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 Eight: Helga's room

Sweet thoughts flittered through his head; his parents smiled at him, Gerald was grinning madly and his grandparents were smiling warmly as they embraced their grandson. But despite this, there was something missing in his life, someone who was more important than these people. Arnold looked around desperately trying to find it, the world beginning to blur, instead changing from soft clouds and lush green grass to red, purple and black walls, smeared and mixed together, paint dripping slowly down the walls. Arnold continued to search but could see no one; madly he spun in circles but still there was nothing to be found.

Afraid, he collapsed to the ground. The ground began to slowly encompass him, consuming each part of him until there would be nothing left. He hated it; every fibre of his being urged him to run. But the sleep washed over him and he began to welcome the darkness, its fingers creeping over his body. Soon it would all be over…

"Get up football head!"

That voice; looking up, Arnold saw a girl, the same age as him, walking towards him with long blonde hair and smirking all the while. "Come on football head, I thought you were stronger than this. Get up!"

Like a drug her words made him stand; the colours in the room began to retract and be replaced with gold and white, showering him as Helga moved closer.

"Arnold, there is something I need to tell you," she said, acting nervously as he moved closer.

"What is it Helga?" he asked, his heart racing at the sight of her.

Moving till there was no space between them, Helga leant over to his ear. "I need you to wake up," she whispered softly.

"Wake up?"

"Yes Arnold; you have to wake up please…I lo- "

Suddenly the room began to spin dangerously, moving so fast that Arnold was sucked away from Helga and into a bright white light…

A shock filled his body, his eyes shooting open. Gone was the gold and white room to be replaced with a bed beneath him that was not his own and his grandpa sitting in the corner. The simple effort to move was killing him, an act he'd never known to be so difficult. What had happened to him? A cautious glance told him that his body appeared lucky to be in one piece. Although he was now wishing to be asleep, Arnold couldn't help but notice the presence of a girl he wished never to see again.

Stirring from her sleep, Arnold hurried to pretend he was still resting, but it did not work as Lila smiled and began to laugh. "He's awake! Arnold's awake!"

He could hear his grandpa jump up from the seat excitedly, laughing and carrying on in joy. Opening his eyes for the second time, Arnold was greeted by the warm loving hug of his grandpa. Arnold couldn't help but smile while his grandma walked over grinning from ear to ear. As wonderful as it was, Arnold had to break the hug momentarily.

"Grandpa, how long have I been asleep for?" Arnold asked, wishing to get the obvious over with. Lila kept moving closer to him while he spoke.

"Well, I…let's see. Today is Friday April thirteenth. You've been in that coma since Wednesday March seven. So, I would say long enough Shortman," he smiled, giving his grandson another long hug.

"Oh Arnold, I'm just so ever thankful that you have awoken; I have missed you ever so much," Lila smiled brightly.

But Arnold's mind was elsewhere, trying with all his might to figure out what happened and that dream; he felt that this dream meant something but what. He was standing and slowly dying and then…Helga!

With as much effort as he could muster, Arnold finally spoke. "Grandpa, where's Helga?"

D & F

April 19th could not have come around fast enough for Arnold's liking. Although he'd never particularly liked Thursdays, something about today became special as he'd managed to walk without the assistance of anyone else, even managing to catch the bus and walk down the path he'd walked many times before. But here he was walking towards something he wasn't sure about, something that could scare him in the most frightening of ways.

He tried to collect his bearings while he stood upon the old greying steps, steadying himself with the constant beating of his heart aching against the newly healed chest. Once proud and noble, the door greeted him coldly, the peeling paint and scuffed floor around the steps troubling Arnold as he knocked on the door. He didn't expect to receive an answer; he only hoped he might be able to leave a note to ask where she was…

A loud shout of coming! from within scared him as he tried to regain his nerve. Looking himself over, Arnold attempted to breathe deeply, but only succeeded in snorting a little bit like a pig, to his own embarrassment. Dressed in jeans and a shirt he had thrown on in haste, he tried to calm down as the door opened. Expecting to see a towering figure glare down upon him, or a girl tell him off, Arnold was startled to see what appeared to be Big Bob hunched over and looking at him in a daze, seemingly puzzled as to if he was really standing before him or not.

