"Greta…come back" Stated Brahms in the shrill child-like voice. My back was pressed against a trap door in the dark, musty crawlspace between the walls. Brahms stood over an unconscious Malcolm. His eyes seeming to stare into mine from behind the porcelain mask with a predators gaze. Brahms was still clutching the fire poker. I was frightened, I could barely breathe. "I'll be good, I will!" His voice cracking, deepening into that of a man. Brahms slowly lowered himself into a crouch and began to crawl towards me. I let out a cry and turned to try the doorknob once more. "Get back here." Growled Brahms, his voice having completely lost the child-like quality from before. "Don't leave me!"

His voice having now took a dangerous tone. He started to crawl towards me once more. I knew there was no where I could go. There was no escape, and I thought of Malcolm and how I couldn't leave him. Surely, Brahms would kill him if I left and I couldn't let that happen. "Please don't hurt me Brahms, I won't leave you. But you have to promise to be a good boy. Can you promise? Brahms was beside me now. I felt the heat from his body, the musky scent of his sweat. The porcelain face merely inches from mine. He raised his head slightly to inhale the scent of my hair. His slowly brought his hand and caressed my cheek with such tenderness. A lovers touch.

His eyes, once again peered into mine. While he raised his hand higher to touch my hair. "Brahms!" I exclaim in a harsh voice, which caused him to jump back as though he'd been shocked. "You didn't promise." He lowered his head like a child being reprimanded and answered in a timid voice that I could barely hear. "I promise, Greta." "Good, thank you for promising me Brahms." I responded, still having an authoritative tone. He nodded. I slowly came to my feet, as did he, until we were facing each other. His height was impressive. I felt so small standing next to him. I couldn't help but notice the sweat gleaming off the dark hair on his chest when the rays of moonlight shown through the cracks in the door. Facial hair protruding around the bottom of the mask. Dark curly hair framing around the porcelain child's face. He was so alluring.

"It's getting late Brahms, it's time for bed." I stated. Brahms kept his head down as I started to walk past him towards the place Malcolm lay. I ducked under pipes, nearly hitting my head. Brahms remained in the same place, never moving."Brahms!" I said in a biting tone. His head snapped toward me. "You know the rules." He nodded slowly and began to walk towards me. "Brahms, we can't leave Malcolm here." I said. He looked at me as if he wanted to ask why, but he knew I was right. Brahms bent to lift Malcolm over his shoulder and stepped ahead of me to lead the way back into the house. The whole time my mind was racing. Will he keep his promise not to hurt me? A part of me believed he wouldn't, because he certainly had every opportunity over the days I've been alone here.

We walked into his hidden room and I once again spied the doll Brahms had made of me, laying on his bed. It still wore my favorite coral dress and necklace. I looked away and felt the heat rising in my face when I spotted the used tissues next to it. His attraction was obvious. Brahms stopped to look back at me, and then to the doll. He seemed to hang his head in shame before continuing through the passage. I was never supposed to see it and I could only imagine his own embarrassment. We finally reached the secret door to my room. "Stay here." Brahms said in a sharp tone. "Where are you taking Malcolm?" I asked. Brahms turned towards me once more and replied "Downstairs. Stay here." With that, he reached towards my door and closed it behind him with his free arm. I collapsed on my bed and started to cry softly. A million thoughts were racing through my mind in a tangled mess. I tried to sort them, but I was unable to. The stress of today was too much. Cole lying dead, Brahms having stabbed him with a porcelain shard after Cole shattered the doll. To the fact that Brahms was even alive in the first place and not a spirit possessing a doll.

I got up from the bed and walked into the bathroom. I gazed at myself in the mirror. I was a mess, dirt was all over my face and in my hair from being inside the wall and crawlspace. I needed a shower. So I went quickly into my room and brought my pajamas into the bathroom with me. I turned and locked the bathroom door and hoped Brahms wouldn't try and break it down when he returned. I stepped into the steaming shower and began to let the water wash away the grime. I quickly shampooed my hair and scrubbed the dust and dirt from myself.

