Sippy Cup (South Park)

Chapter 5| 'MISSING'

Pacing seemed fruitless of an attempt to calm the ever-racing nerves of Mrs. Stevens.

Click, click, click.

Her heels drummed against the shimmering stone of the police department's floor, doing practically nothing for the atmosphere in the room.

It was stuffy, tight. You could barely breathe without Mrs. Stevens jumping on you, demanding as to why you're not doing your job in finding her daughter. She was frantic; hair which was once piled neatly on her head scraggly and askew, odd curls flowing past her shoulders. Skin tight and lips red from the pressure of her teeth, 'mess' was an understatement when applied to the woman.

Click, click, click.

"Darling, please. Just take a seat." Her husband - Mr. Stevens, a man who sat quietly and clutched a bear belonging to his daughter tightly - stood slowly. He reached out, fingers light as his unoccupied hand enclosed around his wife's arm...

And she growled at him.

"Don't 'darling' me!" With a snake like hiss, Mrs. Stevens yanks her arm away from the comforting touch of her husband. "My baby is missing!"

For only a second, the horrible clicking of her shoes ceased.

Until it was back again, only this time more rapid and heart wrenching.

Click, click, click... click click click.

It was figures of eights; pretty patterns skaters drew into the ice, being indented into the floor by the frantic pacing of a worrying mother.

"Look, it's only been a few days." He lifts the bear closer to his face, lips brushing the worn fluff of its fur. Her scent was engraved into it, and it was oddly calming for the older man. "I bet that our Bebe is at Red's house, giggling with Lola and talking trash about her fellow students."

The click of her tongue is harsh, insulting. "Don't be fucking stupid." Mr. Stevens flinches at her tone; sharp and hurtful, cutting into his stomach like a knife. "She would have texted us."

"Maybe she forgot?" The crack in his voice... it caused an officer near by to shiver.

Mrs. Stevens caught it, eyes honing in on the youngest officer. He had his arms wrapped around himself, gulping and blinking away. Glaring, she was ready to march up and demand this man do her job, only to stop.

The clicks ceased, now replaced with her heavy breathing.

In, out. In, out.

"Do you take her for a fool?" She was whispering now, and Mr. Stevens didn't know if he found that more or less menacing. "Our Bebe, she's clever. Smart. She would not worry us sick like this."

"Exactly. She's smart." He was picking his words very carefully, still holding the bear and wishing it were his daughter instead. "Meaning, she's not been kidnapped. Bebe would not go down without a fight, not unless it was against someone she loved."

"She has been kidnapped." Mrs. Stevens' breathing was matching her heart rate, meaning it was getting horribly fast. "And there he is, not doing anything!"

A long, slim finger jabbed in the direction of the youngest cop, who was quietly crying into his hands. Like a predator on its prey, Mrs. Stevens pounced.

Stumbling, foot jerking to the side in her heels, she raced toward the younger's desk.

Not a word left her lips. Watching and listening to his sobs causes her eye to twitch, and she raises her hands far above her head.