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Not exactly the ugly duckling	By : DancingBear Category: +G through L > Hey, Arnold! Views: 5459 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold, nor any of the characters. I do not, and will not make any money from this story. (Original creator: Craig Bartlett)

Chapter List
- 1-Not exactly the ugly duckling
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 14-14
- 15-15
- 16-16
- 17-17
- 18-18
- 19-19
- 20-20
- 21-21
- 22-22
- 23-23
- 24-24
- 25-25
- 26-26
- 27-27
- 28-28
- 29-29
- 30-30
- 31-31
- 32-32
- 33-Epilouge
- 27
- 28
- 29
Helga pushed the door to her apartment open, nerves playing havoc with her stomach.
He's here… he's at my home, and now I have to explain everything to him... Jesus Christ he's gorgeous.
She slid her hand into the room, flicked on the light, smiling at the sound of Dot's claws scrabbling excitedly on the wooden floor. She pushed the door open, bent over to pet Dot between the ears, and turned back to where Arnold was leaning curiously over them, his long fingers pushing at that ever errant lock of hair.
"A dog?" He asked, smiling down at her.
She felt herself blush, and stood up, stepping into the room to let Arnold in. Dot bristled, 'wuffed' softly.
"She's timid, and not that great with men." Helga explained, "Don't frighten her."
Her heart cramped as Arnold crouched down, leaning back on his heels. He held out the back of his hand, low, the fingers relaxed, and crooned to the stocky white dog. Her breath stuck in her throat as he murmured in his low voice, assuring Dot that it was OK, he wouldn't hurt her.
She pressed a hand to her chest, her heart suddenly aching. She had been doing so well all night, keeping her composure perfectly… but this hurt.
Dot shuffled forward, her wary black eyes staring unblinkingly into Arnold's languid green. Breath huffed in and out of her broad black nose. She slowly snuffed her snout under Arnold's palm, her shoulder's lowering and her tail wagging tentatively. Arnold smiled and slid his hand up her face, patting her on the head, scratching behind her ears. He grinned, turned his head to smile at Helga. "She's beautiful."
Helga could have melted. "I got her from the shelter. She'd been locked up under a house for most of her life." She turned away, telling Arnold Dot's story as she flicked on some lamps and filled the kettle. She moved around the apartment, kicking off her shoes, straightening things up, turning out the main light and filling Dot's water bowl.
She leaned against the bench, chewing at a fingernail as she watched Arnold notice the two photos above the sofa. "You can thank Eugene for those." She sighed as Arnold turned to her, his eyes wide.
"Whoa." He breathed, his eyes turning back to the massive, luridly coloured pictures.
The first was on her face, just her features, her gaze staring straight into the lens. Her eyes were ringed in blues and greens, and her lashes heavily mascaraed. Her lips were lacquered a dusky pink, so shiny it looked like latex.
The second was one of the 'nudes'. Although Helga had argued that she wasn't naked if she was wearing shoes… turquoise green stilettos, which pushed up her buttocks as she knelt back on her feet. Her arms were held loosely at her sides, her fingertips just brushing the white floor. Her head was turned, silhouetting her profile.
"Whoa…" Arnold said again, shaking his head like he was trying to get water out of his ear.
She smiled, blushed, cast her eyes down as the kettle finished boiling and she pulled two mugs down from their hooks beneath the wall-mounted cupboard.
Arnold cleared his throat, she steeled herself…
"Helga…" he started, his voice nervous. "… why now." He paused, fidgeted, "I'm… It's an honest question. I tried so hard to get in touch with you. What happened?"
She sighed, tried to smile. Now that he was here, she really didn't want to do what she was going to do… she just wanted to crawl up to him and… be close.
"I'm seeing someone now." She blurted, pulling a wooden tray from a cupboard and putting the mugs on it.
Arnold's face fell. "Oh." His eyes skittered over the room.
Oh… he thought… Helga laughed. "Not like that! I mean… I'm… I'm talking to a shrink." She poured the boiled water into the waiting teapot and placed it on the tray, turning for a second to pull a small carton of milk from the tiny fridge.
She nodded towards the sofa, motioning for Arnold to follow her. She set the tray on the coffee table and moved to sit on the leather couch. Arnold hovered above her, his face anxious, his fingers tugging back on that one lock of blonde hair.
She patted the seat, indicating that he should sit down. He sat, perched uncomfortably on the edge of the cushion. She could do this. She had been mentally preparing and rehearsing this for weeks…
She sighed. "Can I ask you something?"
He nodded. "Anything."
"Where did you stay after you left my house… last time…" she blushed, averted her eyes.
"Gerald's." He answered immediately, his brow creasing.
"Was there anyone else there?" She asked softly, before biting her lip.
Arnold watched her face for a second, the look in his eyes unreadable. "Yeah, Timberly." He paused for a second. "Remember her? Brat in pigtails? Gerald's sister."
