster who lived in the room downstairs.

The next day after she had finished with chores, Jenny sat by the oak tree and waited for the mailman. Aunt Trunchbull had gone out for a training session, giving her the opportunity to talk to the man whose company she enjoyed so much. While she had no intention of bringing up yesterday, if he could see her cast he would know she was okay. Since Jenny dared not to tell him thank you directly, it was the best consolation she could manage.

But he did not come that day, or any day thereafter. It took Jenny a long time to gather enough courage to voice this observation to her aunt, only to be rudely informed that he had been removed from his route after too many complaints of unprofessional behavior.

It was one of the first demonstrations of the power Agatha Trunchbull held in the community as well as the home. Jenny was devastated but not surprised, for by then she already had terrible suspicions of what atrocities her aunt was truly capable of.

Aunt Trunchbull was a dark shadow that reached into every facet of her life. In Jenny's elementary years it didn't take long for everyone to know that the universally hated principal was her guardian. Despite being a bright pupil, her teachers refused to acknowledge her success for fear of crossing their superior. And, as if that weren't enough, Jenny had to live with the stigma of being the girl whose father had killed himself.

When she was older and out of Cruncham Elementary, what few invitations she got for birthdays and get-togethers were politely declined, Jenny always begging off with the excuse that she was needed at home. It didn't take long before she was ignored. It was best that way, and she could lie to herself and say she didn't mind.

And so Jennifer Honey grew from a very lonely girl into a very lonely adult.

Books were her only escape, the children she taught her only joy. She eventually managed to escape her aunt's house, but not her influence. Jenny was weak, small, and cowardly. That would not change. She had not only lost, she had been broken.

The problem with broken things is that it often takes a great deal of time to put them back together, and the end result is never quite the same as before. It wasn't until she was twenty-three years old that Jenny crossed paths with the spectacular girl by the name of Matilda Wormwood. Until that time, she was faced with unimaginable horror forced to endure countless injustices.

But broken does not mean unfixable. A miserable past does not have to lead to a miserable future, and just because one is beaten down does not mean that they cannot get up again. Jenny learned this lesson the hard way, until little by little, bit by bit, the day came when she was able to stand on her own two feet and overcome the monsters of her childhood.

AN: I've had this sitting finished on my computer for awhile and finally decided to post it. I'll mark it as complete for the time being, but it is my hope to someday turn it into a multi-chapter story delving more deeply into Mrs. Honey's backstory.

This fic came about because I recently saw the movie for the first time in a long time, and the line "I broke your arm once" sticks out a little more after you've grown up. I've also been on a children's literature kick and read the book for the first time, while also realizing they made a musical. Why I didn't hear of this amazingness sooner, I don't know. In both the book and musical Miss Honey's home life is elaborated on a little bit more (and her adult life more sucky), and that just made the character all the more interesting to me.

If I ever continue, I will mix together the movie, book, and musical 'verse, mostly for my convenience (and because I like quotes from all three). Miss Honey's backstory and adult life will be more in line with the books—i.e., no escapologists—but this fic takes place in the United States during the 1970s through the 90s, depending on how old Mrs. Honey is at the time. As mentioned Miss Trunchbull will be Miss Honey's step-aunt rather than a blood relation, and, unfortunately, no one will spontaneously break out into song.

Reviews are appreciated, even negative ones. Flames, however, will be ignored. I've tried to deal with this subject as respectfully as possible, and I would like that same courtesy extended in your replies. Abuse of any sort should not be tolerated, whether in the home or over the Internet.