I dried off as fast as possible and dressed into my pajamas. When I opened the bathroom door, Brahms stood at the end of my bed, staring through the mask that was still covered in filth and blood splatter. I noticed also his clothes were filthy and ragged. An oversized dark green cardigan over a once white undershirt with black trousers. How long since they've been washed? Hell, how long since Brahms himself took a bath or shower? "Brahms" I said. "It's time for bed, but first you need to take a shower. Do you have any clean pajamas?" "Brahms nodded and stepped through the passage way and returned a few moments later with neatly folded pajamas. I took them and placed them on the clothes rack in the bathroom and gave him a fresh towel.

As I turned to leave Brahms grabbed my arm and I saw the worry in his eyes. He was afraid I was going to leave while he was in the shower. "Don't worry Brahms, I'll be right outside the door. I won't leave you." I reassured him. "Promise?" Brahms asked, once again in a timid voice. "I promise." I replied. I slowly shut the door and heard the water turn on. I sat on my bed with a sigh and wondered what I was going to do. Should I still try and escape with Malcolm? Should I stay and hope that Brahms keeps his promise not to hurt me?

It was crazy to think of staying. Brahms was a mentally unstable murderer! He killed Cole in front of me, yes I asked doll Brahms for help, but that was when I thought he was a spirit! I never asked doll Brahms to kill him, I was just hoping Cole would get scared away for good. Then there was the little girl Malcolm told me Brahms had killed as a child and god knows who else over the years.

But then I thought, the only reason Brahms had killed Cole was because he heard Cole wanting to take me away. Brahms was scared I was going to leave him. A pang of sympathy shot through me because in my heart I knew Brahms was starved for attention and affection. I had promised his parents to care for him and indirectly, I had promised Brahms himself the very same. I was so deep in thought that I hadn't noticed the water stopped and Brahms standing in the bathroom doorway. He was dressed in a dark blue pajama set. His hair was damp and his curls were cascading around a now clean mask. "You look very nice Brahms, are you ready for bed?" He nodded and I stood up from the bed and started to walk into his childhood room. Brahms followed close behind and I turned down the covers.

Like a little boy, he laid down and I covered him with the sheet and blanket. His eyes were gazing into mine, they were a beautiful brown, with speckles of green. "Be a good boy and go right to sleep." I cooed. I started to turn away to walk back to my room when suddenly he grasped my arm and held it tight. I turned back to him. "Kiss." He spoke softly. Fearing what he would do if I refused, I stepped back over to the bedside and lowered myself to kiss the smooth porcelain cheek.

His large forceful hands grasped my shoulders and he turned his face so that my lips met the masks lips. He leaned up slightly, pressing the mask harder into my face, trying to deepen the kiss. I pulled away slightly and saw his eyes pierce into mine. "Greta, please stay." Brahms asked pleadingly. "No Brahms, you must be a big boy and go to sleep. I'll be in my room, you'll see me in the morning." His grip tightened and he pulled me down next to him. He enveloped me in his strong arms and pulled me close. I could feel his breath on my neck and feel my heartbeat quicken. "Greta, I don't want you to leave me." Brahms whispered in my ear. "I promised I wouldn't leave you Brahms." I replied. His hold on me never loosened as he began to snuggle into my neck. The porcelain felt cold against my skin. "Brahms?" I asked. Can you please take the mask off? It's making me cold." I stated. "No." Brahms replied. "Why?" I asked. "I don't want to scare you." Was his answer. "Brahms, I won't be scared-" "I said NO Greta!" Brahms snapped to me.

I tensed up and I believe Brahms felt it after he yelled. He caressed my cheek and breathed in the scent of my hair. "I'm sorry Greta, please don't be afraid. I didn't mean to yell at you" I laid there in silence, not wanting to provoke him further. I assumed he had a good reason for the mask, perhaps his face was damaged in the fire? Or by some other means? I didn't think of that possibility when I asked him to remove it. I resolved not to ask him again, when he was ready, he would remove it.

For now, there was nothing else I could do other than lay in the arms of a man driven by desperation and obsession. Sleep, would not come easy.