TW: Seizures, language
From this point on, most chapters will flip between a lot of flashbacks- in italics -and present day. So please be aware of that while reading. Also, as I mentioned already, there are a few mature things about to happen in the story, as by now we all know exactly what is going on with Olga. Cancer is a horrible sickness and does some very scary things to the victims it claims. I in no way wish to diminish or lessen those scary things and will stick close to reality, no matter how sad or hard it is.
Please be aware of this as we proceed.
The pavement had mostly dried from last night's rainstorm. I kept my gaze on the ground beneath my feet as I trudged home from my really weird breakfast with Arnold up in Mighty Pete. The worms wriggled in the cracks of the sidewalk as the sun made its daily rise in the sky to illuminate Hillwood; mother nature's alarm clock going off for all of us living in the city.
Hillwood was quick to wake up. It was nearly eight and people were already up and headed off for their jobs, catching the bus and taxis alike, or hopping into their cars to make that commute to wherever it is they needed to be today.
I, on the other hand, had NOWHERE to be, which made for a perfect excuse to wander the streets of Hillwood before finally getting back to Phoebe and Gerald's love nest AKA my 'home.'
And I was in no hurry to make my way back home.
I was in no way, shape or form ready to go home.
Instead, I took steps with a wild fury away from the hospital. I couldn't believe what Olga had pulled; making the doctor talk to ME first instead of my numbskull parents. What was she getting out of it anyway? Was she TRYING to further ruin my life by the power of knowledge? Making me learn first of her fate before anyone else so I have to suffer with it until she's dead and buried in the ground?
I wanted to scream. I wanted to yell and curse at my big sister who had, yet again, ruined my life with her selfishness. How could she get a tumor? How could she screw herself over so bad?
Mom and Dad would never let me hear the end of it. Know what's worse than living in the shadow of your big sister? Living in the shadow of your DEAD big sister. It's almost like Olga knew the surefire way to top me in the perfect-daughter category (as if she hadn't already done that) so she just went in for that last sick and twisted trophy to add to Bob's collection.
How could this happen? HOW could this HAPPEN?
My shoes were dirty and still a little wet from the rain. They squished under me with each step I took and I stared intently at the damp canvas of my converse as if the feet I were watching weren't attached to me; as if I wasn't this sad moist person walking around Hillwood this early in the morning.
I kept my hands in my pockets as my mind drifted further into my own thoughts; the memories so vivid it was as if I had traveled back in time to when it all began.
To when Arnold first added himself into the Olga equation.
Somehow, all my walking brought me to the ever-familiar Vine street- though I didn't take much notice between my spouts of grumbling and violent kicking of a conveniently crushed Yahoo soda can.
In fact, I probably would have ran into a light pole if it hadn't been for that sweet and sultry voice calling me out of my thoughts.
"Hey Helga," Arnold said cheerfully with a bag of garbage in his hand which I supposed he was bringing to the can. "What brings you here?"
Winding my leg up to kick the soda can as far away as I could, I shoved my hands in my jeans' pockets and turned to face him. "Who said I was here to see YOU, footballface," I nearly spat though he seemed unphased.
My acts of anger and hatred didn't take to Arnold much anymore. Since graduation, he seemed pretty over my acts of bully-hood and had no trouble shaking off an insult or two from my god-forsaken mouth. "Nobody, it's just kinda weird seeing you around here. You haven't come by since we were in middle school."
I shrugged my shoulders nonchalantly and narrowed my eyes at him; obviously he didn't know about my visiting his little street all throughout High School. "It's a free country, Arnoldo. I can walk wherever I want."
Arnold flipped the lid of the garbage can up and over so he could toss the bag of trash into the can's open mouth. Once it hit the bottom of the bin, he flipped the lid back over and wiped his hands on one another while smiling in my direction. "Either way, it's good to see you, Helga. How've you been?"
I gritted my teeth together at the question. "How have I been?" I asked coolly, though Arnold was blind to see it was masking a geyser ready to burst.
"Yeah, what have you been up to lately?"
Without second thought, blood rushed through my body as I struggled to keep the adrenaline now pumping through my system at bay. "Oh gee, I dunno, just hanging out, living life, watching Olga slowly die from cancer. Same old, same old."
