Nisha arrived at that house carrying her own torment.
He met her in the nights where she feared the most, she became his salvation and the torment of those who wanted to harm her
This story is entirely my own.
No adaptations or copying allowed.
W...
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Small warning The chapter contains abuse and violence, not explicitly but I don't want you to feel uncomfortable, so I'll put a warning and at the end of the chapter I'll summarize what happened
Confusion, the bliss that your mind is chaos and doubts could not be answered, the unknown consuming Brahms' senses, the fact that this woman he had killed for, the same one he did not have to run and chain to make hers was still with him, Nisha had not run or even screamed to see him bloodied. He feared, maybe it was a hallucination, a work of her mind to punish him, lying to himself about everything that was happening, playing that she would love him or not be afraid of him, and that at any moment he would wake up and she would not exist, or would be dead like the rest. But Nisha brought him back to reality, her legs moving in front of him, sitting on the couch facing his, without omitting a sound, but with her eyes analyzing him completely. Seeing more in those cold and analytical eyes, than in the rest of the human beings he met, Brahms had something, it was mysterious and he would put his hand in the fire, that as problematic as the instants he always avoided, but presence, in the bottom of his heart, that within all that facet, there was a being in need, fragile and hopeful for someday to be loved.
━Why?
A simple question broke the silence, and resumed that aura of intensity that Brahms emanated, he made you feel as if you were in a cage and he was the lion, at all times you felt caged, prey to his eyes, such an overwhelming and enchanting feeling that Nisha could appreciate
━Is it so strange to you that he didn't run away, is that what you're afraid of?
━Mostly people run away when they see a man murder 2.
It was the tone of voice used, surprising him to have noticed the amusement in her voice, how ridiculous it was to Brahms that she had decided to take a seat on the living room couch and instruct him to do the same, as if they were going to have a tribal talk about the weather. But before the eyes of someone who bathed his hands in blood and recognized himself as the monster behind the tender voices and how "innocent" he might appear, he still didn't understand why he hadn't run away.
━Do you want me to be honest? ━I didn't wait for an answer, because as he didn't like lies, neither did he like to go round and round in a matter that at the end of the day would end up coming out in the open ━We are not so different Brahms.
Far from giving him answers, it confused him even more, it was impossible for him to find in those beautiful eyes the evil that possessed his own, to find a key to hell as it was to open his mouth and count the evil deeds he had done. Brahms was chaotic, since he had the use of reason, mother had always punished him for doing things he shouldn't, since Emily everything had been decadence for him, locked up, "murdered", animals paying the price for his anger, running through the forest when anxiety, oppression that he could only name when the library had new books, overwhelmed him, going to crazy things like threatening his own parents to do what he wanted; and he understood it, he understood why they chose to die rather than spend more years by his side.
