The Boy Movie Brahms Heelshire x reader FanFic

Part 20 - Inside Brahms

Voices.   My Y/N.  Three men.  Two leave.   One remains.   I follow the sound behind the walls,  every word is clear to me.  Every revelation and lie.

I take a moment...a bad moment...to digest what I hear.   I realise I'm standing rigid, my fists clenched; that I want to hit out, smash the wall down, break the neck of that man in there.  

I remember.   Remember my eighth birthday and the terrible thing I did.   How Emily slapped me so hard I stumbled and fell, holding my cheek in humiliation, glaring up at her.   I'd wanted a kiss.  Just a child's kiss.  Innocent.   But I lay there, wondering why she hated me so.   Wondering what I'd done that was so wrong.   I just thought she was pretty.  In my own way, I'd wanted to show her she was special to me.  My special friend.    I was a boy...and boys kissed girls.   Didn't a kiss mean something?   I'd thought it meant affection.  

Emily had stood there, laughing at me.   Calling me names.   Mummy's boy.   Pansy.  Weirdo.  Pervert.    A whole string of names I'd never heard.   She was taller than me.  But I'd leapt up and smacked her, right on the nose.  And my temper flared to red as the red flowed from her nostrils,  and I kept slapping until she fell down, weeping and cowering.  Weeping felt good to me.   I'd put her in her place.   I'd never been hit before.   I determined never to be hit again.

I'd run home, her blood on my hands.   Mother's screams thinking the blood was mine.  Mother's scream when I told I'd hit Emily.   Mother screaming after she'd dragged me back to the woods where Emily lay dead, all crumpled up like a broken doll.   The maternal refrain..."You killed her!   Killed her!   Killed her!"  Then, I'd heard the weakness that was my father, sobbing.  Yet, through it all, I was glad Emily was dead.  She'd hurt me.  She wasn't good to me.

Marched to my room.   Punishment.   Icy liquid.  Searing flames.  

I close my eyes, remembering what was forgotten.  I can feel the pain for the first time in twenty years, how it hurt so much I couldn't even scream.   True agony comes in silence.   True fear leaves you gagged.   I'd stood like a tiny torch.   My father crashing into the room.  Chaos.  Bedlam.  The stench of burned clothing,  smoking sheets, crisping flesh.  Mirrors are removed.  Masks are fashioned.  Brahms is born.

The terrible aftermath.  Months of pain.   All my insides turned outside so the inner ugliness lies now on my face.   Monster.  Weirdo.  Pervert.

Now, I learn what I've long suspected.   Someone else killed Emily.  I should feel anger, but all I feel is empty.   Standing here, in this sad, lonely hidden place filled with dust and suffering, I can only think of Y/N...and how much she means to me.

She's crying.  Screaming.  Raging.   I run to her.  Find her at the portrait that I hate.   She doing what I should have done years ago.   But I can't hate my parents.   I can't hate them because I feel nothing.   Nothing but concern for Y/N.

I pin her down.   I fear she'll hurt herself.    Her heart...it beats so fast.  I hold her.  It's all I can do.