(If I only had one person who understood in the end… I think I would have done OK for myself.)

I sat outside on the back porch sipping a large cup of tea. It was six in the morning and I still wasn't even slightly tired. I was broken, bent, and emotionally closed off, but not tired. I was sitting on the second to last step, leaning against the railing, watching the sun reflect off the slightly wet grass. We had a small yard that had a brown fence surrounding it, blocking us from our other neighbors. It was secluded and peaceful.

Maybe this is why I liked it.

Miriam had awoken ten minutes after my fall out. She walked into my room talking about a dream she had that the house was collapsing. She froze and glanced around my room. I was sitting in the middle of my floor trying to clean up all the random shreds of paper. She had asked me if I was ok. I nodded. She then proceeded to help me clean up. She asked me if I wanted to talk about it. I shook my head. I didn't want to talk or even really think about it.

I feel as if words might do more damage. Or maybe I felt I would do more damage. Either way I did not talk.

I leaned my head on the railing as the soft breeze ran over my body. I was wearing a pair of baggy shorts and a baggy tee shirt. My feet were secure in my pink slippers as my hands wrapped around the warm cup. Miriam was cleaning. She had been cleaning since four this morning. She claimed that she still wasn't done.

I suppose this is how she kept herself busy when she didn't have to go to work and I was at school when Olga use to lay in her bed sick. I suppose Miriam will be cleaning for the rest of her life. I suppose that's not necessarily a bad thing.

I gently took a sip of the tea allowing the liquid to flow smoothly down my dry throat. The steam rose about my face leaving a cool feeling as the breeze rushed across it. It felt good, the sudden rush of hot and cold air on my face. It felt ideal in some way or another.

I was slowly realizing a few things. Miriam is not just this woman anymore. She is my mother and is currently scrubbing holes in the floor so that she doesn't cry herself into an abyss. Arnold is a moron. He is too comfortable with us and expects me to be in the same stage as him. Everyone on this planet at one time or another as sunken to my levels of darkness. Yet, they live on.

So, why wasn't I living on?

Maybe it was because I'm so emotionally bent that I can no longer go any further then the darkness. Maybe I am meant to live in the darkness. Maybe my salvation, no matter what any one thinks or says, will be dark. This all might not be true but it is what I think. If I think it, I feel it. If I'm feeling it then I don't give a damn what anyone says, it's true.

That's how that works though, right? If you feel like the world is crashing down on you, that your world is crashing down on you, how the hell can anyone tell you that it's not crashing down on you? We should be given guns for situations like that. However if this were the case there would probably be three people living on the planet. Two would have to be mute.

The tea slid down my throat in a charge of comfort. The tea itself was not comforting, just the effect of the hot liquid flowing down my throat. The warm feeling that enters my chest. The way, for that split second, I'm whole. If that's not illogical and premature, then nothing is.

I thought about moving to France. France is nice. I can buy a cabin by the sea, write novels every day, hire a French tutor, and let him live in my cabin in exchange for tutoring lessons, of course we'll eventually get married.

My thoughts that morning stayed mainly on irrational and fictional daydreams that will stay with me into my late forties. You know you've reach new lows when you tell the girls during your bridge game, "when I was sixteen… I swore I was going to runaway to a cabin by the sea." It doesn't get sadder then that.

At some point, I believe around six thirty, I ran out of tea. So then, it was just me sitting on the steps watching the blades of grass bend with the breeze.

"Helga?" I turned my head and looked at my mother who was in her robe and smelt of Lemon Fresh. "Are you ok?"

I nodded my head. I wanted to tell her that I wanted to die and to bury me in France. But this was illogical in more then one aspect.

"Do you want more tea?" She looked at me, her eyes clouded with worry. I felt a pang in my chest. She doesn't deserve this, I thought. I'm the only one she has left.

"No thank you." I forced a small smile on my face. "I'm just getting some fresh air."

"Oh, ok." She smiled; it didn't reach her eyes. "If…" She trailed off. I looked at her, mentally urging her to go on. "If Arnold or Phoebe call—"

"If they call." I cut her off. I felt my body become rigid. "Tell them I'm not feeling well, please?"

She nodded her head and gave me another small smile. "Of course."

"Thank you, mom." I said. I couldn't smile. I just couldn't.

"If you need anything, I'll be in my room." She smiled and I nodded my head. She then gently closed the door.

I looked out towards the tiny yard and watched as the grass swayed back and forth as the breeze came and went.

Even grass can move.