"What can I do for you?" he slurred, scratching himself contentedly, watching the young man before him fidget nervously.

"I was hoping to find Helga here…is she here?" Arnold asked, feeling more like a church mouse than a grown man. Bob, dressed in a white singlet that could not hide his gut and olive-green shorts, mumbled something to himself before focussing upon Arnold once more.

"Helga huh? I think she might be around here somewhere…I don't remember seeing her lately but the girl lives in her own world," he growled, standing aside to allow Arnold in.

The instant he walked in, Arnold regretted it; the smell of old food mixed with empty wine bottles was nauseating, its impact nearly knocking Arnold over as he headed for the stair case. Big Bob payed him and the smell no mind while Arnold reached the top and looked around. It was darker than he thought it would be at the top of the stair well, and upon scanning to the left and right he couldn't make out which room was which. And even as he decided to go left on a hunch, he didn't really know what he was looking for.

He had only come here after leaving the hospital in the vain hope that he would find Helga here. For all he knew she was long gone, having left for her classes or gone out for the day. But the fact that Bob appeared to have no idea of where she was worried him; what kind of father didn't look after his own daughter? Shadows crept beside him as he inched along, finally coming upon something that he felt may have been her door. It was bare, strangely bare, but he knocked first before touching the handle.

A small click echoed. Creaking open, Arnold stepped into a room so devoid of colour he immediately wanted to leave. But there were traces of Helga here, there was no doubt. But it appeared barren, empty and lifeless. The bed was missing a pillow, the desk was bare and the draws open. The cupboards around him were open and shut, some revealing empty coat hangers, while others hid their contents from view, leaving Arnold to wonder just what had happened here.

Books of all shapes and sizes littered the room as Arnold carefully sorted through them, trying to find anything that might tell him where Helga had gone. But as he put down the twenty-third book to produce nothing, Arnold sighed and fell onto Helga's bed. The stay in hospital had left him worn out, something he didn't think possible, as he had spent long enough resting. But the aches were still there; tenderly he sat back up to feel a dizzying headache coming on. His stomach churned violently as he wobbled.

Rushing out of her room and into the bathroom, Arnold leant over the toilet and threw up. All the pain he had felt came flooding back to him, leaving him sore beyond anything else he had ever experienced. For a while he simply sat looking at the wall opposite him, unable to move without setting his stomach off again. It was there that he tried to piece together what had happened since leaving the hospital…

D & F

One week earlier…

With as much effort as he could muster, Arnold finally spoke. "Grandpa, where's Helga?"

For the longest time, no one spoke; noises form the hall outside slowly drifted in, sounds and voices magnified in Arnold's ears. No one gave him an answer. Constant looks between the standing occupants perplexed him. Surely the question he had asked wasn't a difficult one? After much looking between each other and quick discussion, Grandpa finally spoke, a grave look on his face. "That's a good question Shortman. Unfortunately, I don't know where she is."

Arnold's eagerness to escape his current confines was hindered by Grandma and Lila, both women pushing him back down. "You better take it easy slick; wouldn't want you to damage yourself further," Grandma said, helping him back into a more comfortable position for sitting up.

"I'm fine Grandma, I just need to go find Helga, that's all," Arnold said, trying to break the grip he was being placed under.

"Why ever would you want to do that Arnold? Everyone you love is here trying to help you. I'm sure finding Helga can wait," Lila whispered gently, trying to sooth Arnold's growing irritability.

"But you don't understand, I need to see her now."

"All in good time Arnold, just sit and relax for a little bit," Grandpa said, earning a growing glare of anger from Arnold.

"Fine," he eventually mumbled, pulling his arm away from Lila.

Lila tried to respond but stopped, the look from Gertie making her wait patiently instead. For the next few days, Arnold did not speak a word. Doctors came in and out, testing his body and checking his vital signs, but never once did he speak beyond a simple yes or no to the doctors. And never once did he register Lila was there, watching patiently and waiting for him to speak to her.

On Monday however, after three days of waiting and sitting patiently, Lila snapped. Her chair flipped over and face turning a crimson Arnold had never seen, Lila stood over him and glared at him. Hurt, fury, anger; these greeted Arnold but he refused to break under her glare. Realising her efforts were futile, Lila slumped back into her now upright chair. "What has so captivated your imagination that you obsess over Helga?" she spat.

