My Angel
A Hey Arnold FanFic
Authors note: Special thanks to AdventureGirl6. I do not own Hey Arnold and make no attempt to profit from it.
Chapter Four: Dreams and Loss
Monday March 5. Bob groaned upon seeing the stairs before him, regretting the option he'd made to get out of the car. The disgusting sight of birds swooping to land on the steps of his house earned a loud curse from Bob, the large log arms swinging wildly to scare them away. The smirk at their retreating forms restoring his will to climb the steps. I've still got it.
Although he knew not to expect a response, Bob was slightly nervous crossing the threshold and entering his own house. Lately he had taken to checking the kitchen before slumping into his lounge chair, now worn down and faded from his years of use. He could scarcely remember the last time he and his daughter had sat down to watch something together.
Squashing his guilt, Bob marched to the fridge, checked it and moved to his seat. Grabbing the remote, Bob grinned as he turned the television on, the constant blaring of the reporter reminding all fans that this weekend would be the greatest fight of all time at Wrestle Mania and that he should not miss out.
"That sounds like my weekend is sorted," reaching for his wallet in his back pocket while the number blared loudly from the screen. He tried to yank it out, and nearly cracked his hand while he opened it up. Credit card in hand, Bob held the mobile in his other hand and began dialling the number.
He tried to remain patient, but as the young man on the other end continued to fulfil his low expectations, Bob couldn't help but shout at him, knowing the young man would need it to focus his attention. He glared at the dial tone while he finished the transaction, and Bob shoved the card away.
But something in his wallet caught his eye. Spreading the cards apart, Bob pulled out a small picture, scratched and bent, but still shining brightly. Bob paused and smiled softly. Miriam smiled happily at him, her glasses slightly askew, but her warmth and joy clearly shown while a younger and happier Bob looked at her, beaming joyfully at his wife.
He held the photo in his hands and turned it over. Never forget March 5th Bob, the words scribbled in his own writing read. Bob turned it over and felt his heart began to churn. The nightmares never left him, but the constant ache in his heart continued to grow day by day. Feeling tears began to roll down his cheeks, Bob wept.
"I never meant to do this Miriam. I'm so sorry," he mumbled, feeling the emptiness of her presence in his heart wish to hold her once more.
He could never replace who she was to him; no woman would ever be the same, nor share the life he'd wanted to have with her. Cursing his own stupidity, Bob tried to put the photo away but began to weep harder than before. If he could go back he would, change his actions, focus more on the children, live his life with Miriam to an old age, relaxing while grand children played around him.
But the cold chill from the opened window brought him back to reality, the empty house now a constant reminder of the pain he held and the life that awaited him now, alone. Bob never heard the click while he wept, nor the footsteps heading towards the stairs.
"What are you moping about now Bob?" a voice called. How dare they interrupt him?
"None of your damn business girl; what are you doing home so early? Forget your books again?"
"None of your damn business Bob," Helga shouted, heading up the stairs while Bob swore loudly from his chair.
Helga knew she'd poked the bull, but she couldn't help herself; there was never a reason for Bob to cry nowadays. Locking her bedroom door behind her, Helga laid down on her bed and began to cry. She'd managed to get home without shedding a single tear, but the memories of visiting her mother's grave today had taken their toll. Clutching the pillow tightly, Helga cried desperately for her mother, wishing she would stroke her hair more than anything else in the world.
D & F
Miriam's day had come and gone; now sitting on the train and awaiting the moment she knew would ruin her Tuesday, Helga continued to scribble and write down her thoughts in a flurry of scratches and markings, scanning her work closely and analysing each section with pin point accuracy. She could feel the tremendous excitement of being able to write clearly again after so long building inside her, and upon scanning her latest poem, Helga could not help but smile. Ever since her mother had passed away, it had become increasingly harder to write down the life she had once lived. Phoebe leaving her so soon hadn't eased the pain either…Helga shook her head and managed to avoid spilling her books onto the ground as the doors opened once more.
