Whisper In The Halls

Chapter 2

FAITH

  My head snaps towards the door, and I step out of the room. My attention is drawn to a young woman standing by a toppled picture. Her blindfolded eyes and the cane in her hand give her away as visually impaired, and her cautious movements as she taps her way around the room speak of someone navigating a space they can't see.

“Is anyone there?” she calls out, her back to me.

“Are you alright?” I ask, approaching her.

Startled, she spins around, and I instinctively reach out to steady her, but she recoils at my touch.

“Who are you? What do you want?” she demands, her voice trembling.

“I'm Eleanor. I'm here to visit the Hawthorn family. Liam's a friend of mine,” I explain, hoping to put her at ease.

“Liam? You know Liam?” she asks, sounding less defensive.

“Yes, we went to school together,” I reply.

“Oh, Liam...” she trails off, lost in thought. “I'm Eleanor” she introduces herself, offering her hand. I study her features for a minuscule moment. She was young. Too young. No older than 19.

I take her hand gently and shake it. “Nice to meet you, Eleanor. I heard a noise and came to investigate. Is everything okay?” I gesture toward the fallen picture.

“Oh, that...I was trying to find my way back to my room and accidentally knocked it over,” she explains, looking embarrassed.

“Do you need any help?” I offer.

“No, I'll be fine. Thank you, though. We don't get visitors often,” she says, her voice softening.

“This place seems pretty quiet,” I comment, looking around.

“It has been a while since it wasn't” She responds, tightening her grip around her cane. I bend over to pick up the broken frame, careful not to prick my fingers on the glass. The woman in the portrait is smiling, but her smile never reaches her eyes. Her face is familiar as if I had just spoken to her moments ago. My eyes travel from Eleanor to the woman in the portrait. Same ginger hair, same soft rounded features. The resemblance is uncanny, save for the eyes. The woman is much older than Eleanor.

   I look up to meet Eleanor's eyes, but she's already fixing the loosened cloth around her eyes.
   
  “Did you come for this?“ I ask, wiping down the dirty portrait.

“What?“

“Oh,” I breathe out, placing the picture on the mantle. I can't see her eyes, but I immediately get the feeling she's looking at me. I want to ask about the woman in the portrait, but I don't. It was too early for questions, and I was already worn out from everything I did earlier.

“I should get back to my room.” She says with an awkwardly raised hand before turning around and disappearing down the hall.

I walk back into my room, shut the door, and fall into bed. It's harder than I was used to. Good, I didn't want to be around anything I was used to. Hawthorn Manor is a new start for me. I did not plan to move on, I don't want to grieve anymore. I didn't plan on living here forever, I just hoped the bustling city noise would be loud enough to numb out the intrusive thoughts that kept me trapped in the dark.

  I fell asleep trying not to think of my parents. My thoughts would wander from the things I would do in Cadon to wondering what Jonathan was doing back at the Minerva house. I skipped dinner, but I'm sure someone came knocking at some point, calling me down for dinner, to which I mumbled “Not hungry”. I probably shouldn't have done that because when hunger came knocking, it was darker than black, and not a single sound could be heard.