Arnold's jaw dropped at my words as the color drained from his face. "Helga- I, I'm so sorry…" He was stuttering to get the words out, though he couldn't seem to catch up with his own thoughts. "She, I mean how, when did-"
"Does it really matter?" I answered for him, though he never had the chance to finish his question. "At the end of the day, she's going to either come out on top as the brain cancer champion of the universe in true Olga Pataki fashion, or she'll go caputsville and I'll have her out of my life for good like I always said I wanted."
Arnold blinked twice while watching me intently. "That's a pretty morbid attitude, Helga. I don't think you really believe that."
"What? That I want her gone?" I said matter-of-factly before shrugging my shoulders. "Who cares what I believe? It doesn't change anything."
"I just can't believe you'd be so jealous of your sister that you'd actually want her…gone." Arnold furrowed his brows in confusion- maybe disappointment? I never could tell what was going on in that weird head of his. "You can certainly be a little…rough…but that's not who you are-"
Taken aback by his assumption, I scoffed. "Like YOU know who I am. You're just some freaky-headed nobody who may be taller than me now, but that doesn't mean you have ANYTHING on me, Hair Boy."
He sighed and nodded his head. "Sure, Helga. I know nothing about you."
I pursed my lips and raised a brow at him. "Ri-Right. Let's keep it that way- shall we?" I finalized before turning on my heel to begin walking away from him and his stupid boarding house.
Just as I walked away, however, I heard him call out after me in that annoying understanding-sort-of-way he has with words, "Whatever you say, Helga."
Of course, it didn't take long for the footballhead to start calling me and texting me and messaging me in nearly every format available so he could offer his help. I figured it was mostly his guilt riding him to be the noble-guy he is, but he insisted he was genuine even after I rejected all of his attempts to reach out to me.
After all, I AM Helga G. Pataki: world's best avoider of all things good and Arnold Shortman related.
It would have stayed that way too if I didn't have to call him after Olga's first little 'incident' which is where all the messy feelings came into play ANYWAY.
I mean, why would I call HIM of all people? Why not Phoebe or the LOGICAL option of 911?
Probably because you're an IDIOT, Helga, I thought to myself as I walked up the stoop Arnold had been sitting at just yesterday; that ever familiar umbrella of his shielding his golden locks from the violent rainstorm.
Shaking my head from the memory, I pushed my way up the cement steps and entered the apartment building, then headed straight for room 103- my somewhat home sweet home.
"Helga!" Phoebe squeaked in surprise as she appeared from the kitchen the moment I unlocked the door. "Oh my," she exclaimed once catching a glimpse of me; still haggard from my little shower last night.
"Yeah, yeah," I said half-heartedly while kicking the door shut behind me, "it's a long story."
"I see," she said thoughtfully while watching as I made my way to the dining room table; sliding one of the wooden chairs out.
With a huff, I collapsed onto the chair; my body completely exhausted from the past 24 hours. Once seated, I brought my hands up to rub at my eyes in an effort to wake myself up. "I uh," I said into my hands, the words coming out muffled before I dropped my hands to rest on the tabletop. "I went to that Creative Circle thing last night."
Phoebe's brow raised before she turned around and walked back into the kitchen where she'd been making a pot of tea like she normally did in the early mornings after Gerald went to work. "Did you find it helpful?" She asked while pouring herself a cup of piping hot green tea before adding, "More so in comparison than the other two you attended?"
I scoffed as she walked my way with her cup of tea to sit beside me at the table. "Are you kidding?" I answered with a falsified laugh, "It was just like all the others- only with the addition of coloring books. The whole thing was more like pre-school than a group for people with a death-complex. I'm telling ya, the only thing missing from the elementary affair was some fruit snacks and a nap break."
Phoebe nodded her head, "I'm sorry to hear that, I truly believed with the added creative element, the Creative Circle might prove to be a good fit for you. "
I shrugged my shoulders, "I dunno, Pheebs. I'm starting to think maybe those 'support groups' just aren't my deal."
"I understand," she said with a small smile before blowing on her cup of tea and taking a tentative sip from the cup. "What I don't understand, however, is what you mean by a death-complex?"
"Right. A death-complex." I repeated while leaning in to her over the table, "All it was, was sad stories, people crying and some weird girl harassing me to get up and spill my guts at their cheap podium."
