Everyone changes with time. A day, a week, a month, a year... they all count. So how much can a group of rag tag 4th graders from P.S. 118 change with junior high, high school, and a whole bunch of history between those seven years? A whole lot.

Years Later

The Breaking Point of Lying

Helga walked into Mr. Simmons' Language Arts class ten minutes late for the umpteenth time this week. Mr. Simmons said nothing, knowing of Helga's situation thanks to Phoebe and Sid.

Helga took her customary seat in the back right next Phoebe. It was the twenty-second; exactly a week since her funeral and Helga was already wasting away in front of any of the eyes that chose to notice. Many of the tank tops and shirts that she usually wore seemed just a bit more loose than normal, she was now fastening her belt buckle an extra notch tight, and then there was the fact that she simply chose not to go to lunch. But, if anyone chose to stop by the girl's locker room by the math wing on the first floor of Crinshaw High during sixth period lunch, they might catch the faint scent of Lina Grette's Cigarettes.

Her eyes had heavy purple bags underneath them, so dark they almost looked like bruises, her lips were so chapped they looked like they were seconds away from bleeding, and her hair was haphazardly put in a loose ponytail with its former pink color fading every slightly with each day, with no sign of Helga even making the conscious decision to dye it again.

She walked through the hallways in a zombie like state, barely conscious to the waking world, or to anything around her, at times it almost seemed that she had been invisible in her own skin.

Both Phoebe and Sid were messes, both looked extremely tired, barely ate, and barely spoke, but it was nothing compared to Helga's.

She was a mess.

A complete and total mess.

(Y/L)

Christmas vacation had finally come and most students were happy to be getting away from school for a few weeks of reprieve, however, Helga feared what those few weeks would bring while she was home, at least the place she referred to as home. For the last few weeks she had stuck to wandering the streets at night, not willing to go back to a place that seemed to be haunted with memories... unless she needed to shower. Sal's looked much better to her at night. She could hide in a dark corner and no one would ask or even bother wonder why she had smudged mascara and eyeliner on her face, they simply ignored her, something that she needed and wanted at this moment in time.

Everyone from her neighbor to her neighbor's cousin's dog's sister seemed to want to know how she doing, how she was holding up, how she was feeling.

And the most obvious answer would be, she felt like hell, she felt like crap, and she didn't know why she was still human existence.

But they were ignoring the obvious.

She pulled out a cigarette and lit it with her Pink Panther Zippo. She sat in the darkness of Sal's from the time she cut gym, her last period class, to about eight p.m. when Sal told Helga she should head out before the rowdy Friday night crowd came through. Helga gave the older man a small thanks and picked up herself and left the bar.

Outside it was a cold night, even though it was autumn, it felt like winter... but then again, winter did begin tomorrow, but Helga felt nothing. She walked the streets of Wayside with only her black tank top, black pants, and black combat boots to protect her from the cold that winter was bringing. Fortunately or maybe unfortunately, even in the cold dead of night, she felt nothing.

She forsaken the bus, instead chose to walk all the miles home from Wayside to her house in Hillwood, it was about an hour to an hour and a half walk, but she didn't mind... in fact, it helped to distract her busy mind, she counted all of the five hundred and ninety-six cars that passed her as she made her way...home.

It was about nine o'clock when she reached her house.

It was nine-ten when she finally gathered herself enough composure to enter the house.

The house was dark, with the exception of kitchen and the living that was being illuminated by the telltale signs of a televisions blue light. Helga knew Bob and Lexie were probably enjoying their Friday evening by being couch potatoes sitting in the living room, drinking beer and smoking her cigarettes. She didn't really give a double damn what they did as long it did not involve her in any way shape or form, so she made her way upstairs, prepared to go to take a shower before heading out to the streets once again. She was walking down the hallway when she noticed that Hilda's room was unlocked and the door was left slightly ajar...

Hmmm, I guess I forgot to lock it this morning...

