Title - Moments Turned To Hours
Author - Mystic Rains
Rating - PG – 13, which might jump up to an R
Summery - Arnold's in an orphanage, only a shell of what he really use to be. The kids there are even making bets on if he'll be the next suicide. But when there's the person from his past who ends up in the same situation as him, will they be able to hang on together?
Disclaimer - Hey Arnold? Mine? If it was, I would have certainly have plucked Helga's eyebrow from the first day…
Author's Note - I haven't written in a long time, and to be simple I miss it a lot. I use to be an obsessive Hey Arnold fan, and I still do love to watch it. I've just gotten back into the swing of HA fanfictions once again; I figured I had to do one myself. If you like it, please review. Don't be shocked if this is one of the darker fanfictions. And if you don't like you, you definitely don't have to read it. It is why I've put it under Angst.

Also, I've finally fixed the first chapter AGAIN. Got rid of somehow Chapter II sneaking into Chapter I. For some reason, I really dislike Chappie I, but I can't seem to write it any better. So at least it's fixed. It's short so if any new readers have time, check out Chappie II as well, and then you can hit BACK


I don't hear a sound
Silent faces in the ground
The quiet screams, but I refuse to listen

If there is a hell
I'm sure this is how it smells
Wish this were a dream, but no, it isn't

Walk in the rain, in the rain, in the rain
I walk in the rain, in the rain
Am I right or am I wrong
and is it here that I belong

Walk in the rain, in the rain, in the rain
I walk in the rain, in the rain
Why do I feel so alone
For some reason I think of home

Rain - Steve Conte


Arnold looked upon the spotted ceiling. Its once white padding was stained with leaks. The town constantly told the nuns that they could not afford to donate more money from the budget to fix up the orphanage, so the dirty gold bloches stayed where they were. He couldn't even remember how many times he'd done this, looking up and thinking about the ceiling, the spots. So bored to the point where he can't do any more then lay and bed and count dots.

Two thousand forty-eight, Two thousand forty nine…Boy it'd be great if Grandma and Grandpa were here to help me…

He shifted his position upon the rock hard cot, trying to get comfy. No matter how hard he tried, the bed was defiantly making sure he would not comfortable, and there was no doubt that its effort paid off. He wished he could have his attic room, with his bed of what in his memory felt like feathers. He casually wondered if the town sold it. Perhaps if they haven't, he could ask to have it sent here, with him.

Two thousand two hundred forty six, two thousand two hundred forty seven...

Realizing he was starting to cramp up, Arnold tore himself away from the ceiling, trying to freeze his frame of mind to where he had stopped. Knowing really he had all the time in the world to count them again, he simply shruged and pushed it out of his mind. Swinging his feet off the cot, he got up and walked across the cold floor, shivering on his way there. He could hear the banging of the room across the wall, with muffled moans from the teenage occupants next door.

What would usual make Arnold blush, simply made him shake his head and try to hum out the sound, concentrating on the torrential rain at his windowsill.

You really would thing that sort of thing would be prohibited and controlled, but I guess there's so many kids at this orphanage that you can't keep a watch on them all the time. It would be horrible if the girl got pregnant though. How could an orphan give birth to a child? Would that make them an automatic orphan themselves?

He slightly pondered this, as he grabbed on the medal bars of the windowsill and hoisted himself up. He could barely see out as he took a seat on the small window, since the glass inside was so dirty. It gave the impression that no one had bothered to clean it for what seemed like several years. The rails in front of them would make it difficult for an adult to put their hand through, and he doubted a child here would really care. They were all hyper active, immature, or depressed as he was claimed. The depressed ones were the reason the bars were here, to make sure they couldn't end their suffering. That didn't stop them though, as he had found one of the dead children in the bathroom once. She had decided she needed a drink that night, and found some bleach to quench her thirst. He had had nightmares for months.

Taking a napkin out from under his jeans, he held onto the rails with one hand, and pushed his fingers through with another, mopping up the dust and dirt from the window. It was amazing how clear it was underneath its layer of dirt, as he sneezed through all the dust that wafted through the air.

Soon enough, the window was void of dirt, but it didn't seem to make up much difference at the moment. The pound of thunder and flashes of lightening were nothing to the waves of water buckets that spilled across the glass. It reminded him of the flood he had lived through one of his years at PS118. He pressed his fingers to the windowpane as he shut his eyes, the image of him grasping onto Helga's hand and holding onto dear life.

Her blue eyes had been so full of fear, although who could blame her? It was one of the rare times I've ever seen true fear upon her face. She was always so angry. I'd do almost anything to see that angry growl again. Just something back from the past...

"Arnold! You can't be up there! Sister Angelica will have your hide for being there." A young voice whined up at him. He was one of the younger of the boys here, and had lived there all his tiny life."You know how afraid she is of another suicidal on her watch. They'll claim she's not paying enough attention and fire her."

"Yeah, I know Jimmy. As much as I hate the thought of dealing with seeing another dead child's body, I'd love to see her go." Arnold sighed, watching out the window.

Another bolt of lightening illuminated the sky, falling upon Arnold's tired and scruffy figure. His hair was always the same upon his football shaped head, and the little blue hat was ever present, but it had more then enough scruff marks. His favorite sweater was covered in holes, and his pants were patched up in places he got them ripped. The biggest change however, was the dull shade of his eyes. They seemed to hold less and less hope for the future, as every day passed for him.

"You shouldn't be here all alone" Jimmy whimpered, holding his hands to his puffed cheeks. He looked like he was about to cry. "The kids are saying you're the next one who's going to try and kick the bucket."

Arnold looked at him curiously, briefly intrigued by this bit of information. He wondered how Gerald would react if he heard that Arnold – his old best friend, if he had heard people considered him (out of all the people there – which was saying something), the most suicidal.

"You don't have worry about that Jimmy. I promise you I won't. I made a promise to myself that I will live to see better days, and I will not break that promise."

Jimmy looked up at Arnold, and wiped the stray tears off his cheeks onto his oversized sleeve.

"Thank you Arnold. You're like our brother," Jimmy smiled a youthful smile and stared admiringly at his 'big brother.'

Suddenly there was a long loud ring that ran through the entire building, and hoards of footsteps were heard crashing down upon poor bruised stairs, which creaked with discontent.

"Dinner time. Are you going to come down?" Jimmy asked, running to the door and pausing lightly.

"I'll be there in a minute Jimmy." Arnold almost whispered. Jimmy gave him one last glance, and ran down to join the others.

The last one in the room, Arnold gazed upon the window one final time beforedeciding toclimb down. A rush of headlights was seen pulling up to the building and a young woman under an umbrella got out of the driver's side. She was commonly known as the Undertaker, bringinganother child to their doom.

"Another bundle of joy" Arnold sighed sadly to himself, as he remembered that ride here. "You have to love Civil Services."

Another flash ran through the sky, and he was able to get a semi-clear picture through the window. It was a girl this time, of that Arnold was sure, because of all the pink she seemed to wear. She had blond hair, plastered down her back, and a large pink bow that hung loosely, weighed down by the rain water. The adult offered her to share the umbrella, but she ignored her. Maybe it was the rain, but all her attributes in the rain made her seem pretty to Arnold.

There was another strike of lightening, and Arnold got a good look of her face. He almost fell of the ledge of shock, and hopped down, running down the stairs.

Helga's here! What's Helga doing here?