Brahms Heelshire

Chapter Two

I didn't sleep. I mean how could I? It was silent the entire night, I felt his eyes on me though. Not the whole time but sometimes I just knew he was watching me. I didn't try to untie myself, he tied the rope in a very strange way, which I already knew I couldn't get out of. But it would be stupid of me to untie myself regardless; What would I do, run? He would catch me before my feet touched the floor.

I never heard Malcolm wake either. He must be dead. I can't get myself to cry about it, I didn't know Malcolm that well. We only knew each other for a month, he didn't have to die for me.

It must be day now, the atmosphere feels lighter around me. I feel his eyes on me. I wonder what he'll do to me. Will he finally kill me? He certainly won't let me go. Not after everything.

I then see something move out the corner of my eye. I know its Brahms, I don't bother moving. He has something in his hands. Please don't kill me. He gets closer and closer until he stops when hes right beside the bed. I still don't move. I continue staring ahead at the wooden stairs a few feet away from the bed.

Something is moved in front of me causing me to flinch, I look down to a tray. There's a sandwich and a glass of water placed on it. I wonder if he poisoned it. No, that would be stupid. If he wanted me dead then I'd be dead. He sits the tray on my lap and I stare at it. What if he really did poison it?

"Eat." This startles me and I jump at his voice. It's not the childish one. This is his normal voice. Deep and raspy. I look up at him, he is still wearing that mask. His clothes are changed, now he has on a green long sleeve and jeans. He stares back at me, hard.

"Eat." He repeats himself in a more stern tone.

I look back at my food and glance at him once more before picking up the sandwich and taking a bite out of it. As I'm chewing, I look over at Brahms as he looks down at me.

When I take a second bite of the sandwich he then turns and begins walking away. I want to say something, or ask something but I don't know what to say. So I continue to eat as he leaves the room.

~~~

One week. It's been 7 days of me tied to this bed. He lets me go to the restroom, and let me shower once and he stood outside of the door, I guess to make sure I didn't try and escape. He isn't letting his guard down anytime soon. He rarely speaks to me and when he does its only one word.

Is this going to be my life? Maybe I'm being dramatic, but it doesn't make sense. Him keeping me alive to hold me hostage and do nothing with me but give me food. Maybe he doesn't want to be alone.

2. Never leave Brahms alone.

It's still confusing. If he really doesn't want to be alone then why stay away from me all day? I know he watches me frequently but I'm still not keeping him company, I'm not doing anything for him. All I do is sit. Sit and stare. Sometimes cry.

I then see him out of the corner of my eye. Lunch. He fixes the same thing everyday:

 Breakfast: sandwich.

Lunch: Noodles.

Dinner: Salad.

Brahms sets the tray down on my lap. It annoys me. How can he expect me to be completely okay with this?  It's only been a week but it feels like forever. Just sitting in this room, hiding in the walls. Nobody has came looking for any of us. Cole's family doesn't care about him, I don't blame them. My family doesn't like me either but Malcolm..I thought maybe he had a family. Parents, siblings, friends. But---

"Eat." He sits at the edge of the bed and stares at me. Waiting for me to eat. I don't want this. Living in the walls of a mansion with a masked man who murdered two people in front of me. So, then, I knock the tray onto the floor. Maybe it's stupid, but I did it anyways. As soon as I did Brahms stood. I don't dare to look up at him.

Next thing I know, I'm pulled up by my left arm. It happens so fast I can barely register it.

"What do you think you're doing?" He holds me close to him, his grip on my upper arm is tight. His voice is low and shaky, and I can feel the anger radiating off of him.

"Answer me when I speak to you."

His breathing gets heavier, he's acting as if he will break any second. My heart starts beating fast. It was definitely a dumb idea to throw my food on the floor. His grip on my arm is starting to hurt. He could kill me at any moment. The way his voice sounds makes me scared of him. A certain calmness but you could almost hear the anger trying to spew out.

"I'm not hungry." I look at the bed. I'm too scared of him right now to look him in the eyes. His grip gets even tighter, if possible, it hurts me to the point where I let out a whine and try pull myself away. He said he wouldn't hurt me. I threw the food he made for me onto the floor, I didn't expect him to be calm about it. Of course he would get angry.

My cry, though, makes Brahms let go. And as he did, I feel his finger under my chin. He lifts my head and forces me to look at him. I try to steady my breaths but they quicken. I'm terrified. Why did I do something so stupid?

"It's not my intention to hurt you, I never plan to cause you any sort of pain. But you have to behave. Understand?" His voice is so low, and this is the most he's ever said to me. He speaks in a very demanding tone and I can tell he is very serious and isn't going to tolerate my dumb behavior.

All I do is nod. He then brings his other hand up to my face and traces the side of my cheek lightly with the back of his index finger. In this very moment, I don't feel scared. I should be, but I'm not. Even though he had just hurt me seconds ago, he's being gentle. He's a murderer.

"Sit." He removes his hands from my face and steps back. I simply sit down on the bed and stare up at him. He bends down and starts cleaning up the mess I made.

"You tossed your meal onto the floor. I won't feed you until tomorrow at lunchtime." I don't expect anything less. It doesn't bother me at all.

As soon as he cleans the mess, he leaves without uttering another word.

Maybe if I do it again, I could get him to talk to me.