Lullaby | Brahms Heelshire |

Chapter 16

Brahms I am near, so sleep without fear.
   Despite being completely exhausted, I could not sleep. I just laid awake and stared at the ceiling, thinking about Brahms. I thought about what he had done to poor little Emily. I thought of what he was capable of doing to me. I knew that he was dangerous. My superego kept telling me that I needed to take action. I needed to leave, or call the police. That is what any other person would do. So why didn't I want to?
   It was as if my good and bad consciences were butting heads. Brahms had murdered a girl when he was only 8. But was it really his fault? He clearly was ill. It wasn't his fault because he has a mental disorder. But he still killed her.... So it was his fault.... Or was it? My mind looped and looped. Questions turned in my head until I couldn't tell from right or wrong.
   My basic ideas of what was black and what was white had merged to grey. It didn't matter what Brahms had done. My confused mind kept finding him innocent.
   I groaned and sat up in bed. I couldn't lie around anymore. Sleep wasn't going to come anytime soon. So I left my warm blankets and stood up. I wandered around the dark house while my mind raced and raced. The stress that was building up from my confusion made me want to smash plates. I didn't realize that I had been grinding my teeth until my temples began to pound. My frustration grew.
   Why couldn't I think like I was suppose to. If I was faced with this problem a year ago, without ever meeting Brahms personally, there would be no doubt in my mind that he was a murderer. A terrible being. But I knew Brahms. And he was just the opposite. He was sweet. He was thoughtful and curious. He was ridiculously intelligent. Sure he lost his temper a few times, but who hasn't?
   His childhood kept coming back to my attention. I thought about how his mother use to hit him. That could have caused him to develop problems early on. Then I thought about his school. He was an outcast to the other children because he was different. He was lonely.
   I began to grow angry at everyone who knew Brahms. Why couldn't they just have accepted him? So what he liked creepy things? We all have different interests.
   I thought about his burst of violent behavior. When he took it upon himself to punish other people, it was simply because they didn't follow the rules. Brahms was a good boy. He followed the rules. Sure it wasn't his job to punish others, but in his mind he was doing the right thing. Why couldn't have anyone understood that? How could they cluck there tongues at him, calling him a monster, when they were the ones breaking the rules. They didn't know him. It wasn't there right to judge. Nobody knew him, not like I did.
   I slowly walked to the back door and unlocked it. I stepped into the darkness and allowed the cold air to rush over me. I took in a deep breath and looked up into the star filled sky. All the confusion that was spinning in my head began to drain out my eyes in the form of tears. What was wrong with me?
   I took in a shaky breath and wandered toward the dark garden.my bare feet were touched cold from the stone path. I gazed back up to the stars. They glittered in the sky like gems, so far away they could have been an illusion. I let tears fall down my face as a scary feeling began to burn inside of me. I knew exactly what that feeling was but I didn't wasn't to accept it.
   I wiped my face and turned my head to look at the dark silhouette of my house. I knew that Brahms was inside. I tried to imagine the passageways within the walls where he would be hiding. I wondered if he was watching me right then. I shook my head. He was probably sleeping. I smiled remembering when I first saw Brahms that night on the couch. He had looked so peaceful. Did he always look like that when he slept? I blushed as I pictured him the night we were curled up next to each other, remembering his nervousness made my heart pick up.
   Heat rose to my cheeks and I dug my nails into my palms. "No no no!" I scolded myself out loud.it was wrong to be feeling this way. I raked my hands through my hair as my inner conflicts kept coming back.
   I couldn't deny it anymore.
   I was falling in love with Brahms.
~*~
   My eyes were still groggy from the early morning light that streamed through the windows. I squinted to block the brightness as I poured overly sugary cereal into a ceramic bowl. I had barely slept at all last night because of my Brahms dilemma. No matter how hard I would try to push him from my mind, he would never leave.
   I sat motionless, staring at the milk in front of me. Butterflies began to flit impatiently in my stomach. I wanted to see Brahms. I wasn't certain if he was still mad from the events that took place last night, but I still wanted to see him. I groaned and dropped my face into my hands. Why did this have to be happening? I mean seriously what were the chances. Of course I would fall in love with a man living in walls. Of course I would fall in love with a guy who has the social skills as an eight-year-old. Of course I would fall in love with a murderer.
   I always loved adventure and excitement. When I was younger I would look into the stars and beg them to make life interesting. I guess they finally heard me all those miles away and had granted my wish.
   "Danny." My heart beat picked up and I spun around to find Brahms standing behind me. He spoke in his little boy voice. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I took him in. My lip quivered and I wasn't sure what to say to him.
   "I'm sorry Danny." His voice was quiet.
   I looked at him in disbelief. For some reason stupid tears came to my eyes. He was apologizing to me. I opened my mouth to speak but all that came out was a croaking sound. Brahms studied me with wide glossy eyes.
   "Danny?" His voice broke. He was pleading for me to forgive him.
   He gently reached out and touched me just like he did last night. I let his trembling finger tenderly stroke my cheek. "I never want to hurt you." He spoke in his normal then, but it was shaking. My heart melted and the sympathy that I always had for him came back.
   Brahms wasn't a monster.