Author's note: Hey there, guys! Had an eventful day. I realized how quickly time can pass today when I was looking at my profile and saw that I haven't updated any of my stories since January 1st – nearly three months ago! I decided to just write up something quick today.

Not sure if I want this to be in my personal Hey Arnold universe canon, but I'll just see how this one turns out.

Just wanted to warn that this one ends on a bit of a sad note!

Perfection

Perfect. She had been raised to be perfect. Raised to get perfect grades, to brag about her achievements, to be admired…

Those were all things that she had done, time and time again, ever since she had been six years old. Olga would never forget the day that she had come home from school, an A+ report card in her hand, and been hugged by her parents – one so drunk that she could barely stand, and one who had brushed her off as 'just another responsibility' – for the first time in months. She'd never forget the way Bob and Miriam had listened intently to her stories about school, or the way that Bob had roared with pride when she told him of how she had aced every spelling test.

Her life had changed that day. She came home to hugs and kisses, and heard praise like she never had before. It was hard, but she could make it. The days, as she'd only realize later on in her life, seemed to become shorter. Sunny days of playing with the neighborhood girls became quiet days of studying alone in her room. Days of playing with her dolls and hearing Bob and Miriam argue through the walls became days of winning state spelling bees.

She loved so much of it – the excitement, the adrenaline, the praise… and yet, she hated it. She hated the fact that the girls at school ignored her. She hated the fact that her teachers used her as the class example, she really did. But what was she supposed to do about it? The girls at school just didn't understand. They didn't understand that a week of her mother not drinking was an achievement in her house. They had seen her father groan and complain about things, but they had never really seen him when he was furious. They had never seen him throw vases across a room. They had never heard the kinds of words that he called Miriam when he saw her asleep on the floor. None of them would ever understand the unhappiness of it all, the fear, the way that she would break down when she had to listen to them fight…

When she was eleven, her mother had big news: she was pregnant! Bob's face had become so red that Olga could see his veins popping through. Olga had thought, for just a moment, that he might actually slap Miriam. He had bellowed and screamed about how they just couldn't support another child. They needed all the money to spend on Olga. Olga managed to distract him, just for the moment, by agreeing to participate in another statewide spelling bee. Her mother had given her a sad, wistful smile. The smile had said 'thank you.'

March 25, 1988. That was the day when Olga saw her little sister, Helga Geraldine Pataki, for the first time. She had cried, right then and there. Bob seemed entirely unconcerned, and her mother looked as though she would faint from the exhaustion. Olga had just cried, smiling, and thought that this child may have been the most beautiful baby that she had ever seen.

As much as Olga hated to think of it in such a way, life around the Pataki house only became harder after Helga was born. She loved little Helga, but their parents were in no position to care for another child, and she knew it to be true. Miriam seemed to drink more often (Olga had asked Bob if she was alright, and all that he had told her was that it wasn't 'their problem,') and Bob yelled more often. Helga never seemed to get the care that she needed in the house, and Olga couldn't help but think it a burden to care for her.

She resented them for it, just a little bit. She tried her hardest to convince herself that it wasn't their fault. Bob was just stressed, Miriam was just… a struggling woman, and Helga… well, she couldn't blame Helga for being born, could she? Helga wasn't even out of diapers yet, Olga thought guiltily on some days, and her family had already rejected her.

High school wasn't as great as everyone had told her that it would be. It was what she had always been used to – competition – but suddenly the homework was longer and harder, and teachers didn't listen to excuses. The boys at school crushed on her, and the girls hated her, and that was just that.

Helga grew to be older and older by the day. The days seemed so long, and yet so short. Olga was ashamed every once in awhile when March came around, and she realized that she had entirely forgotten about her little sister's birthday.

