once upon a time

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hello everyone!! long time no see lol oopsies

i hope you're having an amazing week!!

this one is a bit different from what i've done so far so i hope you all enjoy it!! this one has more to do with mrs phelps bc i think her relationship with matilda is criminally underrated and underexplored :)

tw for
child abuse/neglect
and please let me know if i missed anything so i can add it in :D

enjoy!!

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Matilda met one of the most influential people in her life when she was just two years old.

Her brother went off to school and her father went to work like they did every day. Her mother went off to her salsa and ballroom dancing class like she did every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Tuesdays and Thursdays are for bingo and bridge.

Matilda gets herself dressed and brushes the few teeth she's started growing. Makes herself breakfast and brushes her hair. And she looks out the window.

She's taken to doing this a lot. Watching the other young children play outside with their mothers and fathers and wondering why her own won't do that with her.

Today, all the children drag their parents down the sidewalk, chattering and skipping excitedly, trying to get their parents to go faster. Matilda opens the curtains a little further, trying to see what they're rushing towards. She can't see.

She slips off the sofa she was perched on and heads to the door. She has to stand on her tiptoes to open the door, but she manages after her chubby hand slips off the doorknob a few times.

Matilda toddles her way down the sidewalk and sees all the neighborhood children surrounding a bus. Her neighbor, Mrs. Phillips, told her to mind strange vans, but for some reason this one seems to be okay for all the parents and children.

Her mother says she's not to be seen by anyone else in the neighborhood, so Matilda hides behind a nearby shrub and waits for the crowd to clear. It seems to take hours, but one by one, the children and their families clear out. Matilda emerges from her bush and makes her way to the bus.

The steps up to it are nearly as tall as her, so she has to lean over each and kick her legs to make it up. She pants for breath as she climbs up the last one and looks around to see where she's found herself.

A kind looking lady with a very strange hat pops out from behind a shelf. She yelps a bit at seeing Matilda standing there, and blinks at her in confusion. "Hello there, sweetheart, what's your name?"

The lady has a very intriguing accent. Matilda steps closer, looks up at her, and says, "I'm Matiwda." She grimaces. She's not Matiwda. But her mouth doesn't always move the way she tells it to. She tries again, making extra sure to annunciate every syllable. "Ma-til-da."

"Very nice to meet you, Matilda. I'm Mrs. Phelps," the lady says. "How old are you?"

"Two," Matilda responds. Thank goodness she learned how to read the calendar. Her parents forgot her birthday this year.

"Are your parents here? Where are they?" Mrs. Phelps asks. Her voice has suddenly got much higher. Matilda doesn't care for that. She never understood why people don't talk to babies normally. Not that she's a baby, of course.

"Out," Matilda says.

"Outside?" Mrs. Phelps asks, trying to look for them out the windows. Matilda shrugs. Probably not, but she can't say where her parents are for certain.

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