Arnold did not respond, keeping his gaze firmly focused on the ceiling above him.

"It has perplexed me that you would behave this way. I've visited you every day, been there since the start of this, helped your grandparents and not once did Helga visit you. Why would you want to see her over your own girlfriend?" she asked hurtfully, Gertie and Phil each raising an eyebrow in response to one another.

Arnold knew she'd pressed the right button now. He was about to retaliate when a young-looking doctor walked in, adjusting his glasses quickly as he strode to Arnold's bed. He did appear to be like the other doctors and appeared to genuinely want to see him, extending his hand without a word to shake Arnold's shaky response. Smiling widely, he adjusted his glasses once more to eye Arnold more closely.

"Wonderful to see you're awake now Arnold, and possibly smiling? I was beginning to worry you wouldn't be able to respond beyond a few words. Now I've seen your request to leave the hospital. Though I can assure you that you will be permitted to do so, there are a few things we must discuss. Firstly, how are you feeling?"

"Sore," he smiled back.

"Come now Arnold I'm going to need some more information if you want to leave. From what your Grandma explained, you'd rather be out there than here."

He tossed it around in his head and nodded. "My sides are still quite sore, but it feels like bruising."

For a while the doctor asked Arnold question after question, checking for memory and physical problems they may have missed. Arnold wished for nothing more than to be alone and away from the prying eyes of those around him despite the ease at which he answered the man. Finally, with the promise of confirming his final observations to the nurses, the doctor left, his Grandpa joining the young doctor for a drink, leaving Arnold with Gertie and Lila for company.

Although she had watched carefully and observed his movements, Lila hadn't spoken for a while now. He decided to let the last few comments go and focus his energy on getting ready to leave, speaking softly to Gertie that he'd love to eat something when they left. Sensing a chance to engage him, Lila made a move towards him, Arnold backing away from her outstretched hand.

"Grandma, do you have any clothes for me?" he asked desperately.

Gertie quickly rummaged through a bag and pulled out a pair of jeans and a shirt that looked a little worse for wear. Tentative steps touched the tiles, his spine tingling with the chilling sensation. He hadn't moved properly for a while, but he took a hold of the clothes with the conviction that he would do this no matter what. Trying to keep himself on his feet, Arnold started to move towards the bathroom but began to fall. Firm hands helped him back up, but the aroma of her perfume only served to worsen his mood.

"I can do this myself," he growled, Lila letting go once they had reached the door.

He tried his best not to call for help, struggling to get his arms above his shoulders without crying out in pain. Arnold couldn't remember a time where he'd been so hurt, or been so physically sore. The mirror in front of him, though dusty and smeared in places, gave him a clear view of his aching body. And what he saw frightened him.

The doctors hadn't been kidding when they said he was lucky to survive. He'd only seen small parts of him, parts not covered in bandages or covered with clothing during the last few days that weren't covered with bruising. Delicate movements of his fingers over the surface of his skin gave him goose bumps, their trailing pattern making their way carefully over his battered body, covering his legs and finishing near his neck. Small patches of skin remained untouched, but a majority remained a colour he'd never seen on his body before.

Had he not known how he received them, Arnold had no doubt he would look like a yellow piñata, just waiting to burst open. A dead man walking was how one doctor described him upon his arrival to the hospital, a flattering observation that Arnold locked away for future use. But he knew all the bruises were a small price to pay for what he had done.

His shirt now on, Arnold found it easier to apply his jeans, taking care not to apply too much pressure to the bruises on his legs. Appearing to be more of a superficial wound, Arnold left the bandages on and covered himself as best as he could. He had to get out of here as soon as possible, least of all to find Helga and tell her he was sorry. Sliding his shoes on, Arnold ventured out into the room and found it was silent, their eyes looking over him carefully.

Making a move towards him, Lila was stopped when he held his hand up, stopping her from inching herself towards him. "Lila go away."

Lila's confusion further grew when she asked Arnold why he didn't want her.

"Because Lila, I have had enough."

