[A/N: Hey guys! It's been SO long since I posted and I'm sorry! I've honestly had a hard time getting motivated to write :/ I have so many ideas and a lot of plot for this story but for some reason I just haven't had the energy or motivation to really put it out. I have a little something for you though. It's short but the only reason I'm posting it is because I'm working on writing more at this moment and just wanted to put out what I have so far.

D/C: I don't own Hey Arnold!]

Flashback - 2004 - The Summer Before Ninth Grade

She hadn't realized what she was doing, or what she'd done, until she woke up in a different hospital room. This one had less furniture than the one she'd been in before. She looked down at her wrists and noticed thick bandaging with the faintest hint of blood seeping from beneath the cloth. She lifted an arm only to find that both were secured to the bed frame. That's when she remembered.

The dream. She couldn't escape the memory of that man's breath on her skin, his calloused hands groping her and forcing himself on her. Her heartbeat began to race at the thought of it and she groaned.

As she slowly regained her lucidity, she remembered stealing an instrument from one of the drawers in her previous room. Overcome by the haunting memory of her attack playing over and over in her head, Lila, having become desperate, had taken an unused scalpel and created a gash in her wrist. It hadn't been deep enough to cause serious harm but one of her nurses had been looking through the window from the hallway at the moment Lila pressed the blade to her skin.

She remembered crying and trying to get away from the nurse. Then there were more, maybe two other ones who'd come in to assist. Lila screamed, throwing a tray holding her juice box and empty pill cup at them as they cornered her. She wasn't supposed to be standing but she didn't care at that moment; she just had to get away.

Then she remembered a sudden prick to her thigh and everything went dark.

She felt groggy from the sedative but significantly more calm. She wasn't sure why she had done what she did and as she remembered each detail, she felt more self-conscious looking out this room's windows and seeing a few nurses keeping a watchful eye on her room. There was no door to this one so she felt exposed and vulnerable but the rational side of her understood why she was here. But she didn't want to be here. She wanted to go home but even that wouldn't save her from the incessant burden of her thoughts. She still hadn't told the police she remembered anything and she had no intention of doing so. In fact, she wanted to forget it all happened and escape the entire situation. But the sobering thought in the back of her mind, past the memories and the fear, was the idea that she wouldn't be able to escape.

. . . . . . . .

Present Day

After their intimate moment last night, Helga wasn't sure how to act around Rich the following morning. She poured herself a bowl of cereal and sat in front of one of the windows looking out at the thick bands of tree surrounding the cottage. Winter was passing and the faintest hints of spring could be seen in the first buds popping up on the tree branches.

"Good morning," Rich said as he walked into the living area. He was wearing grey sweatpants and a black T-shirt, his dark hair tousled from sleep.

"Hey," she said quietly without turning around to look at him. She was so conflicted as to how she felt about him. Part of her was clearly signaling attraction but her demons brought her down, reminding her of her guilt over Arnold and her overall feelings of unworthiness. She had a reason to be here and hooking up with an old classmate was not it. Still, he made her feel like there could be some spark of a light in what had otherwise become her dark and dismal life. Sure, she'd experienced success in her work – that's what happens when you bury yourself in it and allow your job to consume every part of your soul because you're afraid of your thoughts when you aren't busy. You're afraid of the quiet and if everything were to stand still, you might remember.

She couldn't stop herself from remembering but she'd done her best to escape as best she could. And when she finally couldn't run anymore, she fell into the hole she was in now.

However, Rich was having an effect on her and a small part of her wondered if maybe she could heal. Maybe she could forgive herself and maybe she could be happy again. Maybe she didn't have to follow through with her plan and maybe she did want to live.

"My grandfather wants us to stop by this morning to update him," Rich said as he opened the fridge and retrieved a carton of orange juice. "Do you think you could be ready in about an hour?"

Helga, never turning her head, watched him cross over to the counter and grab a glass from the cabinet, her blonde hair shielding her gaze like a veil. "Yeah, no problem,"

Rich took a sip of his orange juice and leaned back against the counter. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright," Helga shrugged, chasing a piece of cereal around her bowl with her spoon. "You?"

Rich nodded, "I'm good," A moment passed and he sighed. "Well, I should go get dressed,"

Helga briefly looked up at him. "Okay, I will, too in a minute,"

Rich nodded at her and gulped down the last of his orange juice, setting the glass in the sink and walked back to his room.

Helga finished her cereal and put the bowl in the sink. On her way back to her own room, she stopped at the table to look over some of the photos she'd been going through the night before. There was a picture of Marguerite in the window of a house. The photo had been taken from far away so it was difficult to make out detail but Helga could identify her dark hair, thin frame, and a necklace with some sort of large stone or pendant hanging from it. William had said during their last conversation that this photo had been taken on the day of the Fourth of July parade and that, to his knowledge, it was the last photo taken of her before she disappeared.

. . . . . . . .

Rich and Helga met William in the office back at his estate. Ronald had been given the day off so William greeted Rich and Helga directly at the door.