Helga paused for a moment, lost in her thoughts as the train gathered momentum. Her repression was impeccable; straining with all her might to remember how Phoebe ended her life was far more difficult than she remembered. It wasn't enough for Helga to have repressed it, but it felt as though she had denied herself ever reliving the moment again, even in the privacy of her own mind. Taking hold of the pen in her hand, Helga tried and tried to remember how it happened, but nothing came to mind. She wrote the name over and over, the process almost hypnotic in its rhythm as she drove her mind further and further towards Phoebe. After a while she gave up; whatever was suppressing her memory became harder to break just by thinking about it.
Her jaw tightened as she steeled herself once more. She would write whatever came to mind about Phoebe into her black book…and then it clicked.
"And that is why it should be tomorrow Phebs; no one else will wish they ever messed with Helga G. Pataki," she boasted proudly, aware that Phoebe would no doubt find a flaw somewhere in her plan.
"I see what you mean Helga, but I'm not so sure. Could we perhaps speak in person?" the timid voice replied on the other end.
Helga didn't see a problem with doing so and told her to meet her at the normal spot. Hanging up, she paused for a moment before going to grab her coat. As her fingers touched it, her heart began to pump harder; something was wrong. Panic set in as she wrapped it around herself. Time passed her by as…
Dropping the pen onto the page, Helga shook her head and groaned. It still wasn't working. No matter how much she wanted this, Helga knew it wouldn't help to try and pry open the hidden recesses of her mind. The train came to another stop and collecting her belongings, Helga headed off for what would become another dreary, uneventful day.
D & F
"Another reason for no one to ever attempt the record of spinning paper on their head while writing," the lecturer smiled, earning forced laughs from most of the students. Helga wanted to bang her head against the desk harder than anything. And upon hearing a small laugh from beside her, Helga groaned in disappointment.
"What is it Phoebe?" she murmured, unable to be heard by anyone else.
"I thought that joke was most amusing seeing as how to spin paper on your head and write at the same time- "
"Save it Phebs. I don't want to hear it."
Slumping down further into her chair, Helga brushed aside the stray hair from her eyes as Phoebe pondered deeply beside her. Today had only gone from dull to drop dead boring, and this latest addition to her mind-numbing experience wasn't helping her mood. They had been promised a visitor at the beginning of the talk, but so far no one had materialised apart from the shabby old professor, whose terrible jokes were fast wearing thin on her already frayed nerves.
Chatter descended upon the class as the professor stopped to refill his glass. A few smiles to her right from some of the confident young men only earned a cold hard glare; she wasn't interested and they were only wasting their time.
"Maybe you should give them a chance," Phoebe suggested, stroking Helga's hair as Helga tried to shrug her off.
"Maybe I should introduce them to Old Betsy instead; it would certainly help me feel better," she grinned evilly.
Coughing loudly from the stage, the old wheezy man straightened his jacket and began to speak, again much to Helga's annoyance.
"I am sorry for keeping you all in suspense," he looked at the crowd happily, expecting to hear the laughter that never came, "but this concludes our session for today. Should you wish to stay and hear our guest speaker please feel free to do so. Otherwise I look forward to seeing you all next week."
Students all around the room picked up their books and left, some pausing to chat to their friends before the room began to empty. Slowly Helga grabbed her books together and moved down closer to the front. By the time she had set herself back up near the front, only a handful of her classmates remained behind. Some of the people staying behind were what she assumed to be nerds and a couple who had fallen asleep during the lecture, who were now getting a rather rude and shocking awakening as the guest speaker came out. Pulling her beanie down further, Helga nearly died when she saw who was walking out before her.
Dressed in a suit, his hair brushed back and cap sitting safely as always on his head, Arnold smiled brightly to the remaining students and began to sort through his notes, glad that only a handful of the group remained behind to hear him speak. Their eyes analysed every move he made, his heart thumping in his chest loudly as he made his way towards the group.