Phoebe's eyes widened as she struggled to swallow her sip of tea. Coughing slightly, she finally caught her breath and set her cup down to say, very surprised, "You shared your experiences with Olga? In front of the group?"
I rolled my eyes and leaned back in the chair, "Barely," I said with a sigh. "I ditched out early, per usual Helga G. Pataki."
"Ahh," she nodded her head thoughtfully with another small sip of her tea. I could tell she wanted to ask where I'd been- I knew Phoebe well enough to know that. But Phoebe was Phoebe and I knew she was too courteous and nice to just come out and ask me.
So with a smack of my lips, I took a breath and blurted out, "I ran into Arnold last night, too."
Phoebe seemed less than surprised, "And where was that?"
I frowned, "At our doorstep. Kid was waiting out in the pouring rain with his umbrella demanding to talk to me about us and about her."
Phoebe watched me as if I was retelling a story she'd heard a thousand times, "And did you speak with him? Based on your condition when you came home this morning, I would assume so."
I eyed her curiously, "You assume correctly," I murmured, "though it doesn't sound much like an assumption."
Silence surrounded us and it took only a minute before I finally caught on to the weird air of the room. "You didn't think I'd go to that thing, did you?" I asked and Phoebe carefully watched me before answering.
"I did not, no."
"So if you didn't think I was going to go to that thing-" I began, though Phoebe was quick to give in to the direction I was headed with my inquisitive tone.
Phoebe was smart, yes, but Phoebe was NOT a good liar.
"Gerald and I thought it might… benefit you if we contacted Arnold. He appears to be the only person you have opened up to abou-"
"SERIOUSLY, Phoebe?" I shouted to cut her off, my volume alone making her jump in her seat as an expression of fear flitting across her face. "Is nothing SACRED?"
"You ha-haven't spoken to him in over a month, Helga," she stuttered out, my outburst catching her off-guard. "It seems as though you don't wish to properly deal with your feelings about Olga's passing and it's getting in the way of how you're living your life."
I shook my head in complete disbelief; tears of anger filling my eyes. "How I'm living my life," I repeated while still shaking my head and avoiding Phoebe's gaze. "I pay you your rent, I chip in for groceries, hell, I follow ALL your stupid rules so WHY do you care about how I'm 'living my life?' I'm fine, Phoebe!"
"I don't think you're fine, Helga. You need to talk to somebody and Arnold-"
"Was the best option?!" I finished for her while pushing myself up from the table to stand and glare down at her. "This is about moving out, isn't it?" I switched tunes; Phoebe furrowing her brow in confusion.
"Helga," she said softly while reaching out to touch my arm though I snatched it away in frustration.
"Because if this is about that, I'll move out- I got the money, you KNOW that and I'll be out of yours and Geraldo's tall hair FOR GOOD."
We stared at each other- me standing while Phoebe stayed seated at the wooden table -the silence building between the two of us as minutes ticked by. Finally, Phoebe took a breath and whispered out, "I'm afraid that I'm… I'm very worried about you, Helga."
I swallowed the growing lump in my throat that usually appears when Phoebe and I fight, as rare as those occasions are. "You don't have to be worried about me, Pheebs," I said calmly, though my insides were on fire. "So just… just stop trying to fix me and my life, okay?"
With that, I turned around and walked down the hallway and directly into the bathroom; slamming the door behind me the moment I was inside.
"I can't BELIEVE this!" I shouted at the bathroom mirror even though I knew Phoebe could hear me from where she was probably still sitting at the dining room table. "Who just DOES that?!"
Phoebe. Phoebe and her tall-haired, sassy moron-of-a-boyfriend Geraldo.
Couldn't they just leave me be? Couldn't they just butt out and let me be miserable and silent and avoid Arnold for the rest of my life like I'd planned to? What made them think they could fix my life? What made them think for even an inkling of a second that my life was at all fixable?
As if Arnold could fix my sick problems, I thought as I took deep breaths to calm myself while staring at my reflection in the mirror; my arms holding my body weight as I leaned on the counter/sink. As if ANYONE could fix my problems, let alone some footballhead with mesmerizing green eyes and a noble disposition.
