Terrible formatting ahoy! I can't seem to make HTML or any other sort of formatting work. Can anyone help with that? I'll fix the old chapters in a little while. Anyway, here's the next part to the story, and I apologize to the reviewer who thought I would update again in 2012 – sorry for being so damn early. Honestly, I have a life outside of fanfiction that includes my own original writings, my children and husband, and my failing health. I'd love to update more often, but it's hard to think when you're in so much pain. Thanks for comparing me to Heidi Patacki – she's a friend from my old days at the HA forums. "Ribbons/Hair/Never/There" is an excellent piece of work, and I'm pleasantly surprised to be mentioned along with it. Seriously, I'll try to be a better updater. The few reviews I get help me plug along as well, so thanks to everyone.
This is dedicated to Marcos, whom I give my eternal love and thanks to, for being inspired by me and caring about my failing health. I hope we can work on something together soon.
Chapter Five: "Seeking the Solace"
So I turn to you my love
(For the solace that is there)
And offer any cherished thing
(For a slight reprieve)
I hoped that you might find me here
(And I could learn to smile again)
As a balm for these wounds
(Take away the sting)
From "Solace" by Fuel
Thu-da-dump, thu-da-dump, thu-da-dump. Fingers rapped impatiently against the crusty old white paint of the windowpane. She'd been in this situation once before, but she kept pushing the memory away because it involved that-boy-with-the-cornflower-hair-and-jellybean-green-eyes, and right now, she didn't want to dwell on him because the pain, even after all of these years, was still fresh and twisted in her heart like an angry knife.
Why, oh why, had she let herself be talked into admission? Damn Phoebe and her "this is good for you" tone of voice that left you feeling like a doe trapped in the headlights of a Ford F-150! Before you even knew what was coming – BAM! You're flattened to the pavement...but when you look back to get the license-plate number from that truck, you find a small Mini Cooper instead.
She sighed. What was the use? She always ended up at these places, no matter how much she hated them.
She had been aching to leave when the 72-hour hold was up because, simply put, she felt like a caged animal waiting for the door to open...open just a little bit so she could spring forward into sweet freedom. No matter how old she got, one thing never changed – life as an mental ward patient. Nurses ignoring you, unless it was to tell you when to eat, sleep, shit, piss, fart, or whatever. Lousy, bland hospital food. No chance to go outside to get some fresh air for fear that you'd escape to your death. Her saving grace was Phoebe's visits, but they only lasted forty-five minutes, and most of that time was talk about how Helga was feeling trapped in the hospital. Unfortunately for her though, it was evident that she wasn't getting any better, so Phoebe had persuaded her to admit herself, promising to take better care of her than previous doctors had. So far, it hadn't been so bad, but Helga found herself reacting like some kind of Pavlov's dog when it came to Phoebe's visits.
She needed a hobby. Something that didn't revolve around pestering nurses or staring out her window.
Todd had been by once since she had been admitted, or so she was told. She'd never actually seen him, only heard second-hand that there were orders from her doctor – Phoebe, obviously – that barred him from entering the ward. Oh, how grateful she was for that, too, as she wasn't quite sure what she would do if she did see him in her current state. Part of her wanted to rage against him, to unleash all of the hellish fury that had been buried within her over the years. Too many years of "yes, Todd," "no, sir," "can I get that for you," and other such nonsense had left her weak mouth. So many bruises and scars had been left on her weak body. Poor pathetic Helga had just let it all happen to her, when she could have been making it happen to him.
But that other part of her just wanted to go home, to forget about her little "lapse in judgment" because she hated change – had always hated change – and after so many years of polishing the furniture, doing the laundry, taking painstaking care of those white carpets, being on the receiving end of Todd's weird angry idea of love...well, she didn't know anything else. That part of her loved him back, as warped as she told herself it was, because he did take care of her. If she left now, how would she take care of herself? She'd never held a job, never worried about paying the bills, didn't have to drive herself anywhere – God knows she hadn't been out of the house in a long time and her pale complexion was the proof to that, and above all, she hadn't been alone since her first year of college.
Well, not exactly. She hadn't lived alone since then, but she had certainly felt alone throughout the years.
She laughed at herself. Shouldn't she be used to feeling like that by now? It wasn't as if she hadn't grown up feeling nothing but loneliness.
Maybe she was really kidding herself about getting away from everyone. After all, how many times did she need to remind herself that every little smack and punch was just karma getting her back for her childhood bully act? What goes around, comes around.
The door to her room slowly opened, and she didn't even need to turn around to know that those footsteps belonged to Phoebe. "Hey."
"Hey, yourself. Busy day, Helga?"
"Huh? Oh...sorry for not going to those group therapy exercises, but I just needed some time to think." Helga paused and smirked. "Well, that, and I don't think the nurse from 'One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest' in there likes me very much."
Phoebe bit her lip to keep from smiling. "Yes, I've heard about the hard time you give her."
"It's not on purpose, I swear. I'm just not feeling like myself."
