Well, my dears, this is it. The final chapter of my first HA! fic. I hope, you enjoyed the story despite it's rather dark and angsty content.
I would hereby like to thank all reviewers(and readers), who pointed out the flaws in my story, this shows me, that you really pay attention.
This last part of my story is an aftermath of sorts, since I always have this 'urge, to tie up loose threads'. Hope, nobody ridicules me for this…
Until I see you in one of my other fics, I hope, you all fare well and have a good time
Warning: this last chapter is as long as it's title…
Tomorrow may bring gladness(or a little bit of sadness)
It had taken eight weeks for the fracture in her scull to heal completely.
She still had returning headaches, due to the concussion she had suffered, wich, given the time, would subside.
But there was nothing, that could heal Big Bob's wound. As the autopsy revealed, Robert Pataki was dead, by the time his body hit the floor.
Even without the tanto piercing his heart, he would have died, before the ambulance would have arrived.
He had lost too much blood, Helga's final stroke had only quickened the process.
Miriam had broken down on the scene, screaming both her daughter's and husband's names. She had to been sedated by force, and had been under surveillance 24/7 the first two weeks.
Olga, once she had received the news, had been totally devastated. Without thinking, she had called in sick and taken the next flight out of Alaska. Storming into the hall of the hospital, she had tossed the suitcase she carried into a corner and demanded to see her father's body, aswell as her mother and sister.
Miriam had been asleep, her face slack and ashen, never responding to any of Olga's pleas and calls.
Agitated, she rushed to her sister's room, wanting to take out all her anger and pain on her little sister.
However, she stopped cold, when she saw the bandages wrapped around Helga's torso and belly, the thirteen stiches on the shaved, fuzzy scalp, and her swollen, bruised face with the black eye.
But what made her choke on her words was the cold, empty stare in the younger girl's eyes.
Less than two minutes later, Olga was out the door and followed the doctor down to the morgue.
Silently, she waited until the doctor had left, then walked up to Bob's corpse, and kneeling down beside the stretcher, sobbed:
"How could you? Oh, god, how-how could you? She's just a child, daddy, just a little girl…"
Olga spent the rest of the day crying next to her dead father.
~*five months later
She knew, it would be hard.
Dr. Bliss had told her, and Helga knew, she was right.
That she did not appreciate the idea, of Helga returning to her old school, was something she had also made quiet clear.
But Helga was not to be turned around, though she had stopped fighting, arguing, quarreling.
She had found a better way to persue her desires. Whenever she met resistance, she would return into that small, dark place inside her mind, and nobody could take that vast, unseeing gaze without growing desperately uncomfortable.
So, here she was, walking down the halls of P.S. 118 in a numb haze.
The pupils, teachers, staff, everybody was whispering behind her back, although an eerie silence seemed to engulf her.
Dr. Bliss accompanied her, her presence giving Helga the needed strength and support, to walk this hardest of paths.
It was not only the serene, emtpy look on her features, which caused a ruckus, but also her appearance had changed:
Gone were her pigtails, instead, a short, hip bobby framed her face. Her pink dress and white shirt had been replaced by a deep blue sweater and equally dark, purple pants. Black sneakers completed the picture.
And nobody could help but wonder, if they would ever see Helga Pataki again.
Time went on, and as it did, slowly, but surely, people started to grow accustomed to the new Helga.
Her former friends(as it were), namely Phoebe, Arnold, and, last but not least, Gerald, had found ways to break through the walls of ice she had errected around her heart and soul.
Kids like Harold, who had thought, the quiet, reserved Helga had become a push-over, were painfully reminded, that Betsy and the Five Avengers were still on duty, and as fast as ever.
But she rarely needed to show or even use them.
A sinlge look into the azure abyss of her eyes made even sixth-graders empty Gerald field in double-time.
This is also where nine months later, Gerald dared to ask the 'unthinkable' question:
"Hey Helga, why did you do it? I mean, I heard, you took this japanese sword and just stabbed him, but no one knows, why!"
A collective gasp was heard, as everybody scurried as far away from Gerald as possible.
Gerald's mind caught up with his mouth a split-second later, as he clasped both hands over it.
For a while, Helga regarded him with that cold, unseeing stare, then replied calmly:
"He forgot my birthday, ate my cake, and beat me up. End of story."
She rose and went towards the new appartment she shared with her mother.
The children gathered stared after her, before exchanging looks and nodding in silent agreement.
They would never forget Helga's birthday.
Oh, on a short note: many may wonder, what a tanto is. I'll try to explain this with the little knowledge I have about it.
Most of you probably know it's larger sibling, the katana.
Whereas the katana,(a slender-bladed sword of varying size) was normally used for fighting, or, depending on it's worth and status, as heritage, the tanto(rather a long, pointed knife in comparison), was normally used to restore one's honor(being usually a samurai, a warrior, or the like), by committing seppuku(harakiri):
Whilst keeling in front of a small altar, the dishonored one would use the tanto to disembowel himself, and then (preferably) his own katana would be used to cut off his head. The beheading would usually be done by a family member, or a trusted person.
Well, so far to the grisly background of the tanto. If anybody has closer details, drop me a line, so I can correct my misassumptions.