My Angel
A Hey Arnold FanFic
Authors note: Special thanks to AdventureGirl6. I do not own Hey Arnold and make no attempt to profit from it.
Chapter Two: Her Anniversary
They drifted in and out of the clouds, faceless forms below her fading from view nearly as quickly as they had appeared. But for Helga this did not matter; none of them would care for her flying above them. Except for the one person she wanted to see, the one person who meant the world to her. Helga began to slowly descend upon an apartment roof, taking little notice of the faceless stares, she received.
All was peaceful and still upon the rooftop, the only noise or movement she could find was of her own footsteps moving softly and gracefully along. A flash of light caught her eye, the glass ahead catching her attention as her desire to enter grew with each passing step. Shaped into an oddly made ceiling above the roof top, Helga came to a halt.
Peering down through the opening, Helga's eyes scanned the room below for any signs of life. Blue coloured walls and orange carpet greeted her, Helga pausing for a moment on the bed below where blonde hair shone brightly in the morning light. She knew she had seen this person before; she knew this room all too well.
Her descent down to the room's floor was quickly forgotten once she moved closer to the bed before her. On her knees she crept, afraid that the slightest sound might wake the person from their sleep. Though light shone upon them, their face remained hidden from her sight, the silent movement of her body stopping when she was inches from the head.
Helga froze. She had never been this close before, a new record. Not daring to breathe, she held it tightly in her chest, watching the body before her remain perfectly still. But she couldn't hold it. Air escaped and her chest betrayed her efforts as she fell back onto the floor. Nothing moved. Helga relaxed. Until the face stirred.
Blankets cast aside, Helga felt small and powerless in the presence of the person, the groan emitted filled with pain as they sat up. Face still hidden, the person chuckled, a cackling voice that made the hairs on Helga's body stand on end. Then came a droning voice, as though life moved in slow motion for them.
"Good morning sweetie," it spoke, the voice highly feminine.
Helga looked up and beamed. "Mum?"
"Hello Helga," Miriam smiled back, bringing her running child into a hug.
"I've missed you mum…"
Helga awoke. Clutching the pillow on her side, she looked at it blankly for a while. None of the curves were there, and the smell wasn't of her mother. Not anymore.
"I can't keep doing this," she groaned, letting go of the pillow to lie on her back.
Perhaps today would bring her something different, a new life, a fresh start, just something that would help break her out of the daily nightmare that had become her life. Hearing a loud groan and stumble from the room down the hall, Helga knew today would be no different.
D & F
7:03PM. Her watch had become incredibly good at breaking her optimism that time had passed her by faster than normally possible. Glancing up and down the platform walkway, Helga felt her body tense up momentarily upon catching sight of some of the people remaining, her mind now hoping beyond hope that tonight would be mundane and uneventful.
Holding her poetry book closer to her face, Helga began the unending task of pouring over the words, searching, analysing and critiquing their value and worth. Inwardly groaning, she refrained from throwing it away in disgust, reasoning that she didn't really like the poetry that much. A lie that she was content to tell herself.
The words began to meld themselves before her eyes, their crafted beauty a vivid painting within her mind. Strokes of red lands, shades of orange sunsets and two long lost lovers danced before her, their loving embrace tragically thrown asunder in the coolness of the pale moon light. Her heart felt the pang of guilt as they bid farewell, their last goodbye forever captured only through the briefest of regretful recollections of an old man.
Helga wept. Not openly, but within. Be stoic, she thought. To show her tears would be her undoing, a fall from integrity she could ill-afford. And no matter her views on the poetry, Helga knew the love this man held, unrequited and abandoned, would drive anyone insane. Even her.
As her train finally approached on this Thursday night, Helga felt nothing to the world around her. She would ignore the looks, vanish to her room and spend the night lost in her thoughts, writing nonsense works should her muse allow her to do so. Little consolation to the life she desired, but as she reasoned while heading for the carriage doors, nothing was ever truly fair in life. At least not anymore.