Her friend gave her an odd look. "Actually, I'd say that you're acting more like your normal self."
Helga laughed bitterly. "Really, Pheebs, you above all people should know what constitutes for normal, and what I am is so completely removed from it. I don't know what normal is."
Phoebe lowered herself into one of the ugly, fading fuchsia chairs and placed her clipboard, notes, and file neatly in her lap. She licked the tip of her pencil thoughtfully before putting it against a new sheet of paper in preparation. "What's so horrible about the old you?"
"Should I have to remind you?"
"Well, let's pretend this is the first time we've ever met. Tell me in your own words what you find repulsive about you as you were then."
Helga fiddled nervously with her fingers, twisting them until they were throbbing red and shocking white. "You know what I was like. I bullied everyone."
"You were insecure."
"And there's that." She blew a strand of blond hair out of her face and sighed. "I miss my pigtails, some days."
Phoebe scribbled something down on her paper. "I'll remember to bring you in some elastic bands tomorrow, if you want. I'll even make sure to get pink ones."
She smiled, and Helga smiled back. "You always knew me best." As she turned to look out the window again, her mood darkened. "I'm sorry, you know. For kicking you out of my life. You don't know how much I've missed you or how many times I tried to call you...I'd dial your parents' number and hang up when someone answered because I just couldn't...I couldn't..." Tears formed in her eyes, and instead of angrily brushing them away, she just let them fall. "I didn't want you to see me like this. I didn't want you to...to be mad at me. You were so mad at me during our final years in school. I felt like I was letting you down because I just couldn't be me anymore. I couldn't keep putting on that hateful mask every morning and pretending that I couldn't feel anything. I just wanted to be normal, like everyone else."
A small laugh came from Phoebe, and Helga glared at her, obviously not expecting that reaction. "So you were the 'heavy breather'. Mom thought there was a secret admirer for a long time." Helga was still firing menacing looks her way, causing Phoebe to blush. "Sorry, sorry."
"I'm glad I could bring so much amusement," Helga muttered sarcastically.
"I'm sorry, seriously. Look, Helga, I wasn't myself back then, either. I was actually pretty selfish."
"You...selfish?"
Phoebe waved a hand to shush her. "Yes, me. I relied on you to be the strong one to make up for my own lack of strength. That wasn't right. Friendship is give and take. When you were falling, I should have been there picking you up, but instead I was more concerned that you were dragging me down with you. I really must thank you though, because you made me grow up and depend on myself."
"So that's why you're so intimidating now!" Helga joked.
Her friend smirked. "Well, my Ol' Betsy and the Five Avengers are alone time in isolation with a shot of Thorazine, but those are just as effective."
Helga couldn't help but gulp nervously a little after she heard that. A shot to the ass and body restraints were not her idea of a fun weekend. She shook the image from her head and cleared her throat. "So," she began hesitantly, "am I in trouble for leaving group?"
"Well, if you're thinking that's what I have planned for you, then you can rest easily because it's not." The relieved sigh did not escape Phoebe's ears. "I'd like you to go to this afternoon's group only because you may find it relaxing. They're having a writing session where you are given a theme, and then everyone gets together to read what they've come up with. I know how much you love to write."
"I'm out of practice."
"That won't matter--"
"Like a decade out of practice, Phoebe!"
The small woman's mouth formed a razor thin line, and Helga could almost see the steam coming from her ears. "Still won't matter. Will you just do it because I asked?"
Helga hung her head in defeat. "Because you asked. Don't even think I'll do it for anyone else," she added harshly.
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"Again, why did I let Phoebe talk me into this?" Helga huffed miserably.
A small plump woman with frizzy auburn hair was going on and on about writing to relieve stress and put emotions on paper that otherwise won't come out. The fat therapist reminded her of an older Dr. Bliss; she'd heard the "benefits of writing" speech before.
"Now, let's get our pens and our tablets so we can get started. The theme for today is solace. What's comforting to you? How do you show others that you care in their time of need? When was the last time your mother held you?" The woman paused to glance at her watch and then looked at the group again. "You can begin."
"Well, this ought to be simple." Helga picked up her pen and began to write.
I can answer the last question easily. When is the last time I felt my mother's touch? Hm, I'd have to say maybe the sixth grade when my period started. She gave me one of those "awkward motherly hugs" that she's famous for, then she congratulated me by telling me that Bob would kill me if I got pregnant any time soon. Let's not forget that she left me to clean up my own bloody mess. At least I wasn't one of those idiots who think they're dying when they see blood. I'd known about "the birds and the bees" for a while before it started.
As for that second question, I don't know what to tell you. I don't do the whole comforting thing. I try, don't get me wrong, but thanks to my frigid parents' example, I'm just not terribly good at doing it. I tried when I first got married, but my husband showed me quickly that he didn't want my "pity".
