'She left me here to bleed to death' brahms laid on the floor crying, his mask still covering his face thinking to himself. 'For 20 years I've lived in the shadows away from my parents watching them fall apart just waiting for the person. For MY right person'. He let out a small whimper. 'She was supposed to be the right one. The one who was supposed to save them. To relieve them of their pain and their troubles. I guess in a way she did that but now I'm in pain'. He let out a little screech in pain. 'They told me that she was mine. Mine to keep'. He opened his mouth and his voice echoed throughout the now empty mansion. "You left me" he sobbed in between his words. "You left and you lied. You're LIARS!" He sat there and looked at her picture 'Greta I need you'. Driving fast down the road away from the house was Greta and Cole, trying to get as far away from there as possible. She felt someone in her ear. "Stop!" She shouted. Cole pulls over. "What is it?" He asked.
"I-I think it's Brahms" she stutters looking back at the house. "I think he's alive" she got out of the car and started sprinting towards the house. Cole ran after her shouting. "Wait where are you going?"
"Back to the house something's wrong with Brahms!" She runs faster trying to get to the house as fast as she can. She runs into the house and starts calling his name her voice shaken. He struggles to call back and she runs to where she left him. "Brahms, Brahms I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry" she stutters crying.
"It's okay" he says moving his head onto her lap. "I'm sorry for driving you away" he whispers then starts to cough.
"Hey, don't waste your breathe she says calmly through her tears.
"Don't cry please don't cry" he smiles. "I don't want you to cry" he wipes her tears from her cheek and holds her hand. Cole runs in and slides down next to Greta.
"Is he going to make it?" Cole asks concerned.
"I'm not sure" she replies hiding her tears. "Help me get him into a table or a bed" Greta and Cole lift him onto the bed and put pressure on his wounds. He wails in pain as they pour alcohol on his wounds to clean them. He lies there asleep while Greta and Cole go downstairs to let him rest.
"We'll stay till he can take care of himself and walk. Then we'll leave him and get away from this place." Greta sighs putting her head on Coles shoulder.
"Yeah that sounds good" Cole rests his head on hers after kissing it gently.
"We can come and visit right?" She asks.
"Yeah, sure, why not?" He says quickly hoping she won't notice his uncertainty. She looks into his eyes then hears Brahms waking up in his room. She gets up and walks up the stairs to his room. She sits on the bed next to him.
"Hey" he coughs smiling at her happily.
"Hey" she smiles back stroking his hair and smiling before looking at his chest.
"Don't feel bad it's not your fault it's mine" he says taking her hand. He smiles again before putting his hand on her face and wiping away her tears she was trying not to shed. "It's okay to be upset or afraid. It's okay to feel like you've done wrong. Just know that what you think is wrong isn't in my eyes. What you did wasn't wrong to me. What you did made me realise what I'd become. You saved yourself I'm not going to hate you because of that." He says softly as she puts her hand on his and takes it off of her face.
"When did you become so poetic?" she chuckles starting to undress his wound the blood seeping through the bandage on his chest. He moves uncomfortably as she puts a new bandage on his wound, she looks at the deep hole in his chest from where she stabbed him. She felt bad for it but didn't tell him, she didn't want him worrying about it so she kept it a secret. He fell silent and slowly drifted off into a deep sleep and let his thoughts take over his whole body. In those few moments of rest he was at peace, probably the only peace he'd get until he died. If he got peace then. He had killed so many people. So many nannies who were just trying to get money to feed their children or have a life. All of those lives he had took. All of those times he had watched as the life left their eyes and as their bodies laid there with no movement. He watched as the last breathe slowly escaped their lips and hung in the air till he breathed it in. There was something about killing that made him feel so good inside. Better than anything else. Every night he dreamt about all those women he'd kill. All of those people who had come to watch a little boy but got a doll instead. He couldn't use that trick anymore. The doll was smashed, his parents were gone. He had nothing left to lure them in. No other way to get that feeling when he kills, he has nothing left. All he has is his dreams that's it. Once they fade he won't have anything at all. He wakes up and sits up. He gets out of bed and walks downstairs forgetting about his wound. He walks into the kitchen and looks at Greta and Cole shocked at him standing let alone walking. "What?" He asks confused at their faces.
"You were just in a coma for 5 weeks" Greta stammers standing up and walking to him.
"No I wasn't I went to sleep for a few hours"
"No you didn't"
"Are you sure?"
"Positive"
"Okay"