Helga opened the door, ready to look on the room that had left the same since she was in the accident, because she didn't have time to clean it up, and afterwards, she left her room the same because she didn't have the strength to clean it up. Every morning, almost like a religious ritual, Helga unlocked the door to her room, and stood in the doorway looking at the unmade bed, old clothes strewn across the floor, the stuff animals sitting in a corner, and the print of "Starry Night" covering the chipped pink wall by her bed, but when Helga opened the door this time... everything was wrong...

...Everything was gone.

The room was completely empty, devoid of any life, the chipped ceiling glared at her from across the room... Helga no idea what was going on, immediately, without a second thought, she ran down the stairs and ran into the living. There on the living room couch, sat Bob with Lexie, who was draping herself over the man that was old enough to be her father.

"Where is her stuff." Helga demanded, she was speaking calmly; she had not begun to yell, yet.

Both ignored her.

She tried again, "Where the hell is her stuff!"

Once again she was ignored.

Helga placed herself directly in front of the television screen and tried once more, "Where the fucking hell is my sister's stuff!"

Now she had their attention.

Lexie glared at her with her dark eye narrowed. "What do you want?"

Now it was Helga's turn to glare back, "Where is my sister's stuff, you two bit whore?"

Lexie lifted herself off of Bob, who was merely ignoring both female diligently, and sat up from the couch to inspect her finger nails.

"Oh, you mean that little brat that died off last week or something," She raised an eyebrow before continuing, not wanting to let Helga to get a word edgewise. "Well, I so happened to find the spare key to her room today and decided to sell everything off, you know, and got about two hundred bucks. You know, I had to do it, because," She paused and smiled at Helga with her dark cherry red lips. "I'm a 'two bit whore'. Plus you should be happy, I did you a favor... didn't your mother teach you any manners? Hmm?"

Helga didn't know where to begin.

Something in her mind just simply snapped and slowly...

Ever so slowly her numbed mind began to thaw and...

It only had one word to say...

Kill.

And before she knew it, Helga had flown across the room in two giant steps and attacked Lexie. Something kept telling her to keep going, something inside of her wanted to see her bleed, bleed from every inch, every pore, and every damn part of her body. Lexie scratched at Helga, throwing in few punches here and there, but in reality, she had no chance of beating Helga. Sure she was probably eating more than Helga, was healthier than Helga was these days, taller than Helga, but, she was not fueled by total unadulterated rage.

Somehow Bob managed to throw the teen off of his girlfriend, and he was yelling at her, but Helga heard nothing, nothing at all, all she heard was the voice calling her, telling her that she was not finished. She lunged for Lexie but, Bob pushed her away and was still yelling, she tried once again, but Bob kept her away. Meanwhile, Lexie sat stiffly on the couch with a blood splattered onto her face, maybe it was her bloody nose that Helga had definitely broken, or maybe, it was her bloody lip that Helga punched and knocked out a few teeth, and there were places Helga knew would become large bruises in just a matter of hours. Tears were streaming down her face and she watched Helga like a hawk from her prone position, her dark eyes spoke to Helga, she knew exactly what the older woman was feeling.

She was scared.

She was scared of Helga.

But Helga was disappointed at her handy work, she was sure that she should have at least cracked opened her skull... at least, just a little bit.

Helga knew she had to leave; she just couldn't stay there anymore.

She ran up to her room and hazardously began to throw things in her dark pink duffle bag, some CDs, some clothes, her passport, her toothbrush, her CD player, her laptop, a book, and she even picked up Pink Chocolate, she did not plan on coming back. She began to gather the money she had hidden in a broken pipe in the bathroom, the broken radiator, a crack covered by a dying plant, the empty box of frozen liver and onions in the freezer, and the empty box of candles. She even took her spare cigarettes out from the kitchen draw.

Somehow, just when Helga began to head for the front door, the sound of blood stopped rushing into her ears stopped... she could hear again, and what she heard was Bob yelling at her.