Helga nodded, smiling weakly. "Yeah. I remember her." She took another deep breath. "I called… that morning… and you must have picked up accidently. I heard you two talking… I assume it was you two… and I thought the worst."
She rushed, stumbling a little over her words. She didn't look at him, just announced her confession into her own lap. He stared at her.
"I didn't… I would never!..." Arnold gaped, he leaned towards her, his palms out.
"I know, Arnold…I know." She looked at him, her eyes moist. "I'm so sorry. I suppose I always knew… but… I dunno… I didn't want to ask." She let him take her hands, staring at them as they in her lap. "If I was wrong, I would be psycho… if I was right, well… I would be right, and I didn't want to hear that."
She squeezed his fingers. One part down… only the rest to go.
"I… well… fuck. That really sucks." Arnold's face was crestfallen.
"I'm sorry." Helga whispered again. "Really. I… I mean… I've always done that, right? Pushed away people, treated them like shit."
"Yeah… you have." His voice was soft, melancholy. "I did hope you had gotten over that though… I mean… Jesus… we were…" he shrugged, looking lost for words.
"I know." She stated simply. She needed to tell him, before she lost her nerve. She felt that panicky anxiety you get before a blood test, KNOWING the needle was about to pierce your skin. "I… there's more. I mean… what happened… why I'm here..." she nodded to the room "If you want to hear it."
"Please." His voice was soft.
"Okay…" she closed her eyes.
"I never told Olga about Nick." Helga sighed and slumped a little. "She… she let him into the apartment one day while I was asleep, then left to take Bob to an appointment.
"I… I hadn't been sleeping well, and I had taken some Xanax to help…" she looked up as Arnold took a breath, opened him mouth to say something. "Just…" she put her hand out, pleading wordlessly for him to let her speak. He nodded, sat back.
"I woke up with Nick on top of me. His hands were… uh… inside my underwear." She heard Arnolds breath catch, but suddenly felt like she was sitting outside of her own head, watching herself robotically tell Arnold her story.
She explained how, despite being groggy, she had finally managed to put a knee into Nick's balls and push him off, before grabbing her cell phone and locking herself in the bathroom. She recounted how she was dizzy, how she didn't know how long she was curled up on the bathroom floor for, before Nick's frantic smashing against the door startled her awake.
She called 911, huddled against the wall, taking comfort in the operators soothing voice until the cops came, getting Dave to let them in when no one answered their knocking.
Her voice sounded far away, hollow, as she narrated how Bob had come home while the police were still there, how his face had grown red, how his jaw had clenched as the cops had explained what had gone on. How as soon as the door had closed behind the departing policemen, he had turned on her.
He was so furious that he hadn't even said anything before slapping her, open palmed, across the face. He had caught her off guard, expecting him to scream at her before lashing out, and the hard smack sent her reeling. He cornered her in the kitchen, holding her skinny wrists in one hand to prevent her from protecting herself as he slapped at her again and again.
He fumed at her, his voice low, shaking, damning her for being such an ungrateful bitch… just like her useless fucking mother. He slapped her to emphasise his ranting.
"You stupid little slut. You think you're too good for my friends? You think some bony piece of trash pussy can treat my friends like that? You're nothing, just a frigid little bitch… just like Miriam. You think anyone else will ever want you? No one will ever want you."
He let her go, pushing her away from him so she stumbled across the kitchen, only just managing to stay on her feet. She was dizzy, she could barely hear, she said nothing. She just stood there, staring at him without seeing him, her head cloudy. He was gasping, his face purple… she hoped he would have another heart attack, so that she could watch him die.
His fist came out far too fast for her to react. It caught her on the side of the mouth, cutting open her lips, sending her flying backwards, sprawled on the floor. Her head bounced against the linoleum, she saw stars.
When they cleared, Bob was over her, he hefted her up by her neck, his large hand easily gripping her throat, and punched her in the face twice more. Blood blurred her vision, filled her mouth with a sickly metallic tang.
He threw her down, her head smacked against the floor again, pain shot through her teeth, her jaw. She gasped, choked. There was silence… just the sounds of their ragged breathing, before Bob lifted a foot and drove his boot into her ribs. She curled into a ball, noise involuntarily escaping her mouth. A kind of rattling screech forced its way between her teeth. She clamped her lips around it, close to passing out, but still determined not to make a sound.
His boot came in again, catching her back, making something crack. She jolted, her body twitching in a massive spasm. She heard his footstep near her ear and curled into herself… sure that this was it, he would put his boot to her head, and that would be that…
But he grabbed her hair, heaved her with both hands down the hallway. Pain screamed across her scalp, tried to make her writhe, but she clamped up, knowing that if she reacted, worse would happen. The hallway carpet burned on her skin, her neck jarred and twisted as Bob roughly dragged her to the door. He opened it, and hefted her out, handfuls of hair ripping from her skin. He pushed his boot against her hip, grinding down, before pushing her away like a bag of garbage.
Bob said nothing, just slammed the door closed. Leaving her injured and alone in her nightshirt.
- 27
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Not exactly the ugly duckling