Walking into the carriage, Helga had nearly found her place when her eyes came upon a young man, merely metres away from where she stood looking around dreamily. Catching her look, the young man smiled and walked away, seating himself aisles away from her. Her heart was caught in mid beat, her mind numb to what she had just seen. She had to be dreaming, but even her dreams were never this real.
"Arnold?" she whispered under her breath.
Helga pinched herself; nope, this wasn't a dream. But what was he doing here of all places? The Arnold she knew had left long ago. When had he returned? Was he okay? Did he remember her? Was this really Arnold? Helga felt herself tense up at this; maybe he wasn't Arnold. An older lady behind her coughed, breaking Helga from her thoughts.
"Get a hold of yourself Helga; those parts of you ended long ago," the blonde muttered to herself as she moved along the carriage.
The stench of the carriage got to her once again; why couldn't these people ever clean up after themselves? If she ever found out the person responsible for this atrocious scene, Helga had no doubt in her mind she would leave them wishing they had cleaned up the area before she had ever arrived. Despite the scene before her, Helga did not have much choice either way; the elderly male behind her wasn't exactly trust worthy in her books and the lady in front of her was more likely to sit and criticise her for her attire and choice of music. Kicking the sit near her, hiding it from anyone's possible sight, Helga sat down and stuck her headphones in.
Nauseating could hardly cover the stench Helga smelt; how they could let the trains be so filthy and disgusting for two days in a row was beyond her. But no one would care for her complaints; the contents of the drunken person's stomach might, but she would have to get through the smell first. Turning the sound up once more, the final evening rays glittered in the grime covered windows, allowing her a small respite from the harshness of the cold she had been feeling all day.
Sickness was not the cause; something more had snapped after last night. Peering cautiously from her seat, she could only make out the blonde hair. He looked like him though; there weren't too many people who had his particularly odd and uniquely shaped head. But there was one crucial piece missing. Closing her eyes, Helga tried to form the image of the Arnold she knew with what she saw now before her.
He looks the same; if Arnold has come on the train and has seated himself only aisles away from me, he's grown so much. He looks like what Arnold should look like; but where's his goofy cap? Maybe this stranger wasn't him…oh Arnold, my golden-haired angel boy, my love pulls me apart at the mere thought of the kindness you have to all. But I, Helga am not worthy…No, I can't have these thoughts, not anymore, Helga blushed furiously at this and pinched herself again.
"Come on Helga, get your head together," she mumbled incoherently to herself.
Music began to blare from her headphones, Helga's humming distracting her from the whirring of her mind and dizziness she felt from the lack of air flow. Her day had been one long fight after another. What did they expect when I said I had some poetry? Sure, it wasn't my best work ever, but to be ridiculed by some academic morons who wouldn't know creativity if it came and bit them in the backside is stupid! It is beyond comprehension how they can expect to be taken seriously, Helga thought to herself, wishing the train home would hurry up and finish.
Her back ached as the train lurched, slowing down to its next stop with reluctant care and want. Brushing aside a small part of her hair, Helga watched it come to a stop and mentally punched the air as the businesswoman gathered her belongings and made her way to the exit, no doubt picking up the smell and wriggling her nose in disgust at it. Before she could have the chance to change her mind, Helga had pounced and grabbed her bag, moving away from the smell and onto the more cleanly and beautifully smelling area. Passengers around her interchanged and swapped their still positions for ones of activity and happiness, looking forward to their swift returns home while she hummed away to her tune. It wasn't long before they were moving once more, and not long before her eyes came upon the last person standing.