"Hi, my name is Arnold. Your professor has asked that I come in to speak to you about my current work involving…"
Helga's mind drifted from his voice towards his finely crafted figure instead, unable to keep her eyes from looking at him. He exuded confidence, his growth in height making his tall standing figure tower over them. Smiling brightly to everyone like normal, his calm and easy manner soothed the class. But that was not what interested her the most; something about Arnold suggested a man uneasy with himself. She knew he couldn't recognise her as she sat before him, but she could sense the unease in him. As he moved his hands to scratch his head, Helga saw the unmistakable sign of a bruise.
Its size and shape was consistent with that of a pole, perhaps a long tube of some kind. Surely, he would not be the type to fight out of boredom, but then again as she rubbed her arm tenderly, she didn't really know him all that well these days. It was becoming apparent though that he was unsure of himself and falling quickly into his fear, as the nerds in front of her began to smirk and laugh under their breath at his claims and ideas. Helga breathed deeply when he finished; she knew no one would want to stay back and talk. And just as suddenly as he had appeared, Arnold vanished, undoubtedly embarrassed, leaving Helga to make her way wearily from the theatre, her mind turning over all she had seen and all she thought was to come.
D & F
Another stop on her way home; annoyance already seeping through her at the waning sunlight, Helga stood up to allow the old lady to sit down, who thanked her before launching into a tirade on how young people should respect those around them, her voice echoing throughout the carriage. Moving away, she searched for a place to sit down, her legs not wishing to remain standing for the remainder of the trip home. Phoebe's uneasy presence beside her only made it worse; shaking her head in vain, the young girl followed her as she continued to make her way through the carriage.
I must be going mad; she's never turned up like this before, Helga worried deeply. Her mind was starting to spin weirdly; her thoughts were becoming jumbled, incoherent and desperate in their hopefulness. Go away Phoebe, she pleaded as she finally came upon a spare seat. As she neared it, Helga could make out the brushed down hair, small blue cap and football shaped head sitting with his back towards her. She wanted to keep going down the carriage and avoid talking to him, but her pity for him got the best of her and before she could help herself, Helga sat down next to Arnold and tried to cheer him up.
For a while he would not respond much, leaving Helga to try and find a way of making him speak. "How's Gerald?" she finally asked.
Arnold turned towards her, his face overcome and hopeless. "Gerald? I haven't heard from him since we went to the graveyard; the last I heard he was doing ok."
Helga nodded as Arnold resumed his focus on the ground. Deciding it was pointless, Helga pulled out her headphones and stuck them in, turning her music up loudly to block out all the other voices echoing throughout the carriage. Things began to drift in her mind, succumbing to the strain of the day as she closed her eyes…
"Helga?"
Waking up groggily, Helga's eyes ached terribly; feeling for her ears, one earphone lay harmless on her chest, the other still plugged in and playing her music, now painfully loud, in her ear. Removing it, Helga looked around to find that night had set in and only she, Arnold and a few other passengers remained. She had stayed back late to attend Arnold's lecture, but even now…
"What time is it?" she yawned, stretching her arms.
"Eight-twenty-nine."
"Shouldn't we be home by now?"
Arnold shrugged his shoulders. "We were delayed for a while."
Her head nodded, but she felt herself aching terribly from the way she slept. "Finally, out of your daydreams football head?"
"Daydreams? Oh…sorry."
Helga smirked. "You should be. By the way, I enjoyed your reading this afternoon."
Eyes wide, Arnold looked as though he'd been caught in the headlights of a car. "You saw that…disaster?"
"Disaster? Oh, the cold sweat and leaving hurriedly? Yeah I saw it."
Arnold looked down and refused to speak. For a while Helga sat silently, kicking herself mentally about it. "I mean, I thought your work on relationships within literature was interesting."
"Really?" Arnold perked up.
"Yeah, I mean, it wasn't completely formed, and I felt you could have addressed some of the more pressing issues of representation of females within literate relationships, however I did think you have some interesting work ahead of you. Not to mention, I didn't know you were doing this."
