Through the Compact Disc

WARNING: This chapter contains explicit references and descriptions to abuse and sexual situations. It also contains high usage of cursing. Please take note of such as you begin to read the story. Rating has been increased to PG-13.

Okay, so here is the Special Place: Review time!

All: Okay, so here's the thing on where I've been for the last eternity. It can all be explained quite simply and in one word, but I feel like typing a long excuse. You see, my mom's computer is down and sick, so I can't go on the internet there, so I have no encouragement to write my fanfics! And my dad just got a new girlfriend, who's moved in, and she has a daughter my age, and I really don't want to look like a fanatic in front of her. She's very accusing and if she knew I wrote about a cartoon SHE really didn't like, I'd never hear the end of it! Alas, I must keep it a secret from her and never, ever type stories there. So now do you see my dilemmas? Also, I've been really focused on my social life and the original works like poetry and a series and even an original spin-off on this very story. Also, I'm at my grandmother's with my highly annoying four year old brother, my ice cream melted in my lap, Santa doesn't exist, and I have a very irritating mosquito bite on my elbow. Interesting? ~Silence~ EXACTLY! I just bored you out of you wits so that you'd be anxious to read!

Texaco Tex: Ok, yeah! Go me, go me, go me, go girl! Got the right adjective yet? Sorry, I just love your reviews. You increase two things at the same time: morale AND the circumference of my head! Seriously, though, thanks!

Helgagurl46: Well, I'm not denying what you said, but I'm not going with it either. Very analytical there. I approve! Anyway, this is a very large fic that will change the relationship between Helga and Francesca, and it might even make you squeal after what you said. Also, Deana really WON'T appreciate that at the moment, will she? Thanks for taking so much interest in my stories! (And since your user name violates so many spelling rules on my spell check, I had to add your name to the dictionary. Feel special with all your bad grammar usage, girlfriend! Ok, back to reality…)

Frozen Sun: I bet you're thinking that NOW, huh? Ah, no worries… at least until your done reading… WHO KNOWS HOW LONG I'LL BE AWAY THEN? I'll try harder, okay?

Disclaimer: Well, I don't own Hey Arnold, hospitals, Planned Parenthood Association, or any of that special stuff, okay? Oops! Did I just let something slip? Oh, well, I have to be legal here.

Francesca

I swallowed the saliva that had accumulate in my mouth and said, "Helga, get over here, girl. I don't have long, and I have a lot to talk about."

Helga looked at me like I was insane. I think she thought why I wanted to speak with her. Ideas were running across her eyes about whether I was going to blame her for my condition and scream or cry about how I was jealous earlier. Okay, so, both of those things were still on my mind, but give me some credit! I wasn't going to say anything like that.

"I'm being serious, Helga, come here." I heard my voice crack. I suppose that my vocal cords were heated by the fire. It did hurt a little bit to speak.

Finally, Helga finished looking back and forth suspiciously and pulled a chair to the side of my bed. "Okay, first of all," she said, "I am so sorry for making you get all mad and everything. Arnold's your husband right now, and I shouldn't have ever interfered, but you know, please don't chew me out, because my intentions were good, and if you start yelling at me, I'm going to have to argue back, you know."

I smiled lightly. "Nothing like that," I replied. She seemed to loosen up. "However, what I'm going to say is very serious. It is my own apology. It may take a while, so I'll have to talk quickly before Arnold and Deana come back.

Helga looked at me curiously. "Why are you speaking to me in private if it doesn't even have anything to do with me?"

"Because it does. Maybe not directly, but somehow, yes, it does."

 She seemed to consider this for a few seconds, and then straightened in her seat. "Shoot."

I took a deep breath and thought encouraging thoughts. I hadn't spoken of this story to any except for Arnold and my immediate family (excluding Dee). "I first met Arnold in high school. I'm sure that you must have seen us together at least once in our lives."

Helga nodded. "Now that you mention it, yes."

"Well," I continued, "I'll have to start before my meeting him." I pushed myself up onto my pillow as high as I could go without sitting. "Before I met Arnold, I had numerous boyfriends. They all started out better than the first. My first actual boyfriend, a steady one, was protective. No, that's too nice of a word. He was possessive of me, over-bearing, not letting me go out with my friends if any boys would be there. I got out of this relationship after a few weeks."

