Inside the wall - Brahms Heelshire x male oc

7

Vincent looks at the foggy mirror, with a swipe of his hand he clears an area of mirror. A towel is wrapped around his waist. He looks at his face in the mirror, reaching out, without looking, for his clothes. His hand touches bare metal instead.

Vincent looks at the towel rack, finding it empty. He turns around and walks to the hallway, his wet feet making sounds on the floor as he walks down the hallway. He opens the door to his room, looking at Brahms who is still in the same place he had left him.

He looks at the drawer, freezing when he sees it open, empty. He walks towards the drawer, looking inside it for a shirt, or anything, but there's nothing left except air.

He looks back at Brahms. "I'll be back, Brahms." He said, walking out of his bedroom into the hallway, stopping when he sees the attic stairs descended. As if waiting for him...

He steps up to the stairs, staring into the darkness of the attic. "I know you're up there! I've called the police!"

Silence.

"You better come down right now, you pervert!" Vincent exclaimed as the wind picks up outside. The windows shake and rattle. The house groans. He looks back at his bedroom door where Brahms is still inside. "Don't go up there. Go into your room with Brahms and lock the door." He said to himself, as if against his will, he takes a step on the first rung. "Don't do this, Vincent." Another step. "Don't take another step..." But he does. "Stop. Call somebody..."

Vincent takes one more step and pauses. Now, if he steps in his tippy-toes he can just see into the attic. He lifts himself up, slowly, just enough to peek into the pitch black attic. "I know you're up there!"

The stairs suddenly rise underneath him. Vincent screams as he's thrown into the attic.

Black is the only colors he can see as his eyes haven't adjusted to the dark yet. The only sound is his own breathing, coming fast and loud.

Then another sound -- something in the hallway below. Soft steps. Like a child -- or a doll -- walking carefully.

His eyes finally adjust and he starts groping in the darkness.

A light from a car outside illuminates the room, making the shadows shift and move. Vincent crawls to one of the small port-like windows. He sees Malcolm walking towards the door, wondering if he should shout for him for help.

But then he thought better of it as he is only in his towel, sitting down on the floor of the attic. Yes, he's stubborn. What of it?

Downstairs, he hears more steps -- this time moving quickly through the house.

Vincent was confused about what was making these noises, Brahms and him are the only ones who are in the manor.

Vincent turns back to the room -- looking for some way to get out of the attic without shouting for Malcolm. He heads towards a dark corner of the room, moving slowly through the sea of boxes and random objects and then runs right into a figure.

Obscured by the darkness. Vincent screams, stumbles back into a stack of boxes, trips and falls, hitting his head.

He doesn't move. Knocked out cold.

𓉞

Light spills through the windows, catching the dust that twists and turns like spirits. The attic is filled with fire-damaged furniture. Blackened wood chairs. A half-burnt painting. A fire-melted lamp.

Vincent stirs, opening his eyes. He reaches a hand up and touches a big bump on his head. He grimaces in pain, sitting up with a groan.