Sometimes you look around and you realize that everything's a lie. It's not true, not there, not ever gonna happen. And when that day hits you…your falling. No…you're doing far more than falling, you're plummeting while you're on fire. Yes…fire, how much more appropriate that sounded to any one. On fire…hm, I suppose I still am. I never quite stopped.

A long time ago my parents smothered me in responsibility. Do this, do that, be perfect, you're the oldest! It makes me ill to think of it, but my mom was my hero. My perfect hero, designed to carry the world on her shoulders and never break. She was famous for that talent already.

I can't even tell you how many times I would play house with my friends. I was always the mommy, always named Helen. Always perfect. I could cook, clean, help my children, help my husband…and one day she stopped doing something right. One day she broke. I won't forget it, because I did too.

I was five years old and had just discovered that I had super powers. I would go around and make small fields of purple light to impress my dad and make my mom smile. Then it happened, my first invisibility trip. It was wonderful! I ran about my room, free of clothing so I would blend in perfectly. And then my mom came in. She was frantic looking, calling my name over and over again. I thought it was a game, like hide and seek with a twist.

My mother ran about the house and I stayed in my room, just waiting for her to come back in. Mommy called daddy and they both went looking for me. It was when dad said he'd call the police that mom tripped over me. I yelped and turned visible, but that didn't seem to excuse my actions. Mom was mad.

She grabbed my arm so tight that I got a bruise there. She howled and yelled, "Don't use your powers! Don't ever use your powers!" I cried and she wouldn't stop. I asked her to stop and she wouldn't. If it were anyone else I bet she would have hit me, but this was Helen. Helen Parr, she could only bend and never break. She could carry the world on her shoulders and be fine.

The next day when we we're going to play house, I told them I'd be the mommy. And I was. I freaked out twice as bad as her and my friends left me. I didn't care. I went home and when my mom asked me how school had been I told her, Great. It was great.

I never recovered and I know she didn't. But it was a lesson that stuck. I wouldn't use my powers, not now, not ever. I couldn't even use them when I needed to. Like when I would get beat up by my former playmates. They boy who always played daddy and the boy who was always the son enjoyed their new game.

And I pretended it didn't happen. I would make up what I did to make it sound fun. And when mom would ask me what happened to my arm, I always said nothing. She was my hero, and if she could carry her problems around…so would I. She was the mommy and I was the shadow.

A replica of happiness, a fake of perfection. A sad attempt at being something other than a bad child. A fake person, who could live without powers.

She was my hero…and I lost myself while being her.

Maybe that was what was wrong with me. Maybe I was really Helen Parr, not Violet. Who's Violet? I should have been born Helen!

But no, I was born Violet.

In my games, when I was the mommy, we had had no daughter. Now everyone was gone from that game. No more daddy, no more son, no more doggy. Just the daughter. The invisible daughter. Just me and the mommy trying to catch what we had lost long ago.