Brahms Heelshire - Lamb to the slaughter

Part Six - Promise

"No Brahms."

I can still feel the unwillingness to let go behind his grip and gently grab the wrist of the hand that is holding me in place.

"Do you promise?" His eyes are pleading behind the mask, even though his childish voice is trying to be stern.

"Yes, now let go, please. You're hurting me." I gently pull my arm, my other hand still on his wrist. He slowly releases me and I pull myself away from him.

"I'll get you some clean clothes from your parents' room and a towel. When I come back with them, you are to get undressed and shower. While you are doing so, I'll be just down the hall, in the room at the end of the hallway. Come down to me when you've finished. Bring the used towel and dirty clothing with you so that they can be washed."

His arm falls slowly back to his side and he makes no attempt to stop me when I make my way over to the door. Swinging it back open, I think over the few options I have in this situation.

What if I run? He'd catch me. If the last day and a half says anything, he can move his way around in complete quietness. And if he is as strong as he physically looks, I highly doubt there would be too much of a fight. I wouldn't be able to both get away from him and out of here alive. Running may not be an option, at least not at this point in time.

But if I was to stay? If I do or say something he finds offensive, who knows what he'd do. Same as before, there wouldn't be too much of a fight.

In whichever I choose, what are my chances of surviving in each? Both are as dangerous and as risky as the other.

I hear the sound of the shower running stop. Still walking down the corridor to where the parent's room is, I steal a glance over my shoulder. Brahms has walked out of the bathroom and is watching me, both of his hands behind his back and his head tilted down slightly like a small boy who's just got into some trouble. The idea of running is deflated. I can't try and escape if he knows that I'm attempting it.

I make it to the Heelshire's room, which is as neat as the rest of the house. Making my way over to the wardrobe and swinging open the doors, I remember just how lightly the couple packed. They clearly didn't think they'd be needing a lot when they were in the process of packing.

So far, I have paid little to no attention to anything within the room except the colossal mahogany wardrobe. After rummaging around slightly to find something big enough to fit the giant of a man down the hall, I close the wardrobe doors and turn to leave.

Something poking out of one of the bedside draws catches my eye before I get to the door, though. I speed walk over to the side of the bed, wanting to find out what it is before Brahms starts to become suspicious about where I am. Pulling out the draw and looking inside, my mind doesn't register what it is until I've been looking at it for a few seconds.

It's the newspaper clippings that Malcom mentioned when he delivered the groceries.

I glance up at the door to make sure Brahms isn't there before looking back down at the clippings. This is not the time to look through the multiple articles; I have other things to do after all. Closing up the draw again, I leave the Heelshire's bedroom.

The first thing I notice when I step back out into the corridor is that the hulking form that was standing outside of the bathroom just two or three minutes ago is no longer there. My heart near stops in my chest.

He could be anywhere.

Slowly stalking back to the bathroom, keeping my breathing and footsteps as quiet as possible, I begin to try and listen for him. Creeping back through the open doorway, I decide to place the clothes down upon the shelf for now. I shouldn't have to hold onto them for him if and when he decides to show up. That's if he comes back out at all.