(Maybe I was asking too much. I always ask too much. I didn't know this would be too much. But I guess everyone gets tired of helping.)

I had made my way from outside to the shower to finally walking around the quiet streets. I had no way to communicate to anyone and no way for anyone to communicate with me. All I had was about three dollars, my tennis shoes, and a white jacket over a red tank top. This is how everyone should move around. With only the bare essentials.

I think it was two o'clock. I had been walking around for an hour and a half. I still had no sleep. I was literally a walking zombie. I didn't feel like a zombie though.

I figured out that Arnold is too ready for us. He's on a whole different level then I am. He's at the comfortable stage, where as I am at the all new to this stage. I don't know how we boarded different trains, but we were at two totally different train stations. It's not a healthy relationship when one train is coming while the other is shutting down.

I know I have to tell him this. However, that involves words. Words don't usually make the train start up again.

Damn words.

"Helga." I turned to see the boy with the cornflower hair behind me. He looked refreshed. He looked like he had slept quite nicely. "What happened to you last night?"

I quickly allowed my eyes to look around. We were a few blocks from the park. We were actually standing in front of our old grammar school. P.S. 118.

I found this amusing in some twisted way.

"Brainy walked me home." I said dryly. I might not be tired, but my voice suggested that I was in dire need of sleep.

"Why?"

"What do you mean why you moron? You left me to hang out with Lila. If you have forgotten, I do not like Lila. I hate Lila. I hope Lila dies at sea. I hated last night. I hated being near all those horrible, two faced, brainless idiots. I spent the majority of my time on the roof. You were dancing. You are an asshole!"

This is what I would have said if I was coherent enough to be this angry. I was this angry, don't get me wrong, I just did not have the strength to fly at him with the claws out.

In reality I sighed a little and looked at him. "Because he was there."

Arnold looked at me. His lips were in a tight line and his eyes suggested something. I'm not sure what.

"I was there too." He said. I looked at him and folded my arms. I want to go in a corner and sob myself into the ground. First I have to deal with this.

"No, you weren't. You were dancing, and then talking." I said. I was calm. I was calm because I might not have felt tired, but I was. I was calm because some higher being likes playing this cosmic joke.

"You told me I could dance." When?

"No, I didn't. I told you to do whatever."

"So I danced!" You moron.

"That didn't give you permission to dance with your first love." I said. I could feel the hands of sleep pulling at me.

"It wasn't a big deal." He said.

I suddenly had a million thoughts running through my mind. What if they kissed? What if he made out with her after I left? What if they found themselves conveniently in Rhonda's guest bedroom? What if I'm left alone to raise the children while he whores around with secretaries? Whoa… what the hell is wrong with this picture?

"Do you like her?" I asked. He looked at me. "Like… do you… want her?"

"Helga, of course I don't want her." He said. He implied he wanted me. He came to wrap me in a hug but I stepped back.

"Then why were you with her?"

(Every fairy tale has the moment where Prince Charming comes to the rescue. That's great. When's my Prince Charming getting here?)

I was lying in bed as the sun slowly set.

After my little comment with Arnold I turned around and walked home. Maybe I ran. Either way I got home. I went straight to bed. I didn't want to think about the possibilities, the what ifs. I wanted to lose myself in a nightmare that revolved around the beheading of Lila. Instead I dreamt I was falling down a well. Good times.

There was a knock at my door. I slowly prayed it be death coming to claim me.

It was my mother.

"Baby?" I sat up and slightly smiled. Maybe I didn't smile. I can't remember. "Arnold's been calling all afternoon."

"I don't care." I said. She sat on the edge of the bed.

"You don't deserve this." She said softly. She had no idea what was going on, and still had the foresight to tell me that I was still deserving of a better chapter. This is what a mother should be.

"Mom…" I looked at her as the tears burned my eyes. "I can't do it anymore."

"Do what?" She asked. She was confused.

"Pretend that I want to be here." And then the sobbing came. I felt two arms wrap around me and pull me closer. My senses became clouded with the scent of jasmine. I felt my body shake as I let the sobs come out.

"Just let it out." She whispered. I began to sob harder.

"I can't be this girl. I can't love Arnold. I can't pretend that Olga is still here, somewhere. I want to just have one happy moment. I want to be at the same place Arnold is. I want to be at the same place everyone is. I want to move, I want to walk with them. I want to leave. I don't want to leave. I don't know who I am. Why am I so different? Why is everyone so adjusted? Why not me? Why isn't it ever me? Why can't I just have one good day? Just one!" I began coughing. My face was hurting from all the excessive crying. My eyes were tightly shut. I felt closer to the end of the tunnel.