Trying to keep her gaze away from the stranger, Helga held eye contact with the emergency lever opposite her. For the remainder of her journey, Helga maintained her focus, although every now and then her eyes would stray towards the blonde boy. Each time she did she greeted herself with a firm pinch, and even going so far at one point to slap herself across her face. Finally, with Helga thanking fate kindly, her stop arrived, the announcer reminding all departing passengers to take their valuables with them. Gathering her bag, Helga paid no attention to her movements, her mind set on auto-pilot. Bumping into the boy as they both tried to exit at the same time, Helga felt her fear grip her again as he half-smiled, rubbing his head tenderly.
"Sorry about that; I guess I wasn't watching where I was going."
Helga forced herself to half smile at his words. The young man's face though suddenly changed, his apologetic look turning curious as he took a closer look at her. "Wait a moment, I think I've seen you before. Don't I know you from somewhere?"
His aroma caught her off-guard again, Making her nearly faint from joy. "No," she mumbled softly before walking away from the puzzled boy.
Her footsteps increased their pace and Helga felt herself needing to get away from him as quickly as possible. Whatever effect he had on her was easing off the further she moved from him. This was stupid; how could someone have such a strong impact on her?
D & F
Home had seemed a life time away from the train ride, but her attempts to ignore the constant daydreams made it painful to bear. Wearing the same football cap, he had adorned since he was a baby, Arnold would sway gently from side to side as the lurching of the train forcibly made everyone else in the carriage follow suit. An ease of calmness radiated had from him, relaxing anybody nearby and sending Helga's heart in a flutter of electric shocks. He impacted her so strongly even to this day.
Her mind though raced with the possibilities; a quick flicker around the carriage showed that there was only one seat left, providing you didn't count the barf resting beside the worn seat. As her mind calculated the odds, she knew that the only remaining seat was beside her. And as he moved towards her, she knew something in her heart would burst if he sat next to her…
"Enough!" she shouted to her bedroom, slamming her fists onto her bed.
"Why can't I have a normal night? Is it really too much to ask for?" Helga grumbled, falling onto her bed with a mighty thump.
A thump though that echoed.
Her ears picked up on the sound and alerted her. Creaking stairs gave way to the weight of the man walking on them, his grumbling reaching her before he reached the top. Bob had been in a bad mood all week and now, faced with the possibility of another showdown, all over her thump, Helga knew she had to move.
Within seconds her finely tuned routine was in motion, clicks and locks signalling that should he try anything tonight she would at least have time to get away. Standing back from the door, the progressive movements of her father appeared to stop. An uneasy silence fell on Helga, watching intently for any sign of failure.
Helga regretted taking her father up on the savings for college; not that he would lord it over her, but that the only condition had been that she stay while she finished her education, something Miriam apparently had asked for when creating the account. Helga loved her mother, but she knew it had been a bad move.
In truth, she could run away. With her small emergency backpack within arm's reach, Helga knew she could jump out of the window and be off into the night long before Bob would realise what had happened. But without the money, where would she go? No one in town would take her in, not after the ties she cut with most of her friends.
"What are you doing in there?" the slurred voice asked, Helga's body freeing itself to the spot.
"I'm not doing anything Bob; go to bed already, you're working in the morning," Helga retorted, glad her mouth hadn't paralysed itself.
"You brat, I'll go to bed when I'm good and ready. Don't forget who owns this house Olga," he mocked.
"It's Helga you idiot!"
"Whatever."
Helga listened to his pounding footsteps, cursing him under her breath until the final slam of the door echoed loudly in her ears. The brute wasn't any better on a good day, but this wasn't what angered her the most as she continued her stare at the door. Perhaps if she punched it hard it would flee and she would be rid of him. Instead she turned on her heels and headed for bed, dreading the work she still had to finish.
D & F
Helga had never been good with trains. Something about the constant clinking, shifting movements of the people and weird smells unnerved her normally calm facade. Calm. Calm huh? What a joke. Her mind focused solely on the woman who appeared to be glaring back at her, Helga didn't realise she was being asked a question until she felt her seat move beside her.