"Jerk," I heard Helga mutter.

"He's not the worst. After him, I was a little fidgety about dates. I finally went out with someone who was pretty athletic, a good student, pretty popular. He was nice to me at first. He was very romantic and sweet. One day, though, I was late to a date because of a tutoring my mother made me go to. I told him this and he started to yell at me. We were in a parking lot when he grabbed my arm and told me to work better in my promptness, cheat on my classes to avoid failing and having to go to tutorials. This escalated to twisting my arm around if I got him mad, the occasional slap on the cheek. Besides this, he was his usual self, so I passed it off as stress. The he beat up one day when he saw me hanging around with some of the male track team. He accused me of cheating, saying I was starting to break his heart. A friend saw a bruise on my shoulder in the locker rooms and reported what he was doing to me. Afterwards, I just kept looking for other guys who would comfort me, be sweet and genuine, as my previous encounters seemed to be at first. It got worse, though. Some of my boyfriends convinced me, sometimes forced me, upon threats, to drink with them, to do things to them and myself I didn't want to. They made me touch them in places that…" I suddenly found myself shivering and on the verge of tears. I closed my eyes and took another breath to calm my nerves. I glanced at Helga, who had a look of contained rage in her face. I nodded my head, as if I read her mind. "Go ahead. Say it. I'm thinking it."

"Those mother fuckers!" Helga said loudly. She tried not to scream it to loud, but it looked like she could yell through five walls if she wanted to. "I hate people like that! Those damn bitches, they don't deserve to live! Damn them to hell! Fuck 'em, for the loud of crap they did to you! Forcing you to, oh, Gawd, I'm so fucking mad at them! How could they even dare? Those jerk-offs! Oh, I just, oh, oh, that's so…" She let out a huge moan and looked down at me. In her cursing, she had stood up and paced around my bed twice. "Sorry, Fran. I'm done." She hastily took her seat.

I shook my head weakly, both sad at my remembrance of these experiences and amused at Helga's reaction she was leaning forward on me, still whispering under her breath, 'How could they?'

I continued with my story. "All of these people started to tell their low-life friends about me, what they did to me, but they lied on many parts. They said I talked dirty to them, that I moaned happily whenever I was told to lick them somewhere. I was passed along, forced to strip or make out or masturbate them. I would cry openly whenever I was told to. It struck daggers into my soul every time I touched one of them. It was so disgusting, so humiliating that I let them take me this far into their life of sex and drugs that I held myself from telling anyone. Whenever I wouldn't comply with them, I was hit. Whenever they finished using me, they hit me and told me to never speak to anyone of their little sessions with me."

"They deserve to be punished for what they did," Helga snarled. I could see fire lighting up in her eyes.

I bit my lip and looked intently at her. "Are you okay?"

She nodded and blinked the fire from her eyes. She said, "Criminy, this is deep," and rubbed her eyes.

Once again, I continued. "I knew no one would believe me if I told anyone, especially my friends. My friends all had boyfriends that truly felt care, concern, sometimes even true love for them. They were happy, and they saw they jock, popular, perfection that those bitches played out in public. So it kept going, getting even worse. I was being forced to make out with other women; prostitutes being paid to make them happy by seeing me suffer. Some were even their own girlfriends, but I never got to hear their names. I could never talk to the ones that suffered with me. I'd be made to hide their cocaine, drink alcohol until I passed out, smoke with them, drive with them, and have sex sessions with them… I was never penetrated, but I felt like a slut. I felt like I'd never been a virgin, even though I was one. They all would just continue to leave me behind I would stupidly continue searching for better people. It was my goal in life to find someone who wouldn't hurt me, but I kept looking in all of the wrong places.

"Finally, I found someone who seemed to be great. He wasn't in the same league as those other guys. He was a performer. He was in Drama, very good at English, in Art and other performance extracurricular activities. We went out steady for about two months when it started."

Helga glared not necessarily at me, but it went in my direction. "Oh, man. The slobs that went to our school…"

"Exactly," I said. "Anyway, he started to try and come onto me whenever we were in front of my house after a date. He knew my mom worked until midnight, and he figured he could do what he pleased with me. Then, finally, he told me that he had heard the rumors about me, about how I was amazing in bed, how I moaned and groaned. I told him that the moaning was from my sobs, and that they made me do everything, but he wouldn't listen. He kept trying to get me into my room. Alone.

