Disclaimer: Well let's see. If I owned Hey Arnold! or Pearl Jam or "Last
Kiss", believe me, I wouldn't be sitting here at 1:30 on the morning
dreaming up ways to torment people *cough* I mean, plotlines for my
stories... However, I do own the poem, Precious. I shall call it Precious and
it shall be mine. It shall be my Precious. (I don't own Finding Nemo or
Lord of the Rings, either, unfortunately *sobs*)
CHAPTER 3
Helga awoke to the sounds of Bob and Miriam's screams. It never failed. Every day, the two would wake up, suffering hangovers, and they would begin to scream at each other about the other's irresponsibility, how there was no Advil in the cupboard, no food in the fridge...anything and everything that came to their minds. Even the music pouring out of her stereo's speakers couldn't block them out. Rather, Miriam and Bob's screams began to block out the music.
Flinching from the harsh tones coming from downstairs, Helga grabbed her robe and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door. It only managed to block out a little bit of the noise, but even that was a relief. Helga turned on the shower water and climbed in, shivering as she waited for the water to warm up. As soon as it did, Helga began to briskly wash her dirty-blond hair and soap up. Within ten minutes she had finished her shower, so she turned the water off and grabbed her towel, drying off as quickly as possible so she could put her warm robe on. The noises from downstairs, which had been muffled even more by the water, had gotten louder again. Helga rubbed her forehead; the late night and the screams from downstairs were conspiring to give her a massive migraine. She quickly finished her hygienic and beautifying routine (makeup, hair, teeth, etc.), and ran out of the bathroom to get dressed.
When she had pulled on a pair of black capris and a black spaghetti-strap t- shirt with a pink summer jacket, Helga looked up at the clock and gasped. According to the clock, her morning had just been cut short by twenty minutes. In fact, if she wasn't quick, she would be marked absent from homeroom, again. Helga grabbed her flip flops and raced downstairs and into the kitchen, where her battling parents stood across the room from each other.
"Damn it, Miriam! Why the hell isn't there any food in this damn fridge! I go to work, slave away for this family, and you can't even buy some f***ing groceries!" Bob yelled at his wife, who looked up from where she was trying to blend another alcoholic smoothie. She began to yell back at him, something about what a crock it was that he slaved for the family and how he was a damn, lying SOB who promised her the world...
Helga stopped at the entrance to the kitchen when she remembered that there was no food in the house, watched her parents for a few seconds, and then decided not to risk walking into the midst of the battlefield. She was already late enough, and if Miriam caught sight of her, Helga knew she would be reamed for not buying groceries yesterday. She grabbed her backpack up from the floor where she had dropped it the night before, and yanked the door open, yelling at her parents that she was leaving. Without a break in his yell, Bob began to cuss her out too, telling her what a slut she was...Helga slammed the door on his tirade and ran down the steps and the sidewalk, glancing at her watch to see that she only had five minutes to get into class.
Helga's feet clattered onto the linoleum as she entered her school and raced for homeroom. She slid into the door of her classroom as the final bell rang. Mr. Visser glanced up from his desk, and by the look on his face, Helga knew she would be receiving detention again. She slunk to her seat in the back of the classroom and took out her purple notebook, ignoring the normal stares of the people around her. Helga opened her notebook and began to write a poem, not to Arnold, not after yesterday, but to the One who had saved her life.
*Precious
My soul is hurting, damaged and bruised.
My heart is crying, every time.
I have a longing, a hole that needs filling.
Where is the One who heals,
The wounded and broken,
Those on their knees in pain?
Where is the answer to the suffering that I feel?
I have a hunger for the One who will give me satisfaction
The love I crave.
I have found Him.
He is in the wind as it swirls around my head.
He is in the sea, as the waves crash upon the sand.
He is the Creator,
His voice in the creation.
His drops of blood slowly heal my wounds,
like magical tears in a fairy tale.
His scarred hands wipe my tears, pulling me from my knees.
I feel his presence, and it gives me the knowledge,
That I am loved beyond price.
I am precious.* As she closed her notebook, the bell rang, announcing the tedious continuation of the never-ending line of classes, teachers, and students who conspired against her, or so Helga believed.
Finally, it was ninth period, ten minutes before the bell. Helga was slouching in her chair, listening to Mrs. Goeglein drone on about the necessity of using vocabulary properly. Someone had written another essay and interchanged the tone of the novel and the mood of the novel. Helga was standing on the edge of dreamland, when she was rudely yanked back into consciousness by what Mrs. Goeglein was saying.
"And class, we don't want to forget that one of our star writers is celebrating her eighteenth birthday today. Everyone give a hand of congratulations to Miss Pataki!" Helga mentally slapped her forehead. How could she have possibly forgotten that today was her eighteenth birthday? Oh yeah, that's right, she thought bitterly, there is no one else who cares, except maybe Olga, but she hasn't been here for four years.
As the class gave a halfhearted clap and Helga was mentally berating herself, she failed to notice the three people towards the windows whispering excitedly. One, a six-foot tall African-American boy, gestured over to Helga, and continued to whisper. The other two, a petite Asian girl with short black hair and a six-foot tall blonde with spiked hair and a blue baseball cap listened to him for a few moments, and then the girl replied, trying not to look over at Helga.
