Author's Note—With the exception of a few paragraphs near the end, appropriately separated; this entire chapter is written from Helga's POV. It just seemed easier to describe once I got going. This means that just about anything not in quotations is the way she sees things. Just wanted to help you all avoid confusion.

The Sweet Hereafter: The Burning Heart

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Part XXVII: The Burning Heart

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"The first three hours of night were almost spent
The time that every star shines down on us
When Love appeared to me so suddenly
That I still shudder at the memory.
Joyous Love seemed to me, the while he held
My heart within his hands, and in his arms
My lady lay asleep wrapped in a veil.
He woke her then and trembling and obedient
She ate that burning heart out of his hand;
Weeping I saw him then depart from me."
--Dante

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It's cold. The chill night air tugs at the American flag as it flaps violently overhead in the wind, the cable clanging a loud tune against the flagpole. I clutch my jacket around me more tightly, the gale cutting through me like a knife. Except it isn't my jacket. I don't really care whom it belongs to. It was there, so I took it.

The sky is dark and cloudy, blocking out the stars above. All the light up here is coming from the illumination of the flag and the random flashing lights around the helipad as it flares like a beacon for any incoming aircraft with serious cases to be tended to.

I'm standing at the edge of the plateau, my palms resting on the cold stone barrier the lines the edge of the roof. I must be at least twelve stories up, yet there's plenty of higher floors. This is high enough for now. I avoid looking over the edge, not wanting to invite a case of vertigo. I can feel the porous rock leaving its mark on the soft flesh of my hands, dotted indentations.

I just couldn't take it in there anymore. Arnold, Geraldo, Fat Boy, Princess, Little Miss Perfect, not to mention Simmons. It's like a veritable who's who of the people who drive me crazy. The only person up there who wasn't getting to me is Phoebe. Out here, I can breathe. I cough violently as I fill my lungs with the cold, painful air. I can feel the protest of my chest. Good. I'm alive, you hear me? No more processed air. No more regulated food. No more solutions dripping into my arm. I can't take that. I can't take people's sympathy. I don't want anyone feeling sorry for me. Can't they see I'm fine? I'm not that fragile. I go through more in a week than most of them probably suffer through in a month. People need to be stronger.

Then why are you here?

Shut up. You know why I'm here. I'm taking a break from everyone. I need to clear my head. I need to get a handle on who I am again. I need. . .

Clarity?

Yeah. It's freaking cold out here. I'm probably going to get myself sick. Guess it's a good thing I'm already in the hospital. Now if I can just figure out who I am. No, forget that crap. Who do I want to be? Who do I want to become?

You're not so different from anyone else.

Yes I am. Just a pity it's by choice. I could be more like the others. Truth is that I don't make a very convincing boy or girl. I'm a poor excuse for both. Too much masculinity to act like a woman. I don't like makeup and shopping and giggling about stupid boys that aren't worth my attention. Too much woman in me to act like a boy. I do almost everything on emotion, whatever twisted combination of hate and love for the world around me that I'm feeling that day.

Why can't I ever stand up to myself? Why can't I stop with the irrational hatred, or the overwhelming love? Do I enjoy hurting myself, hurting everyone else? Maybe if I can make everyone else get fed up with me, they'll all just go away. Is that what I want?

I don't know anything, anymore. I want to be loved. I want to be hated. I want to be appreciated. I want to be scandalized. I want. . .I want something new. I want to live again.

"Don't do it!"

I turned around at the sound of a voice and a metal door opening loudly, letting out a horrid squeal. The door was in a terrible state of disrepair. Of course, Arnold also had to climb over the giant metal pole that was resting on the four stone steps outside the door. "Don't do it Helga!"

"Don't do what?" I asked him, clearly confused and mildly disappointed that it had only taken them forty-five minutes to find me.

"Don't jump." Arnold said with grave concern, catching his breath.

"Jump? Why would-" It's in this moment that I find I don't know whether to laugh or cry. He thought I was going to jump? Criminey! There's plenty wrong in my life, but I'm not suicidal by any means. Still, the fact that he thought that I might. . .and that he actually rushed to stop me? That's just. . .it's so Arnold. I haven't done many kind things for Arnold over the years, but he's still just as ready to save my life as if I were his best friend.

"Okay." I say sarcastically, as though he's interrupting me. "I won't jump. You've ruined the moment anyway."

"That's not very funny, Helga." Arnold scolds me. Typical.

"It wasn't supposed to be. How did you find me?"