"And one day, he did."

Helga

My eyes widened with both shock and rage. What these people did to her… even f we were on unpleasant terms at the moment, what they did deserved the highest justice. Tearing her like that! It was so much worse than what happened to me! I just had neglecting, light abuse, and a split personality. Oh, and my undying affection for Arnold.

One Christmas present had gone very awry.

"No way," I whispered hoarsely. Then, before I could shut my big mouth, "What did he do to you?" Now I felt like I was pushing. But I was, and who cares right now, I had to know!

Francesca was close to crying when she started to speak again. "Well," she said, "he said on our date that he realized that he was being wrong, that I was right and that he was wrong. After he made his apology I kissed him intimately. We started to make out in the car and then drove home. He said he had to use the bathroom so I let him in my house." She closed her eyes tightly, remembering the horror.

Realization dawned on me. My mouth dropped as the truth formulated in my mind. "Oh my god…" I said. "Did he-"

I didn't get to finish my sentence because Francesca started to talk again. "I was on the couch, watching TV and waiting for him to come out and say goodbye. Then he walked in front of me, with his shirt off. I immediately knew what he was going to do and screamed." She closed her eyes again and thinned out her lips. When she spoke next, her voice was even raspier than before from held back tears. "I screamed and screamed and ran away from him but he was faster than me. He grabbed me with a strength I didn't know he had and dragged me up to my bedroom. He kept muffling my screams with his hands, and then finally, a shirt of mine. He held down my arms while taking off my clothes. I tried to kick him off but…" She squeaked as tears finally started to penetrate her eyes. "But he kept going. He kept saying that he knew I was ready, he knew I wanted it and that I liked it. I didn't, though. It was the most horrifying…" She looked down from her spot on the ceiling and to me. "Came I please skip this part?"

I nodded slowly and had an urge to hug her. I felt strange, completely out of character. It was then that I noticed the tears streaking down my own face. I think that they were there around the time Francesca's was.

Francesca's story wasn't over yet. And even through the happiest part of it, it would result in something that, for me especially, would be dumbfounding.

Francesca

Finally I began to cry as I talked about my ex-boyfriend raping me. I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to stop, or that it would hurt my stomach to an extreme level if I did, though, so I tried to keep it from sobbing out of control. I still felt as if I should finish, though. I had finished with the worst part, but I hadn't gotten to the most important part.

"The next day I sat on the side of the school, near the Dumpsters, contemplating whether I should run away or tell someone or something. I thought that no one would go over there in the mornings before school, so I decided to cry. It turns out some one did go back there in the mornings. Someone walked by that side of the school on his way from his house."

"Arnold," Helga whispered without much emotion in her voice. Now was the time that she may be affected the most. We were talking about her one and only true love since who-knows-when.

I nodded. "Arnold spotted me before I saw him, and he walked over to me to see what was wrong. I almost didn't tell me, but…"

Helga smiled lightly, understanding. "He got you, didn't he? He has that sort of supernatural power over people to make them spill if there's something wrong." Her eyes got misty as she remembered some of the times he'd done that with her friends, possibly even her. Who knew, really? I just hoped that she knew I didn't have a grudge against her… or anyone except myself right now.

"He got me to tell him everything. I hadn't even met him before and I spilled my secrets to him. He was definitely concerned about me, and I liked that about him. I was a stranger and he helped me like my friends wouldn't. I told him everything from the beginning. And he sympathized. When I got to the, uh, last part, he grabbed my arm and dragged me to the counselor's office. He told me to tell her what happened and I was taken immediately to a Planned Parenthood center. They ran some tests, and it turned out that I wasn't pregnant. At least my boyfriend wasn't cruel enough to now use protection. Arnold went with me."

"He would. He always butts into people's business whenever they need to be butted in," Helga added. She seemed to be in a generally lighter mood once we were on the topic of Arnold, I noticed. It made me hate myself even more.

"Yeah," I said. "Anyway, after this happened and all of the people who abused me were punished, Arnold became a very dear friend of mine. He seemed to have what I was looking for in all of the wrong places before: he genuinely cared and was concerned for me. It's all I ever wanted to see in anyone, and I found it in him. We started to date and Arnold really liked me. We went to college together, and near the end of senior year he proposed. I took the offer and married him, later having Deana. Then, here we are." I lifted my hand as if to behold where I was at the moment.