Clasping her hand to her chest, Lila began to feel her world spin around her. "Arnold, I don't understand. I'm standing here, watching and waiting for you to return to this world, but when you come to, you're not here. Are you ok? I don't understand what's going on with you Arnold."

He wanted to ignore her and walk out, but even with his strength he knew he was not yet ready. Although she sat quietly, Arnold was very aware of what his Grandma might say if given the chance. "Lila, I need you to go. And I need to go home alone."

"But I'm your girlfriend Arnold, how can you-"

"Girlfriend?" Everyone in the room was silent. All caught off-guard, Arnold tried to calm his breathing down, his heavy panting causing the aches to grow worse. "Lila, we dated once and broke up afterwards; if I recall..."

"Recall what Arnold? This isn't like you at all," tears swelling in her eyes.

Sitting on the bed, Arnold steadied himself before continuing. "I was never enough for you Lila. No matter how hard I tried, I would always be the nice boy in P.S. one-eighteen who held a crush for you. I still remember the day I tried to confess my feelings for you in tenth grade. Do you remember that day?"

Lila shook her head. "Unrequited love were the words you used. Unrequited love. Did you even understand what that meant to me? Love not reciprocated. Do you understand how much that hurt Lila? How much torment that meant for the last few years, watching you throw yourself away when I could do nothing to change how I felt about you, and only bear the brunt of your words?"

"I never meant that for you Arnold," Lila stammered, her shaking worsening while her eyes remained trained to him. Who was this man?

"You damn well seemed to mean it. And that night...you humiliated and destroyed our friendship that night Lila and you know it!" Arnold's anger sending shivers down her spine.

"How can you say that Arnold? After all I did for you, beyond our friendship, beyond what a normal person would do for you. I was your friend when Gerald couldn't speak more than a sentence for three months. I was there to help you when you needed it most and I never asked for anything in return. Frankly I'm tired of your antics and I was right, you're not what I was looking for."

Had a camera been watching the room at this point, it may have captured the minute expressions of anger and fury that Arnold felt in that minute of Lila speaking. Unfortunately for Lila, she failed to pick up on these features.

"Lila Sawyer, I can't believe you. For years I helped you and you used and abused my friendship with me because it suited you. You came crying to me with the tatters of your heart clenched in your hands, only to run off with another when I helped put the pieces back together again. And when I wanted to get away from your manipulation, all I got was more headaches and pain than I could bear. And for the first time in years, Helga, of all people made me feel like I could be someone in the world who was wanted."

Stunned silence could only be responded to with Lila stating, "This is what you've been stewing over? Helga? What if she doesn't want you?"

Doesn't want me…these words cut him to the core. All his resolve seemed to slip away faster than before, his spirit unable to fight against what Lila had said. He was basing all his thoughts on how she had acted to him before the train accident. What if she didn't want to have anything to do with him now?

"She has to. I need her now..."

"You need her..." Lila slumped onto the bed.

Without a word, Arnold felt the strength of his grandma hold him up and gently begin to guide him out of the room, Lila's sobbing breaking Arnold's heart, but he would not go back. This was his chance, his one chance to live again. But his steely resolve faded when his Grandma looked up and sighed.

"I know the young man I helped raise is better than this. Even if I could let you go, you won't know where to go Arnold. This is not something that can be fixed overnight."

"My injuries will heal Grandma," he grunted, waving gingerly as they headed out the door and into the fresh air. "And I know Helga is waiting for me."

"Perhaps she is slick, but I don't know if she'll want you now. This boy isn't a man yet; you need to face her on equal ground, ready and strong Arnold."

"What are you talking about?"

They reached the bus stop and sat down, both heaving breath after their efforts. "We both know Lila did not deserve that."

"Did you-"

"I heard enough," she cut back. "And you were raised to be better than what I saw tonight. Had this been in front of your parents..."

"Well they weren't here were they?" Arnold spat.

"No, they weren't. But neither was the young man I care for every night until they return. Arnold, I will only ever love you, but Lila did not deserve the lashings you gave her tonight. That venom is reserved only for a snake, and you my Arnold are not a snake."