"It's been a pet project for a while," Arnold smiled. "I knew that the ideas weren't fully realised yet for presenting, but the professor insisted I speak about it. There's still a long way to go with this though. But maybe I can learn something from all of this research."
Arnold paused. "And…I'm sorry about the other day Helga."
Silence drifted upon them, each lost in their thoughts and praying the uneasiness between them would leave. Concerned eyes could not help but glance at the place she knew his bruise to be, wishing she could ask him about it. She pondered how the two of them were going to get out of this mess, her mind clicked: he had something he had wanted to tell her.
"Arnold?" she finally asked.
With the look of a man ready to die, Arnold dared to look at her. "Do you remember what you were going to tell me the other day? After the phone call, I didn't dare hang around."
Arnold's face screwed up with concentration before sighing deeply. "I do remember Helga. But I can't explain it well enough to you though."
"Well, maybe if you talk as someone else, it might help you?"
"Someone else?" Arnold asked puzzled.
"Talk as if you were someone else, explaining the same situation but applying it to someone else."
Arnold was struggling to process this, leaving Helga to watch on patiently. Finally, he appeared ready and began explaining it to her. "Well I'm…this guy I know is having a really hard time lately. His girlfriend…well kind of girlfriend…she doesn't respect him or treat him very well. He knows she's hurt, but he can't get away from her, no matter how hard he tries. He feels like it's his fault, but…"
Her heart fell as he told her his story. This girl, this woman whoever she was, had treated Arnold poorly. Recounting past instances of cheating and being cast aside, Arnold began to visibly well up while he continued to explain the latest episode. Helga knew, and she suspected Arnold did too, that this kind of relationship was toxic for him. But being the kind and good person, I doubt he even realises he's causing himself all this grief.
Helga tried to respond and offer advice where she could, but the feeling of unease about knowing so much of this situation was not lost on her. The constant wanting to step in and fix this for him made her squirm in her seat. Why would she want to do this for him? Was it out of some strange desire to have her affections for him realised? Was it to help a friend, albeit a dearly beloved friend? Whatever her motivation, Helga knew she had to be a friend first, regardless of how she felt. Helga had to try and help him, even if it meant watching him never notice the way she loved him…why did she have to be like this?
"Well Arnold," Helga began after he'd finished his story, "I really do feel sorry for this friend of yours. Does he know why is she cheating on him? Perhaps there is something she may be unhappy about in her own life," Helga asked, sensing that Arnold was struggling to get this out.
"Unhappy about? I couldn't tell you. If there was anything, I think it has to do with something he did. But it was something beyond his control…she shouldn't be holding on to that! I apologised, I tried to seek her forgiveness and for what? To be thrown around, trodden on and now blabbing on a train late at night. I wish I knew what to do," Arnold sobbed, unable to compose himself anymore.
"You mean your friend, right?"
Arnold didn't laugh at her attempted joke. It was hard trying to keep Arnold's sobbing silent to everyone else on the carriage without someone asking if he was alright, but Helga managed to convince him to sob into her tissue. For a while she simply rubbed his back, mainly to comfort him but to also distract herself from the murderous thoughts circulating in her mind. Death was in the air as she handed Arnold another tissue, his distraught features fuelling the fire in her heart to protect him. I swear I will hurt whoever has done this to you Arnold.
Clenching his fists tightly, afraid he might fall at any second, Arnold turned to Helga, the puffy red eyes cracking her heart; she couldn't bear to see him like this anymore. "What should I do Helga?" he managed to say in between sobbing and choking on his tears.
"I think you should dump her," she replied coldly, much to Arnold's shock.
"Why?"
"Do I really have to tell you why it's such a great idea football head? The girl has cheated on you; no matter how much she may have liked you or even loved you, when someone does that there is no love to find in their heart anymore. Depending on what you did to her Arnold, I think you need to end this."
"Maybe I deserve this though," he mumbled.
