Disclaimer – I DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT own "Hey Arnold!" sorry for the confusion.

Disclaimer – I don't own any songs, bands, or CD's either.

Author's Note – I left the story off at an awkward spot, I don't know what to do with it. I guess it will all come to me as I write.

Author's Note – Thank you guys for the wonderful reviews, that just makes me want to continue to write. Thank you.

Author's Note – By the way, please enjoy and don't forget to review afterwards. Thank you.

Chapter Four: Drawbacks

It was about two and a half, three hours later when Dad told me he was leaving. He gave me a hug and everything, this was scaring me a little, but at the same time I was enjoying it. Don't tell anyone. I knew it would all end though, like a flip of a switch and I would be left alone again, no one to care for me. Not that I needed it or anything. I was sitting on the floor, my back to the wall, knees drawn up to my chest, kind of rocking back and forth, it was very infantile. But I was feeling a bit on the childish side. Lost.

I listened to Dad leave the house and drive off, tires squealing loudly down the street. Talk about burning rubber. He was going to be early to work he said, but it was about one-fifteen, he usually got to work at nine every morning, sometimes even earlier. I guess today was special.

My room was dark if you didn't count the glare from my lamp across the room. The shades were down; I didn't want to see the world outside right now. But a walk sounded nice all the same, maybe so I could clear my mind, or get fresh air. Tonight. I would do that tonight. I would be alone if I did that tonight. Maybe I could think of something constructive to do while I am out, like find that tall building I have been thinking about. I sighed and slammed my head hard against the wall and it hurt, but that didn't stop me from doing it one last time. I wanted to scream, to prey that this was all a bad dream, to hit something, to hurt myself, commit suicide, but did these things really make things better? No to all, except the preying. I wanted life to be normal. I hated being depressed.

I stood up, one hand wringing the other, rubbing at the skin till it burned, pulling at the skin, it was uncomfortable, but it kind of kept my mind on something else. I walked quickly pacing to the other side of the room and grabbed a book. Yes, maybe I could read. Good idea, Helga. I read the title, Forever and the Night, I don't remember where I had gotten it but I started to read it. Tried to read it. I just stared at the letters, reading them, not getting into the story at all, not remember what I read. I kept thinking about when all would go down hill for my father, about my mother's funeral, when would that be? Would Dad come? Would Olga find out and show up? I kept thinking about what would make me feel better, all this pain and hatred was building up inside of me and I was going to let it out in the worse way, or that's what everyone always says. Was that true? I was too distracted to read, I couldn't eat, I didn't want to talk to anyone, and if I did, there would be no one. They are all at school, unless they are skipping, or have their cell phone turned on. No, I am not talking to anyone about this. This is between family only, no one else would give a damn. I didn't want anyone else giving a damn, not right now.

The pages in the book crinkled underhand as I growled to myself, just thinking about this all. I screamed and threw the book against the wall. The smack was dull, but loud. It did no damage to the wall, being paperback and all, and fell straight down into a large circular black and white chair that clashed harshly with the blue wall paper and practically took up the entire wall. The scream felt nice, but my anger still boiled and I felt like crying again. I didn't want to spend my life sitting in my room crying. I turned around kicked my closet door next to my bookcase. Behind the door the sound items falling caught my attention. I sniffled and stared at the door.

Cautiously, I opened the door and looked down. I ended up looking at a picture of me and my mom when I was three, maybe four years old. I was blowing a raspberry on her face and she was giggling. We looked so happy; she had a bright smile across her face, her true smile. She was happier when I was younger before I got bitter and mean. The glass to the frame was shattered all over the floor. I smiled faintly, remembering some of that day. I would always have more neutral, some happy, some bad memories of my mother. I would have more of these than I ever would of her death. The thought made me smile more and tears trickled down my cheeks, but since yesterday, I would never have anymore happy or bad thoughts of her. She wasn't here to share any times with, not that she really wanted to when she was here, not when I got older. She was only truly happy when Olga was around. Had I ran off and eloped, she wouldn't have killed herself. She wouldn't have given a damn.