You know, I used to love him. I tried to make him another version of Arnold, and somewhere deep inside, I think he may have been had life went differently for him, but he's missing some of Arnold's other qualities. You see, they come from similar backgrounds...except his parents didn't die – they just took off when he was little and left him to be raised by his aunt and uncle. They made him do things...things he doesn't like to discuss with anyone, but I got enough out of him one night when his guard was down. "Unique forms of child abuse" is the phrase that comes to mind. His aunt and uncle used to make him participate in their sex acts.
But you see, if he'd been Arnold, he'd never allowed that to happen, and most importantly, he wouldn't have grown to enjoy doing it. And he wouldn't have forced me to join...but let's not talk about that right now.
What's comforting to me? Nothing. Well, I have a good friend here, helping me. That's a start, I suppose, but really, I'm so far gone now that it isn't a matter of that I don't want to be comforted...it's just that I don't deserve it. I'm not innocent. I've done too many bad things in my life, and I've even enjoyed doing a few of them. I'm as bad as Todd. I admit, a few times I've gotten off on him hitting me or tying me up and forcing his way onto me. I've even pretended it was Arnold doing it, even though I didn't recognize the face I imprinted over Todd's.
Yeah, I'm sick. If it was Arnold doing these things to me, I wouldn't even mind. So I shouldn't mind when Todd does them, right?
But he's not Arnold. No, he may seem like him, may act like him, and may even look a little like him in some ways, but I know the real him, and he's not Arnold. No matter how much I try to make him be. How much I want him to be.
Arnold used to be my comfort, the relief to my sad existence. One time, I even allowed myself to be loved by him, but his love was too gentle...and I wanted someone to be rough with me. Because I'm punishing myself for all the things I've ever done, for all the things I will continue to do. Arnold was my own personal Christ. I guess originally I just wanted my "god" to forgive me for being me and to love me unconditionally. But Arnold wanted a real relationship. Arnold wanted me to love him as a human being with faults, and I couldn't do that. I was unwilling. Why was I so stupid?
One night, I almost had him. It was beautiful. I'd been taking little stabs at him all day long to the point that I realized he was ready to strangle me, and in the middle of fighting, he actually did try to choke me; to shut me up, I guess. And then he brought his lips down to mine in the middle of it all. It was so strangely satisfying that I just wanted more, so I fought against him to make him take control, and that's just what he did, all right. He became more forceful and ground himself into me, and I think I actually came then. I couldn't help myself. I know he did a little, too, because his pants were wet and sticky.
But all good things come to an end, in more ways than one.
He realized what he was doing, and he...stopped. He started apologizing for "taking advantage" of me, and I wanted to laugh at him, just to let him know that it was all in fun, but I couldn't. Part of the thrill for me was to let him think he really had taken advantage because I wanted him to do it again in the future.
But there wouldn't be a future for us. Arnold was so stricken and disgusted with himself for what he thought he'd nearly done to me, and after a while, when I tried for a repeat, he told me he couldn't do that stuff because it wasn't right. So when I went for broke and told him it had excited me, he went for broke, too. As in "break up". He said he wasn't mad at me...you know, the typical "it's not you, it's me" crap. He said he didn't think he could give me what I wanted. And I think that's when I realized that he's really too much like Arnold Christ instead of Arnold Shortman, that he was too high above little perverted me. You don't fuck Christ.
He told me he understood why I was doing this to myself, and then he asked me why I needed to keep destroying my chances at happiness and normalcy. I couldn't answer him. I really didn't know. I still don't know.
I know he still loved me after that, and I think a small part of him even still lusted after me, too, but we just couldn't be together anymore. It was too awkward. Even though we remained friends – up until my abrupt departure, heh. Arnold continued to comfort me, to love me, in some sort of taboo way since we weren't a couple. I think it was his way of trying to get me to change for him. Or maybe he was just too afraid to admit that he might want me the way I wanted him. Arnold was always too much of a goody-goody, so of course he rebelled against the idea of that kind of relationship. It came naturally to him. But I saw his darker side, and I enjoyed it.
Arnold remained my solace for many years, if only in inspiration, but a few years after my marriage, and I had what I thought I wanted, I made myself forget everyone, especially him, because it all hurt too much. If I could have forgotten my family, too, that would have helped, but that's not possible. Damn it all. Well, I can't really say that. They aren't that bad. They have their moments, but yeah, they really aren't that bad. We're just not a close family, not until we need to be.
What's my comfort now? I don't know. My own sick fantasies, I suppose. Like my daydreams where this baby is Arnold's or where he comes here to tell me that he needs me. And in some sicker fantasies, where he and Todd take turns at me. Because I'm a glutton for punishment.
I used to bully so many people, but only Arnold knew how much I bullied myself.
A good song goes, "If I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world?" I wish I could find solace in that. I wish I could just fade away and forget, focus on becoming a star, becoming one with the universe. Because I really don't like whom I am, what I've become.
Arnold, please come save me from myself.
You're nuts if you think I'm reading this to anyone, Phoebe, and don't go squealing this to anyone or else...well, you know.