Can't Stop
By Keo Siph
The Incredibles © Disney Corp.
Helen Parr slumped in the chair, her body deflating in a way only a woman can when she's depressed. Then Helen Parr melted into the crevices of the chair, allowing her body to slump past her normal form in a way only Elastigirl can when she's depressed. Her fingers slipped from the hand rests and fell to the floor with their momentum.
If Dash was right... and he hadn't lied in weeks... Violet was gone.
Syndrome's body had been found, dead.
Mirage had taken herself to Mrs. Parr after the incident. Mirage now shared a room with Violet. The invisible girl that wouldn't need a room in this house anymore.
Dash had found Violet, like he was supposed to. It was the bringing her back that he failed at. Helen slipped farther into the seat and let her head rest in the crook where the back of the fluffy chair met the bottom. Here eyes scrolled over the ceiling. A sigh escaped her.
Violet had found her husband dead.
Violet had run off into the woods to become a nomad, or some such thing.
Dash was in hysterics.
Mirage was busy calling the police about the murder... even though the body was gone.
Robert Parr was not yet home.
Oh, how she couldn't explain this. Or... she couldn't explain anything. If she started to explain one thing... then... She let the weight of her butt pull her out of the chair and she hit the floor with a thud, back in her original shape.
Then she'd start explaining and not stop until she was finished. She'd tell about that one night...
Robert Parr was supposedly off with another woman. Dash and Violet had been sent to sleep at friend's houses.
Lucius Best had dropped by, and found her gouging on chocolate cake. It had all gone downhill from there.
And when she found that Mr. Parr had just a job, not a lady... her insides creaked even now at the thought. Now that her stomach was rising again. With every moment she thought of it... she wanted to know even less who's it was. Lucius had come by again.
It wasn't out of necessity this time. It was just her, and him, and their masochistic streak for ruining a suddenly perfect, white-picket-fence world. For the harmony they had fought for. It couldn't have been so easy. It shouldn't be that way.
Rain pounded the panes on the door. He always came when it rained. Only when it rained.
The door opened, and she couldn't bring herself to look up and find who it was.
The joy in her eyes if it was Lucius would disgust her.
The horror if it was Robert would rip their souls to shreds.