"And why would you think that?" she wondered out loud.
"Because I changed a nice girl, a girl who was sweeter than anything else in the world into…this monster. I deserve to be punished for what I did."
Sighing deeply, Helga felt her vulnerable heart come to surface again. "No, you don't Arnold," she spoke gently. "No one with a heart that is so kind, caring and good deserves to have someone destroy them completely, even if you made a mistake that caused terrible damage."
Arnold didn't appear convinced, but Helga continued. "You deserve to have a girl who will treat you right, love you and care for you like you are the most important person in the world. Or guy if that is what you might be in to nowadays, whatever floats your boat," she smirked, earning a light laugh from Arnold as he wiped away the tears.
"Thanks Helga, perhaps you're right though. Where did you come up with this?"
Her face turned red with embarrassment. "Well…I have a great inspiration."
Smiling softly, Arnold looked into her eyes, his puffy red eyes looking past all the hurt and fear she held and seeing something deep inside her. Her heart raced at the feeling of this new-found sensation: how did he do that? "You're a lucky girl Helga to have a boy treat you so well."
Conflicted, Helga wanted to say there wasn't anyone, but then he would ask more…
"What makes you think I'm taken Arnold?"
"I think we've had this conversation before Helga," he smirked.
"Yeah, but I never did give you a proper answer did I football head?"
Arnold appeared to be searching his brain for any memory that would contain this truth. Eventually he smiled. "I guess you didn't."
Helga couldn't believe how girlish he made her feel just by sitting next to her, his eyes looking her face over and over, his smell drifting sweetly into her nostril and his body only inches away from her touch. All she had to do was reach out…
"So?"
Helga shook her head. "What?"
"So, are you going to tell me if you are seeing someone or not?" he asked.
She looked over his face carefully, trying to find any sign that he might like her…but since he was asking this, did it mean he was interested? Why else would he? Helga felt like jumping up and down; how long had she waited for this? Her inner self was dancing for joy, reciting the poetry she knew of his love by heart, composing and singing songs and wishing nothing more than to jump into his lap and kiss those sweet cherry lips till they had to break for air…
Helga breathed deeply, pinching herself to try and calm herself down. One step at a time old girl, Helga repeated over and over to herself. She couldn't get her hopes up; maybe he was only interested about how she might be. It was in his nature after all. Her high was fading away as she decided to be truthful. "There isn't anyone."
For a moment Helga thought she saw delight in his eyes, but it disappeared as soon as she tried to look for it. They didn't speak for a few minutes as the announcer told them of the destination in their journey. It was now well and truly dark outside, night's clouds covering the half-filled moon's light. Once the silence of the carriage returned, Helga waited for Arnold to speak.
"Well…I don't really know what to say Helga," he said as he rubbed his neck nervously.
"It's no big deal Arnold."
The dinging sound of the train echoed in her mind as it came to rest at its final stop. As she made to leave though, Arnold's hand grabbed her arm, halting her progress home. "Do you want to go and get some ice-cream?"
"I can't tonight Arnold; I have a lot of notes to look over for tomorrow," she lied. His face seemed to sadden at her words, only to be replaced with a fake smile.
"Well what about tomorrow on the train? I have something important I want to tell you, but I need time to ask this."
"I thought you had told me already, you know that stuff about your friend?"
Arnold shook his head and stood up, releasing her arm. "It is more important than that. It is odd, but somehow I feel like I know you better than I ever thought I did."
Blushing, Helga exited the train with Arnold, staying on the platform as they talked for a little longer. "Anyway Helga, I'll see you tomorrow morning. But before you go," he said as she made to turn, "I have something for you."
Moving in closer to her, Arnold wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. Feeling herself begin to melt into his embrace, Helga could feel her blood burn like fire, flooding her system with a warmth she hadn't felt for a long time. Every part of her began to tremble, a wobbly smile gracing her lips as she returned the hug.
He moved back from her, her face blushing lightly. "What was that for football head?" she stammered out softly.
