Brahms Heelshire - Lamb to the slaughter

Part Fifteen - Refinary

Brahms leaves a few more kisses before huffing slightly and buries his face into my shoulder. He mumbles something before turning his head on its side to look up at me. "What was that, Brahms? I couldn't hear you."

"I'm sorry. My other Mummy... never allowed me to help her."

Brahms turns his face back towards my shoulder and presses his forehead into it. I begin running my fingers through his hair, humming slightly. In a house such as this, with a family as rich as the Heelshires undoubtedly are, it would be normal that they would not have taught Brahms such things as cleaning up after himself. After all, they could just pay someone to do it for them.

But Mr and Mrs Heelshire aren't here, and they would want me to treat him as though he was my own child. There are some things that Brahms needs to learn now that he really should have been taught as a boy. He has to learn somewhere. If his place in the walls is anything to go by, he barely understands why having a clean space is better for him. Especially on his two tables. With all those pins lying around, it's a surprise he doesn't have a bunch of small injuries from being pricked.

"Do you think you would want to help me around? I wouldn't mind a second pair of hands, you know." His head shifts slightly in a nod and a small grunt. I smile to myself. "I wouldn't mind some more kisses, if you're still offering them."

That small spark of eagerness from a few minutes ago comes back and I can feel his warm breath on my skin again. It's pleasant. I'd enjoy being here all day, as long as it's only Brahms' lap I'm in and only Brahms' kisses I'm getting. This is such a strange way of thinking. I only met him a few days ago and we're in this position. What a world this is.

But it doesn't last long before the vinyl ends and it brings out a sigh from both of us. I pull myself out of his lap and start sorting out another one before the sight of something moving outside the window catches my attention. Malcom is back. Asking him to go shopping for me must have been longer than I realised. "Brahms, go hide. We have a visitor."

He flashes out of the chair and in through the whole in the wall as the sound of knocking comes from the front door. It must only have been about two hours at most, but it feels a lot shorter of a time period. I make my way back towards the front door to let him in.

Malcom stands within the doorway for the second time today,once again with his hands full of bags. I stand aside, allowing him to enter. He wanders into the living area, placing the multiple bags within his hands within the chair that Brahms and I were sitting in just a minute ago. "So why is it that you wanted me to buy so many articles of clothing that are clearly not your size?"

 It takes me a few seconds to decide on what to say. "Mr Heelshire asked me to, but he didn't really go into details. I think he's adopting a new son that he doesn't have to carry around; One that actually ages. Maybe he just wants both himself and Mrs Heelshire to move on."

Malcom looks to me for a split second before shrugging and letting out a quiet hum in agreement. "We can only imagine... See you next week, then. Same day, same time?"

I agree and see him to the door. Even though it was a brief visit, the question seemed off. I really should have thought of a better excuse while he was gone. But it's too late now to tell him something different. There are other things to do that don't involve him. Picking up the bags that were left behind, I call out to Brahms.

"Come on out, now. I've got something for you."

The door slowly swings back open. A familiar masked face peeks out from behind it and looks down at what has been brought, curiosity practically radiationg off of him. I remove the bags from the chair and place them upon the table, allowing myself to sit down as he dodges around the furniture to make his way over. With each new article of clothing Brahms pulls out and tries on, he earns an adoring coo from me. All of them fit him perfectly, even if some just barely.

The thought of Malcom comes up while Brahms is placing all of the clothes back inside their bags. There's something about him that unnerves me; I don't know what it is. It's almost like he knows something that no one else does. I encourage Brahms to take his new clothes to his room. He nods and makes his way back.

Now that I think about it, Malcom does seem almost desperate for me to know about what has happened in Brahms' past. But would such a guilty person be as calm as the way Brahms has been acting? I believe Malcom may have more to do with Brahms than he is letting on. He has to be, right? He almost sounds like a guilty person who is trying to act calm while setting up someone else.

But what could Malcom have done? What has he set Brahms up with?

I should try and get something out of him when he next comes to visit. Brahms is back, pushing the wall-door closed once again, but he doesn't come back to me. He begins searching through the vinyls once again, pulling out multiple and setting them where the bags were just a few minutes ago.

He pulls out one last vinyl before pulling out of its casing and setting it up, practically tossing  the casing next to the small pile he has picked out.