dollhouse [brahms heelshire]

9

CNC smut ahead (consensual non consensual) read at your own risk ⚠️

A cold drift flows throughout the room, waking you up with a shiver crawling down your spine. You rub your bare legs together, reaching down to try and blindly grab the blanket.

"Y/N," a gargled, wet voice came from the opposite side of the room.

Goosebumps rise on your skin as you weakly lifted yourself up, your hands sinking into the mattress. This is Brahms room. But he isn't here.

It's just you, and Fletcher, who's tied to a wooden chair with his hands behind his back. His nose is crooked, obviously broken, and his eyes are nearly swollen shut. There's blood on his shirt, leaking from his nose and mouth. He looked like shit.

It doesn't take long for you to process what happened. You're already swinging your legs over the bed and trying to stand.

Trying.

You trip over your bound feet, holding onto the table nearby for support. There's a rope constricting your ankles together, loose enough to where you could stand, but couldn't walk.

"Fletcher." You say. You hadn't noticed his tied wrists until now. You bend down, attempting to untie the knot with shaking fingers.

Brahms had never made any sort of cruel motive before. This was unlike the man you knew. Sure, he threatened to kill Fletcher before, but this was too far for your brain to comprehend. How could he do something like this? When you finally let go of those worries and submit yourself to him?

The knot is too tight. You're pulling at the ropes and getting frustrated with what little knowledge you had. Clearly, you should have trusted your gut and booked a ticket out of here the first time you felt something was wrong.

Now Fletcher was on the brink of death, and you were scared out of your mind. What did Brahms plan to do with you?

"Fletcher, try to get your hands out of those ropes. You aren't even trying to escape." You say through gritted teeth.

He releases a shallow sigh. "I've been trying for hours."

You paused, lifting your head to look at his drained expression. You didn't know how long you were asleep for, or how you fell asleep.

It was possible Brahms knocked you out. Or maybe you fainted from shock?

You get on your hands and knees, thinking that since your hands were free, you could just untie the binds on Fletcher, then the both of you could escape. Brahms must be preoccupied with something, which was strange considering he had two victims right here. One with the willingness to escape.

"Y/N." Fletcher breathes.

You ignore him. You should be mad at him. You should leave him here. Didn't he try to assault you?

What will I tell the police when they ask why I left him behind?

"Y/N."

"Shut up. You're lucky I'm saving you." You growled.

A hand grabs your behind by the fabric of your dress, pulling you back and off the ground. Startled, you flail a little and inhale sharply. Opening your mouth to protest until his hand grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks to give you a deterrent glare.

You grab his wrist, your nails digging into his skin. Eyes widening with fear, because you can't tell what he'll do next with his face hidden with that mask.

When he let you go, one hand still grasping your back with tenacity, he straightened his posture to look in Fletchers direction.

He brutally beat that man unconscious. Until he was spitting and choking on blood. With only a few hits with his bare hands. It was certain that Brahms was stronger than you originally had thought.