He actually had the audacity to yell at her...

...So... she yelled back, "Shut the hell up!"

"You get the hell out of my house!"

Helga grabbed the doorknob and violently opened the front door, "Your house? Your fucking house? You are a delusional, fucked up, no good, lazy, couch potato, dirty, sickening, failure of a bastard... keep your goddamn house, let's see how long you can live here without taking care of a good chunk of the expenses you moronic ass! I'll gladly get out of your house!"

With that said she left the house and slammed the door shut. She had just ran down the steps when she heard Bob open the door to yell back at her, "I'm glad you will never be coming back to my house... good ridding to bad rubbish!"

Helga turned around and pinned the older man with a glare from her blue eyes and said the only two words he deserved to hear from her, "Fuck you!" And with that she left the house, letting her feet guide her wherever they wanted to take her.

After ten minutes of walking, Helga's feet led her to 73rd Street, off of Glendale Drive, the Rosedale Cemetery. Helga checked her Pink Panther watch, the one that Hilda had given to her last Christmas, and the Pink Panther's told her with his arms outstretch to gold painted numbers that it was only nine thirty. Without a second thought she entered the cemetery and walked the familiar path to where her mother was now resting, with her youngest daughter resting right next to her. Her first stop was to Miriam Hope Reynolds Pataki's grave, she hadn't visited her for over two months, something she had never done. She used to visit her at least once every other week, but since school had started, things had just simply been a huge mess. She wanted to talk to Hilda, but she couldn't, she just couldn't... maybe in her mind she wasn't prepared to accept what in happened, maybe she just wasn't in the right frame of mind, or maybe it was just a maybe. Whatever reason it was, she could not sit down and have a talk to Hilda yet... not yet...

Throwing down her duffel bag on the grass, she sat herself next to her mother's grave. "I miss you, you know... Bliss would say that I never really got full closure even after what six... seven... hmmm... maybe even eight years... I can't tell anymore, time passes by so quickly... I think Peit Hein once said, There is a lifetime in a second... I don't think he knows how right he was... or maybe he does... Is there a heaven? Is there a hell? If there is a heaven, what's it like up there? Do you have daily chats with Mr. Thoreau about his transcendentalist ideas? Ask him if he ever found his Walden? And does Whitman still sing a song for himself? How about Elizabeth Tudor, do you see her? Tell I said hi, if you do, tell her I find her inspirational... a bit crazy... but inspirational... Tell Jimmy that I will absolute kiss the ground he walks on... if as a spirit or whatever, he can walk... Tell Willy I have a bone to pick with his Romeo and Juliet, but that it is a masterpiece anyway... even if rip offs of his story seem to be popping out of everywhere these days... ask him if that pisses him off? Tell Dali he is amazing and tell Gogh he is even more amazing... Ask Joan if she really did hear saints or if she had a bit too much lotus one afternoon... and... and... there is so much I want to say and so much I want to ask, but, but... but I don't know how."

Helga paused for a moment and turned around to take a glimpse at Hilda's grave. "Mom... how is she? Is she okay? Is she adjusting well? Has she talked to Alexander Pope yet? What is she doing?... I dunno... I just don't know."

Helga paused for a moment looking around at the darkened sky and the equally dark cemetery, when she was younger, she probably would have been scared, but not now, she was cold.

Not on the outside, but on the inside.

"Mom, help me... I really need it...I think I preparing myself for that special kind of fall... The kind where I just can't let myself hear or feel myself hit the bottom... I just keep on falling and falling and falling, like I'm in a bottomless pit...hmm... who was it that said that again... I never can remem–"

"Mr. Antolini, chapter twenty four, Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger."

Helga quickly turned around to see who was it that spoke to her, and there stood a rather short woman, with a familiar football shaped head, droopy light blue eyes, and long dark brown hair holding a bouquet of casablancas.