The slow crawl of the bus towards them gave enough time for Arnold to try standing by himself unsuccessfully, earning another holding by his Grandma. His anger now confused, he tried to find what he was feeling but gave up, resting more on his Grandma than he meant to. They shuffled on and waited for the bus to leave.

"I don't understand Grandma; why didn't Helga come?" Arnold whispered.

"She came. In fact, she was here before we arrived," Gertie smiled, causing Arnold to beam.

"She came? Helga did come? Then why did she- "

"However, she did punch Lila in the stomach before leaving you in the room. Lila explained Helga was being unreasonable, but until I hear both sides, well, I'll leave my judgements alone."

Punched her? Arnold knew it wouldn't have been the first time Helga had punched someone, but he was puzzled. What would have caused Helga to do such a thing? Lurching forward, Arnold watched the trees outside begin to fade into the shadows of night.

"What about Grandpa?" Arnold asked, watching the bus stop begin to grow smaller.

"He'll be fine. I already sent him a message," Gertie smiled.

Arnold shook his head. "You're too amazing Grandma. But...maybe she didn't deserve it. It does take two to tango, right?"

Gertie simply smiled and closed her eyes, promising Arnold she would be ready when they stopped. But Arnold could not help but wonder if he would be ready. Nothing, not even the bright lights in the city, would convince him otherwise. Maybe she didn't want him after all. Maybe Lila was right. Maybe he was wasting his time. But he had to know...

D & F

Standing up, Arnold gingerly rubbed his stomach and flushed the toilet once more. Although the headache had eased for the moment, Arnold was in no doubt that it would return shortly. Pulling himself up, Arnold managed to stand, making his way slowly back to Helga's room. It was strange even being in there; at some point, he had felt like he had invaded her privacy, but as there was nothing there Arnold couldn't be sure that he really was. Pushing the door open once more, he made his way to her desk and sat down. Small bits of paper were left torn and scattered, a single flower left to slowly wilt away.

"You know, I never did get the chance to say goodbye to her."

Hunched in the corner of her room, Bob looked up tearfully from the floor towards a startled Arnold. "She was gone before I could even say the words."

"Who Helga?" Arnold asked.

Bob shook his head and looked down at the floor, his face unmoving. "My wife. She was the one good thing that happened in my life. A beautiful and strong flower. And I wrecked it, like everything else I have had."

Grabbing a seat, Arnold turned to face the older man, knowing that even if he wanted to find Helga, maybe Bob would know something about it. "Mr Pataki, you haven't wrecked everything else. You've got your business, two brilliant girls and..."

"Hard to think of other things isn't? I don't blame you," Bob murmured. "Of all my achievements, my business is the only thing that ever-made sense to me. It was easy, it was simple: sell things to people. They will want it. They will buy it. But a family? That is something else entirely. Do you know what it's like to come home and not be wanted? To come home and experience the highs of love and the depths of hatred within a night? They never meant it, and neither did I. But I couldn't change it."

Bob looked up, a clenched photo falling to the floor. "Olga left a year after Miriam...she wouldn't stand her old man anymore, not after she yelled at me. Never once had I heard that voice shout anything but praise or joy. But in one moment I turned her into a monster. Just like me. She was right to go; who could ever stand me?"

"Helga seemed to stand you."

Shaking his head, Bob curled himself up. "She was the worst with me; putting up with my tirades was never a cross for her to bear. That girl never deserved this life."

Arnold gazed upon the man before him. Was it pity that made him stay? Remorse was written over Bob, but he knew what Bob had been capable of. Helga never said much, but when she had…Arnold shook his head. "Did you ever hit her?"

Bob froze. Arnold could feel the pit of his stomach begin to fall. If this man had done this, he didn't know what he would do. Hurt him back? Run away? "I would never lay a finger on her. We would fight, but my hands or body would never go near her."

"Her bruises though..."

"She would barricade herself in here when I'm drunk, and I'd charge the door. Her bruises were from that I know. I can't believe I did that..."

"Mr Pataki, where is Helga?"

Bob stared into Arnold's eyes, trying to make sense of the question and trying vainly to gather himself. "I... I don't know. She left without a word, without saying goodbye. She called me once…but she only waited long enough to hear my ramble. Helga never deserved this life."

"What do you mean?"