"For being a caring friend to me when I needed it most," Arnold grinned, earning a smile from Helga.
"Whatever Arnold," she smiled, walking to the end of the platform and waving goodbye as they went their separate ways home.
Walking along the path, Helga felt her body replicate and replay the memory of his embrace over and over, the sensation sending her heart into a constant flutter. How she loved his touch; absentmindedly she wrapped her arms around her body, trying to prove to herself that it had happened and not been an elaboration of her mind. The very thought that he had hugged her acted like a drug as she came upon the door to home. Tomorrow, she decided, could not come soon enough.
The stench of alcohol and burnt food drifted through the door as she opened it, her stomach sick as she realised she hadn't eaten since lunch. Tip toeing to the kitchen, Helga began to fix herself something from the fridge before trying to head upstairs. As she grabbed the plate though, Bob slumped into the kitchen, his eyes reddening and stench of whisky nearly overwhelming her sense of smell.
"Where have you been?" he grumbled.
"Studying; what have you been doing?" she asked coldly.
"You don't have to be smart with me young lady," Bob threatened, causing Helga to wince slightly.
"I wasn't," she murmured, wishing to leave here more than anything else in the world. The bruises on her back hadn't healed enough to deal with another drunken Bob episode. Maybe it was him sensing her hesitation to attack that made him stand up and walk past her. "You were nothing but an accident," he spat as he stumbled towards the couch before passing out once more.
Helga's heart began to sink; taking a hold of the plate, she staggered up the stairs, her mind on auto-pilot. The bedroom door closed easily behind her, her hands resting the plate on the desk as her heart tore. Of all the things, he could have said to her…Helga slumped to the floor and curled into a ball. Hot tears dripped onto her jeans, the words harder to accept than the bruises she felt on her back. She couldn't take much more of this…
"Helga?"
Looking up at the mention of her name, Helga's eyes came upon the frame of her former classmate and best friend Phoebe, whose appearance only made her feel guiltier for all she had done. "Why now Phoebe?" she cried, returning to the comfort of her ball.
"I thought you could use a helping and guiding voice at this precise moment; how are your bruises?" she asked as she walked over to Helga and sat down.
"They're the same as ever; sore, painful and filled with hatred for Bob," she spat.
Phoebe shook her head as Helga cried harder into her chest, unable to hold herself together any longer. Whichever way she looked at it, there was no way out now for her. She had nowhere else to go; there was no other option until she finished her studying. And why couldn't she stand up to him? She had perfected the tough girl persona years ago; his words shouldn't have been able to hurt her like they did.
"He is your father; that is why they hurt even more Helga," Phoebe gently spoke, reading her mind before Helga could even ask.
"Phoebe, what are you?" Helga asked desperately, the presence of her friend worrying her greatly.
"If I had to decipher my current existence, I would say I'm a part of your subconscious, a guilt-ridden reminder of past mistakes or remembrance of a better time in your life. Think of me as an imaginary friend, without the imagination," Phoebe smiled, causing Helga to sigh.
"That would explain why you look like you're dressed for primary school. Although I must say next time try and make sure the sweater is longer; I can nearly see your legs in that thing. But why are you here? Am I going crazy?"
Phoebe thought about it for a moment before shaking her head. "You're under a great deal of stress and pain; therefore, it would make sense that your mind would try and create an alternate version of events or would create someone from your past who you found to be a confidant to help you deal with these moments."
Nodding slowly, Helga still wished she could flee from this hole that had become her life. But the appearance of Phoebe was making it easier for her soul to rest peacefully amongst the chaos of life. She felt bad though that she couldn't remember why Phoebe had died…
"Phoebe?"
Having moved towards her bed and lain down, Phoebe looked over at Helga, puzzled and intrigued. "Yes Helga?"
"Today I tried to write down how you…how do I say this…"
"Passed on?"
"Guess that would do," she shrugged, wiping away the tears, "But how come I couldn't do it? Even as I wrote it down, it didn't seem right. Is there something going on here that I'm not aware of? Have I missed something?"
