What Happened to Him?

Part 4: A Playdate For Brahms

Margaret ached to leave the house. She didn't need to work, Mr. Heelshire's job and her family's estate was more than enough, but since she had left her job she missed the time away. The drive to town was her only reprieve now. Once she was there there were too many whispers. Too many opinions from strangers about what was happening in her house.

Margaret encouraged Brahms to make a friend. Maybe if they saw he could be kind, have someone want to spend time with him the rest would quiet down. Today was the day of the infamous playdate. The one she had to fight for. Brahms came through the door with a small girl in tow. She picked her head up from the dinner she was preparing and walked to the entry-way.

"Brahms, my sweet. Do you two want to have a snack with me?" She nodded to the girl.

"No. She's mine."

Margaret wiped her hands clean and made her way over to them.

"Certainly, she can be both our friends?" She offered a hand to the little girl, but Brahms stepped in the way.

"No." His pupils seemed to widen at the challenge. "She's mine."

"Brahms. That's not how we address Mummy." He clawed at Margaret's arm and broke the skin trying to pull her to the ground. She grabbed him, kicking and screaming and brought him upstairs. When she laid him in bed, he kicked her hard enough in the chest to knock the wind out of her. She stumbled back and tried to gather her composure, "No supper until you calm down!" He lunged out of bed after her. She grabbed him once more, but this time tied him into his bed. A bowline knot, like her father used to use.

She quickly closed and locked the door behind her, screaming could easily be heard in the hallway as Brahms kicked and tried to get free, he kept screaming, "She's mine!"

When she opened her eyes she was surprised to see the little girl Brahms brought home standing across from her. "Darling, I'm so sorry, but Brahms needs a timeout." She didn't move. "Do you want to wait and have a snack with me?"

The girl opened her hand to reveal a very sharp piece of wood. "What's that?"

"Brahms said he'd need it for our game." She started to cry, "I don't want to play."

Margaret dropped to her knees and held the little girl, "It was just pretend. Don't worry it was just pretend. He won't hurt you." She stood up, took the girl's hand and led her downstairs.