"Why me? Why couldn't I have the happy childhood? Why couldn't the past four years be for me? Why… why did everyone else have to change?"

I continued to cry. I remember crying for the rest of the night. At least in theory. My mother never said a word. She just held me. She didn't feed me some crap about how everything happens for a reason. She didn't tell me that it would eventually get better. She didn't tell me to wait for my time. She just held me.

For the rest of your life you will hear that everything happens for a reason. That you have to learn to adjust. That you have to make the best of any situation. That it will happen eventually. And of course you knew that. Of course in the end of everything you were not that stupid to not know about eventually. And you will be forever thankful to those people who didn't tell you that when you knew it, but couldn't feel it. You will be forever thankful to those who held you and let you cry.

For the record, eventually might never come.

But they don't tell you that, do they?

(I'm not worried about what happens next, but rather if at the end I'll be able to look back, laugh, and say, "Yeah, I knew it along".)

I woke up to the shifting of weight on my bed. I opened my eyes to reveal a tired looking Arnold. I then looked at the clock and noted it was four in the morning on the first Sunday of summer.

"What?" I asked as I closed my eyes again. I didn't really care how he got in because we were so use to each other in this sense it didn't matter.

"The back door was open." He mumbled. Like I care.

"What?" I said again. My eyes were swollen from the excessive crying. My body was in pain from the excessive emotion, and my head was slowly shutting down. What the hell did he want from me?

"You want to know what happened between me and Lila?" I growled softly but kept my eyes shut. I couldn't even get a good night's sleep it seems. "She kissed me."

I tightened my eyes so that tears began to form along the rims. I began biting my lip in hopes that this was all a dream. It wasn't till I could taste the blood from my own lip that I figured out this was really happening.

"And you know what I did?" Oh good god. "I kissed her back."

Oh yeah, this is totally how you end a relationship.

"And do you know what happened after I figured out that she was not you?" I pray something intelligent. "I pushed her away."

I opened my eyes and looked at him. He looked like a beaten dog crying to his master. I never beat him nor was his master. I was simply the girl he cheated on. Didn't that make me the inferior creature here?

"I am so sorry Helga. I just…" He sighed. "She was dancing and laughing. And then we began talking, about everything. I don't know what the hell I was thinking. She put her hand on my thigh and I just lost my mind for that moment."

That's comforting.

"I must have ran all over the party looking for you. And I couldn't find you. Harold said that you left and I thought that maybe you called your mom or something. I didn't want to call you because you said you were tired and I… I don't want Lila, I want you."

"Why?" It seemed to be the most rational thing I could think of at the moment.

"Because you're Helga. You're smart, pretty, sensitive, endearing, captivating, you're you." He said as he looked at me.

"Is that who I am?" I asked. I felt the tears begin to roll down my cheeks. "Is that all I am? How can you want to be with someone you don't even know? How can you look at me and say that you're sorry for losing your mind for a moment? How can you even think about being with me when you're so much better off without me?" I shook my head. I don't know anymore. I don't know if I was angry with him. I don't know if I was angry at the situation. I don't know if the world is going to turn around and screw me over again. I don't know if when the sun comes out if I'll still be the same person I was last night. I highly doubt I will be.

"Helga… I can't… I don't… I don't want to lose you."

"You're not going too." I heard myself answer quickly. It was true. He would have to cut a lifeline to get rid of me. "I think we both need time to evaluate where we are."

"You're suggesting—"

"A break." I nodded. I might have smiled. This is the first decision I have made as a person.

"I don't—"

"I do." I said. I gently ran my fingers through his hair. "I love you and I care for you, and no one or nothing can change that. But I have to figure out if I'm coming or going. I can't do that with you there."

"I can help you!" He insisted.

"No… you can't." I smiled sadly. My full attention was on his hair. My fingers were slowly getting lost in the soft locks of blonde. "This is something I have to do on my own."

He looked at me. "I can't leave you."

"Then don't." I smiled. He looked at me before gently laying his head to rest on my thighs. I laid back down on my bed. My fingers still were ruffling his hair.

I'd like to think this was all an elaborate dream and I'll wake up in his arms, in his room, two weeks before the party. Life doesn't work like that.

Maybe I just need time to figure it all out.

I do need the eventually. But I knew that.

I guess it's not long now. It's never long now.

Please Read Author's Note in next chapter… then comment… thank you