What you didn't know is that while I was driving back to the campus I stopped by two stores. I could tell that Arnold couldn't hear me. These days he had headphones in his ears drowning out the sounds of reality. I understood that. I've been there before. It's hard to accept the things we want to forget, and he had more than enough cause at this point to try and drown out life. At least now I understood what was going on in his life to make him act this way. I knocked once more for good measure. Well he wasn't going to get off easy. I had a plan and a locked door never stopped me before.

Thankfully I had learned enough in my life to know how to pick a simple lock on a college dorm room. It's not like they were honestly that difficult, and it's not like he was going to call the police if I walked in. How could he? I had learned to pick at lock at such a young age. It was long ago that the memory was buried deep for years. I just remember being around five years old, two years after I had actually met Arnold, and walked to preschool alone that rainy morning. I was walking home from school, something that had become a natural occurrence for me. I walked the city, and people didn't take the time to notice the little girl walking alone. It was a cold winter. I found my way home most days only to find that Miriam wasn't home. She didn't leave a note, and she didn't leave a door unlocked.

I was five years old, but thankfully I had some deductive reasoning in me somewhere. I went around to the back of our house. Since I wasn't going to spend God knows how long outside in the snow, I was going to pick a lock like I had seen on one of the shows Bob watched when I was a small child. It took some time to figure it out. It was much harder than it looked, and I didn't know the specifics. Thankfully I had always been a quick learner, or I would have been out there forever. I would estimate that it took me close to an hour, and I remember having a cold for a few days. Thankfully I had a bobby pin on my pink bow so I could work my way inside. Thankfully I made a way inside, and thankfully I kept that skill over a lifetime, having to let myself into a home I was most unwelcome.

I pulled my pocket knife out of my pocket, and use the extensions to let myself into his room. He was still unaware of my presence. They make those headphones so nothing distracts you; they damn well do their job. I considered for a moment to disrupt him. I considered bothering him, and making him talk to me. When he originally passed out I never heard what he had whispered. I couldn't have known. Now seeing him I wanted to hug him and let him know that everything would be okay. This is not the time, and not the way to do it. It was going to take more than that to fix him, and I was going to have to be patient. The course of action I went there with was to give him a "gift" and I was going to have him open it and spend some time together. It's not like he cared that his room was a disaster, and it's not like I cared about anything as long as I was around him.

I took the bag and placed it on the ground about a foot away from the chair that he was currently residing. He was bent over writing with such ferocity I couldn't disturb him. It seems that the almost empty liquor bottle wasn't affecting his ability to write. It made me feel melancholy to watch. I took one last look at the poor soul and backed out. I shut his door behind me. I leaned back against the door and slid my body down until I was on the floor. My emotions were a bit up in the air and I was having a hard time keeping them in check. There wasn't anyone around so I let myself have a few gasps of air, and let silent tears fall down my cheeks.

…

Vibrations went through the floor as though a door closed. It was probably someone down the hall. I had been sitting there for quite some time and needed something in my stomach. Hunger pains were generally ignored, but it had been a while. I took off the headphones and spun my chair around. My eyes catch the bright green bag sitting on the floor almost at my feet. I had no memory of it, and my room appeared to be undisturbed. I rolled the chair forward enough to put myself close to the bag that had tissue paper on top, and a card. The exterior of the white envelope just said To Arnold so it didn't tell me who it was from. I hadn't received a gift since my Birthday, from my grandparents. The thought of that was enough to send a cold feeling through my body to try and cover the pain.

I thought about kicking it under my bed, and ignoring it so I wouldn't have to deal with any feelings it tried to bring on. I pulled open the envelope to see a plain white card with elegant cursive writing on it.

Hey Football head, I want to apologize for being gone so often. I know you don't understand but therapy is just something that I have to do. I know you've been going through some tough stuff lately, and I'm not going to pry. I just want you to know that if you need me I will be here. I got you a gift as a reminder of a best of times and worst of times. The gift, the contents, helped me when I was in a rough patch, and I'm passing on the idea to you. I figured you that you could maybe benefit from it. If you don't if you don't like it my feelings will remain unscathed. The trauma you are dealing with won't be the end of you, and I'll be here when you're ready to pick up the pieces, or to sit in front of my fire again.

Love, Helga

I put down the card beside me carefully not wanting to get any ashes on it from the close by ash tray. I pulled out the tissue of the vibrant bag. I pull out a large box first. It was a large case of Monster Energy drinks. They were always my favorite. I was a little stunned that she even recalled that detail from what seemed so long ago. After placing it on the floor next to the bag I found two DVDs in the bottom of the bag, both surprising. Pride and Prejudice a movie that I remember liking, a book that I had read and wasn't ashamed of liking before my change. A movie I had never owned, but now was in my hands. I had always loved the story, or did before. I felt a swelling of emotions that I quickly swallowed. I looked at the other one, or what turned out to be a combo pack, The Millennium Series. I had like the version of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo that came out here in the States. I vaguely remember her telling me that I would love the Swedish ones, even if I had to read them.