Helga smiled and nodded her head, about to stand up and walk out. Then, she blinked and looked back to me. "There's more," she said, "isn't there?"

I smiled solemnly. "Yes. It's hard to explain, though."

"Try me."

The whole point of the conversation was reaching its height.

Helga

I listened intently to the shocking words that came from Francesca's mouth.

"You've heard me say how I was looking for a man that simply cared, someone who would just worry about me. My friends didn't give a crap about me, so I looked for that in a romantic interest, so to speak. I found genuine concern in Arnold, and I held on to it. After all that had happened to me before, I didn't want to separate myself from the reward at the end of the trip.

"The truth is, that's the reason why I went with him everywhere. He was a shield for me to use. With him I'd never be hurt emotionally. With him I'd be respected, I'd be safe. I'd be protected. I wanted that concern so much that I drew myself into an illusion. I knew that Arnold truly did, truly does, love me. That's why I thought I loved him." She closed her eyes and sniffed. Tears rolled slowly down her cheek.

Oh, no. Before she even finished, I knew. I knew what was coming and my eyes widened in shock.

"I never did actually love him," she finally whispered. "I wanted tom, and I thought I did, but never, ever did my heart ever actually feel for him. Never." She spat out the word 'never' like it tasted sour in her mouth.

I started to breathe heavily and stare at her. It wasn't possible. There was no way that Fran couldn't love Arnold! It just didn't make sense! None of it made any remnant of sense!

But it was true. I could see it in her eyes that she wasn't joshing me.

And then that sickening window of opportunity came up. Fran doesn't love Arnold! There's a spot for me now! I pushed it away angrily. I hate myself for thinking that! But I did, and that was the truth. Criminy! Why on earth was this happening?

I stood quickly from my seat. I was too frustrated to sit. I wanted to just scream from the confusion. If she had never loved him, wouldn't she have known before know, the worst possible time to break up with a husband?

Wait. She was going to break up with him, right? She had to! If she didn't then she'd just be keeping up the charade!

I had to say something. NOW! "Is all of that true?" I asked desperately.

"Yes," Francesca said. "Believe me; it hurts to finally come to this accursed conclusion."

"But what are you going to do, Francesca?" I asked. I turned to her with my arms open, waiting.

She shrugged lightly in her spot. "I don't know. I'm afraid of telling him, but I know I have to. I'm worried about Dee, too."

"You have to tell them sometime, and the sooner, the better." I let out a groan/growl. If I was this frustrated, imagine Francesca! I sat down in the chair I'd been in before she called me to her, messing with my hair. I fiddled with the thin pink ribbon that went through the lower layer almost unnoticeably. Yes, I still held it with me. You got a problem with that? "Listen, Francesca, it's been a rough week, hasn't it?" I could here Francesca chuckle slightly at the almost random remark. "If you don't want to tell your family, I guess that I could." I was trying REALLY hard to be nice right now.

Francesca refused, saying, "You shouldn't have to do that for me, Helga." She reached a hand out to grab a small piece of paper. "Can you come here, please?" I walked over to her and took the piece of paper from her hands. "I'd like for you to-"

Suddenly, the door opened and Arnold, Deana, and the nurse walked in. Oh, yeah…

Arnold

Okay. What was going on here?

I suppose that the two of them say the puzzlement on mine and Deana's faces. Helga smiled brightly and extravagantly. "Hi, guys," she said. "Francesca and I were just having a talk, but I'm hungry now, so I'm gonna get something to eat, okay, bye!" She walked hurriedly out of the room to what I figured would be the vending machines.

Deana and I had just finished eating some cheeseburgers from a vending machine (technology these days!). The nurse had approached us and said that she needed to check up on Frannie, and we said that we'd just stop by and say hi before the nurse had to deal with her.

I walked over to Francesca and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Then I lifted my head and looked at her hard. I tasted water. Had she been crying with Helga?

"Are you okay?" I whispered so only she could hear.

She nodded. "Yes, Arnold," she said blandly. "I'm fine."

"Sir?" said the nurse. "I need her alone now."

