Not His Doll

Chapter 10

| 1991 |

The putrid smell of ammonia grew overwhelming as it forced tears to her eyes. Nearly suffocating the dress to her nostrils, she cringed.
"What is that horrendous odor?!"

"Your old friends."

Brahms opened the closet door. The odor was less of decay, and rather the smell of urine and feces.
One body layed stacked on the other, their fluids fused into one.

"They smell like shit." She mumbled through the fabric.

"Yes, common after death."

"I don't understand.." She folded her arms, leaning against the door frame.
"What are we doing here?"

"Like I said..." Brahms stepped inside, and around their bodies.
"We have work to do. Now, grab an end."

"You're kidding?"

"No."

"You are SICK if you think I'm touching a corpse, a leaking one at that matter." She scoffed.

"They will only continue to bloat. We need to move them sooner than later." He sighed, lifting the first body.
"So, be quiet and grab an end."

"No." She mimicked.

"No?" Brahms dropped the body, it's moist flesh thwacking onto the hard floor.
"Remind me dear, who brought them here to begin with?" He cocked his head, his thick accent laced with venom.

"Right because I knew that by running here, my good pal Brahms would knock them dead. Get over yourself, I'm not helping you."

Brahms huffed, his throat humming in annoyance.
"You are just as responsible as I for their deaths," he spat.
"So I'll say it once more. Shut up, and grab an end!"

"...Fine." She exhaled, biting her lip.

Grabbing the first man by the feet she looked to Brahms. Nodding to her they both lifted the body.

- C R U N C H -

"Dear God.." She gagged nearly throwing up the little contents in her stomach.

He was stiff as a board, and his ankles cold and hardened against her touch.
Although his face was far too caved in to recognize his features, she could sense his eyes burning into her. His hollow sockets taunted her own, reminding her that she could follow his fate.
She forced her vision anywhere else but the mangled mass she carried.

With great effort and an upset stomach; the two carried each corpse through the house and to the back door.

Brahms dropped his hold on the body, forcing Y/n to halt as she nearly tripped over it. Dropping the corpse herself she groaned in disgust, wiping the palms of her hands against her dress.

"What now?" She asked.

"Go back upstairs." He demanded, taking a key from his pocket.
The chained door rattled as he slid the key inside.

"Why? Do you think I'm going to make a run for it?"

"Yes, I do." The lock unclasped as he turned the key.
His eyes threatened her own.
"Now go."