Startled, Helga was preparing to tell them off. How dare they not see she was busy trying to out-stare this person and did not have time for chit chat? The anger boiled within her, as it did in the moment of life she knew she'd mastered long ago. When the familiar adrenaline kicked in, her fists would tighten to the strength of a boulder, her movements sharp and precise in their strikes. This person, whoever they were, would soon find out just how strong she still was.
"Do you mind if I have this seat?" he asked sweetly, his smile warming her very soul.
Helga sat dumbfounded. No doubt the young man was wondering why her mouth was agape, but Helga couldn't believe who she was looking at.
"Whatever floats your boat," she managed to mumble, an awkward smile back to him followed by a quick look away. Helga bit her tongue at the words that could have followed at seeing him again, but nothing could have prepared her for this.
Sitting beside her, he avoided her peripheral gaze, instead choosing to resume the reading he had begun on the platform. Helga could hardly believe this; she would have died and flown back from heaven to have this chance alone with him when she was younger. But now as she sat beside him, the butterflies she had known so well began to dance once more, but the love she felt was eased and nearing a rather cold and gentle end. Did he even recognise her?
"I like your book. What's it about?" the young man asked, pointing towards her firmly held poetry book.
"It's my...text. That's right, it's my poetry text for my studies. Bit rubbish really, full of boring metaphors and similes. Nothing that someone would really be excited about," she chuckled nervously, the young man's eyes bright with wonder before nodding and returning to his book.
Mentally cursing her actions, Helga tried to continue her reading while he focused on his. She'd never wanted more than to shout at him to pay attention to her, make him realise that they did indeed know each other and she still dearly wanted to know the man of her deepest and darkest dreams...
Her candle light flickered, but the wall remained still in the light that bathed Helga's face. Her lover, the mysterious and magnificent man moved closer to her, his silhouette a delight to behold even though his face was hidden. But Helga knew something was wrong. He was moving too fast, his hands moving towards her before she could respond. And then his face appeared, twisted and grinning at her. "Thought you'd got away huh?" Bob laughed, his darting fists too much as she cried out...
"We met on the train yesterday, did we not?" the young man enquired, his focus never moving from his book.
Catching Helga by surprise, she stuttered terribly, unable to form the words correctly to respond. I can't let him get into my head like that; he'll overwhelm me if I let him win. I need to fight back. Practice your breathing Helga and focus on the punches. Please don't let him get close again, she pleaded to herself, trying her best to simply brush her hair aside.
"I don't know, maybe you're imagining things."
His smile brightened as he laughed, shaking his head while Helga tried to resist the urge to punch him in the face.
"I know we did; you're wearing the same beanie as yesterday. Even though I spent most of the night wondering, I know where I have seen you before and this just confirms it. The back of my head has been feeling better ever since you stopped spitting paper balls at me."
Helga felt her heart beat harder than it had ever done. She couldn't help but gaze into his eyes, the endless wells of calm water that promised to soothe and restore all she was, and so much more. "But I do know you and it is wonderful to see you again Helga," Arnold grinned, turning to face her and closing his book.
D & F
Helga's brow frowned deeply, unable at this point to fathom the complexity of creating the flower arrangement she had been planning for her mother for months. It was tricky trying to find the right combination and arrange them perfectly. Phoebe understood this better than she did. Cutting the small decorative flower, she placed it on top of the wreathe and tried to smile; it was impressive, but it would not do for now. She would have to find some more appropriate flowers tomorrow; until then she would have to return to her work. Straining under the weight of her books, Helga flipped through the pages at will, unable to bring herself to concentrate or take interest in the thoughts and opinions of people who were better off living the talk instead of simply writing it.
Fear gripped her as she heard the door to the house open and close; thundering steps and cursing below her room sent her into autopilot; running to her door, she closed it firmly and bolted it, thankful once more as she had been many times before that she had bought one of these when she did. Although she was not near the man, nor could she claim to be smelling him, Helga noticed the unmistakable odour of red wine drifting into her nostrils. Her stomach heaved at the thought of what he drank. Miriam had drunk a lot during her time and for most of Helga's childhood she had come to know not only the stench but the actions that could follow from it.
