Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold at all.
A/N: This is my first Hey Arnold! fanfic, so please go easy on me. Also, as much as I would like to, I have not yet seen the movie (gasp!), but when I see it, I'll try to incorporate it in my story. Please R/R, and enjoy!
~Arnold~
You know that feeling you get, deep in your gut? You know, the one that tells you that something terrible has happened, the one that grows with every passing moment and fills you with an extreme sense of trepidation? Yeah, that one. The one that in one moment turned my world upside-down, and transformed my life into a hellish nightmare. But I'm getting a little ahead of myself, aren't I?
Let me just rewind things a little, to a few months ago. The night that really began this whole 'adventure', if you're willing to call it that. Not that I would, of course. It's really a matter of life-and-death now.
The day began like any other day. Same ol' boring routine. Wake up, get dressed, catch the bus, go to school, study, lunch, recess, pop quiz, and come home. Nothing out of the ordinary. Harold ate too fast at lunch, Helga shot spitballs at me (what's her problem, anyway?). You know, everyday stuff. Nothing had changed when we had moved on to fifth grade. Same classmates, same social groups, same Mr. Simmons. Almost no changes, beside different classrooms.
But the real killer was when I got home that afternoon- when the 'feeling' started to emerge. Nobody was at the boardinghouse, which was uncommon. Even Grandma and Oscar were gone somewhere. I just shrugged it off as a coincidence. I went upstairs and did my homework. But as soon as I put it all away, the feeling of dread was stronger. I warily left the room and slowly made my way down to the kitchen. By that time the sense of anxiety was so great I had to keep from calling out. I made my way down the ex-secret stairs, to my Grandpa's exposed secret bathroom. Nobody answered my knocking on the door, so I opened it just a crack. Unprepared for what I saw, I let out a scream that could probably be heard all throughout Hillside.
A few weeks later, I was sitting in a church, as the preacher wore on. My Grandma was next to me, bawling her eyes out. I was crying as well, trying not to look at the casket with Grandpa's body in it. I listened on as the preacher continued talking about Heaven and death. I've been to many funerals before, but most of the dearly departed were acquaintances, no one I knew that well. It was surreal: I half expected (more like hoped) to wake up at any moment, to see my Grandpa roaming the boardinghouse.
But it never happened.
Grandpa was dead, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.
Damn it all.
No one really knew how it happened. Or who had done it. That's right. The police had filed it as a homicide. Only one problem, though. No clues at all, whatsoever. It was the perfect crime.
My schoolwork suffered. People at school started treating me different. Almost with a kind of… pity. Respect. And I was sick of it. It wasn't long before I started to miss Helga's spitballs and name-calling. Mr. Simmons didn't call me up to answer problems very often (I still wonder why he had insisted on moving up a grade and continuing to teach us). Gerald was really the only one who had realized how much I despised all of it.
I've always been known for my optimism. But that went with my Grandpa. I was never 'looking to the bright side of things' like I had told everyone else they should do. Hypocritical, I know. But I didn't much care. Even back home, everyone was solemn. Grandma was acting more normal (come to think of it, I liked her the other way). Mr. Kakaska no longer tried to cheat or steal food at the dinner table. Being able to listen to Mr. Hyun's country singing was become less frequent (I've heard that he's even making a song about Grandpa). Ernie wasn't taking his job very seriously anymore, wasn't telling the whole boardinghouse about his latest demolition project. Mr. Smith was the only one who hadn't changed at all-- but, come to think of it, no one knew anything about him in the first place.
I couldn't take it anymore. It was driving me insane! What was I supposed to do? Just forget about Grandpa? Like heck!
The police were still baffled. Not a clue had been found yet, and the murderer was still on the loose. But one connection was found.
Wolfgang's father had broken out of prison only days before the incident. But so far, the police had found no evidence to support the theory that Dean had performed the crime.
But only two months later, the scenario would play out a second time. And this time, Hillside city would be thrown into hell.
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