The bell rang, and the hordes of teenagers who attended P.S. 120 High School were released onto the outside world. As people began to pour out of the classrooms, the noise in the halls increased tenfold. Helga's head, which had been pounding all day, began to sends sparks of light across her vision. She almost moaned, until she remembered that she was in the middle of the hall, and slowly walked to the outside doors, dreading the bright sunshine that always hit when the doors were flung open. Her pained mind didn't process the three people who were standing by her locker, calling her name and frantically motioning for her to come over.
Helga continued to rub her forehead as she walked out into the blinding sunshine, flinching when her eyes began to pick it up. She almost walked right past Miriam, who was standing next to a blue car with an open passenger side door.
"Helga!" Miriam yelled into her ear, and Helga jumped.
"What are you doing here, Miriam," she said irritably, wishing for something to knock her out. "And," she added, her nose, sensitized by her migraine, instantly picking up the cloud of alcohol surrounding Miriam, "why are you driving when you are drunk?!" Helga finished the last with a shout. Miriam glanced worriedly into the car at the big, glowering man seated behind the steering wheel. She grabbed Helga's arm tightly and pulled her over to the car, opening up the back door and motioning for Helga to get in, motivating Helga's confused feet with a little shove. Miriam quickly stumbled into the front seat and Bob pulled out of the parking space in a rush.
Helga's brain analyzed the thousand different things assaulting her pained senses-the smell of alcohol was the one that was pushed to the forefront of her mind. She sat up straighter and slammed on her seatbelt when she realized that, not only were both her parents drunk, but "Big" Bob was speeding down the road at almost eighty miles an hour. Glancing at Bob's face, Helga realized it would be useless to say anything, and would probably get her smacked, based on the ferocious scowl on his face. She gasped as their car swerved around two cars, and a million thoughts were racing through Helga's mind. The first solid idea her brain grasped was to pray, and pray hard. Helga began to pray to God, pleading silently for the lives of the people in the cars around hers, for the lives of her parents, for her life. Silent tears began to pour down her face when Helga realized that she would probably never get to tell Phoebe good-bye, never get to tell so many people what they meant to her.
Her eyes widened in terror as she stared at the car Bob was heading straight towards, yelling something about idiots who couldn't drive. Faintly she heard the words coming out of the stereo *I'll never forget, the sound that night. The screaming tires, the busting glass, the painful scream that I heard last.*, and she felt herself being yanked forward as the sound of crunching metal and the painful screams from Miriam penetrated her fading consciousness. The last thing she remembered before the world went black was the metallic taste of the blood that filled her mouth.
A/N: I am so evil. I love cliffhangers. They really make the story better.
CHAPTER 3
Helga awoke to the sounds of Bob and Miriam's screams. It never failed. Every day, the two would wake up, suffering hangovers, and they would begin to scream at each other about the other's irresponsibility, how there was no Advil in the cupboard, no food in the fridge...anything and everything that came to their minds. Even the music pouring out of her stereo's speakers couldn't block them out. Rather, Miriam and Bob's screams began to block out the music.
Flinching from the harsh tones coming from downstairs, Helga grabbed her robe and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door. It only managed to block out a little bit of the noise, but even that was a relief. Helga turned on the shower water and climbed in, shivering as she waited for the water to warm up. As soon as it did, Helga began to briskly wash her dirty-blond hair and soap up. Within ten minutes she had finished her shower, so she turned the water off and grabbed her towel, drying off as quickly as possible so she could put her warm robe on. The noises from downstairs, which had been muffled even more by the water, had gotten louder again. Helga rubbed her forehead; the late night and the screams from downstairs were conspiring to give her a massive migraine. She quickly finished her hygienic and beautifying routine (makeup, hair, teeth, etc.), and ran out of the bathroom to get dressed.
When she had pulled on a pair of black capris and a black spaghetti-strap t- shirt with a pink summer jacket, Helga looked up at the clock and gasped. According to the clock, her morning had just been cut short by twenty minutes. In fact, if she wasn't quick, she would be marked absent from homeroom, again. Helga grabbed her flip flops and raced downstairs and into the kitchen, where her battling parents stood across the room from each other.
"Damn it, Miriam! Why the hell isn't there any food in this damn fridge! I go to work, slave away for this family, and you can't even buy some f***ing groceries!" Bob yelled at his wife, who looked up from where she was trying to blend another alcoholic smoothie. She began to yell back at him, something about what a crock it was that he slaved for the family and how he was a damn, lying SOB who promised her the world...
Helga stopped at the entrance to the kitchen when she remembered that there was no food in the house, watched her parents for a few seconds, and then decided not to risk walking into the midst of the battlefield. She was already late enough, and if Miriam caught sight of her, Helga knew she would be reamed for not buying groceries yesterday. She grabbed her backpack up from the floor where she had dropped it the night before, and yanked the door open, yelling at her parents that she was leaving. Without a break in his yell, Bob began to cuss her out too, telling her what a slut she was...Helga slammed the door on his tirade and ran down the steps and the sidewalk, glancing at her watch to see that she only had five minutes to get into class.