Helga, Olga decided, was a strange child. Adorable, but simply strange. Olga had always thought that children were supposed to be a bit bratty and a bit excitable, but… loving. Helga simply was not a loving child. Olga couldn't quite pinpoint why, but the girl hated affection and she whined whenever Olga tried to do her hair up in anything other than pigtails. She looked adorable in pigtails, but weren't little girls supposed to like variety? Olga had always liked variety – she remembered wanting a different selection of Barbie dolls, and loving it when Bob would come home from work with different colored ribbons for her. Helga seemed to hate anything feminine, with just a few exceptions. Olga simply didn't understand her. She liked to think that Helga would grow out of it. Some days, with just a bit of vanity, Olga would find herself hoping that Helga would grow out of it…

Was it really her fault if she wanted a sister who liked feminine things and who smiled all the time? Helga wasn't a disappointment, but she was so… different, even at her young age. Helga never liked to gush to her about any little boys at school who she had a crush on in the way that Olga had wished she could do with Miriam when she was a little girl. Helga simply didn't understand classical music. Olga supposed that she couldn't have expected a girl so young to, but for some reason, Helga liked loud music. Rock n roll, metal, anything with a guitar – she didn't like hearing Olga play the piano like Bob and Miriam did. Sometimes, even, Helga would cover her ears when Olga played the piano. She stopped doing it after Bob had yelled at her a few times, but Olga still didn't think that she would ever understand.

High school ended faster than it had begun, it seemed. Olga was accepted to every school that she had applied to, and of course her parents were proud. They were always proud. Helga ignored her whenever she showed her the letters. All she did was cross her arms and shrug it off, scoffing.

In the end, Olga had chosen to go to Bennington College. Her parents thought that it was simply perfect – affordable, prestigious enough, and good enough to brag about. Olga almost felt like she was choosing what school her parents would be going to, but she was happy enough about the decision, she decided. She had never wanted to go to a top-state college. She was going to spend her college years doing what she could brag about, and yet relaxing at the same time.

When she left for Bennington, Olga had felt guilty, as though she were running away. She could see the broken, and yet apathetic, look in Helga's eyes when she had stood at the doorway, crying and yet smiling. She felt like a gigantic weight was lifted off her shoulders when she had gotten into her car, ready for college.

College days seemed to go slowly. She tried her best to self-reflect, to improve aspects of her life… but the issues that she had on the surface, those were the ones that she kept hidden. When she came over to visit, she didn't think about the fact that Miriam stunk of vodka, or the fact that she knew Bob had been berating Helga while she was gone.

And Helga… oh, Helga. Lord, had her sister grown. Helga was wise beyond her years, had the same look in her eyes as everyone else in the house – a look that showed her broken spirit. Olga knew that Helga resented her to some extent, but she didn't like to think about it. That was the best thing to do, she had learned. To not think about it…

She met a multitude of boys while she was at Bennington, and yet, only one stuck out to her in the end. A man named Howard Schnelling. She thought that he was the most handsome man that she had ever seen. He was a History major, and Olga thought him to be a genius, perhaps smarter than she was. Olga loved to hear about the aspirations that he had in life – he wanted to do more with his life than Olga had ever heard any man speak of. She loved the way that he smirked. His smirk told her in the most subtle of ways that if she married him, he'd love her forever, that he'd care for her even when things were bad.

Bob was hesitant at first (he was always hesitant whenever he met her boyfriends,) but he and Miriam had grown to love Howard as much as she did. Helga didn't like him – Helga had made sure to tell both Olga and Howard so – but Olga had sobbed over it, and eventually, Helga did (well, Olga wasn't quite sure if she actually did, but Helga never complained about him for a day afterward and so she presumed.)

The wedding had been beautiful. Olga remembered. Howard's family had sponsored it entirely, and Bob, never one to get shown up on anything, had contributed as much as he could financially. Olga would never forget the comments that she had received. 'What a stunning couple' and 'you look like the bride and groom on a wedding cake!' were all that she had heard that day. It was beautiful, and Olga had never been happier… but such happiness turned to gloom before she knew it.

Howard had told her, three months into their marriage, that he wanted her to drop her job and become a homemaker. Olga was devastated – she loved her job and she loved those kids, she really did – but Howard had set his foot down. Something about the way that he had yelled at her that night, a cold look in his eyes, had reminded her so much of her father for reasons that she couldn't quite explain. But she shook it off, and she dealt with it, because that was what she had been raised to do. She was a trophy, a conformist. And if Howard wanted her to be his trophy wife, that was what she was going to be.

Managing a house was never easy, and her months with Howard quickly reminded Olga of it. No matter what she did, Howard never seemed to be happy with her. She remembered their early days of dating – he seemed so vulnerable when he had asked her out. He had told her, looking shy, that she was the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen. And Olga had fallen in love with him, partly because of that little inch of vulnerability, and partly because people don't choose to love, they just do.

