A/N: Yooo, new chapter already! And wow, I'm getting reviews? Thank you all for the sweet reviews, im so flattered, really. ;-;

uhh, I don't want this whole story to be a total angst fest, with Helga being super depressed and all. I dunno, it doesn't fit her personality. and uh, more will be revealed of what happened in the next chapter, hopefully. thanks again for reading, guys. i just finished writing this and it's like 12 o'clock. goodnight c:

February 8th, 2014

Hey again, Football Head. Geraldo was in here this morning, and he looked kind of pissed. Hah. Do you think he's mad at me? Your friends have all been giving me those kind of looks. Like, 'It's your fault he's in there' looks. I guess that's true though, right? I just hope you're not mad at me. Hate isn't something that suits you.

And, yesterday, I was kind of feeling guilty and crap and... I just wanna say, I'm sorry. Because, knowing you, you'll probably freak out when you first wake up because your grades will most likely be shit. But don't worry about that, Football Head. Me and Phoebe have you covered. Oh, and by the way, Phoebe came to visit you today, too. She left you these super gorgeous flowers also, so you better hurry and wake up so you can see them. Personally, I'm not a flower person, but they are absolutely stunning.

And hey, I'm kind of wondering... what do you do, while your unconscious? Do you dream, like a normal sleeping person? Do you get nightmares?

She stopped herself from writing 'Well, I do'. It felt wrong being so open with him, over a letter. In fact, she was never really open with him in the first place. It was mostly because she pretended to hate him, most of her life.

Ok, ok. Enough with the personal stuff. I already feel weird talking to a piece of freaking paper. So you better read these letters, alright? Because I'm not writing them for nothing.

Well, I gotta get going. Sleep tight, alright Football Head? Alright.

The-girl-who-is-sort-of-sorry,

Helga.

She smiled at that last part. It was much more easier to talk to him through letters, rather than in person. Talking to him always resulted in them getting into arguments, big and small. As kind and as sweet as the boy was, he was rather stubborn. I guess we are kind of alike, in a way. We don't give up so easily.

"That's why I'm not giving up on you, Football Head. I hope you'll forgive me. In return, you can keep fighting, too." She whispered her thoughts, brushing a strand of hair from his face. Even like this, he seemed like an angel.

A sigh escaped her lips as she stood, taking one last look at him. Yesterday, she had been so afraid of seeing him. I can get through this. Maybe everything really will get back to normal, as well. But, I'll be sure to be nicer. I'll treat him like the heavenly prince that he is, he deserves it.

"Goodnight, Arnold. Im sorry."

And the room was silent after the opening and shutting of the door.

...

"If you hate me so much, why do you even bother?" He asked aggravatingly, throwing his hands in the air to emphasize his thoughts. He was so, so tired of it all.

"Because," She said, her voice dripping with venom. That was all he needed to know.

"Because why? I know you, Helga. But I don't understand you. One minute, you're all smiley and sweet, and the next, you're all hostile and angry. Why, Helga? Why do you hide?" His eyes held betrayal. All he wanted was for her to trust him. Don't hide from me.

"You don't know anything, Football Head! So stop acting like you do." Her whole body was shaking. Stop. Her mind screamed. Take it back, let him in. Let him know he means the world to you.

"So why don't you tell me, huh? Help me understand." His eyes started to express determination. She shook even more under his fiery gaze. Arnold, Im sorry. I love you, Im so sorry.

"I can't," It was the truth. "Criminy, Arnold, your such an idiot, I-" She ran a hand through her tangled locks, looking anywhere but at him. "I don't need to be understood. What I need is for you quit sticking your nose where it doesn't belong! Maybe I have problems. Maybe Im not perfect. But I don't need you to come in like the fucking hero you think you are and save me! You know why? Because I don't need to be saved," Her voice was growing weaker. Save me, Arnold. Save me.

"And I don't need you."

...

"I swear, the last thing I needed was to pay for some orphan kids hospital bill. What the hell were you thinking, Olga?" Her father asked angrily, getting up from his worn-out armchair.

"You think I wanted this to happen, Bob? I didn't ask for any of this. Criminy! Besides, you have shit tons of money, anyways. It's not like you were gonna use it with an actual purpose." She spat, clenching her reddening fists at her sides.

"Bullshit! I worked my ass off for that money. Who pays the bills in this house, huh? Who buys you new clothes, and food, and puts a roof over your head? Because it sure as hell isn't Miriam." He retorted, folding his arms. You're always right in the end, aren't you, asshole? You always have the last word.

"You have some nerve, bringing that up. If you haven't noticed, I'm your daughter. It would be nice if you, oh, I don't know, acknowledge my presence for once! What you've got in your bank account doesn't mean shit to me. We could be homeless for all I care, maybe then for once you'd realize my name is Helga! Not your precious, awarding winning, piano playing, perfect Olga. Helga."

His mouth hung open. It was quiet for a moment, until she realized he wasn't going to speak. "Oh, got nothing to say, old man? Does the truth hurt? Cause I've been hurting for a while, now. In fact, you could say I've been feeling this way since the day I was born. Are you bothered by the fact that your family isn't perfect? Because pretending I don't exist won't help you."

Before he even had the chance to speak up, she had rushed past him, grabbing her purse in the process. She was fuming. With a marching stride, she maneuvered her way out the door, and into the crisp, cold, afternoon air.

...

February 9th, 2014,

How's life, Arnoldo? Is it treating you good? Because it's been pretty shitty to me, today. Criminy, I really want to punch something. You think the nurses would get mad if I broke a couple of things?

The human race itself is just a huge group of unhappy, ungrateful, barbaric morons who think the way to making it in life is treating everyone like shit. Is that how you see me, Arnold? You always seem to think that there's more to me than the egotistical asshat that I am. So, have you gotten your answer? Is there really more to me than that?

I keep bombarding you with questions, don't I? I guess I'm sorry for that too, then. If you couldn't tell, I'm really pissed the hell off. And it certainly isn't the first time this has happened, either. But.. you wouldn't really understand, would you? Hey, when you wake up, how about trying to walk mile in my shoes, eh? Then maybe you'll understand.

Criminy, Im getting personal again, aren't I? Don't get too used to it, Football Head. I just have no one to rant to, right now. And I'm still pissed. You know what, I think the school counselors were wrong about me having anger issues. I have every damn right to be mad right now, Arnold! Maybe I'll tell you about it when you're awake. So, hurry up and get to it, alright? Its not every day I'm so willing to talk to you.

Alright, well... nothing much else happened today, so I guess I'll stop writing. Have a good time in dream land, okay? Hell, you probably are having the time of your life.

Oh so deeply and sincerely,

Helga.

She snorted at her closing, tossing the notebook onto the wooden chair. In a way, it had helped cool down some of her anger. Maybe, I should keep a diary with me, from now on. Talking to paper has never felt so refreshing.

But, it wasn't the paper she was talking to. It was Arnold.