"Well, it did take a little while. The party in your room was swinging pretty good. But when I realized you had never come back from getting that cup of tea, I mentioned it. And then Lila noticed her jacket was missing. So we knew you must be outside somewhere. I saw you through a window, I was trying to look into the parking lot. It's lucky the roof on this wing is lower. Anyway, I saw you out here, and I was afraid you were going to. . .do something drastic."

It is sweet. Unfortunately what he doesn't realize is that I'm most bothered now by the fact that I'm wearing Little Miss Perfect's jacket. "I'm not going to kill myself, Arnold." Lila, perhaps. But never you.

"Good. Because I'd miss having you around. You should take better care of yourself. What happened to your drip?"

Take care of myself? Men always say that. I guess we have ourselves to blame. There was a time when men took care of us. Way to go, feminist movement. Now men can't take care of themselves, and aren't supposed to take care of us. Women can take care of men but suck at taking care of themselves. If we don't help each other, we're all going to be miserable. And me? Well, I'm alive. I don't claim to be much else at this point.

"Oh, that old thing? You jumped over it on your way out here. Tonight, Helga Pataki declared her independence from the IV. Want to see the war wound?" I asked, extending my punctured wrist with the dried blood. It hurt like hell pulling that thing out. But something about it also felt so good. Like I'm a little more alive now.

"You need to get that cleaned up, Helga."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't let it concern you too much. I just came out here for some fresh air. Not that it's any of your business, Football Head."

"Does that really make you fell better?"

"What?"

"Helga, anytime you talk to anyone, you always run them down. I've come to accept that's just a part of who you are. But why do you want to be that way? I know you don't really hate everyone."

"Please! Spare me the lecture, Arnoldo. You don't know squat about me."

"That's where you're wrong. You gave those things to me last night so that I would. So maybe I don't know your whole life story, or the motivation behind everything you do. But you gave me a glimpse inside of you, Helga. And the girl I know as Helga G. Pataki would never live her life, hating everyone around here. She's better than that."

"She is what her life has made her. You still don't see it, do you?"

"See what?"

I sighed, feeling so weak and useless. Maybe it was the cold. Maybe I was just tired of everything. What the heck, he already knew a lot of my stories anyway. One more wouldn't kill me. "It's amazing how much of my life has been determined by a plate of saltine crackers and a wistful sigh. Funny, isn't it?"

"Tell me."

"The reason that I am the person you know today, is partly because of you."

"Because of me?"

"Yes. The first day I met you, you were kinder to me than anyone else in this world had ever been, even my own parents. You were the first person to treat me with respect. I was young and impressionable. I couldn't stop staring at you."

"At me? Why? What did I do?" Arnold asked, feeling very confused.

"You don't remember, do you?" My voice sounds so disappointed. Great. Now I'm laying a guilt trip on him. I really don't want Arnold feeling sorry for me. Not tonight. That might be more than I can bear. "The first day of pre-school, that jerk Harold stole my snack. You gave me yours."

"I don't remember it very clearly, Helga. I'm sorry. But I'm sure you're right."

"Of course I'm right! I was there! My whole life was shaped by that day! No one had ever gone out of there way for me. My parents couldn't even remember my name. They still don't. Frequently. But you were there. You don't understand what that felt like to me. I wanted to take you home with me! I would've stayed with you forever that day if someone said I could!"

"Because I was nice to you?" Arnold asked.

Was it my imagination, or were his cheeks growing red? Maybe it's just the cold. "You may have thought of it as being kind, but in my position, you might as well have been asking me to marry you. You really did have me at hello. You forever changed my life that day, Arnold. And I'm never going to forgive you for it."

"Helga. . ."

"Don't interrupt me! Anyway, other people couldn't help but notice. I mean, you know how kind we kids can be. Personally, I'd never zero in on someone's weakness and expose them, but others just don't seem to share my enlightened philosophy."

"Right." Arnold rolled his eyes at me. Good. I have his attention. "So everyone else teased you."

"And I fought back with a vengeance. I've never stopped, either. I don't know if I ever will. It's my nature."

"There's nothing funny about that, Helga. You know that you're capable of better."

"Maybe I was once. I don't know anymore. But that isn't what's funny. What's funny is you and me."

"You and me?"

"Yes! Think about it! You've never met a pretty face you don't like. In the past year alone, you were pining over Ruth, you were bamboozled by Summer, and now you're haunting Lila's footsteps. At least she's your own age. So here we are. I want to be with you. You want to be with Lila. And I don't even know what Miss Perfect wants. But in the end, we're all going to be unhappy."

