Brahms Heelshire - Lamb to the slaughter

Part Four - Hidden away

I wake up the next day, feeling as though I've just missed something. Almost as if just before I woke, someone blew out a candle and the scent that came off of the body of wax is still within the air. I can feel the easily recognisable shape of a hand that must have left my hip not even a minute before. I know for a fact that it wasn't one of my own. The hand feels too big to even be mistaken to be mine. My arms weren't even at my sides when I awoke.

I think back to what happened the night before. Why would something being knocked over scare me as much as it did? It's not as if there is someone else here that was at risk of hearing it.

I decide to go back into the hallway again once Brahms is back in bed to see where those other closed off corridors lead. I can't stop thinking about where else within the house another door could be and how many other corridors are bound to be within the walls.

But I can't exactly stay in bed all day, worrying about the design of such a building as this. I do have Brahms to look after. I get dressed and make my way over to where the doll's bedroom is. Opening the door, the first place that I think to look is the bed, where I left him the night before.

He is not there. I scan my eyes around the room, looking for him to see if he is somewhere else within the room. And there he is. Sitting on top of the toy chest box which has been flipped onto its side and all the toys have spilled out on the floor. His little hands have been placed next to him at his side, almost as if he is balancing himself up. It may have been considered cute if it was a real boy and that boy hadn't made a mess that would have to be cleaned up.

"Brahms! Was this really necessary?!" I exclaim, waving my right hand out towards the mess on the sky blue carpet. I lift up the porcelain child, sitting him on the bed. "You're in big trouble now, mister! No goodnight kiss tonight."

I flip the toy chest over so it is within its original position and start to place the toys back into its depths. I feel the same presence from yesterday watching me and I take the time to imagine a real little boy, standing before me. This makes me thankful that Brahms is a doll because I wouldn't be able to cope with a child that has been spoiled rotten and doted on by his parents.

After finishing up with cleaning the mess, it finally hits me that I just cleaned up a mess where I am the only person for miles around that could have caused it. I know that I did not cause this mess, and a doll most certainly could not do something as such as this.A chill runs down my spine.

But then, what could have caused this? It could have been what I heard moving last night when I ran to my room. But that doesn't explain how the doll moved. The thought of Brahms moving is impossible.

Even though it's only been a day, I crave to actually feel alone and not like I'm being supervised by a being of the unknown.

I go about the day like I did most of the last, following the instructions as asked. Thankfully, nothing else supernatural happens. Before I know it, I am putting Brahms to bed for the second time.

Dressing him up in his pyjamas and laying him gently beneath the covers, the watching feeling suddenly disappears. It's like I am a bird that has spent its entire life within a cage and I don't know what to do with myself when I have been awarded freedom.

I sit next to the porcelain boy in the bed and stroke his little cheeks with my index finger. I sigh quietly and close my eyes. "Good night, my Brahms."

I stand up to make my way out of the room that has been frozen in time for the last twenty years. When I get to the door, I hear something. It's not loud enough to instantly be recognized as a voice, but not quiet enough for me to not hear. It's the same voice that came from the old phone yesterday.

"Kiss?"

I turn back round to look at the little doll, panicking slightly. "N-No Brahms. That's your punishment for the mess you caused this morning. If you behave tomorrow like you have done most of today and you don't make another mess, I'll give you two kisses tomorrow night. Do we have a deal, little one?"

"... Yes."

My heart drops to my stomach. So I did hear a voice. I close the door and make my way over to my room, wanting to escape the feeling of being watched by the dead. I reach my room and go to the window, taking the candle from last night in my hand.

While lighting the candle with one of the matches, I decide that I will go through the walls as far as possible, come out, shower and get to bed. It shouldn't matter if something fell. The Heelshires aren't exactly going to stress about the mess within the walls.

I place the matches back into my pocket as I make my way down to the living area. I search the walls with my fingers, exploring for the lines that are nearly completely hidden by the worn wallpaper.

Grasping the edge of the door, I pull at it, almost surprised that I manage to successfully open it a second time. I step in through the 'hidden' doorway and raise the candle so I can see as much as possible this time.

But while stepping into the walls, I don't feel the same as I did when I first stepped in. I don't feel as safe. It's almost as if I am a mouse trapped in a cat's twisted game.

Before long, I find myself back at the door, praying that nothing else falls when I go to open it for the second time. I grab the handle, twist it and push open the wooden door. Thankfully, nothing falls this time as I let the door swing quietly open.

I glance around at the floor, searching. There is nothing out of place that suggests that anything was ever knocked over. Wouldn't there be something here? It is while I am looking for whatever could have fallen that I realise what has changed.

There are objects blocking one of the two doors, to the point that I don't want to waste my time removing it all, just to get through. Especially since there is already a different path that I can take for now.

I make my way down the cleared path, keeping the candle as high as possible to produce enough light so I do not trip over a piece of wood or my own feet.

Every multiple door choice is the same. Only two doors are passable through: The one I enter and the one I exit. Who would have this sort of stuff within walls of their house?

Several corridors later, I arrive at a blue door. It looks to have been the same shade as Brahms' room at some point but has not had a fresh paint of coat for years. This wouldn't be such a strange observation if the other doors were not a faded grey. Maybe it is near Brahms' room.

I open up the blue door, wondering what links this door to the family. Most importantly, what could possibly link it and whatever is on the other side to that child.

One of the corners does not have light fixtures, which is leaving it in complete darkness. When I am done looking at the parts of the room that can be properly seen, I'll take a moment to use the candle to see what this gloomy corner has to offer. After all, I want to go to where there is more light, even if it is just for a short while.

Several desks are around the edge of the room. One has a basin with a flannel and a towel on top of it, with a mirror, almost like a little makeshift bathroom. Two desks have been pushed together to create a big surface space for several books, several pieces of scattered paper, a pair of scissors, pencils, even a roll of string.

A map is on the wall behind the joint tables. Even more paper has been placed around the map, attached to the wall with pins, along with strings connecting them, like some sort of corkboard.

To the right of the joint tables stands a fridge, quietly humming, signifying that it is working. Lastly, tucked away into the far corner lays a bed, barely wide enough for more than one person. A little dresser has been placed next to where a person's head would lay. A lamp sits upon the otherwise empty surface area. Why do the Heelshires have all of this stuff here? Surely they must know what is within their walls?

The lamp is the last thing I take notice of before the candle I've been holding this whole time is blown out. My head instinctively turns to its direction. I can already smell the barely visible smoke that is coming off of the recently burning wick. I'm pretty sure there was no wind that could have blown it out, or else I would have felt it.

Before another thought goes through my head or I go to do anything else, something is pulled down over my eyes.