I blinked a few times before pushing myself up off of the sink to walk to the shower where I immediately pulled the faucet in an attempt to block out some of my thoughts with sounds of the rushing water. Like the rain from last night, water fell from the showerhead heavily; each drop splashing on the shower's plastic tubbed-floor. Once the room began to fill with steam thick enough to cloud my vision, I pulled off my clothes one by one and tossed them on the floor, then entered the shower that promised to clean me from at least an outsider's point of view.
If only there were such thing as a shower that could clean my thoughts from their current state of painful memories and annoyed feelings threatening to overtake my system.
The heat of the water stung at my skin as it slid down my body and joined the pool forming at my feet. I opened my eyes through the curtain of water streaming over my face and looked ahead at the bathroom's white wall in front of me. My hair stuck to my face, the blonde turning a light brown as it soaked up the clean water I imagined was rain like last night had brought.
I reached up and rubbed at my damp face while closing my eyes; images I'd hoped would disappear with the shower's water flashing behind my lids.
THUMP
Footsteps as I climbed the stairs in our empty house to get to Olga's room.
Olga lying on the floor; her head still shaven from her surgery only weeks ago. She was jerking and whipping around like I'd never seen as if she couldn't control her body.
"Olga?" I called out, though she couldn't answer and instead flopped around like a fish out of water; completely helpless from where she'd clearly fallen out of bed.
I separated my fingers so I could peek through the cracks and stare out once again through the blanket of water.
"Shit!" I yelled as I rushed to her side in an effort to get her to stop throwing her body around like a limp ragdoll. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!" My words were full of desperation as I reached out and grabbed Olga by the shoulders and tried with all my might to make her stop moving.
But she wouldn't.
"Olga, come ON! Help me out, here!" My pleas were useless- she couldn't hear me.
Panic washed over me as I struggled to keep her in place where she lay on the floor. Thinking fast, I tried to remember what we'd learned in health class eons ago about seizures and how to help someone if they were having one.
I'd never paid much attention in the class- Arnold sat three desks away from me so I'd remained pretty distracted -but as Olga seized in front of me, the information came flooding back and I acted quickly in hopes the attack wouldn't last much longer.
The water began to grow cold- a frequent in the apartment complex as I'd learned -and once I'd returned from my thoughts, I rushed through washing and conditioning my hair as the water temperature neared closer and closer to freezing within minutes. Despite the sudden change, the room was still thick with steam when I shut the water off and shivered my way out. Immediately, I grabbed the nearest towel in an effort to dry myself from my longer-than-average shower by wrapping it tightly around my thin frame and then tip-toeing my way back to the sink where I stared ahead at the mirror; my reflection blocked by fog left over by the steam.
I reached my hand out to wipe a large chunk of the mirror, my image appearing smudged from the water now dripping down the glass as I eyed myself up and down. Hair was still clinging to my face; the stringy blonde locks looking like yellow chunks of play-doh snaking out of my skull. My skin looked paler than usual, though my cheeks reflected a bright pink hue like they always did after a mostly-hot shower.
But amid the ivory skin and mop-like hair was a set of ice-cold blue irises staring back at me; a hurt behind them like I'd never cared enough to notice before. I bore into my own soul, searching beyond my eyes for the answer to a question I'd never asked yet desired to know. The hair on my body stood up on end from the sudden chill of the air, though I remained frozen in place; staring at the stranger clad in only a towel ahead of me.
Who was she? What had she become? What had she let herself become?
How did I get like this?
With a grunt, I pushed Olga over to lay on her side and held her in place as best as I could while reaching up onto her bed for the closest pillow. Grabbing it by the corner, I yanked it out from under the covers and quickly placed it under her head as she continued to thrash about.
"C'mon, Olga," I begged as I gently placed a hand on her head, "don't do this to me now…"
Her eyelids twitched as her eyes rolled back in her head, straining as if to see the back of her skull completely from where she lay. I stroked her shaven head in an effort to soothe her rioting body; the small golden hairs sprouting out gently brushing against my palms like the fuzz of a peach.
The whole scene lasted nearly two minutes before her body grew tired and at last went limp on the ground. Once I'd checked to make sure she was still breathing, I leaned back from her to survey the situation.
