Brahms: Unmasked

The Phone Call

It has been a day since I heard the little girls voice. I didn't pay attention to it as I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me.
My bags were finally packed, and ready to see my family in America. I was excited, but nervous for Brahms, as he doesn't like to be left alone.
It was a Saturday evening, and I was cooking dinner, which was chicken and rice along with some vegetables.
There was no sight of Brahms anywhere.
"Brahms?" I called out several times, hoping for an answer.
"Where are you? Dinner is ready!" I called out once again.
I mounted up the wooden stairs, towards Brahms' childhood bedroom.
No sign.
It suddenly hit me that maybe he is still struggling with the fact that I'm leaving him for a week. He needs his space.
I placed his food on a plate and into the freezer, just as Mr Heelshire told me too a few months ago. After all, it was part of the rules.
I began to make myself a cup of coffee, when I heard a ring, causing me to drop my cup to the ground, shattering into tiny pieces.
I realised that it was just the phone.
I stumbled across to the old fashioned telephone, avoiding the broken cup on the ground, to answer.
"Hello?" I said.
"Greta! It's been nearly two months since I saw you!" The voice yelled.
Then it hit me. It was Malcolm!
"Holy shit! Are you ok? I'm so sorry for not getting into contact!" I replied.
"I should be asking you that. What is going on with Brahms? Are you hurt?" He asked.
"No I'm fine Malcolm. Brahms won't hurt me. I know he won't."
"Well then, if he won't hurt you then you can leave the house and come to me."
Did Malcolm know what he was suggesting? I couldn't leave . I'm like a prisoner in this estate.
"I don't think that's such a good idea Malcolm." I declared.
"You really want to stay with that mons—-"
The line was cut off.
"Malcolm?" I called.
No answer.
Is it the signal, or...
Brahms. He cut the phone off, probably because Malcolm bought the subject up of leaving.
As I thought these thoughts, a dark figure emerged from the kitchen. It was Brahms.
"Brahms? Was it you who cut the phone line off?" I asked.
"Maybe. He said teasingly.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because Malcolm isn't making you leave. I'm only letting you visit your family." He defined.
"I know. I know." I replied.
"Well then, why do you need to speak to him?" He spoke.
"He called me." I shyly said.
"Oh."
With that last word, he offered me his hand. I reluctantly took it.
He was leading me up the stairs and towards my bedroom.
He took me in and laid me on my bed and under the covers.
He kissed my forehead and told me goodnight and left the room.
I heard footsteps trailing down the stairs, making me realise that Brahms is hiding all the telephones, so I can't get into contact with anyone.
As he left, I stared at the ceiling. He's so.. bi polar. One minute he's angry, the next he's acting all helpful and innocent.
"Hehehehehe" a girls voice giggled.