"You don't know that. And I don't go after women on looks alone."

"Whatever you say, Arnold." I can't even bear to look at him right now. I'm too amazed by my own stupidity.

"Come on, Helga. I mean, you're beautiful, and I've never--"

That tears it. I'm going to break him in two! "Save your pity for someone else, Hair Boy! I don't need it!"

"It's not pity, Helga. You're different that any other girl I know. Believe what you want. You look beautiful."

"You lie poorly."

"Whatever you say, Helga."

"What do you want me to say here, Arnold?"

"I don't know. Accept a compliment gracefully?"

"Cut the crap!" Helga roared, angry and a bit hurt. "I'm not beautiful, and I'm not graceful, so stop patronizing me!"

"Oh come on, Helga!" Interesting. Arnold rarely got worked up over anything, not like this. "Why do you always do these things to yourself?"

"What are you babbling about?!"

"Stop punishing yourself, alright? Stop punishing everyone around you. It has to stop, Helga. I don't know what we're supposed to do here. Why can't you just admit that you're just a kid like me who's confused? I don't know what I'm doing! It's not nearly so scary if you admit it." He's laughing. He really is a fool! "Not with Ruth. Not with Summer. Not with Lila. And you. . .I don't even know where to start with you! You went to an awful lot of trouble to get me to notice you, to understand you. Now you just can't wait to pick a fight with me. I thought you were okay, Helga. But maybe I was wrong."

Curse him for being so direct! I hate it when he won't let me blow smoke up his butt. Makes everything so much more difficult. "I've never been okay in my life, Arnoldo! I've just survived." There's no way I can keep looking at him. I turn away, out towards the lights of the city and the harsh wind. "I always just survive. Always looking for my next meal. Subsisting off of little emotional breadcrumbs you deign to feed me. But on the inside, I'm sick and I'm dying. I've given up, Arnold."

"Given up on what?" Arnold asked me softly. I could feel his hand on my shoulder. Don't do this to me now! I can live without you loving me, but don't take away my pain and leave me with nothing. The only things in my life that are truly mine are my pain and my love for you! You can have one, but not both. Leave me with something, don't take everything I am and walk away with that beautiful smile I can't bear to see moving away from me.

"On trying. . .on trying to stand on my own. You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

Let me be, damn you! No. No! Stop it! You baby! You weak, sorry excuse for a person! You-will-not-cry! Not for him! "My parents. . ." I can hear my voice in that slow, defeated whisper. I swallow back a sob and the cold air burns my throat, my lungs protesting. "My parents always ruin everything. They ignore me and neglect me and forget that I even exist. And just when I'm okay with it, when I've learned to live without them and take care of myself, Bob or Miriam will step up and actually act like a guardian to me. It never lasts. It's just enough to keep me from giving up on them. Enough to keep me from living for myself. And they have no idea how much I hate them for it. And them? They're too delusional to realize how much better off I'd be if they'd just let me go."

"Don't say that." Arnold insisted. He always insists those kinds of things. Always putting someone else's problems into perspective. "I can't really remember my parents. So in some ways, I may never really know who I am. Grandma and Grandpa do so much. But still. . .I don't really know what kind of people my parents were. Are." Very clever, Football Head. You still hold out hope that your parents are alive, but you're realistic enough to understand they probably aren't.

"Didn't your grandparents tell you anything about them?" I asked with curiosity.

"Sure, they've told me lots of stories. Even why they left. But it's not the same. I want my own impressions."

I sneezed in response. Sure, way to ruin the moment, Helga Old Girl. "Guess it's cold out here."

"We should go back inside." Arnold indicated the door and the warm light spilling out from around it. It looked inviting. And yet. . .something about this environment just seemed right.

"Takes you back, doesn't it, Football Head?"

"What does?"

"To that windy summer's night on the roof. Be honest. It wasn't so terrible, was it?"

"Surprising would be more the word for it. It really wasn't a good night for. . .complications."

"I've never been very good at timing. So. . .what about now?"

"Now?!" It's been too long since I've seen his eyes go that wide. Funny that they're still beautiful.

"Yeah. Why not? You have something better to do?"

"I. . .don't know if this is such a good idea, Helga."

Don't even try it! After all you've put me through, you owe me a lot more than that, bucko! "You wanted to know about me. Here's your chance to learn."