"Hello," She said slowly, as if she were talking to a rather dangerous animal... and maybe she was. "I couldn't help but hear you when you were paraphrasing Salinger... he's one of my favorite authors."

Helga gave the older woman a feigned smile. "Mine too." She turned around to look at her mother's grave once again, hoping that was the end of the conversation. Then, she felt something warm being draped on her shoulders... she didn't even remember she was actually physically cold...

She turned around once again and saw that the woman had taken off her bright blue pea coat and rested in on her shoulder. "You looked cold." Was all that she said when she saw Helga gave her a questioning look. "Well, it was nice meeting... I'm just going to go visit my father and mother now, have a good evening." With a small smile, the small woman moved to go about her way, but Helga stopped her, not physically, but verbally.

"I'm visiting my mother, too."

"Really?"

Helga stood up and turned around to face the woman, "Yea, I haven't spoken to her in a while."

"I haven't spoken to mine much either," She held out her pale hand. "My name is Stella."

Helga shook Stella's hand, "My name is Helga."

"Ahh... you're of German descent aren't you?"

Helga couldn't help but smile at the expression on Stella's face; it seemed almost childlike, "Yes."

Stella let out a soft laugh, "Sorry, it's just that I have this habit of just collecting random information... my mother found it annoying... fortunately Miles, my husband, adores it..."

Then there was silence.

At least there was until she saw that Stella was actually shivering in the cold, quickly, Helga shrugged the coat off her shoulders and tried to hand it back to her, but Stella refused. "I think you need it more than I do, when I first saw you, you looked like if your body shook any harder you might suffer from some form whiplash."

Helga hadn't noticed that she had been shivering, but, if Stella had said it, she was probably right... Helga didn't know much of was going on.

"Thanks." Helga said as she held the jacket in her hands, not quite sure what to do with it.

"No problem." Stella moved past Helga and placed a flower onto Miriam's grave without a word and when she found Helga giving her a questioning look once again, she said, "I know that Salinger once said why would any want flowers placed over there stomach when they're dead, but I can't help but think that they would appreciate it..."

She sounded so much like Hilda... at least like how Hilda would have sounded, if she had, had the chance to grow up.

And that was when Helga lost it.

She broke down in tears in the middle of a cemetery at nine forty something at night, in front of a woman she had only heard of and seen in passing. She was sitting on the ground and crying when she felt Stella kneel down next to her and pat her maternally on her back. "I'm just going to make a wild guess here and say that your mother's death isn't the only thing bothering you, huh?"

Helga nodded her head in confirmation.

Stella said nothing, instead, let the teenage female finish crying and let Helga find the right words to say, even though they probably not the most eloquent words had ever used in a sentence.

"Just last week... or maybe... maybe it was the week before, she died..." Helga trailed off.

"Who?" Stella pressed on gently.

Helga pointed Hilda's grave and knew that once Stella read it she would make the connection.

"Hilda?"

Helga nodded her head once again.

"Was she your cousin?"

"No... she is... I mean, she was my... baby sister."

Stella rested a steady hand on Helga's shoulder and squeezed it, giving Helga some form of warmth. "I know what it's like to lose family members when you're young and," She paused for a moment and Helga steeled herself for the usual 'I'm sorry for your loss.', or one of its variants.

It never came.

"I know what it's like to have everyone around you walking on eggshells around you and spewing out apologizes all the time, even though many of them are sincere." She squeezed Helga's shoulder once again, giving more warmth to the younger female. "So I'm going to say what Mrs. Livingstein said to me when she found me in a cemetery. Never forget the bad times, cherish the good times, and remember, that matter what, they will always love as much as you love them... I've never gotten better advice than that from anyone... especially when my mother passed away when I was twelve... and then my father passed away when I was sixteen, Mrs. Livingstein's words have always stayed with me... I hope the will stay with you too, Helga."

For the first time in a while, Helga felt like she almost a human... almost, but not quite, human...

