The Bride of Brahms

Chapter 11

"We'd rather be six feet under than be lonely" -Granite, Sleep Token

Days had passed since I last saw Brahms.

At first I was on edge, spending the morning and afternoon after that night looking around every corner in case he were to suddenly appear. I breathed a sigh of relief as I reached my bedroom door at night time and found an empty bedroom, but it was quickly replaced by the dull ache of disappointment. What the hell has gotten into me – did I want someone who tried to kill me in my room??

The second day had come and the dull ache had only grown stronger. I was now looking around the corners in anticipation, which didn't help the growing disappointment when he wasn't there. Any minor creak in the house I would whirl around and call out his name, only to be greeted by deafening silence. That night I realized something as I sat up in my room waiting for him again:

I missed him. I really missed Brahms

I cried myself to sleep again that night, feeling so pathetic. Why the hell am I seeking the affections of someone who tried to hurt me? He treated me like I was subhuman, a mere plaything. He almost assaulted and killed me the last I saw him. So why wasn't I running away? Why was I lingering here and calling out to the killer in the walls? When I couldn't answer those questions, another urgent one began to burn in my mind: Why won't he answer me?

I went as far as to pound against the walls of the study on the third day without him, the place where he first emerged, desperately looking for an entry point into where he was hiding all while hating myself for how I felt. He stole my dignity, my sanity, and even my heart. He left me nothing but a shell of my former self. Tears blurred my vision as I tried to get passed those walls, clawing until I split and cracked my nails bloody, screaming his name but he shut me out completely. Accepting my attempts were futile, and I sank against the wall with another horrible realization: I was nothing to him.

The fourth day I was drained of all emotion, wandering the house like a zombie with a porcelain doll clutched to my chest. I stuck to the 'routine' as it was the only consistent comfort I had at this point. I guess I underestimated how much I relied on human engagement to keep me sane, even if it was with someone who was insane, and I was starting to lose my grip. The man that I considered my lover and abuser was the only person I had been in consistent contact with, and now he had abandoned me.

On the fifth day Malcolm showed up, carrying the post.

I scrambled to the front door upon hearing the bell ring, and a wave of relief swept over me once I was greeted by a familiar, normal human face.
"Hey there, Cora." He began, nervously shuffling the mail in his hands. "I really want to apologize for how I acted the other day. It wasn't fair to you, and it's just still a bit sensitive subject for me. If you want, we can...woah, hey, are you alright?

In the middle of his rant Malcolm finally looked up and saw my face streaked with tears. I crumpled at his question, my knees buckling from the weight of my emotion and Malcolm caught me in his arms.
"Shh, its alright" Malcolm's voice was soothing and I only cried harder. He let me cry it out and just held me, gently stroking my hair as I soaked his shirt in tears and snot. Once I gathered myself, I steadied my balance and pulled away, wiping my eyes and giving him an apologetic look. "I'm so sorry, I'm...I'm going through a lot right now, and I've just been so lonely..." I stopped myself to avoid another torrent of tears, and Malcolm gently took both my shoulders to look directly into my eyes.

"You have nothing to apologize for." He said, his eyes crinkling with a small smile of reassurance. His look then shifted to be more serious. "Being in this house all by yourself isn't good for your health. You need to get out for some air. Come – I'll take you into town, we'll grab some coffee. And I won't take no for an answer."