The Book Of Anonymous Chapter 4: Chapter 2: Eleanor

Read chapter 4 of The Book Of Anonymous by Untethered_Seraph on NovelPedia.

"You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts." ― Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet Felix froze. Soft, unhurried footsteps echoed along the corridor. Eleanor. He made his decision in an instant and pulled the brass lever of the gas lamp. The flame died with a quiet hiss, plunging the room into darkness. With no time to think, he dropped the lamp and moved blindly through the cramped space, forcing his breathing into silence. Careful Ouch. Pain shot through his foot as he stumbled. A shard of glass, one of the mirror fragments, had lodged itself deep into his sole. Felix clamped a hand over his mouth, biting back the groan that threatened to escape from his mouth. "Felix… is everything alright?" Her voice was closer now. She had already changed course and was now heading towards his room. Bam. Bam. Bam. His heart hammered violently in his chest, each step of hers echoing in his ears until Silence. complete silence. She had stopped just outside his door. Felix's thoughts snapped back into motion. Blood. There was still blood everywhere; the darkness alone would not save him nor quell Eleanor's suspicion. And Eleanor, he knew her well enough. If she were walking the corridor at this hour, she would have brought a lamp. She was terrified of the dark. A faint amber glow slipped through the crack beneath the door. Of course, she had. Suppressing the pain, Felix steadied himself against the wall and forced his mind to work. Even if the room concealed the worst of it, there were still too many details, too many things he had not had time to hide. There is no escaping this. If she steps in here, she will definitely question everything… Gritting his teeth, he pulled the shard from his foot and stifled a sharp breath. Blood slicked his hands as he reached for the doorknob. Without thinking, he wiped them hastily against the wood before twisting it open. He hopped shakily, but steadied himself against the wall to maintain false composure. Eleanor stood there in her nightgown, a half-filled gas lamp in one hand, the other rubbing sleep from her eyes. She leaned faintly against the wall, her posture loose with fatigue as she raised the lamp toward his face. The light revealed the faint irritation in her expression, brows slightly raised, lips drawn into a thin line. But as she looked at him, the annoyance slightly softened. She stretched her arms and let out a wide yawn, then, catching herself, quickly covered her mouth. "Pardon…" Even half-asleep, she corrected herself, she had always been very mindful of her actions and tried to outgrow any 'improper' manners. With her quiet determination and years of training, even in her sleepy state, she still subconsciously tried to exercise the proper attitude and mannerisms expected of a refined young lady The lamplight outlined her frail figure. Her breathing was uneven, her breathing slightly ragged, her frame slight enough to seem almost weightless. For a moment, Felix thought she looked as though a strong gust might carry her away. A quiet, self-deprecating thought crossed his mind. With her bony frame and my ghastly white of a face… we could make quite a fine horror exhibit between us. He gave a faint smile as he almost laughed. Eleanor, however, drew a measured breath through her breathing apparatus, steadying herself quietly before speaking. Her eyes lingered on him, on his posture, his uneven stance, the weird smile on his face and the faint tremor he could not quite hide. Under her breath, barely audible, she murmured, "May the Crimson Mother guide my dear brother away from his less sensible impulses." Felix wasn't quite certain whether he had truly heard it. Given the events of the night, he wasn't entirely certain he would have minded if she summoned a priest to give him a thorough exorcism. Eleanor had known a very different childhood from her brother. Her frail health and a weak constitution confined her to a sedentary life, one that she spent largely behind closed doors. Desp