I'll Be Good, I Will (Brahms Heelshire × Reader)

2

First Person P.O.V - (Y/N)
(Edit: Every paragraph is begun with a ¶ symbol, and any chapter without the symbol they usually begin with a -. I am updating these slowly but surely.)
Word count: 4494

¶  I woke up with a whole new outfit sitting on the chair next to my bed, and my old outfit gone. I had taken a swift look around, my paranoia giving me a rude awakening before I inevitably calmed down, and I dropped my legs off the edge of the bed. Once again, my hands reached up for my face in attempts to remove the stress from it; and hopefully release pressure off my sinuses. I couldn't breathe through my nose and my head was crushing into itself. I've caught a cold, but at least now there was heat radiating in the room. The longer I was in this place, the more it was coming to life, and I'm assuming from a paranormal stand point, it's been feasting off of my life to do so.
¶  I stood up, my.head swimming upward like their was a huge bowl of water in my cranium, thick and sloppy like blood and slime. I hated the feeling, and I stepped forward, looking down at the clothes before me. Atop, sat yet another note. It was the rules, plus a schedule, rewritten in cursive handwriting and on fresher paper.

1. No guests(No boyfriends)
2. Never leave Brahms alone
3. Save meals in freezer
4. Never cover Brahms face
5. Read a bedtime story
6. Play music loud
8. Only Winona brings deliveries
9. Brahms is never to leave
10. Kiss goodnight
11. Give Brahms new clothes every day
12. Never go in the attic
13. Help with studies(3 hours a day)

Dress Brahms in new clothes. Take him to breakfast. After breakfast go to the music room and study piano, study books in the library
(Keep in mind I haven't seen the movie since it came out and I cannot for the life of me find out what Brahms used to study and all I recall is piano)

