Brahms Heelshire ("The boy" fan fiction)

Chapter Eleven

My fingers twitched under the thick quilt that was rested on top of me. Brahms could come in any moment and attack me. And when he did, I'd be ready to strike. The whole week, I had been on edge driving myself crazy with the possibility of getting raped and not being ready to fight it. Brahms had already proven himself unpredictable with past incidents I have to expect him at any moment. And when he goes to pounce, I can be the unpredictable one and stab him where it hurts. I don't know for certain if Brahms meant it when he said he would forcefully get what he wanted from me, but I have to assume he did. For my own safety.

No matter what happens to me, I'm making sure I watch him suffer.

I thought about what I had just said in my mind. I had never ever thought of killing anyone. But now- now is different. I suppose I don't even think of him as a person. He's not a loss to anyone, no one would miss him. Hell! He's dead!

I rubbed my palms on my forehead. I hated thinking about Brahms as often as I did, I couldn't help it though he's the kind of person that intrudes even your thoughts. There's no such thing as privacy with Brahms.

It's funny that only a few months ago, I thought of Brahms as misunderstood, someone who cared about me and had the potential to turn his life around, take his past and use it for good. I chuckled bitterly to myself as I thought about how dumb I was. "Silly Greta, always looking for the good in people. Always so trusting". Anger budded inside of me like a plant flowering in spring. It's not my fault, it's Brahms' fault. Manipulating me enough to try to see him any different than he was. A sick, disgusting, controlling, vile, human. And for what? My love? What has he gained from keeping me here? Nothing! I hate him and he knows that. So what's the purpose of me staying?

I rubbed my eyes and rolled onto my side. I'm too tired to think about anything now. I closed my eyes and after a few minutes of emptying my mind, I drifted off into a guarded sleep. At least Brahms couldn't hurt me in my dreams.
~
Birds chirped outside of my window. I opened my eyes expecting the sunlight to shine in them fully waking me up. I had been up since the early morning when the sun hadn't even rose yet. I yawned, and sat up looking around my room. The closet door was shut, and so was my bedroom door leaving me confined into a personal little hell. I didn't hate it, in fact I liked this room the most. I felt like it had some power over Brahms. This room often repelled him. I liked when it did that.

Like clockwork, I got up, got dressed, and went downstairs to the kitchen. I never really was hungry I just ate the food because I didn't want to starve to death. At this point, Brahms and I had eaten all of the fresh food in the house and resorted to the tupper wear food in the freezer. It tasted worse than it looked. We weren't just surviving off of Malcom's last delivery when Cole was here, Brahms had a large cupboard full of canned food and non perishable food. We lasted off of that for two months.

As I opened the freezer, I saw that there was only three containers left. A wave of dread came over me when I saw that we were to the bare minimum. Brahms would never go into town let alone let me do it. Malcom is- I stopped thinking for a minute. Malcom really was my only hope out of here. My mind floated back to the food.
There's no store that delivers to the house anymore. The phone lines are dead so I can't possibly call someone for another delivery.

A large lump formed in my throat as I thought of Malcom. I hoped it didn't hurt when he died. I hoped it was quick. Painless. But the thing about Brahms is that nothing is painless. Brahms was ruthless for that. I slammed the freezer shut with anger, every time I thought of Malcom, it would just anger me.

I placed the small bit of freezer food onto a plate. Before I lifted it to the microwave, I saw Brahms' reflection in the microwave door. Miserableness rose from my toes to my head like a thermometer. The whole atmosphere changed from angry to scared.

I tried my best to pretend like he wasn't there. I didn't have my screwdriver with me so I was basically free game. With my lack of energy and muscles, he could break me in half. The only way I could ever have the upper hand was if I had a weapon.

Brahms either didn't read my body language or didn't care, because he stalked up right behind me as ever so slowly grabbed my waist. I stayed stiff and continued acting as if he wasn't there. Big mistake.
Once Brahms saw I was blatantly ignoring him, he turned me around swiftly and got in my face. His mask was the only thing separating our lips. Thank God. His eyes were shining with an unknown emotion. I couldn't tell what he was.

He stretched his hand to touch my cheek. I reflexively flinched back, in hopes he'd stop, but unfortunately, Brahms didn't take no for an answer. He touched my cheek anyway. His hand was surprisingly warm when it met my skin.
I looked into his eyes to try to see what they were saying. They were glazed over with moisture. Tears? They bore into my soul with such intensity, I had to look away.

He guided my eyes back to his with his voice. "Greta I'm so-", he cut off and fell silent. His voice was low and raspy as if it hadn't been used in months. I have him a puzzled look before breaking away from his grasp. He didn't fight me, and he watched me leave the kitchen. I could have sworn I heard a low growl come from behind me, but I was so shaken up in that moment I wasn't focused on anything else but being away from him.

Once I got up to my room, I turned on the faucet, and drew up a bath. The steam coming off of the water hit my face, forming little sweat bubbles on my upper lip. I stepped in to the tub ignoring the burning water. And tried my best to think about anything else.

That was the problem. There was nothing else to think about. My life was here, in this dreadfully dark and gloomy house, stuck with a manipulative serial killer. I sulked, wrapping my arms around my knees. The steam caused my hair to cling to my face and neck. Did Brahms try to apologize? Was that what he was trying to do? Questions flew around my head like a tornado. Why would he all of the sudden be ashamed of himself now? Does he have a conscience? Is this just a sick joke to catch me vulnerable again? I shook my head violently to stop my mind. Whatever he tried to say, didn't and won't get me to like him.

Once I was out of the tub and dressed, I sat on the bed and took a quick swig of some water out of a glass on my bedside table. It tasted a smidge off, but I assumed it was because I hadn't eaten anything all day. I stared at the alarm clock on the bedside table. 9:39. I smacked my forehead and flopped down on my back. Looks like I'll be napping for most of today. As if it were on cue, a wave of sleepiness took over me and I drifted away into blackness.
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Here is chapter Eleven!! I know I said I'd update Saturday, but I got that head cold that's going around so I had to forfeit writing anything until I felt a little better. Ive decided that chapter twelve is going to be a little bit on the longer side, since there's only three parts left in the whole book. Yes, I'm almost done writing it! I'll probably be done with chapter twelve by Thursday but no promises. Thank you again for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!!
-Ri