But Howard… Howard hadn't been happy with her in months. He never seemed happy with her, not anymore. And it killed her inside. She cried whenever he was at work, and she cried when they went to bed. It was never supposed to turn out this way. Everyone had said that they were just the perfect couple. They had all told her that she would be happy only in Howard's arms. Her own parents had supported them! Bob had given them his blessing, and he was a man who was difficult to convince!

But they weren't a perfect couple, not really. They were great at pretending. Perfect wives didn't mess up dinner with too much salt, and perfect husbands didn't slap their wives for it. A perfect homemaker shouldn't dread the idea of having children in the house, she should love the idea…

Kids. Ha. Howard wanted them desperately, but Olga didn't really know why. She could only think that it was for show, because everything that Howard did was for show.

Olga had wanted kids herself, once upon a time. She had told Howard that she wanted children when they had first met. Kids always loved her. She had taken classes on comforting them when she was in high school. Everyone had always told her that she would be the perfect mother.

But perfect mothers weren't unhappy. Olga didn't want kids, not now, simply because she needed to focus on herself. She could barely cook for Howard – he hated everything that she made, he hated her – so how could she cook for two children?

Olga rubbed her temples. If she had children, she bet, they'd hate her. Would never be able to stand her, just like Howard couldn't, just like those girls at school couldn't, just like Helga couldn't…

Helga. Helga was… sixteen now, that was right. Olga hadn't seen her in at least six months. She hadn't seen any of the family in at least six months. Bob and Miriam liked for her to come over, but Howard told her that he despised the Pataki house. Said that Bob was a 'narcissistic brute,' and that Miriam was a 'worthless drunk.' Howard, in one of his rare acts of… well, Olga didn't know what the word was, seemed to pity Helga more than he cared for or about her. Whenever Olga liked to mention Helga, Howard liked to talk about how it was 'such a shame' that she was 'born into that hellhole of a house.' He liked to tell Olga the same thing, but he never sounded sorry for her when he said it. He sounded… happy about it, almost, when he said the same things about Olga. Happy, like he appreciated the fact that Olga had grown up under the same toxic household.

As much as she hated to admit it, Helga was the person who she wanted to be. Bob and Miriam had only become slightly better at parenting her over the years – Miriam had mentioned to her over the phone a few months back that she was going to rehab 'for Helga's sake,' and Bob at least remembered her name, which was progress considering who the man was. Olga hated the fact that Helga had grown up in such a place, she really did. But Helga had come out of it headstrong, mature, and ready to face the world. Helga was on the honor roll, exciting Bob as much as Olga had excited him way back when – only difference was that Helga didn't cater to his every expectation like Olga had. Helga demanded respect from both of her parents. Helga dealt with things when they needed to be done. Helga took care of the problems in the house, like she was an adult. And in many regards, she was. She really was. It was Olga's fault, really. She could have taken Helga away from them years ago. She should have taken Helga all those years back when she had gone off to college. But it had been too hard, and too complicated, and her naïve eighteen-year old self had thought that Helga would be just fine. Olga nearly chuckled with bitterness. For all her greatness, Helga was one of the most emotionally messed up children that Olga had ever met. A cynic from the young age of six, Helga was just as angry as Bob and just as depressed as Miriam and just as sad as the entire family was, but she dealt with it a lot differently than they did. She was going to come out a lot better than all of them. For all the years that Helga had spent being told that she was lesser, she was going to come on top, and Olga knew so. As for Olga…

Olga was standing in the middle of the dining room, staring at the bottle of vodka in front of her. She could not believe that she had poured the vodka with her frail hands. Perfect girls did not drink. People hated drunks. Becoming an alcoholic was too hard to cut back from. Alcoholism ran in the family. It was too big of a risk, Howard would never forgive her, he might even kill her if he came home soon…

And yet, she drank from the glass. Each sip tasted like Hell and Heaven at the same time. She nearly sobbed. When had she become her mother? Was she destined to always be this way?

She closed her eyes, rubbing her head. She was running a headache, because of course she was. Of course she was going to have a headache today.

Of course nothing was perfect. It was all going to backfire on her eventually, she thought.

Perfect. She was raised to be perfect. Raised to get perfect grades, to brag about her achievements, to be admired… and yet, in the end, she was nothing but imperfect. An imperfect woman who drank vodka and longed for the past.

And, she thought as she helped herself to another glass, perhaps that was all that she might ever be.