All Mine

17

Everything seemed to go in slow motion. Cole raised the doll high above his head and smashed it on a chair. Pieces of Brahms flew everywhere, dust rose from the doll and one of Brahms' eyes slowly fell onto the dining room carpet, making a soft thump as it finally landed on the floor.

You screamed and ran behind Malcolm, fearing the worst and fearing Cole. Your fears were confirmed though, as everybody heard the attic stairs crash and bang upstairs.

Chaos was going to fucking ensue, you were sure about that.

The floorboards started to creak and walls started to bang from the inside, making plates and paintings hung on the walls rattle.

"What the hell was that?" Cole said. For once, it sounded like Cole was afraid.

"We need to go," Malcolm suggested.

The banging of the walls continued to freak everyone out and it only got louder and angrier. Cole lowered his ear next to the mirror in the room.

"It's coming from-"

...

Time slowed down once more and the mirror shattered into pieces, sending Cole flying across the room. He landed on the floor with a thump and groaned, clutching his head in his hands.

You didn't run over to him, but you stayed alongside Malcolm instead.

"Y/N?"

A child's voice spoke your name, similar to the voice in your dreams.

Malcolm protectively put his arm in front of you as the pair of you watched the horror in front of you unfold.

"Y/N?" The voice repeated again.

You could barely make out the silhouette, but it looked like there was a.. man, standing in the hole in the wall where the mirror had once been. Steadily, two grimy, dusty arms reached out and equally dirty hands grabbed the wall, giving this man some grip so he could get out of the wall. As he did so, your mind was racing with questions. Who was this? How long had he been here? Was he the person who had stolen your stuff?

"It's Brahms," Malcolm gasped.

"That's not possible," You stuttered, truly petrified.

But it was.

It was Brahms Heelshire, and he was the boy who supposedly died in a fire at eight-years-old. He had clearly not died.

Instead, he grew.

Brahms looked to be standing at seven foot tall, and he looked of strong build. Strong enough to kill.

Cole was, in fact, his next target.

Brahms raced over to Cole, flipped him the right way up and began to choke him. Malcolm and you stood frozen, watching this murder take place and not knowing what to do or how to react.

You saw Brahms reach for a large porcelain piece of the doll and screamed when he stabbed Cole in the neck with it. Cole clawed at his neck, trying to stop the blood flow with his fingers, but alas, to no avail. He bled out on the carpet, the thick, deep red blood staining it forever.

Brahms whipped his head round to Malcolm.

"Malcolm! Run!" You screamed at him, widened eyes staring at the graphic scene before you.

Malcolm didn't make a break for it, instead choosing to protect you. He ran in front of you and made himself as big as possible, stretching both his arms out as far as they would go, to block Brahms' path to you.

Brahms' face showed no emotion, the mask on his face concealing whatever he was feeling.

"Come on!" Malcolm shouted at Brahms, putting up a fight.

Brahms picked up Malcolm as if he was nothing but a toy and threw him across the room. You winced as you heard what seemed like every bone in Malcolm's body break, and cried as he moved no more. Brahms had killed the one man who could've possibly given you a better life than the one you had now, but there was no getting that now. Not with Malcolm dead. You shut your eyes tight and closed your fists, waiting for a punch to be thrown at you, but there was none.

Instead, there was a ghostly silence.