The smiled dropped from my lips and I sobbed hard. She didn't love me. That was the truth, wasn't it? I felt my knees go weak and fell. Sharp stinging pains shot up my thighs and I gasped. I looked down and saw nothing at first, the light was too dull. I rocked back onto my bottom and looked at my legs, blood had seeped through the denim of my pants I had on since yesterday. A few shards of the glass bit painfully into the top of my shins, centimeters away from my knees, not deep enough that I would need stitches, I hoped. I swallowed hard and held my breath as I pulled them out, the blood flowed my freely and I screamed out in pain. This was some of the worst physical fucking pain I have experience in a while. I threw the glass down with the rest of the shards and stood up, but it hurt too much I fell again. I couldn't walk on my own for sure, or hold my own weight. I grabbed the edge of the bookcase and pulled myself up, the pain was screaming up my legs to my knees, my sides, threatening my legs to give out again. I managed to make my way to the end of the bookcase next to the door that led to the hallway. I winced and swallowed back another sob. I reached out and grabbed hold of the knob, one hand still on the furniture, all my weight on that one arm. I flung the door open and grabbed the doorframe, holding myself up painfully. I didn't know how I'd get down the hall without falling again. I lowered myself to the ground, bad idea. My knees bent and the cuts felt like they were tearing further open. I cried, tears stinging my eyes, trying to hold back another wail. I straightened out my legs and sat flat on my butt. I managed to scoot on my butt to the bath room.

I grabbed the edge of the counter and lifted myself. I flipped the light switch and the brightness burned my eyes, making me flinch. I fell harshly on to my butt again, that was the only way to really get down without that ripping pain in my legs. My legs were spread eagle in front of me; I was a gymnast in my spare time, surprise, surprise. The splits were easy for me. I leaned forward and opened the doors to the cabinet below the sink and grabbed the First-Aid kit. In side was everything I needed, I grabbed some anti-bacterial ointment, gauze, tape, and Betadine. This was going to hurt badly when I was finally finished.

Setting the objects on the counter top I helped myself up again and sat opposite the items, the sink in between. I sat forward, legs hanging limply in front of me. I didn't even want to try to move them, it hurt too badly. Too bad for me, eh? I leaned forward and rolled up my pant legs, it was difficult. The sticky blood glued the fabric to my skin, in result, pain. Blood was all down my legs to my were-white-but-now-crimson socks. I grabbed a washcloth that hung on a ring beside me and ran it under warm water with liquid soap over it and slowly placed it on the cuts on my left leg first. The cuts were deep and gaping, it looked absolutely nauseating. I am pretty sure I was over exaggerating, but I could have sworn I saw bone. Nah. I bit my bottom lip and whimpered as I scrubbed at the cuts, trying to disinfect them. When I was finished, I let out a breath. I looked down at the cloth, a large portion of it was soaked with blood. It looked like I let it sit in red dye. I looked back to the wound and it was filled with fresh blood again. These were going to take a while. I ran the rag under warm water and repeated the process for the right leg, this one really hurt me. Usually when you do something painful once, it doesn't hurt the next time you do it, but I guess that isn't always true because this pain was retching. I almost did throw up.

I let out a thick breath and threw the blood soaked rag into the sink, running more warm water over it. I wringed it out and grabbed the Betadine, dabbing just a little on the rag. This stuff really hurts, like I was just pouring salt on the wound. I held my breath and rubbed it over the left wound first, I whimpered, it was high and loud, almost a scream. I blinked and tears rolled down my cheeks. I was supposed to keep it on there for three minutes then wash it off. I did. Excruciating pain, like it was acid seeping into my veins. This worse than salt. I repeated on the right leg and actually did scream out, bawled, slammed my fist on the counter. I was breathless when I washed the Betadine off the wound, still crying. I think my right leg was worse than the left, or maybe it was all in my head. I rubbed the anti-bacterial ointment over the cuts and that stung, then gauzed them up, and last was the tape, which, for some reason, was the hardest to do, but after about five tries the tape finally stayed. I rinsed out the washcloth then threw it in the trashcan, it was useless now. I left everything on the counter, I would need to use it later anyway and got down slowly, all my weight on my arms. I slowly moved my arms from the counter, it had taken me forever to just scoot to the bathroom, I hoped, even in the worst of pain I will be in, I can stand and walk to my room. I couldn't, I instantly fell, arms flying forward, catching myself from slamming my face into the bathroom wall. I pushed myself back, my butt bumping into the counter and all my weight was on my legs again. I whimpered and fell on the wounds. I yelled out in pain and slammed my fist into the hard linoleum floor. I pulled my legs out from under my body weight and straightened them in front of me. My pant legs were still rolled up, I could look down at check out if the gauze was still in place, if blood was seeping through. The tape didn't fail me but the gauze did, I hadn't put enough on, blood was already leaking through. I would gauze them up better next time. I was to do this routine every three hours for the next couple of days, until everything was well enough again. I turned around and scooted slowly to my room. It was really hard to do this fast without the cuts feeling like they were being torn open.

I made my way over to my bed and looked at the clock; it was five minutes past two. Shit. When hurt, time seems to fly by. I lay down on the bed, legs stretched out in front of me. I relaxed my whole body into my down comforter and realized for the first time today, I had forgotten all the horrible thoughts that kept haunting me. Pain just made me forget about them. Was that a sign from Miriam? A roundabout way of telling me to just get over it, just forget about? Life will work out fine? I was probably overlooking this. I wouldn't be surprised. I folded my arms under my head and look up at the ceiling, looking at the pattern of the stars, deep in thought. Was there really a Heaven or a Hell? If so, which one did Miriam go to? Limbo. She wouldn't go to either, she has unfinished business. That was Olga; she will wander this house until her soul was finally at rest. But are there really ghosts? Yes.