It was a nice gift. Emotionally I didn't know what I was supposed to do with this. I had drowned my emotions down. Right now they were threatening me. They were coming up, and they were going to force me to make a rash decision. A large array of curse words were flowing through my mind, and transferring to my mouth. I popped the Pride and Prejudice into my laptop to prevent me from leaving my room and going somewhere I'd regret. I lay in bed and watched a movie I remember once loving. Drinking though three monsters giving the Jamaican Rum a rest. I watched through the movie, and found my heart racing, and swallowing down my feelings again.

Rash decision making seemed to be what I was good at these days. I grabbed a clean hoodie and threw it on. I grabbed my essentials, and left. I pounded the pavement on the familiar path. It was late, well extremely late. It was later than what is deemed acceptable to be out even in college. I had passed a point of giving a damn somewhere. I made my way to her room. Adrenaline was pounding through my veins. Pounding to know what the hell was going on in my mind. The pounding was telling me that I needed to feel something, and being there was the only place I even had a semblance of it anymore. I found that my mind was telling me that I needed to feel something. I needed anything at this point, no matter what it was.

I let myself into her room. I'd had a key for I don't know how long. I had been sedated my liquor for so long I couldn't tell. It was dark. The light from the hallway showed her silhouette in bed. She was laying there with a comforter pulled around her. Her hair glowing was in the light gracefully lying around her. I could see her shoulder since she was lying on her side. Suddenly I found myself concerned about her getting cold. I was finding myself worried about her and the adrenaline diminishing at the sight of her.

That was odd. It wasn't odd for the old me, but who I became. I was selfish. I was needy, and I didn't give two shits about anyone else. I didn't call girls the next day. I didn't even take the time to learn their names. To make me worse I didn't even care if they finished when we were in bed. My selfish needs always come first. I didn't let them stay. I didn't get to know them.

There I was and I didn't want to wake her. I looked at her room as my eyes adjusted to the dark with the light that was coming in through the hallway. Her room was clean. She had some art supplies out that hadn't been put away. She had her infamous sketchbook out. It seems that she had been working before she had become overcome with the need for sleep. I was chilly, her fire was off, and I shivered beneath my sweater. I walked toward the sketch book. I was quiet enough not to disturb her. I was curious if they could give me a hint to why she went to see a therapist in the first place. I picked it up without making a sound, and found myself face to face with myself.

Well not really face to face. She hadn't drawn me. She drew a picture of the scene that I assume was the scene she saw when she left the gift. She had an amazing mind. She had drawn the scene completely accurate. The details of my room were all there. I had once been so clean, but not now. She drew the unkempt bed; the messes of liquor bottles surround my desk, my pile of dirty clothes, and my basket of clean ones, my collection of converse, and my overflowing ashtray. She showed my cluttered room of school work, and more or less decay of a person. The version of me she drew was accurate, Slumped position over a desk, headphones over the ears, and a sense of loss. She had amazing talent. I wondered if she even knew that. I flipped through the rest of the pictures. I found more pictures of me, actually a lot of pictures of me. All of them showed me as I refused to see me. They all showed that pain beneath my eyes.

I didn't know who she did it. I didn't want to know how just yet. The carnal energy that had come with me here was gone, and I wasn't feeling selfish at this particular moment. I found I was worried about her being cold again. I walked over to her and pulled that purple comforter up to her shoulder. She took in a deep breath snuggling down into her bed again whispering out my name. I didn't honestly believe that she was awake. She was still asleep, and I was confused. Momentarily wondering why I was still in her room at this point. What my point was. I found myself sliding out of my shoes, and pulling of my hoodie. Thankfully I hadn't changed from my sweats on the way over here. I didn't have a shirt on but I was comfortable in my skin.

This idea could backfire, but my confidence and what I had seen made me sure I wouldn't. I shut her door and waiting until my eyes adjusted to the dark once more. I walked over to her again more carefully than before. I pulled up the side of the comforter and climbed in her bed behind her. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled as close to her as possible. I was waiting for her to wake up, and to panic at the sudden person in her bed, but that moment never came. She seemed content with it, so I went with it. I breathed in her scent, and settled in for the best night's sleep I was ever going to have. If she'd let me I was willing to lay here for all time. For this is the first time since I thought I was certain to die, that I was feeling something and it wasn't trying to kill me.