Stella helped her to stand up from the ground and gathered her duffle bag, "I know a place called Cocoa Café, it's just around the block, it's warm, and it serves triple chocolate chunk hot chocolate with a large triple chocolate chunk cookie that's about the size of my head... and that's pretty big. Wanna go?"

Helga nodded yes, not too sure if she could trust her voice anymore.

Cocoa Café... that was one of her and Hilda's favorite places... they had especially liked the hot chocolate and the cookie... the prospect should have hurt... but somehow with Stella leading the way, the path seemed a bit more comforting... almost.

(Y/L)

It was about ten thirty when Helga and Stella parted ways, Stella, of course, gave Helga her number if she ever needed somebody to talk to and Helga took it, folded it, and placed it in the back pocket of her jeans. She now had on Stella's bright blue pea coat, Stella vehemently refused to take it back, she went so far as to tricking Helga into holding when she drove off in her blue Honda Civic.

Stella was an understanding person, with an upbeat personality, and an I.Q. that probably surpassed Phoebe's easily.

She picked up random information, liked to know random facts, knew enough random literary quotes to confuse Helga, and seemed to thoroughly enjoy her job as a daycare teacher rather than her adventurous life as botanist and doctor traveling to remote parts of the world... and best part of it all... she had made Helga feel as if she were whole for the little less than an hour they had spent at the café.

It was liberating for Helga.

But, once again, Helga found herself wandering the streets of Hillwood, now needing to go rent out a hotel room to spend the rest of her Christmas break, possibly, the rest of her junior year in... she didn't want to be a burden to Sid or Phoebe. She knew she had burdened her friends enough to last them both at least a decade... they needed their rest.

Helga searched her pockets to find her cellphone so she could find the nearest motel, when, she realized, that in her haste to leave 1422 L Street, she had probably left her cellphone and its charger on her bed stand. She had no choice but to go back and get them. If she was lucky enough, Lexie and Bob were either not there or had gotten drunk and passed. She was ready to start the long trek home, when she realized that she was only a block away from 1422 L Street.

It seemed to her that her feet knew exactly what was going on, even before her brain did.

When she got there, the house seemed to be in complete darkness, which was a good sign for Helga, but when she tried to use her key in the front door, the door wouldn't open, so she tried the back door.

Same results.

That was when Helga realized that the door locks had already been changed, it had seemed that both Lexie and Bob were just waiting to do this to her for a long time, and were well prepared. It was too bad that neither of the two knew that the bathroom window on the first floor could be easily opened from the outside with just a few quick movements.

Helga stepped out of the dark bathroom and quietly made her way to her room, just in case someone was in the house, and found her cellphone and its charger just where she thought she had left it, on her bed stand. She crept down the staircase, careful to avoid the creaky right side of the last step. She moved through the darkness towards the door, and passed by the living room, out of the corner of her eye she saw neither Bob nor Lexie were there. She went to the master bedroom and heard no signs of life, they weren't in the basement, or the kitchen, they were no where to be found in the house.

I guess they left to go get drunk and pass out at a local bar... or maybe they went to the hospital, Helga found herself smiling at her latter thought with a self-satisfied grin.

She was grinning for a while in the middle of the dark house before she sank down onto the floor and began to cry... why?

Who knows.

She hadn't had an emotional overload for a while; she was allowed to cry for no reason...right?

Right.

As Helga sat in the dark, she began to realize how abandoned the house had looked, cracked and broken walls all over the place, pipes needing fixing, wall paper needing to be replace, cracks in the tiles large enough to fit marbles in it, cobwebs were spiders set up their homes... the house was just simply a mess, just like her.

Even during the days back she was in fourth grade, and Miriam was still inept, the house never this bad. Olga never let the house look bad, especially when she had a possible prospect coming over. Maybe it was just her... over the years she had less and less time to clean... and then there was the fact that Lexie and Bob left messes all of the house and never bothered to clean up after themselves... she could make out the delivery pizza box from three weeks ago still sitting in the corner it had landed in when Helga had thrown it at Lexie's head. Helga usually tried to live in their own pigsty until they got sick of it and cleaned up for themselves, but unfortunately, Helga was a bit neurotic about cleaning– thanks to her mother's nesting faze during her pregnancy.