She scanned the pages furiously, unable to comprehend what was truly written and what lay before her. "If it was up to me Helga, I wouldn't try to factor in the questions she asks; instead focus on what she is trying to say without the mindless structuring of words she uses to hide the simple fact," came a soft and petite voice.
Helga's head spun around, looking for the source of the voice until she came upon the slim figure of Phoebe, dressed in jeans and blue jumper. She smiled and giggled as Helga simply returned to her work, disinterested in the girl standing in her room.
"How did you get in here Phebs?" she asked coldly, unable to stand another moment with her pestering presence.
"Through the window of course Helga; I do seem to remember you having trouble with sleep walking when you were younger."
"And I do remember you being asked to forget that," Helga spat darkly.
A smirk formed across Phoebe's lips. "Forgetting."
Helga didn't need this right now; she already had enough on her plate as it was. "Why are you here Phoebe?"
With delicate movements and ease of grace, Phoebe sat down gently on Helga's bed, hardly leaving an imprint from where she sat. Fidgeting with her attire, Phoebe was avoiding Helga's impatient gaze, the temptation to throw something at her growing with each passing second. "I thought you could do with some cheering up, especially on this cold night. Goodness knows that you need Helga; how is he by the way?" Phoebe asked.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she mumbled returning her attention to her work.
"Does ice-cream ring a bell?"
Grabbing a hold of the wreathe, Helga threw it behind her at Phoebe. Before she knew it, Phoebe was beside her, looking intently over her work. "It must be pretty hard to see him again after so long Helga. How are you holding up?"
Pushing herself away from the desk, Helga moved over to her bed and dived head first onto it, burying her head under her pillow as Phoebe followed. "You can't run from me Helga. I am here and I am going to help you whether you like it or not."
A mumble of leave me alone from Helga did nothing to stop Phoebe from continuing. "You must still love him Helga; how could you not? You obsessed over the boy for most of your life and now you have a chance to happy. Surely he isn't seeing someone else now after all that happened from the fallout with that girl at the high school prom?"
Helga removed the pillow and sat up, turning her attention to Phoebe once more. "Well…"
Heart racing after they had been talking for a while, Helga dared to ask Arnold the next question. She didn't want to come off as jealous of him; but she couldn't let him know how she felt towards him. It would be too soon and he wouldn't believe her. She had to play it cool and calm, provide him with little pieces of information and then make up her mind later. But the question still buzzed in her head and she knew it would be better to ask now and know instead of holding onto a thin piece of hope.
"So, Arnold, are you seeing anybody now? I mean especially after that whole senior prom fiasco, I didn't think you would ever date someone again in at least ten years," Helga asked, trying to keep the hope in her voice to a bare minimum.
Arnold rubbed his neck and looked down at the book in Helga's lap, no doubt uncomfortable about the memory. "Well…not really no. She isn't interested and I guess I'm not either. It would be nice to date her but…I'm having my suspicions about her. Some of the things she gets up to now…anyway, I guess I'm not. Is there anybody special in your life?"
Helga's face turned pale. "Me? I mean, maybe there is Shortman; something wrong with that?"
"Not at all; he's a lucky guy then," Arnold smiled. Helga tried to spot something sinister, maybe a twinge of jealously, but nothing registered. Maybe he was genuinely happy for her.
"He's not taken?" Phoebe asked, unable to contain herself anymore.
Helga though slapped herself. "But it's over before it can even begin. Don't you see? Arnold thinks I have a boyfriend and if he sees that he won't want to…you know."
"Want to what Helga?"
Helga mumbled into her chest, causing Phoebe to lean closer. "Want to what Helga?"
"Date me! Ask me out! Take me to fancy restaurants and spend hours upon hours speaking of our love for one another, watching romantic sunsets and dreaming of the life we have together! Criminey, am I the only one who sees this?"
