𝙎𝙩𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙞𝙚 || 𝑩𝒓𝒂𝒉𝒎𝒔 𝑯𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒆 × 𝑭!𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

006 | Persuation

Y/N's POV:

As you woke up, you screamed as your last memory was being restrained by a strange man you had never seen before, until you realised you had. The man you saw—brown hair, a mask—was the man you dreamed of cuddling. That was the moment you realised that hadn't been a dream and that a stranger had actually been cuddling you in your sleep without you knowing.

You looked around you in fear, wondering where the man had taken you and where he was. You noticed rather quickly that you were lying in your bed in a bedroom that somehow wasn't a mess. And Gregory lay beside you. You took him in your arms immediately when you saw him and held him tightly, making it impossible for him to be taken by anyone else again.

You were still confused, though. You didn't believe you had made it up; too much had happened for you to be able to rationally tell yourself everything had simply been a dream. Yet your room was clean, and your clothes were neatly folded into your closet and cupboard. The only thing that told you that you hadn't made it up was the broken chair in the corner of your room, which had been glued together again; you were able to see the original break. 

You carefully walked outside of your room with Gregory in your hand to see if the man had disappeared as you looked around; not only had your bedroom been cleaned, but the rest of the house looked as if it had never been touched either. Even the doll you had to care for sat sweetly in his reading chair in the living room as you took a look.

The moment you saw the doll, however, you froze again. The porcelain skin of the doll reminded you of the mask of the man that took hold of you as if they were the same person. Could that have been Brahms? It couldn't be; he had died in the fire. Who were you to know that, though? You hadn't actually been there, seen the fire, or found the lifeless body of poor Brahms; you had no proof that he had actually died.

You didn't know what to do. You were in the middle of nowhere; you knew no one, and you had no possibility of leaving. Would you call the police? It's not like they helped you last time; they actually worsened your situation when you needed them the most. Instead of helping you, they worked against you; they allowed what those men did; they blamed you for wearing lingerie in your own home. You couldn't trust the police; they'd probably tell you you made everything up.

Brahms's POV:

My approach didn't work as I had expected, which meant I had to find a different way to make her like me and want to see me. Even though she didn't allow me to touch her, the moment I took hold of her to calm her down so I could start over was magical. She smelled amazing, her skin was as soft as it seemed, and she seemed so helpless in my arms—as if I were the only one who could take care of her, the only one who could keep her safe.

When she fainted, I put her back in her bed with Gregory in her arms. I found it terribly annoying how difficult she had to make it for me, but something about her way of acting made her even more desirable to me than she already was. So much complaining I couldn't do either.

She had to be out for at least a couple of hours, not only because of the chloroform but also because she completely drained herself with the panic attack she caused. At least I had enough time to clean the whole house and fix any furniture she had accidentally broken; hopefully, she could recognise my kindness from it. I even made her her favourite sandwich.

Once she saw my doll, she realised it must've been me, especially when she saw the sandwich I made for her after she read the note I left her. She didn't say anything for a while, not knowing what to do or how to react, but rather quickly I heard her whisper again: ''You're being kind to me; you don't want to hurt me?'' I didn't answer.

''Brahms? I know that was you. Did you try to calm me down? Was that it?'' She carefully spoke again, not knowing where to look. Again, I didn't respond. I had to be careful with her. ''Can you show yourself to me? Please? I promise I won't hurt you; you didn't hurt me either,'' She now stated louder. ''I'd rather see you than not; it's nerve-wracking not knowing where you are. I'd find it very kind of you if you'd show yourself.''

The more she asked, if not begged, the more she seemed to get confident in her wish and decision to want to see me, so I gave in. I kept my distance, standing in the hallway as she stood in the kitchen. She herself could decide if she wanted to get closer to me or not.

The moment she saw me, she was silent again; her eyes seemed like they would fall out of her sockets. ''You didn't die in the fire? Did your parents know?'' I slowly nodded to her question, refraining from vocally answering. ''Then why do they have that doll?'' ''They didn't want me anymore; I wasn't perfect anymore,'' I said, watching her reaction to my voice; it seemed to disturb her slightly, which may be because my voice doesn't match my appearance. 

''I'm sure that isn't true, maybe you misunderstood them.'' I didn't like her saying that. She didn't know who I was, she hardly knew my parents. That was rude of her, I wanted to make her regret that, but I couldn't do that, she'd run away like my mother did, dragging my father along. So I turned around before disappearing into my walls again, watching her continue her day, or at least watch her try to do so.

She kept murmuring my name, though, wanting to see me again. She told me she didn't like not knowing where I was, so that was my punishment for her. If I couldn't hurt her physically, I'd hurt her mentally. Not for long, though. I was able to get close to her, and I wasn't going to refrain from getting closer as the days passed.