"The weather is much improved, don't you agree?" He made small talk as he led the two back to his office.

"Definitely," Rich nodded. "And the snow's finally completely gone,"

Never big on small talk, Helga remained quiet as they entered the office.

"So," William said, gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk. "Please be comfortable. Have you come across anything interesting yet?" He looked to Helga.

"Well, we found Marguerite's diary and a bunch of numbers written inside but we aren't really sure what they're supposed to reference," Helga started. "And there's this picture I was wondering about," She said as she pulled a framed photo out of the messenger bag resting in her lap.

William put on his glasses and Helga handed the picture to him. "I remember her," He said softly. "She and Marguerite were very close – best friends. I believe her name was Brooke,"

Rich and Helga looked at each other. "Okay, that makes sense because she talked about someone named Brooke a few times in her diary,"

"Yes," William nodded, handing the picture back. "Our families did some business together and the girls spent a lot of time together at the country club. They would go horseback-riding together and Brooke attended a number of our family events,"

"Do you know her last name?" Helga inquired, carefully putting the picture back inside her messenger bag.

William's face contorted in thought. "Wellington. She was the daughter of Roger Wellington, I remember,"

Helga furrowed her brow for a moment; that name sounded oddly familiar.

"What about the names and numbers in the back of the journal?" Rich asked, unaware of Helga's deep concentration. "The police report said they didn't find anything but do you have any idea what they could mean? I know you've read the diary before,"

William shook his head. "I'm afraid I was as stumped as the police were," He sighed. "Marguerite could be a mystery sometimes. She largely kept to herself; she was quiet withdrawn at times and unless Brooke was around, Marguerite usually spent her time reading,"

"What did she read?" Rich asked.

"Oh, all sorts of genres," William said, clasping his hands together and resting them on his desktop. "She studied her scriptures quite regularly, though. Sandra was very strict about church attendance and Sunday school study. I suppose Marguerite took a similar interest,"

Rich nodded, soaking in that information but not sure what to do with it.

"What are your plans for the rest of today?" William asked and Helga was finally pulled away from her thoughts although not for long. She was still focused on Brooke – who she was and what importance she may have played.

"Uncle Henry invited us over for lunch today so we're going to stop by and talk to them for a while," Rich replied.

"Be careful, Rich," William urged. "I know they're family but I'm afraid I just don't trust them,"

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Rich said, taking little heed of his grandfather's warning.

"While you're out," William said, standing up and signaling their meeting was coming to a close. Helga stood slower than either of them, consumed by her thoughts. "You should stop by the local newspaper office and see if they have records of the photos taken that day. There are always a number of photographers on the day of the parade,"

"We'll do that," Rich nodded as William walked them out. "Thanks, Grandpa,"

Once they were outside, Rich was about to ask Helga why she'd been so quiet but before he could said anything, she practically shrieked.

"Holy crap!" She exclaimed and Rich's eyes widened.

"What?" He asked, bewildered.

"Dude," She said, a little more calmly. "Brooke! Do you realize who Brooke is?"

Rich thought for a moment but Helga didn't give him the chance to respond.

"I can't believe it didn't click sooner," Helga said, incredulous. "It's Rhonda's mom!"

Realization suddenly dawned on Rich and his eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Oh my god, you're right! How did I not make that connection before?"

"I don't know!" Helga exclaimed, still hyped up by the information. "But we've gotta talk to her,"

"Certainly," Rich agreed as the two made their way to Henry's house. "We'll try to call after lunch and see if she can tell us anything important,"

Following slightly behind Rich, Helga huffed. "If she's anything like her daughter, I'm sure she won't be forthcoming with helping,"

"She might," Rich reasoned. "Marguerite was supposedly her best friend, remember?"

"Meh," Helga shrugged.

[A/N: So like I said, I'm working on the second half of this chapter as you read this so I'm HOPING to post that sometime later tonight/this weekend. Please bear with me! I have three jobs and I'm in grad school so you can probably understand why I have zero energy a lot of the time lol. Like I said, this chapter was short but I hope you still found it interesting. Please review and let me know what you think. I love to hear input and reactions and your feedback helps me to stay motivated!

On a side note, though:

Holy crap, Nickelodeon! I'm sure the whole internet is aware at this point but Nickelodeon has announced they're working to bring back old shows, including Hey Arnold, possibly in the form of "a special or a movie". CAN WE SAY 'JUNGLE MOVIE'?! Ahhhh, I'm so excited! Save The Jungle Movie! It's feeling real, you guys. But you know what else I would love? Seeing episodes leading up to the Jungle Movie. Like yeah, we had the Journal but I'd love to see some episodes set after Helga's movie confession and before the trip to San Lorenzo just to see more of the dynamic between Helga and Arnold now that Arnold is aware of Helga's secret. Wouldn't that be fun!?

Anyway, I've rambled enough. Back to writing! Take care and review! Toodles!]