Helga's feet clattered onto the linoleum as she entered her school and raced for homeroom. She slid into the door of her classroom as the final bell rang. Mr. Visser glanced up from his desk, and by the look on his face, Helga knew she would be receiving detention again. She slunk to her seat in the back of the classroom and took out her purple notebook, ignoring the normal stares of the people around her. Helga opened her notebook and began to write a poem, not to Arnold, not after yesterday, but to the One who had saved her life.
*Precious
My soul is hurting, damaged and bruised.
My heart is crying, every time.
I have a longing, a hole that needs filling.
Where is the One who heals,
The wounded and broken,
Those on their knees in pain?
Where is the answer to the suffering that I feel?
I have a hunger for the One who will give me satisfaction
The love I crave.
I have found Him.
He is in the wind as it swirls around my head.
He is in the sea, as the waves crash upon the sand.
He is the Creator,
His voice in the creation.
His drops of blood slowly heal my wounds,
like magical tears in a fairy tale.
His scarred hands wipe my tears, pulling me from my knees.
I feel his presence, and it gives me the knowledge,
That I am loved beyond price.
I am precious.* As she closed her notebook, the bell rang, announcing the tedious continuation of the never-ending line of classes, teachers, and students who conspired against her, or so Helga believed.
Finally, it was ninth period, ten minutes before the bell. Helga was slouching in her chair, listening to Mrs. Goeglein drone on about the necessity of using vocabulary properly. Someone had written another essay and interchanged the tone of the novel and the mood of the novel. Helga was standing on the edge of dreamland, when she was rudely yanked back into consciousness by what Mrs. Goeglein was saying.
"And class, we don't want to forget that one of our star writers is celebrating her eighteenth birthday today. Everyone give a hand of congratulations to Miss Pataki!" Helga mentally slapped her forehead. How could she have possibly forgotten that today was her eighteenth birthday? Oh yeah, that's right, she thought bitterly, there is no one else who cares, except maybe Olga, but she hasn't been here for four years.
As the class gave a halfhearted clap and Helga was mentally berating herself, she failed to notice the three people towards the windows whispering excitedly. One, a six-foot tall African-American boy, gestured over to Helga, and continued to whisper. The other two, a petite Asian girl with short black hair and a six-foot tall blonde with spiked hair and a blue baseball cap listened to him for a few moments, and then the girl replied, trying not to look over at Helga.
The bell rang, and the hordes of teenagers who attended P.S. 120 High School were released onto the outside world. As people began to pour out of the classrooms, the noise in the halls increased tenfold. Helga's head, which had been pounding all day, began to sends sparks of light across her vision. She almost moaned, until she remembered that she was in the middle of the hall, and slowly walked to the outside doors, dreading the bright sunshine that always hit when the doors were flung open. Her pained mind didn't process the three people who were standing by her locker, calling her name and frantically motioning for her to come over.
Helga continued to rub her forehead as she walked out into the blinding sunshine, flinching when her eyes began to pick it up. She almost walked right past Miriam, who was standing next to a blue car with an open passenger side door.
"Helga!" Miriam yelled into her ear, and Helga jumped.
"What are you doing here, Miriam," she said irritably, wishing for something to knock her out. "And," she added, her nose, sensitized by her migraine, instantly picking up the cloud of alcohol surrounding Miriam, "why are you driving when you are drunk?!" Helga finished the last with a shout. Miriam glanced worriedly into the car at the big, glowering man seated behind the steering wheel. She grabbed Helga's arm tightly and pulled her over to the car, opening up the back door and motioning for Helga to get in, motivating Helga's confused feet with a little shove. Miriam quickly stumbled into the front seat and Bob pulled out of the parking space in a rush.
Helga's brain analyzed the thousand different things assaulting her pained senses-the smell of alcohol was the one that was pushed to the forefront of her mind. She sat up straighter and slammed on her seatbelt when she realized that, not only were both her parents drunk, but "Big" Bob was speeding down the road at almost eighty miles an hour. Glancing at Bob's face, Helga realized it would be useless to say anything, and would probably get her smacked, based on the ferocious scowl on his face. She gasped as their car swerved around two cars, and a million thoughts were racing through Helga's mind. The first solid idea her brain grasped was to pray, and pray hard. Helga began to pray to God, pleading silently for the lives of the people in the cars around hers, for the lives of her parents, for her life. Silent tears began to pour down her face when Helga realized that she would probably never get to tell Phoebe good-bye, never get to tell so many people what they meant to her.
Her eyes widened in terror as she stared at the car Bob was heading straight towards, yelling something about idiots who couldn't drive. Faintly she heard the words coming out of the stereo *I'll never forget, the sound that night. The screaming tires, the busting glass, the painful scream that I heard last.*, and she felt herself being yanked forward as the sound of crunching metal and the painful screams from Miriam penetrated her fading consciousness. The last thing she remembered before the world went black was the metallic taste of the blood that filled her mouth.
A/N: I am so evil. I love cliffhangers. They really make the story better.