A thunder of footsteps from below was followed by, "Keep it down up there Olga!"
"Shut it Bob!" she roared back, earning a smashed bottle against the wall.
Thunderous steps raced up the stairs and Helga matched it blow for blow while he pounded her door, his insults breaking upon her heart like waves on stones. She pushed against it with all her might, his slams though pushing her back momentarily each time. "Open up kid!"
Helga didn't respond. She knew better than to engage him like this, especially when he was acting the way he was. Channelling her anger into keeping her body against the door, she checked the locks during his continuing tirade, relieved that they remained in place and unhinged.
"You coward. I'll get you later," he growled, the words Helga mumbling under her breathe best not heard by anyone but her.
Phoebe watched Helga slump into her chair and stare blankly at the ceiling. "And then I can get out of here and move on with my life; I hate this place," she sighed.
"Well it may not be as hard as you think Helga; if my calculations are correct, telling Arnold that you do not in fact have a boyfriend will be beneficial."
"Explain," Helga asked, her strained glance towards her best friend requiring all her energy.
"Well males tend to focus their time more so on those that are single and are honest, being kind and caring- "
"Uh huh, so what you're saying is that if I tell him I'm single, he'll probably go for me?"
"Precisely," Phoebe smiled. "I'll be heading though Helga."
Helga nodded and returned to her book work. Even though there was a requirement to attend all lectures, Helga was sure that no one would notice if she slipped out for this one. Not that her professor would notice anyway. He'd barely acknowledged she existed before last week, and with today being a repeat of last lesson, she felt she'd be better served enjoying her weekend sleep in.
Except that tomorrow was that Saturday, the day that brought about her darkest day and her darkest memory. She couldn't believe that tomorrow had come around again so suddenly; last year she hadn't been able pry herself away from the grave for three hours, and only did so reluctantly after being consoled by a stranger. And it never got easier to walk up that path, praying with all her might that she wasn't here again. A small tear dripped down her cheek; wiping it away, she headed over to her bed and tried for the sleep she knew would never come.
D & F
Dawns light had arrived, but gloomy grey skies adorned the horizon as Helga made her way past the flower shop. Popping in quickly, the old lady there simply nodded and headed out back. Returning minutes later with the flowers, red and white, Helga quickly paid for them and walked towards the park. She needed to pick up some food before heading there; Bob had forgotten to get the groceries once more, meaning another stop in the park for breakfast. Ever since Willie, better known as the Jolly Olly Man, had changed from ice-cream to coffee, he had become a daily part of her life. His stand in the park was her target as she walked up the familiar part, smelling the pastries and tantalising coffee.
As she neared the stand, Helga could see Willie smile and wave at her, before hurrying to serve his other customer at the stand. She could feel her heart rise a little at the thought of breakfast and enjoying another of the delicious pastries. By the time she arrived, Willie had the coffee ready and her muffin waiting on the counter. With a solemn nod, Willie bid her farewell, saying it was on the house.
Spying an empty park bench nearby, Helga trenched herself towards it, planting herself down and not wanting to move for the remainder of the day. Grey clouds above reminded her why she was here; tears threatened to spill over as she watched people around her go past, smiling and laughing at the day she'd dreaded for a year now. Unknown to others around her, she was torn apart; there was no one coming to save her this time from the darkness. Why did she have to go? Years had now passed, but the answer was still unforthcoming in the wake of spilled tears.
Sipping on her coffee bitterly, a blonde-haired boy appeared at the stand dressed in a black suit, grabbing his coffee and walking towards her. Helga wasn't surprised to find him here of all places; she had planned to meet him today to help her with this. But now as he sat beside her, she wished to be far away, never seeing or hearing anything ever again.
"How are you holding up Helga?" he asked, the smell of his coffee doing wonders for the sleep in his eyes.