I nodded and took Deana's shoulder and walked outside. Before the door closed I waved softly to Frannie and mouthed 'I love you'. I saw a trace of a smile before the door shut.

Deana rolled her eyes and looked up at me. "Dad, something was going on in there with Mom and Helga." I couldn't help but notice a harsh tone in Helga's name.

"I know," I said, leaning against the wall, "but I don't know what it is. She was crying though."

Deana leaned forward with her mouth slightly opened. "Why would she be crying with Helga?" she asked rhetorically. "Why don't we go ask her what was going on."

I nodded. This was just one of those times when I had to poke in and see what was going on for my own sake.

Helga

I walked over to the vending machines. There was no one there, so I felt absolutely no pressure on myself as I kicked a chair and groaned yet again. This was too freaking MUCH!

I sighed and opened up the folded piece of paper Francesca handed me. She didn't have time to tell me what it was, but it was obvious once I started reading it.

It was a song.

I'm standing inside these flames, and they're circling around me, and I can't move, my feet are melted to the ground

You're standing in front of me inside this tower of heat I see; you just stay there, like there's something to be found

You speak to me. And I hear it, but it's just too hard to believe your words

I'm pulling back. And I don't want to, but I can't believe what I heard

I read on, amazed at the lyrics. I don't know where she got the first verse from. It seemed like a dream, almost. At the bottom of the piece of paper there was a note from Francesca.

Make this a song. Sing it sometime. Change anything in here that you like. I'm not good with music, but I'd like for Arnold to hear it from someone as talented as you are.

That was it. I leaned against the wall and broke down. I couldn't handle it. The love of my life's wife didn't love him, but he loved her. And now she trusted me with her song, her mourning over the truth? It was so soap-opera-ish that I couldn't take it!

I wiped my eyes quickly and bought a hot dog from the vending machine. Technology is a weird thing indeed.

Suddenly, someone walked into the small nook with a large cart full of newspapers. So. This is how early they got here. He didn't seem to notice me as he piled up the new copies of magazines and tabloids.

Tabloids!

As soon as he left, I shifted through the numerous tabloids. Just as I expected. In the corner of one of the tabloids was a picture of me in the waiting room, next to Arnold. These damn things sure get printed fast, huh? The headline caught my eye. In bold print it read:

Famous Pataki Home Breaker? What is She Doing with Arnold at the ER?

Details on page 23.

I screamed quietly (or as quiet as possible) in rage and ripped he tabloid in two. I sat back down and took a forceful bite of my hot dog.

I heard a voice say, "Helga?" I looked up and saw Arnold and Deana walking toward me. I got up quickly and tried to keep a straight face in front of them. The last few days were taking a lot out of me. "Hi, guys. How's Frannie?"

"That's what we could ask you, you know," said Deana with an attitude. "What were you and my mom talking about? Spill it now." She crossed her arms expectantly.

I looked at Arnold and cocked an eyebrow. "Are you sure that this is your daughter, Arnoldo?"

Arnold bit his lip and said, "Really, Helga, could you just tell us what we missed?"

I should've known they'd ask this. I rolled my neck around and crossed my arms defiantly. "Sorry, you two, but I'm in a confidence. I really can't say. Only Francesca can, and she will."

Deana walked up to me and bore holes into me with her eyes. "You tell us now."

I really fought the urge to say anything related to it. It was Francesca's choice to do this. Suddenly, we were interrupted by a bed being rolled down the hallway and surrounded by doctors. It attracted all of our attention. Deana, however, was at the best position to see the face.

"Mom?"

Evil little bugger, aren't I? I give you this huge chapter to make a bond with Fran and Helga and Francesca about to do something big, then this. Well, this was written in about four hour's time using estimation. Yes, four. After weeks, four hours. But did I give you a long enough, emotion riddled enough piece to tide you over for a while? I hope so! Or else what would be the point? Anyway, I hope this gets read. Tell em how you like it via Review button. Come on, I know you want to. And I'm offering product placement. If you give me a sufficient enough review, I'll include an ad for your story(s). Anyway, it's one in the morning, my grandma's about to kill me, so good-night and Happy Easter! (Long time since Christmas of 2002, huh?)

You Gotta Love Her! (No matter how mad of an updater she is)

Briana Loves Foot Ball Head~~~^