"Helga was never meant to experience this; Miriam had said she was more like me than I knew. If I'd been a better father, a better man, maybe we could have formed a relationship. But she never deserved the worst of me," Bob mumbled, curling up tighter and beginning to cry softly.

Arnold glanced around but nothing caught his eye; the room was quite barren. Where did she go? Arnold had no clue. Nothing made sense; the longer he looked, the more he seemed to conclude that she had run away. Her room wasn't tidy and it did seem to bear the marks of being left in a hurry. Arnold began to search around for a note or something that may tell him where she had gone. Why her own father hadn't even bothered to look for her was beyond his comprehension.

Opening the top draw, Arnold saw a book that caught his attention. Small and brown, he pulled it out and eyed it carefully. It was still quite new and didn't look as though it had been written in much. Arnold's hope soared; maybe she had left something here for him to find. Opening a few pages, Arnold's eyes scanned the contents and felt his heart drop; there was nothing. She hadn't written in the book at all. Frustrated he threw it at the bed; how could he have been so stupid. Of course, Helga wouldn't want to be found if she ran away. And what made him so special for her to leave him a note telling him where she had gone?

Sighing deeply Arnold stood and picked up the book. Sitting on her bed, he gave up. Arnold had failed. He hadn't been able to find her, to reconcile with her and tell her how he felt. Staring emptily at the wall opposite him, Arnold froze as he heard footsteps come closer to him. He was surprised when he saw a mournful Bob join him on the bed, looking around his daughter's room sadly. Arnold wanted to say something, but nothing came to mind as he tried to cease his crying.

"I wish I knew where she was," Big Bob droned softly, as Arnold looked at the book in his hands. Flipping through a few of the pages he found a small scribble: an odd account about Phoebe's death. There was nothing more to the story but reading a name amongst the writing caught his attention. Perhaps she had gone after the person, but the name sent shivers up his spine. All at once he wished he had never ventured into Helga's room.

"She's such a good kid…I just…I don't know how to raise her," Bob spoke, wiping a tear from his eye. "She's grown so much and I haven't been there for her. All those times I broke her heart; I bet she fears her old man now. But I wish she didn't have to fear me. I'm not a bad man, I wanted things to be so different."

"Mr Pataki, do you know where she went?" Arnold asked again, feeling that he may have found something at last.

Bob shook his head. "Probably to some place better than here. It's become nothing but a broken memory for the both of us. All those things I did…"

Bob began to weep as Arnold stood up, book firmly in hand and made his way towards the door. Before leaving Arnold put his hand on Big Bob's shoulder and patted it gently. "I will find her Mr Pataki," he said softly, leaving him to weep openly at the site of his daughter's once loved room.

D & F

A month had passed since Helga had told her story, but it still lingered in the back of her mind constantly without an end in sight. The details of her story were still lacking but she had tried to push it to the back of her mind while she cooked, thankful for Rhonda allowing her to be here at all. For the first time this week she had slept peacefully, and allowed her body to recover from everything.

Peering at the calendar, the date of April 19th shocked her momentarily: she'd been away from home for over a month now. Helga felt pangs for wanting to call her father again, but after everything else that had happened…repressing the urge to punch something, Helga focused her mind back to the task at hand, hoping that Rhonda might appreciate the breakfast she made for a change, instead of her being on the receiving end of Rhonda's rather good cooking.

Joining her, Rhonda breathed in deeply and licked her lips. "That smells fantastic Helga."

"There's more to her death Rhonda," Helga said casually, masking her own feeling of bewilderment and catching Rhonda off-guard.

"Huh?"

"Phoebe wouldn't just kill herself over something as trivial as pressure from home; it might have contributed, but I know Phoebe was tougher than that. Something or someone caused her to do this, not just pressure," Helga blurted, stunning Rhonda in her assessment.

"And I thought we were going to have a simple breakfast. I'd be careful in making that assumption Helga. Not everyone can be strong all the time. And look, maybe it was the pressure at home that contributed heavily to her death, we don't know. How can you be so sure?"

Helga was about to respond but couldn't; the idea was out of reach to her, as if the grasp upon which her theory clung to was sailing high above her head. And it was frustrating. Taking a plate each, both women walked to the table and sat down, beginning their eating without another word. Toying with the thought in her head, Helga felt it expand and shrink, never making enough sense.

