Brahms Heelshire

Chapter One

"Malcolm I am not leaving you!" I sat near an opening trying to get it open, trying to get Malcolm to give up and crawl to where I was at. Brahms will kill him, just like he did Cole.

"Em, it's okay just get the door open. I'll hold him off."

"MALCOLM, PLEASE WE NEED TO GO!" Why won't he just come with me? Why wont this door open? I gave away our spot if Brahms didn't already know where we were, but Malcolm couldn't die for me. We could make it out if he would help me--

Thump.

Oh no. He found us.

"Malcolm please, I-I cant get the door open you-you need to help me hurry!"

It doesn't matter. I see the look on Malcolm's face, Brahms found us. This is all my fault. I shouldn't have asked the doll Brahms for help, it was the real man Brahms that I was really asking unintentionally.

"COME ON!" it was Malcolm. How did he think he could fight Brahms? Does he not see the strength that man has? When he killed Cole or when he so easily punched through the walls or broke down the doors to get to us?

"MALCOLM NO!"

It all happened so fast. One second Malcolm was standing there ready to defend himself, and the next, he was thrown to the ground with Brahms on top of him. I watched in shock and horror as Brahms repeatedly slammed Malcolm's head onto the ground, Malcolm slowly getting more quiet with each hit.

No. No, no, no. Not Malcolm. Please, not Malcolm.

"Emersyn?" Childish voice. It was him, Brahms. He was crouched down and looking at me with his head tilted to the side.

I'm next. Hes going to kill me.

"No, please don't kill me. I-I--" I was cut off by my own sobbing. I'm scared of what he'll do to me. I'm scared of dying. I know he's going to kill me.

I didn't even notice that he had started crawling through the small space that I had to get to the small door.

"NO, NO!" I need to get out. Why wont this door budge?  All this hitting on it isn't doing anything.

I take a glance back to see how much time I have left to get the door open but I'm too late. Here he is, crouched right in front of me. I suddenly stop crying. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do. I stare into his eyes and watch as he looks over my whole face. I realize that my heavy breaths aren't the only ones in this passage way, he's also breathing heavy. He moves his hand and I flinch. Hard. Is he going to hit me? I don't feel pain. He put his hand on my cheek. Then his thumb glides across my cheekbone. He is..wiping away my tears? His breathing becomes heavier and he stops moving his thumb. His hand starts to shake, it almost seems as though he's trying to keep himself together.

"Brahms?" My voice is quiet. I don't know how I'm even allowing myself to talk right now. He could snap my neck if he wanted to.

He quickly looks at my eyes. And I stare back, his eyes a fierce hazel. I look for any type of emotion, but there seems to be none.

"Are you going to hurt me?" I'm scared of his answer. He could lash out at me for asking that. Why would I ask such a stupid question?  He easily murdered two men infront of me. 

He removes his hand from my face and shakes his head, no. If he isn't going to hurt me, then what is he going to do?  My question is answered as the shelve we are under gets moved. He shoves it out of the way with ease. Then, before I can react, he has a grip on my arms and I'm pulled to my feet. Then I'm thrown over his shoulder. What is he going to do to me?

"Brahms?" No response. "Brahms, what are you doing?" Still nothing. He continues walking through the walls until we reach the living room. I see Cole's body on the ground. He's surrounded in a pool of his own blood. I shudder at the sight of him.  I can't believe that this happened. Why me? Why us?  I should've stayed home. It was stupid of me to run away. If I had just dealt with Cole's abuse, none of this would've happened. Malcolm could still be alive.

I notice we are back in the walls. Where is he taking me?  Light. I see light. Suddenly, I'm thrown on something soft. It's his room. There's only two lights surrounding us. One by his bed, and one in the middle of the room. I dont move. There is nowhere to run to.

 Brahms then goes through a cabinet and I lay and watch. He pulls out a rope. Is he going to strangle me?

"P-Please don't do this. I-I won't tell anybody. It can-it can be our little secret." I sit up now and scoot to the top of the bed, legs to my chest, attempting to create distance between us. It doesn't matter though, he grabs ahold of my right wrist and yanks me towards him. The rope isn't put around my neck; It's put around my wrist. He is going to keep me alive. His hostage.

Emersyn is all yours. You can have her.

That is what I read in a handwritten letter in here. In the moments of running away I came across that letter, its signed by his mother. But...what does that really mean? This all can't really be..planned? Can it?

He ties the rope tightly around my wrist and ties the other end to the bedpost. With that he gets up and turns around and begins slowly walking away. He is just leaving me here?

"Brahms!?" He keeps walking.

"Brahms, you said you wouldn't hurt me." Maybe I can get inside his head, make him vulnerable. And then I can escape.

He stops walking, and stands there, as if waiting for me to continue.

"T-The rope, Brahms. Its hurting me." I make my voice quiet and almost a whine, so I sound small and weak.

I watch him put his hands in fists for only a few seconds and let his hands go. He turns around and makes his way over to me and crouches down by the bed. I try to steady my breath as best I can so seem as though i'm not scared of him. He brings his hands up to my tied wrist and loosens it just a tad and looks up at me, as if he wanting me to tell him if it is okay.

"That's better." I want to smile, to draw him in. But I can't smile after all of this. "Thank you, Brahms." He stares into my eyes, I look away not knowing what to do. It was the only thing I was able to say. I feel his stare for what seems like forever, and then he gets up and leaves the room.

Everything is starting to make sense now. I was already his the second I took the job of being his 'nanny'. The rules.

3. Save meals in freezer.

It was for him. The food was always gone in the morning. He came and got it every night. All of the giggling and food that would be made for me, it wasn't a little boys spirit..it was Brahms all along. All my things moving around, was all him. The feeling of being watched, I wasn't being watched by the doll, it was him. Brahms was watching me the whole time.

I was his the second I walked through the door.