". . .Alright." Only a moment's hesitation. Not bad. Not bad at all.

"Now you're talking, Hair Boy."

Haven't boys and girls been doing this since the beginning of time? You'd think we'd have perfected it by now. Twice my nose smashed into his cheek, off-target. If anyone can see us, we must look like the pathetic amateurs we really are. Good. At least we're on even ground for a change.

"Um, sorry." Oh, perfect. Now he's avoiding my eyes. "I wasn't. . .prepared or anything." His voice sounds like that of a child caught raiding the cookie jar. This is ridiculous! I could hear myself growling. That's it, find another outlet for the sexual frustration. One fluid motion, and I can feel the cleft of his shoulders in my hands. Perfect. He looks a little scared of the grin that's on my face. Smart boy. You should be afraid. "Um. . .Helga, shouldn't we-"

"Shut up." I hiss, my voice sounding less confident than I'd like. "Kiss me."

Contact. Bingo! There you are, my angel. Come on. . .open up or there's no point to any of this! What's it going to be? Drive or reverse? Do anything but leave me hang—that's it! Oh yeah. That's the stuff, boy. This is what they're talking about in all those poems. Soft and warm and sweet and full of life itself. Can you feel that? Taste that, and tell me nothing's there! This is it, isn't it? It's like. . .being inside joy. If it were a blanket I could wrap around myself, this would be it. Do you get it now? Do you, Football Head? I love you!

Splashes. Strange. It's not supposed to rain tonight. Why is my face so wet? Oh no! It can't be! My beloved is a drool kisser! It can't be! No. . .that's not it. It's. . .salty. Tears? Is he crying? No, of course not. I'm crying. Why am I crying? What am I scared of? What's happening? I feel like. . .I feel like I'm floating away. My arms are wrapped around his silly head and we're flying away. Just like in one of those fairy tales, and we'll always be happy forever and-

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"Helga?" Arnold asked, his cheeks flushed and his vision cloudy. He blinked twice, scattering the blurriness out of his eyes just in time to see Helga's body go limp. He caught her before she fell, her body becoming so much dead weight. A cloud still appeared before her lips in the chill night air. Good, she was only unconscious. As he struggled with Helga's form, getting her towards the warm safety of the hospital one step at a time, he was unable to avoid the contented smile that shown on Helga's serene face. Arnold chuckled, feeling pleased with himself as he worked his way inside the doors and gently set Helga in a wheelchair left just inside. "Wow, that was some kiss!"

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That's it, that's exactly where I want to end. I really feel good about parts of this chapter, although I'm still a little frightened. Hopefully I recaptured some of that stuff about Chapter 8 you all loved. I tried to mix a lot into here. I got very emotional myself while typing this. I hope it pays off.

My biggest concern with this story as of late is to make you feel things by shedding a little light on the situations. I try to dig deeper and get into the feelings associated with Helga's life and actions and how she lives. This was the first time I ever did an entire chapter from her POV. Parts of that were daunting, but I also felt that I did a little growing myself while writing this. The monologues were one thing, but this was one of the more challenging parts overall. Still not as bad as Chapter 8, though. I guess there's little left for me to do but step back, let the reviews come in, and see what I've wrought.

Of course, even after this. . .I'm still not done! You can celebrate a little now, though. I have decided on an ending. So now that I actually know where this story is going, maybe it will make a little more sense. A lot of it is still made up as I go. This entire chapter was written around 6 words. Everything else just came together to make something I feel comfortable standing by.

This one took a few days, I know. I probably spoiled you all by now. I just. . .needed some time off. I've been very diligent with updating this story and I needed a day or two to reconnect with my friends and that thing scientists call "sleep." Hopefully this means marked improvement in my work. Time will tell.

Lastly, aside from this new chapter, there is now a complete commentary available for the first chapter. Remember that? I wrote it not so long ago. Things sure have come a long way, haven't they? It's now available via e-mail. Yes, I know FFN's lame policy deletes my e-mail in every file. I leave a space for it in protest. Of course, all my contact information is readily available in my bio. Don't be scared. It's only a paragraph.

You know what, there's no point denying it. I want your feedback on this one more than ever. I'll beg and grovel. I have no dignity anyway. Trust me. I work in a call center. Review the crap out of this thing!

And as always, send your questions, comments, compliments, complaints, love letters, death threats, marriage proposals, and ransom demands to:

Lord Malachite

10/04/04

4:39 AM, EST

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