"Highly unlikely; it is far more likely that you need to relax for the memory to resurface. Perhaps talking about it with someone would help release it."
Helga's mind was beginning to spin from the day; nearing midnight, she had nearly forgotten about her food and dizzily made her way to the desk, grabbing the food and eating it quickly. Her room was moving dangerously fast, her body unable to control the feeling of being unstable and collapsing onto the bed.
"Phoebe…does it hurt?" Helga asked as the room began to slow down.
"It is gone before you know it."
Nodding, her eyes felt heavy, the pillow soft and inviting as her eyes closed. "Do you miss him Phebs?"
Phoebe though never responded as Helga's mind drifted into the abyss of dreams.
D & F
"Phoebe? What are you doing?" she yelled out, unable to believe the sight she saw before her.
"I can't Helga, not anymore. I need to free myself," she smiled, taking another step closer to the edge.
Panic rose in Helga; she wasn't going to lose another person in her life. "Phoebe please come here," she pleaded, moving closer to her friend.
"Stay back Helga," Phoebe warned as she moved closer to the edge of the building.
Her mind was frantically trying to figure out a way of getting her away from the ledge and into the safety of her arms. She could not bear to lose her best friend; how had this happened?
"Can we just talk Phoebe?"
Shaking her head, Phoebe moved ever closer to the edge, now only inches away from the beyond that would engulf her body in a matter of minutes. "Why are you doing this? Please don't do this Phoebe…I can't lose you," Helga cried as she collapsed to her knees.
"I'm sorry," Helga heard before Phoebe leant backwards.
Helga screamed, her voice echoing like a siren in the night. Every inch of her heart cried out for Phoebe, every part of her breaking down as her eyes searched the edge of the balcony to find nothing but the wind pounding against her body…
"Phoebe!" Helga cried out.
Looking around the room quickly, Helga felt her body panting heavily, the weight of the dream still feeling real to her. Sweat on her brow was brushed away as she collapsed back onto the bed, unable to focus her eyes correctly onto her surroundings. For a while she couldn't make sense of her dream…but the dull pain crept in, consuming her heart once more. Getting up, Helga looked at her clock and froze; she had over slept. Her mind though quickly relaxed, with her deciding to take the day off instead. She would be no use in class anyway.
Deciding to make the most of her self-imposed day off, Helga headed downstairs knowing that Bob would have already left for work. Even though the house smelt of mixtures of spirits and alcohol, Helga made herself some breakfast and sat down to watch the soap operas of the day. She always took great delight in laughing at the pathetic attempts to capture romantic love through back stabbing and betrayals.
Expecting to see the newest episode of her show as it was nearing mid-day, Helga watched on in curiosity as the news came on. A female, mid-thirties by her guess with dark brown hair and cold brown eyes appeared on screen, finishing a story before moving on.
"And now to our most breaking news; a terrible train accident has shaken the local town of Hillwood this morning, with five dead and twenty reported to be in serious conditions as local authorities' sort through the wreckage. It is reported a minor electrical fault is responsible, causing the system network to overload and allow two trains to merge onto the same track. Our reporter has more," she spoke as the footage cut to the wreckage of the train, with police men and fire fighters moving across it quickly, trying their best to free people.
Helga felt her hands grow numb; Arnold had wanted to meet her this morning on the train…but it couldn't be the same one…could it?
"From the survivors of this horrific crash, it has become clear that a young man completed several heroic deeds in preventing some of the passengers from experiencing horrific injuries. Known only as Arnold, this young man is currently still being searched for, in a life-threatening situation, with little hope for survival; as you can see over my shoulder the firemen are attempting to break him free from the metal prison holding him down…"
The remote fell from her hand, landing with a dull thud as Helga stared blindly on, tears streaming down her face as her heart rebelled inside her, screaming out what she knew was the truth. Arnold was dead…and it was all her fault.