The pink and black phone on my nightstand rang annoyingly next to my head. I growled and didn't move anything thing but my left arm, groping the stand for the receiver. I grabbed it and put it to my ear. "Hello?" My voice came out soft and lazy, like I had been sleeping. It felt like I was sleeping, like I had fallen asleep with my eyes open. Could you do that?

There was no real greeting, just, "Where were you today?" The high, childish voice of Phoebe hadn't changed much; it matured a little, but still sounded like she was eight, maybe nine years old. This wouldn't help her when she wanted a credit card at eighteen. Phoebe was one to worry about me, as if she were my mother, or my sister. I shook my head and swallowed hard at the thought, maybe it was good thing. I didn't have either now.

I took a deep breath, "I am sick." I lied. I never lied to her, but it sure as hell wasn't going to tell her what happened, best friend or not. I didn't want to talk about it...to anyone. I wasn't over it and I didn't like the thought of crying about it in front of everyone. Literally.

"Oh. You don't sound sick. Just tired. Did I wake you?" She was pushing. Even if it wasn't asking why I was lying to her, she had caught it and was trying to trap me some how. There were reasons why Phoebe was a genius.

"Yeah, Pheebs. I was just resting, trying to get over this so I can go to school tomorrow. I am just really sick right now. I have been vomiting my guts up all day. I feel absolutely horrible." I groaned a little, laying it on a little thick, hoping she would start to believe me.

"Mm-hmm," she hummed. "Well, do you want me to come over and make you some soup or something?" She was sounding more suspicious than friendly or helpful. She didn't believe me at all. Damn her. But still, I didn't give in. I had already begun a lie, I may as well finish it until she calls it.

I shook my head into the phone, "Oh, no. This is really contagious. Dad brought it home from work and passed it on to Mom—" My voice broke as I said it and had to clear my voice to speak normally, or as normal as I was going to sound, "Mom and me." I squeezed my eyes shut and swallowed hard.

Phoebe sighed and if I could see her, she probably rolled her eyes as well. "Helga, you never lie to me. What's going on?" She asked firmly, the tiniest bit of anger heating her voice.

I closed my eyes and pang of guilt jumped in my stomach. "Nothing, I am sick." I claimed.

"I am coming over." She threatened.

I looked down at the foot of my bed, "I can't walk, not right now, probably not until tomorrow. So, I won't be able to answer the door." Ahh, the truth and it felt kind of good.

"Well, why didn't you call an ambulance or your dad?" She questioned, she still didn't believe me. I guess that's the reason you shouldn't lie?

I was really growing irritated with her questions. "Maybe I did Phoebe, maybe that is the reason I wasn't at school today. Did you possibly think that before you accused me of lying to you?" I shot at her and I felt terrible. Every little thing was getting to me. Old habits seem to die hard.

"The only reason I think you are lying to me is because Mr. Hanks asked me about your family emergency. He thought I knew because I am your best friend. I told him it's very unladylike to gossip because I had no clue what he was talking about, and it would be gossip for me tell him something I was unsure of." She paused and was quiet for almost way too long. "So, what's the family emergency?" She asked softly, it was almost a whisper, very sensitive, caring. No one ever sounded like that.

I frowned. "I don't know what you are talking about, Phoebe, you're delirious."

"If I remember correctly, Helga. You're the one with the "stomach flu". So wouldn't it be you who is delirious?" She asked angrily. "I am coming over," She said again.

I sighed, giving in. Fine, whatever, I couldn't stop her. It was her choice. It wasn't like I could answer the door anyway. "Fine, Pheebs, the key is taped under the ledge to the door, if it's not there, then I will somehow find a way to get down stairs without killing myself, or drop my keys out my window for you. Just call if you can't get in."

"Will do." She sounded absolutely giddy, happy she won? Probably. Phoebe was funny like that, literally and metaphorically. "See you in a bit." She hung up without another word. I dropped the phone on the stand, I wasn't going even try to hang up the phone without looking, and I wasn't going to look in case I would have to roll over to hang up the phone properly and fuck up my legs even more than they already are.

Author's Note – Wow. It seems that my chapters just get more and more swearing in them, oh, well. But if it doesn't bother you, it doesn't bother me.

Author's Note – You like? I thought this chapter was really kind of boring, I didn't like it much. Oh, well. Review!!! Review!!! I command you!!! Hey, that rhymed. (looks around) Muahahaha!!!