"Damn it Phoebe, why did you have to go?" Helga asked to no one.

Watching from the warmth of her seat, Rhonda wanted to comfort Helga as tears slowly moved their way down her cheek, but upon seeing Helga wipe them away bitterly, thought better of it. "Phoebe meant a lot to you," Rhonda stated calmly.

Helga's eyes shot daggers at her. "And what is that supposed to mean princess?"

"Nothing more than what I said," she continued. Perhaps bringing out some anger would relieve her stress, not a method she would prescribe, but with Helga she couldn't treat her like a book.

"Going all doctor on me, are you? Well it isn't going to work princess; you couldn't crack me if you're life depended on it," she spat, oblivious to the smirk Rhonda gave.

"I guess not then. Perhaps you would be sure then that I couldn't possibly know of your feelings for Arnold," Rhonda said politely, resuming her eating.

Helga's face paled and Rhonda sniggered: got you. "How could you know that?"

"It is plain and simple Helga; the mere mention of his name makes you daydream about him for a moment. It's part of my job to understand how you think Helga."

"That still doesn't mean I like him. I could be thinking of something mean to do to him or remembering a particularly horrible memory where he ruined my day!"

Rhonda shook her head and resumed her drink before placing it aside. "We can go back to Phoebe's death soon; but I feel that there is something else…and yes it does relate to Arnold."

Helga's heart raced, her mind drifting into never land at the mention of his name; a quick shake of her head brought her back but not before Rhonda managed to chuckle to herself. "I don't understand what this would have to do with Arnold. But for the sake of humouring you, I'll play along. What would you like to know Rhonda?"

Rhonda seemed to churn over the words to ask her for a while before finally responding. "What happened the night of the senior prom?"

"The prom? What has the prom got to do with anything?" Helga asked.

Rhonda shrugged. "I'm assuming since it was such a big occasion for us all that you would have been able to see if something big occurred that night. Something that looking back now might explain the way Phoebe acted later."

Helga chuckled to herself. "I doubt it; Phoebe had a wonderful night and wouldn't have done anything out of the ordinary. But how does this relate to Arnold?"

"Come on Helga we all heard about it in some form or another."

"But there was no one else around at the time…except…"

"For some heavy breathing in the bushes nearby?" Rhonda commented casually.

Helga's fists turned to balls of rage as they clenched tightly, her knuckles turning white as her glare narrowed dangerously. "I will kill that boy," she muttered darkly.

"Don't worry about him for now; can you tell me about what happened that night?"

Helga looked around the room and shook her head. "I can't Rhonda. Not to you."

Rhonda nodded and pulled out her phone from her pocket. Within a moment she had dialled a number and waited patiently for the voice on the other end. Helga looked on confused as Rhonda talked to someone on the phone, frowning. Within a few minutes Rhonda's frown had changed to a smile as she handed the phone to Helga.

"Hello?" Helga asked, unsure as to who was on the other end.

"Helga? Oh my, it is wonderful to hear your voice again. How are you?" came an older, yet familiar voice.

Helga froze on the spot. "Dr Bliss?"

D & F

Arnold stood outside the door of the scribbled name in the book and sighed. He didn't really want to confront this right now, but this was the only lead he had to go on and he needed to make it count. Knocking once more, Arnold waited silently as he heard footsteps grow louder and locks click as the door opened to reveal a boy with a dark afro combed upwards looking back at him, confused.

"Arnold? What are you doing here?" he asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"I thought I would come by and visit you Gerald," he smiled.

"Visit me. You don't do that often nowadays. Weren't you in the hospital?" Gerald asked, looking around to see if he had missed something.

"It's about a book I found Gerald; it has your name. And besides," Arnold said, placing a hand on the door as Gerald tried to shut it, "I think it's time we talked about what happened to Phoebe that night."

"I told you everything already Arnold. I don't need to remind myself about her all the time. The rooftop is over, my relationship with Phoebe is over," he spat, trying to move Arnold away.

"It's not about that."

"It's not? Then is it about Phoebe?" Gerald looked on in confusion.

"No Gerald…the prom."