Running with Revenge

𝓷𝓮𝓾𝓯

"Art is the loudest silence.

Scream quietly."

Lace and Daliah wait outside the Paris correctional facility. The facility was meant for people who committed big crimes under a mentally unstable mindset. Since her mother had not come in a couple of months, so the guards had to get Lace and her some new badges. The guard, a nice young man, had gone through the trouble to find Lace her old holder, which made her day. She smiles at the young man who waves back at the small girl. The small pitter patter of boots could be heard outside the building when Lace walks in, following her mother to the familiar black office. When both of them sit down Daliah's eyes travel to Lace's temporary tattoo.

"What is this?" Daliah questions Lace who replies wittily,

"It's a swallow. Sailors used to have them to represent traveling and migration-." She lists off the facts on her fingers, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"I don't care. Get out your psychology book and study." Daliah commands and Lace pulls out the book which she kept in the desk, letting her art supplies be hidden.

"I'm going to check on the patients, continue studying." Daliah grabs all her files and walks out the door, her heels clacking obnoxiously. Geez that woman thinks of herself as the Queen of England, Lace thinks with a grin. Five minutes later her head peeks out of the doorway,her little glasses just over the door frame. Lace's hand tightens on the backpack strap and she runs down the corridor awkwardly. Laces head tilts,now where were the cells? She remembers that the visiting cell was open and they were always there. Imaginary James Bond music plays as she sneaks around the center. Her head peeks at every intersection to keep lookout for her mother. Her faded boots stop at the cell in front of her.

"Lace?" A voice calls out from behind her.

"Mr. Sherman!" Lace throws her arms around her uncle's friend's neck as he hugs her.

"Look at who I've found here mates." Mr. Sherman says as he brings Lace into the room.

"Starfish!" The small group says as her aunt, Melanie, waves her to her seat. Lace sits down and pulls out her supplies and starts to flip through her works. Her gaze stops at her uncolored moodboard and Melanie notices,

"Whose this?" Her hand points to the drawing of Bee sitting in a swing.

"Bee." Lace gives up a small smile and looks up to the sky, her eyes going glassy.