Tears were welling in my eyes and I watched as they pooled up at the base of my vision while staring blankly ahead at myself in the mirror.
"What am I supposed to do now?" I asked myself while sitting beside Olga on the floor. She'd pissed herself, though that was no surprise. Her brain was so clogged with that tumor I knew she didn't have control of her own body and thoughts during the whole episode, though she'd be embarrassed as all hell when she found out.
Olga was all about her image and I was watching it all slowly disintegrate in a matter of weeks.
"Think, Helga, think! What are you gonna DO?" I shouted out to myself.
Olga groaned from where she lay and I knew immediately what it was I had to do.
I had to get her back in the bed. But how? I certainly wasn't going to be able to lift her up there all by myself.
Ambulance? I considered before ultimately shaking my head at the thought. Olga had insisted she didn't want to be at the hospital- I couldn't blame her, it reeked of sickness and death over there -and she'd be mortified to find out people saw the aftermath of her little seizure puddling up on the carpet underneath her.
Mom and Dad? The thought barely made it through my brain before I nixed the idea completely. Since her diagnosis, Olga had become increasingly agitated with all their affections and babying her; it was something I'd never thought I'd live long enough to witness, but I was sure she wouldn't be thrilled to wake up to them weeping over her bed at her tumble.
Who was left to call? Who would show up at such late notice anyway? Who in the world did I know who could keep this a secret and not ask questions that would send the Pataki name right into the dumpster conveniently placed in the alley back behind our house?
One name danced through my head, a name I didn't want to admit but knew was my best chance at helping Olga and not completely ruining everything.
My phone buzzed on the toilet cover where I'd left it before I started my shower and I reached over to pick it up and check who in God's name would be texting me, Helga G. Pataki, this early in the morning.
I pursed my lips as I read the name lighting up my phone's screen:
Arnold.
Arnold. I could call Arnold.
I tapped the button on the side of my phone to turn the screen black once more.
I reached for my phone that was already sticking halfway out of my back pocket and quickly tapped the button on the side to illuminate the screen. With a few sporadic taps of my thumb, I found my contacts and quickly scrolled through the names before finding the appropriate one and picking the 'call' option.
My eyes drifted from the phone back up to my blurred reflection staring back at me once again.
"Hey, Arnold?" I said into the receiver once he picked up, his voice muffled on his end for whatever reason.
"Helga?" He asked and I nodded though he couldn't see me.
"Yeah, yeah, look- you mean what you said when you told me to call if I needed your help with anything? Anything… Olga related?"
It sounded like he adjusted his handhold on the phone and his voice soon rang in crystal clear in my ear. "Yes, yes, of course. Why? Is something wrong?"
I glanced down to where Olga was still lying on the ground with her pillow under her bald head.
I blinked through the tears that spilled over my lids to slide down my cheeks though I was quick to reach up and wipe them away. My eyes quickly darted from their respective reflection in the mirror down to my phone still in my hand.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced back the nerves that were bubbling up to the surface just from hearing Arnold's heavenly voice. "Arnold," I said again while reaching up to rub at my face, "I need your help."
Shaking my head, I tossed my phone facedown onto counter beside the sink. "I don't need your help, Arnold," I said before I opened the door to the bathroom and walked to my room where I shut the door and locked myself inside for the remainder of the day.
"Sure, Helga. I'll be right there."
In a few reviews recently, I've had the comment about my capitalization for emphasis which I'd like to touch on real quick. Firstly, I apologize if it at all takes away from the story or makes it difficult to read in whatever way- it is simply how I've always written. i like to keep italics for thoughts and flashbacks, not emphasis, as it in my own mind is too confusing of a read with so many italics everywhere. I try to take all constructive-criticism to heart, however, and have tried to lessen the amount of capitalization, though I have kept some as I think the emphasis is important in those instances.
As always, thank you so much for each and every review- they really mean so much to me so please do not stop as I'm selfish and they really help me plug away at my fics. Your encouragement/predictions/reviews in general are the lifeblood of my stories and writing, so thank you, truly.
Also, also, be sure to check out my AMAZING cover which was done by the ever-lovely AibouFTW (or just Aibou) who has amazing art and fics so you should check her out on tumblr and here!
Thank you again and please be sure to review! Stay tuned for the next chapter!
-Polka