In other words, Helga usually wound up cleaning up after them, anyways.

This house has gone to waste; it was no longer really needed anyways.

Helga flipped opened her Pink Panther zippo and watched the orange flame dance in front of her blue eyes.

It holds too many bad memories... too many good ones too.

Helga closed the lighter and watched as the mini flame disappeared.

It should disappear... I wish it could all disappear...

Helga opened the lighter again and the flame danced once again, but it seemed to have vigor this tome, as if was trying to her attention... and that's when Helga knew what she had to do.

Quickly closing the lighter she ran down the stair to retrieve the petroleum from the basement and then, she caught a glimpse of it.

Lexie's bright cherry red Lexus parked in front of the 1421 L Street.

Now, Helga knew exactly what she had to do.

Helga broke into the car, putting the skills she had learned during junior high to good use.

Maybe, I'm crazy...

She dosed the seats of the car in petroleum.

But I don't care...

Then she went in the house and grabbed an armful of Bob and Lexie clothes and threw them into the car, and dosed them in petroleum.

Maybe something in my brain is broken...

She took up a hundred dollar bill she had found in Lexie's wallet, and using her infamous Pink Panther zippo, she lit fire to the bill.

But I don't care...

And using the bill she lit the single Lina Grette's cigarette that she had clamped in her mouth. She took a giant puff of the cigarette that she had found in Lexie's pocket book.

I feel alive... and that's all that counts... I feel alive... and that's all that counts...

Helga inspected the burning Benjamin with a smile and then...

(Y/L)

Nope, I still don't own Hey Arnold! I do own YL, though... Point for me... I know... Thank you Cmaca, Justin T. Melanson, King Cheetah, Fallen-Angel, Drucilla Black, Jaded Angel, Shadow Goddess Akhet, Demile, Novasenshi, and Garlic Blanket for all of your reviews... without y'all, YL would probably still be on chapter fifteen.

I know what you are all thinking... she updated under a week... I know... all of ye gasp! And I know, I did a longer chapter than usual. Think of this as a treat for putting up with my extra long absences.

PS:

Demile, Phoebe sat at a large dinner table in a very stiff champagne colored dress and her now long black hair– which was there thanks to the hair weaving skills of Fiabio, her mother's hairdresser– now settled around her waist. Fiabio gave Phoebe a weave, which is why her hair is long and I never actually mentioned when Phoebe cut her hair because I never actually wrote in dates until around Sid's birthday, and from then, I've used dates. The State Championship for High School football in New Jersey was played December 11th, I don't know why, but that's what the internet told me, and like Timmy Turner, I get everything from the internet... and early December is still autumn, it becomes Winter on the 23rd of December. I hope I cleared up the problems for ya... hope to see ya next chapter!

Justin T. Melanson, Yay you're back! And I'm shocked that your physic abilities didn't tell you what was going to happen, I'm not too sure whether to be happy or scared...

Jaded Angel, I hope everything is alright and pans out on your end...

Next Chapter: What It Is To Burn

The review button demands that you click it...as do I...So click I say, CLICK!

S.L. Cipher– The Queen of Eville (No this not a spelling mistake but a higher echelon of evil, look it up in The New Cipher Dictionary of Cipherous Lexiconography) who will gladly accept all criticisms, advice, reviews, praises, and flames with a large Cheshire Cat Smile. Why the Cheshire Cat Smile? Why, because Cheshire Cat Smiles will always piss people off and Cipher loves pissing people off because it is exceptional fun... Especially when they try and attack you. Which is exactly why when one wields the Cheshire Cat Smile, it is important that they must also wield a mace and a sword.

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