¶  Oh, so the doll has got me on a schedule now? I really got my ass dragged into spot this time around. I'm not only playing maid, I'm playing parent. I should be upset, but I'm more irritated by my cold than anything, and to be fair I don't really mind playing house with a dead kid, or whatever it is. Like I've mentioned to myself before, I'm not afraid of what's in here as much as I'm afraid of what's out there. Most people are afraid of the unknown, but everyone can always forget what they don't know. I'm afraid of what I know, and everything I know is going to kill me.. I already know how they want to kill me.
¶  I slowly strip myself of clothes and I replace them with the far comfier clothes that were just the littlest bit too big for me. It was cozy, and it felt like a warm hug. After forcing myself to sniff, it smelled just like the previous outfit, dusty and recently cleaned. It was an off scent, and it was weird how it mixed together. If I could explain it in any other way, I'd explain it as a glorified cleaning rag that has been used at least once on the beneath of a old stove and nothing else, and then scented with roses.. Too bad I couldn't smell it much though, my nostrils flaring up and once again being overcome with the disgust of illness.
¶  I walk into the bathroom, reaching for the toilet paper to the side of the toilet and I wrap it around my hand. I remove it from around my palm and then I blow into it deep, attempting to remove everything in me, but by the time I finished blowing my nose as hard as I could, my nose was nearly raw and the backs of my sinuses were so swollen that regardless of being empty, I still couldn't breathe through them. I tossed it in the trash, and I looked myself in the mirror.. I was a mess.
¶  I reached my hands forward, finally getting a look at the dried blood on my knuckles, and I grimaced. I couldn't remember what came of my hands; was it me fighting for my life or was it me trying to bust down the door of the room they put me in? Either way, finally acknowledging it made my hands sting.
¶  I twist the faucet's handles and the water pours out like a tsunami, catching me almost off guard. I wash my hands, deep cleaning the dirt out from under my nails and off of my finger tips. Once my hands are beginning to rash up due to the heat of the water and my intense scrubbing, I bring the water to my face. I rub my cheeks in, the dirt mudding up the clear water and turning it into a light brown as it seeps into the pipes. Eventually, I'm clean, or as clean as I can be. I could try to take a shower later, after I am done taking care of.. Brahms.
¶  I could feel my body begin to tense, and I felt like I was on a clock, time ticking by me so fast that I believed the arms of the mechanisms were going to hit me with the sound. So, I shake my hands above the sink and turn off the water. I make my movements quick as I leave the bedroom and walk through the hallway, recalling where his room is.
¶  I stepped through his door a little quicker than I intended, and I paused when I spotted the doll sitting upright facing the door. I clear my throat, walking forward slowly and spotting the folded clothes sitting beside him.
¶ "Alright, I'm here.." I crouch down in front of him, taking off his doll pants and hoping to get this over with as soon as possible.
¶  The transition from unclothed was surprisingly easy, yet when he was free of outfit I realized that his face was the only thing that was dirty, as his body was completely spotless. The feeling I got was eerie, staring at his cracked face and dissatisfied eyes. I bit the inside of my cheek.
¶ "How about we clean you up a little bit before I get you in those clean clothes? You look like you need a wash." I say, picking him up and carrying him to the bathroom. The walls shivered as I waltzed in, and I could feel a pair of eyes staring daggers into my body as I set the doll on the sink's counter. "Don't worry, I'm not soaking you in the bath or anything.. You're a doll. You'll get moldy."
¶  I get a small clump of toilet paper and I soak it up in my hands, using the faucet water. It wrapped around my fingers in an instant, and I clumped it up in a tight fist, droplets seeping through my fingers. I cup the face of the doll, and I can feel a sense of inquisitive curiosity coming from it. I can't tell if I was putting emotions into the doll myself or if I was just reading the vibe right.. Either way, I was wiping the specks off the side of his face. I press my lips together tightly before I have to gasp for air again, being unable to breathe.
¶ "Sorry for breathing on your face buddy. I've caught a cold." I speak out, mainly to mute the complete quiet as it was bringing my nerves tension. "It was all that walking outside that I did before I got here.. The cold in here. Probably the dust. My face hurts real bad. You know what it's like to have a cold at all?... I reckon you don't. Lucky you."
¶  I pause in the silence as I focus on the indent on his forehead, cleaning out the crevices of it. I lean my head back to get a full picture of his face and I can already tell where I made progress. It stood out like a sore thumb.. Speaking of thumbs, I press my thumbs against his face, both sides of his nose.
¶ "My face hurts right in those spots." I explain, then I cup the top of his head with both of my hands. "I've got a headache too.. It feels like a bunch of pressure, in my face, the headache is on the inside." I go back to cleaning his face, wiping off the corner of his mouth. "We oughta dust the house later? Maybe keep me from getting any sicker.. Probably keep you from getting sick too, huh?"
¶  My laugh feels awkward and fake, especially as my smile drops so quickly and I go silent.. How is it that I feel so alone now? It feels like I'm being chased constantly, and I'm never alone, my paranoia riding up my spine and causing my hair to stand to point. But now that I've had time to calm down, to sit back and really think things through, I've never been more alone in my life..
¶ "Y'know, I've done dumb things before." I speak back up again, venting my issues to.. Whatever this thing is. "Recently I've done something so dumb, though. So dumb that I can't fix what I did.. My family doesn't like me anymore, wants nothing to do with me, and I've got bad people who want me six feet under.. I dream about them, all the time. I dream about my parents, the people I used to live with, people who used to be my friends.. To be completely honest, what I did was an accident. But accidents can make really bad things happen. I could say that this is a good lesson in my life, pretend that this is just going to teach me to think before I act. There are consequences to your actions, y'know. Bad things can happen when you do bad things."
¶ Little did I know, the doll knew all too well about that. But there wasn't a response, just me. Talking.
¶ "I feel like I'm losing my mind." I stop cleaning and I drop my head into the lap of the unclad toy, the weight in my skull rolling around my cranium and falling with the gravity. My head was so heavy. "I don't know what to do Brahms.. I don't."
¶  I stood like that for a minute at least, the silence overcoming the room. The only noise that occured was the dripping of the faucet.. Eventually I move, lifting my head and wiping off the rest of his face. I pick him up quietly and take him back to the bed, and sit him down.
¶ "Alright, time to get you dressed."