Through Your Eyes

Prologue: Part II

As the light brought color back to the dark room, Beatrice found that her body was too heavy to move. At first she just stared at her white ceiling, glistening with the same rainbow of colors of morning sun as she had always remembered. She then looked around and saw Lassie's cage hidden beneath the blanket. She had recalled what had happened the day before without seeing it, but it still was unpleasant to see. 

'So much for magic.'

After brushing sleep from her eyes, Beatrice couldn't help but think something was off. She heard a knock at the door, which made her connect the dots. Her parents never came to punish her. Beatrice called from the bed to come in, not wanting to move, but also because she knew that the door had been locked.

Beatrice ear's became hyper aware, ready for the cacophony of scolding, but she only hears the echo of the key clicking the lock open. The door opened with barely a squeak, and then they entered. It was another maid.

"Young miss, it is time to start the day. Breakfast is ready in the dining room. I will be waiting outside the door to accompany you." The maid kept her eyes cast downward and spoke in a monotone voice, neither kind nor harsh. Just a statement of fact.

"Are my parents waiting for me there?" 

'Maybe they wanted to save time by doing it over a meal? Killing two birds with stone.'

"No miss. Your mother had an early flight to Milan and your father slept at the office as his meeting went late."

"I see..."

This was a common occurrence, and it wasn't like Beatrice had left the estate without permission to try and get their attention. This should have come as a relief. But... unlike usual when she could dismiss their absence, as they were doing this for her talent and together as a family, she couldn't seem to rationalize it this time. 

'She had gone missing, lost and brought home by a police officer. Lassie had died and she was alone crying. Yet neither of them cared enough to come home? Couldn't check to see if she was okay? See if she was hurt or in the least cared enough to get angry at her for doing something stupid?'

The maid, without interest to her inner thoughts, turned to leave the bedroom so that Beatrice could get dressed. She didn't make it before the young girl asked her to wait. As neither of her parents were home and she was sore from yesterday's events, Beatrice requested to have Breakfast in bed. The maid thought it over and then gave a nod of acknowledgement before taking down her breakfast order.

After the maid left, Beatrice lays in bed and sinks deeper in her thoughts. 

'If her parents would not come home in this situation, then when woulf they? Was everything truly for her sake?'

Beatrice goes back in her memories to think of the last time they all had been together and been genuinely happy, but it didn't come to her easily. The only time she could picture their smiles were at the Galas when they were talking about her art and receiving others acknowledgment.

'So if that is when they smile, does that mean they do not love her as their daughter but as a useful child prodigy? Someone to use for the sake of their reputations? If this was the truth, then what does she get out of this arrangement?'

It was just too much for an 11 year old to come to terms with. Beatrice just laid their, sorting through her thoughts and emotions and trying to figure out the answer to a question she couldn't put into words. She only moved when she smelled the scent of maple wafting in from the opening door. The maid returned with the french toast, strawberries and milk she had requested. She slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position, hearing her inner gears creaking as she did so. The maid, without a word, skillfully adjusted the pillows so that she could sit comfortably. Beatrice gave her a small smile as a thanks and turned to her food. It was arranged beautifully as always. The golds and browns morphing together with blending shades of orange, yellow and soft red, topped with a snowfall of powder sugar, to her eyes reflecting every color one could imagine. After one bite, the hunger that had been hiding beneath her muscle pain came out in full force and she stopped staring and made quick work of all her food.

She hadn't remembered food tasting this good. Then again, she had never experienced true hunger before as her routine had accounted for all her nutritional needs.Having exercised and pushed herself to her very limit, the bed felt softer, the air felt cooler and the flavors tasted richer. Perhaps the pain was worth it.

The maid waited for her to finish and then took the tray away and relayed her schedule for the day before she left again, locking the door behind her. It seemed Beatrice was still on house arrest, or in this case, room arrest. She forced herself off the bed and into a warm bath, which helped erase some of the cramping. She continued her normal ritual, going through the motions. She did her classes and lazily put paint on canvas. But now she had a maid or butler hovering over her every minute, keeping absolute surveillance.

Days passed like this, one after another. Her parents did return in short spurts, but it seemed they did not want to re-open the topic after they missed the aftermath of the event and they had such a short amount of time to rest. They all assumed that Beatrice's past outburst to be an anomaly. After all, Beatrice was quietly obedient like before, the same as a living printing press.Eventually the servants, though still following the orders to keep track of her, began to let their guard down.

That is why, after a couple months, when the Mister and Misses had left for an annual charity event, where they would be auctioning one of the Langston paintings, they hadn't realized it until it was too late. Beatrice disappeared once again.