The Necronomicon

Chapter Thirty Six

Eleanor had known that Frederick was not to be trusted. And now it had come to her ears that her step-daughter, her beautiful step-daughter, was... was...

Dead.

Lying headfirst in a ditch. How had she died? How? How could this have happened?

She was under Frederick's care. She knew that she shouldn't have —

Meredith. Meredith. Meredith. Where was she now? Had her body been retrieved? Was she still there, decomposing, her flesh mingling with the dirt, perhaps peeling off in thin strips —

"Eleanor."

She turned around. Her bun was messy — unusual for her — but she knew her visitor would not care. After all, Audrey had been her closest friend for years.

Perhaps friend was the wrong word.

Eleanor laid her head on Audrey's shoulder, and Audrey's fingers began to thread through her hair soothingly. "Eleanor, you mustn't fret. We'll talk to Frederick about this as soon as we can."

"We can now! We just need to ride up to the rebel camp —"

"You need to rest," Audrey said, pulling Eleanor closer. "You're stressed, and you're mourning, and you're tired. Sleep is calling your name, my love."

"I wish we could stay like this forever," Eleanor replied, leaning a little closer, her hair tickling Audrey's neck.

"Me too."

"When all The Elders are finally gone —" Eleanor began, and Audrey pulled away to readjust her position.

"Then we can be like this. Forever." Audrey kissed Eleanor's cheek warmly, and Eleanor sighed against her chest.

The curtains on the open window fluttered — there was a soft breeze. The cold made Eleanor shiver, and Audrey instantly stood to pull the curtains shut, not bothering to latch the window closed. "I have nothing to live for but you now, Audrey." Eleanor said.

"I've always lived for you."

Eleanor sat up. "That's not true. You live for writing, for the truth, for the revolution."

"And you." Audrey kissed her again. "I wish I could marry you right now. At this exact instance. It would take your mind off of Meredith..." She sighed. "I would marry you right now, but the weddings aren't properly set up yet, the revolution's —"

"Audrey." Eleanor drew closer to her. "You are — just — so perfect. So good to me. I'm here, crying over my step-daughter, and you're here, comforting me, helping me. Loving me. With all of you. Your mind, your body, your heart, your soul. You give it all to me, willingly, yet you don't see your perfection."

Audrey lay down, pulling Eleanor down with her. "Get into bed; you're freezing."

"Warm me, then."

"Happy to." Audrey's arms encased Eleanor in a warm embrace; Eleanor rested her head on Audrey's shoulder. The duvet they lay under cloaked them: warmth flooded through Eleanor's veins. "I love holding you." Audrey told her.

"Your arms are my favourite place. They're my home." Eleanor responded, her eyes closing of their own accord.

Audrey bent lower and kissed the top of Eleanor's head. "Sleep, my love, sleep."

And Eleanor did.

Audrey, however, lay awake. She was holding the world in her arms — her world.

She didn't want to leave. But she had to. She had to find Meredith's body, or find Frederick, discover how she died. For Eleanor. So Eleanor didn't have to worry about it.

Audrey wanted to see Eleanor happy — completely, truly happy. And to see that carefree smile appear on Eleanor's face, Audrey needed to do this.

And marry her.

Eleanor had sacrificed so much for her. She'd taken Elder Hawthorne as her husband, slept in his bed every night, let his scrabbly fingernails touch her innocent skin... Audrey needed to do something, too. To show Eleanor how much she meant to her — in Eleanor's mind, all she said was empty words... but she meant them. Eleanor just — didn't know that.

She needed to act. To — to prove. Eleanor was everything to her. Absolutely everything.

Audrey pressed her lips against Eleanor's ear gently, who turned over slightly in her sleep. "I love you," Audrey murmured into the right side of her face, before standing, leaving Eleanor asleep. She'd write her a note — explaining why she was gone.

My dearest Eleanor,

I do not mean to leave you alone, my love. I wish I could wake up holding you close to my chest, close to my heart, where you belong. It breaks my heart to leave you lying there, not knowing how you'll feel when your eyes open and my lips aren't on yours. But I am going — going to sort things out for you.

You need rest, my darling. Sleep, sleep. And while you do that, I'll be tracking Frederick down. I'll be getting answers for you. How your step-daughter perished. I will find out. And I'll tell you as soon as I do.

Stay here, my love. I'll be quick.

Don't forget that I love you. With all of me. With everything that I am, everything that I embody. Eleanor Hawthorne, Eleanor Heartfeld, my Eleanor, always. It's always been you.

I will find out. I will. I will. I will.

Yours forever, for eternity,

Audrey

She looked at Eleanor's peaceful, sleeping face, and blew her a kiss. "Goodbye, Eleanor." She whispered, before leaving, shutting the door behind her as quietly as possible.

As she walked down the street, she saw a wedding opening up before her - Eleanor walking towards her, down the aisle, clutching delicate blooms in her worn hands, a smile lifting her face.

Audrey sighed. Soon.

Hours later, Eleanor awoke, her hair messy and tangled. "Audrey..." She muttered, her arms reaching for her love. She opened her eyes.

Audrey was gone.

There was a note on the bedside table, in her handwriting. It was a little crumpled, a little creased, but legible. She read it, quickly, her eyes tearing up. Audrey was... gone. For her. For her? Audrey. Audrey.

Meredith. Dead. Frederick —

You need rest, my darling. Sleep, sleep. Audrey was right — her mind was scrambled. She needed to catch up on lost slumber — Audrey was...

When Audrey returned, she could finally be content. Her true love, her one and only, would be back — and with information. Eleanor sighed into the pillow. Couldn't Audrey have stayed until morning?

Because here Eleanor was, crying into her bedsheets, wishing for someone who she'd never really been able to have. Wishing for a woman, who loved her, but couldn't stay.

Here she was, sobbing. Alone.

Again.