All Mine

20

You woke up the next morning feeling strange. Doll Brahms had become the human Brahms. Secretly, you think part of you knew. The recent events would explain why Mrs Heelshire said sorry as she left the house. She was sorry that Brahms would reveal himself, sorry he would try and kill you. But he hadn't tried. Infact, he'd only ever tried to get you back, to try and get things to be how they used to be. But life could never go back to how it used to be. Ever.

You rose from your bed and made your way over to the bathroom. Standing groggily in front of the bathroom mirror, you looked at your appearance.

Huge, purple bags had appeared under your eyes, your hair had gone haywire, and your skin looked pale, like porcelain. You shuddered at your brain making that pun, after you linked it with Brahms' mask.

Speaking of Brahms, where was he?

You didn't know how this whole new arrangement was going to work, with doll Brahms gone. Shaking your head, you walked out of the bathroom.

You didn't even make it halfway across the hall to your room before you heard the creaking of floorboards to your right. Fearful, you slowly turned your head, following the creaking.

Brahms stood closer than you expected and looked at you with his head cocked to one side.

"B-Brahms?"

He nodded, stepping forward slightly. You could almost feel his eyes roving over your body, seeing as you were only wearing a thin tank top and a pair of booty shorts. You shuddered yet again, a chill running down your spine.

"I'm going to get dressed, Brahms," You told him, feeling your hands beginning to shake. "Please wait in the kitchen for me."

Before you could hear a response from him, you ran into your room, slammed the door and locked it.

You walked over to your dresser and got some clothes out, but felt tears silently fall down your face. How was anything going to be normal again? How were you going to trust anything or anyone ever again?

———

You kept on asking yourself these questions as you walked down the grand staircase to the kitchen, stopping briefly at the doorway when you caught sight of Brahms sat at the kitchen table. You hoped you hadn't taken too long to get ready and worn his patience thin.

"What would you like for breakfast?" You asked him quietly.

Brahms sat quietly for a few moments before responding in his high-pitched voice. You still wasn't sure if the voice was an act. "Blueberry pancakes."

You nodded, grabbing the ingredients and began to make the pancakes he requested.

———

As soon as they were done, you slid the pancakes onto a plate and placed the plate in front of Brahms.

He ate them quickly, with you watching silently from the kitchen doorway. As soon as he was done, he rose form his chair and placed the plate into the kitchen sink.

He turned to you.

"Read."

Nodding, you began to walk to the study. You passed the pool room and stopped. Looking into it, there were no bodies on the floor. There wasn't a drop of blood on the floor and all the shards of the dolls' head had been picked up.

It was like nothing had ever happened. Maybe nothing had.

Eager to distract your mind from ending your own existence, you went on your way again to the study.

Brahms was not far behind you, watching your expression and awe at the clean up he'd done. It was nothing compared to what he'd had to clean up before.

———

"What book would you like to read, Brahms?" You softly asked him, sensing he was close.

"Jane Eyre," He responded. Brahms knew you didn't know where the books were, but stood in the study doorway, smirking softly underneath his mask at your frustrated facial expression after you tried so hard to find it.

Brahms stepped forward slightly, turned to his left and picked out the novel, placing it on the study desk.

He sat in the chair with amazing posture, making you stiffen up. You lowered yourself in the chair opposite him and picked up the book.

———

Time  passed and you could feel your eyelids getting heavy and your speech beginning to slur slightly. You obviously hadn't got enough sleep after last night..

Soon enough, you nodded off in your chair, with the book in hand. Brahms watched you fall asleep, watched your chest rise and fall, watched your eyes move in their sockets in your sleep and chuckled.

Who knew you would become so comfortable without him so quickly, even after what he did? Or were you not comfortable, and this was just exhaustion?

Brahms knew the logical answer was the second option, but he wanted to believe the fantasy he'd dreamed of so many times before..

That you loved him.