Through Your Eyes

Prologue: Part I

Beatrice Langston, the child art prodigy. While most kids' finger paintings ended up on the fridge, hers was hung in the Metropolitan Museum. Her father, a curator and art scholar, was the one to first realize Beatrice had a gift. Though her pictures could be abstract and random, the colors and balance always seemed to be perfectly matched and no matter who saw it the person couldn't help but sigh the words beautiful. One could only say that Beatrice had an eye for art.

For something so subjective, it is hard to believe someone who could barely tie their shoes could move the art world. In fact, this could only happen due to a perfect combination of talent, knowledge and influence within the Langston family. Beatrice barely even noticed what was going on at first. All she had to do was play in her art studio and her father would review and select the best paintings of that day. Her mother, coming from old money and versed in the social circles, would then display and share the works with the rich and famous. Whether the first buyers were just being polite or actually liked the child's paintings is unknown, but once one trend setter had a Langston painting, everyone did wanted one. It just seemed to escalate from there. It is quite possible there is another child out there who had the same gift, if not better, but those parents did not have the resources or know how to make their child a star.

At first, it was just two parents being proud and supportive of their child's gifts. After all, their family didn't need the money or fame. But as Beatrice got older and people's expectations rose, they soon found themselves addicted to sustaining their reputation. Though Beatrice attended grade school, she was not allowed to do any extracurricular activities and would only be allowed to go between school and home. As Beatrice was often absent from school to attend art shows and interviews, she found it hard to make friends. Eventually, they took her out of school all together and had her tutored so she could focus on her work more.

Beatrice loved art, because when she looked at the world she saw a kaleidoscope of color, and what she painted was a reflection of what she saw. Even if others could not see the colors and variations she did, she loved being able to share her vision and making her parents proud. But as she saw less of the world, she started to find less inspiration to create. Though well-done, her art soon seemed to be missing something it once had, though no one could understand what it was. People would buy it, simply because of her name and not because they saw beauty in it anymore.

Her parents became busier, trying to keep their art relevant, and Beatrice became a bird in a cage, only able to see the world through the window. Her only friend was a hamster which her parents got her when she had asked for a dog on a day she was particularly lonely. Though not what she asked for, she still loved him and named him what she would have named her dog, Lassie. Beatrice particularly liked watching Lassie run as she had painted a rainbow of colors on the wheel and liked to watch them mix and swirl together.

It seemed like life would go on with the same routine of classes, painting and playing with Lassie, until she was an adult and the star dust of a "child prodigy" wore off. That is until one morning, Beatrice went to feed Lassie to find him not running on his wheel. She called his name and gently petted his soft tan fur, but she got no response. She tried to run to her parents to ask for help, but her mother was out to have tea with the other Socialites and her father was too busy on the phone and simply motioned for her to be quiet and then shut his office door. Not willing to give up on Lassie, Beatrice picked up the entire cage and proceeded to sneak out of the house on her own to find a vet.

It had been 5 years since Beatrice had left the house without an appointment to keep, but she couldn't enjoy it. Even though this was the little star of the art world, the rest of the world saw was an 11 year old girl with light olive skin that seemed to never see the light of day, unruly brown curls flapping in the wind and tear filled brown eyes who was awkwardly running down the street with a rainbow painted hamster cage. 

Some looked concerned, but looked away unsure what to do, and others barely noticed as they were busy with their own lives. She just kept running, even though her legs were shaking, and her chest burned with each breath. She couldn't stop until she could find help. It wasn't until Beatrice was running past a large park that she realized she didn't have a destination. She was unsure how long she had been running or how far she had traveled, so she didn't even have an idea how to return home. Lassie needed help, but Bea knew no one she could ask for help. Not sure who to trust, she approached a group of kids her age on the playground to ask for directions. As she walked over though, she came to her second realization; she hadn't spoken to someone her own age in a years. As she stood there unable to make words come out of her mouth most kids continued their playing,well a few began to point and stare.

She bit her lip and to try and hold in her sobs, but tears still leaked and fell down her face and into the cage in her hands. Soon, one of the children's nanny's approached her and asked her what was wrong and where her parents were. Beatrice, unable to stop her crying, simply lifted the cage to try and show her sick pet. The woman seemed to understand and tried to comfort her as she brought her over to a bench. She talked to some of the other adults to try and locate her guardian while she sat by her side, but as Beatrice had ran here by herself the adults' search turned up nothing. Eventually, Beatrice was able to calm down enough to tell them her name, and they got an officer to help identify her and her address.

In the police car, Beatrice couldn't help but hug the cage as she lamented being unable to help her only friend. For the first time, as she looked up and out into the world, the colors she once cherished now seemed harsh and cruel. How can this big world still shine, when her little world seemed to be crumbling.

They soon arrived at the mansion and the officer rang the doorbell and waited with her by the door, placing his hand on her shoulder as if he was afraid she might run away again. Soon when of the long-term maids answered and it was obvious she was surprised to see Beatrice out of the house. It seemed no one had even noticed she had run away. The maid confirmed this was her home, and explained that her father had left for a meeting, and would not be home until later. The officer asked for the parent's contact info and after a short conversation explaining the situation and confirming their relationship, he relinquished Beatrice to the maid. He ruffled Beatrice's hair and said "Sorry honey, but after the rain, there will be a rainbow." For the first time Beatrice raised her eyes to the officer and said, barely above a whisper, "I'm tired of rainbows." A bit taken aback he just nods a goodbye to the two and leaves.

This being the first time Beatrice had ever rebelled, the maid was unsure how to reprimand her. She didn't want to do anything that would get her in trouble with her employers, but she also couldn't leave Beatrice to her own devices. She gently guides Beatrice up to her bedroom, tells her to stay inside until her parents return, but to call if she needs anything. After closing the door, she locks it to make sure she does not sneak out again.

Beatrice places Lassie's cage back to its rightful place. It was too painful to look at though, so she takes one of her blankets and drapes it over. It made her think of the magicians she saw occasionally at her parent's social gatherings, and couldn't help but wish that if she was to say some magic words and lift the cloth Lassie would magically be better. Or, if she didn't have enough power for that, at least make the cage disappear, as if Lassie, her only friend, never was. At least hen she wouldn't know how much lonelier it was to have loved and lost, than to have never had hoped for a companion in the first place.

Though Beatrice didn't believe in magic, she couldn't bring herself to remove the blanket, because at least this way there was the possibility of her being wrong. She slowly gets ready for bed, feeling the repercussions of pushing her body to its limit. Even when she got in bed, her body still pulsed with pain, a reminder to her that everything that happened was real. Which pain hurt worse, her heart's or her legs', she was unsure. Either way, all she could do was to continue to cry and release the bitterness inside her while she waited for her parents to return and scold her.