For a while she didn't respond; she couldn't face this day again, not after everything that had happened. "I'm fine as always football head." Arnold smiled gently before returning to the coffee in his hand.
"Do you think the dead remember us? Do you think they can forgive?" Helga asked absentmindedly. She wasn't expecting an answer back; a child running up to their mother only made her pain worse as Arnold struggled to come up with a response.
"I don't know Helga," was the best he could do.
She nodded solemnly and tried to focus on something else. But everything would only lead her back to the rawness she still felt beneath the surface. How could she have not noticed the signs? Why did she not try to help her when everything told her to do so? She needed to know that the dead could forgive…forgive her for everything she had done…and hadn't…
"Helga?"
Startled, Helga felt her skin pale as Arnold brought her back to her senses. The flowers in her hands felt empty and shallow, a simple hollow reminder of what she had once had with someone so special and wonderful to her. The coldness from the air around her only made her know deep down that she had only come to realise it once it was over. "I'm fine Arnold."
For a while they did not speak; Helga slowly nibbled away at her muffin, no longer enjoying the sweetness and tempting divine bliss it would normally bring her. It was like waiting for the storm to erupt; she knew it was coming, but she didn't want to believe that it was going to happen again. After a while she knew it was time; the clouds had grown darker and she did not fancy having to walk home in the rain. Resting the cup beside her, she turned her eyes to Arnold and looked at him desperately. How she longed to be lost in his gaze.
He nodded and stood up, their time growing slimmer by the second. "I guess it is time Helga; are you sure you want to do this?"
"I've managed without you for a few years Arnold so I'm sure I will be fine once more. Takes more than this to break Helga G. Pataki," she puffed her chest out, trying to put the mask on that she had used so well for so long.
"Whatever you say Helga; come on, we should get going."
Walking side by side, the two never spoke as the path took them through most of the district and into the graveyard, sending shivers up Helga's spine as they moved through the trees and stones with due care. For a while Helga thought they may have gotten lost and would have to turn around, but as she caught a glimpse of a black suit in the distance, Helga knew they were exactly where they needed to be. Coming upon a man with his hair tied neatly, Helga felt a pang of regret for Gerald as he struggled to hold back the tears she knew he wept. Arnold upon seeing his best mate walked up to him and hugged him tightly, before turning to Helga who stood frozen in front of the stone she wished she never had to read.
She loved her so dearly; Helga had never stopped to think of how much an impact she would have on her when she died. It had been so sudden, so unexpected. How she wished to tell her she was sorry and wanted to spend her time making it right for her. How she wished for the guiding advice and words that only she could provide when moments became too much for her to deal with.
Arnold had moved away from Gerald who remained routed on the spot, unable to move from what his eyes saw. The wreath was clenched tightly in her fingers, the flowers slowly falling to the ground as Helga's eyes remained locked on the headstone before her. "Helga, why don't you put the wreath down?" Arnold asked gently.
"I…I can't do it," Helga mumbled, her tears now flowing freely and spilling onto her dress. She turned her eyes towards Arnold and he saw it before he could prepare himself for it; burned into her eyes was the rawness, an everlasting hurt she felt so deeply he could feel himself being consumed by it. Arnold's heart was breaking as she looked at him helplessly, unable to move from the spot and looking as though she would collapse any moment.
Small drops of rain began to fall upon them as Arnold came up beside her and tried to look her in the eye. "It wasn't your fault Helga."
"It feels like it should have been though Arnold; I should have seen it coming. I loved her so much," Helga cried out, before sobbing into Arnold's chest. Holding her against him tightly, Arnold stroked her hair as Gerald joined them, his eyes telling of one who had lost everything. Arnold tried not to focus on it, but he couldn't help but cry softly as the rain came down harder upon the three of them. Inscribed neatly on the stone read the following:
Here lies
Phoebe Heyerdahl
May she forever rest in the peace she could not find amongst us.
We shall forever miss you our beloved daughter and friend.