I don't know how many hours have passed but it felt like I'd been laying in this bed forever. A small bit of light peeked in through the curtains, it's finally morning. I didn't expect myself to completely heal but I did manage to get up from the bed. I removed the bandages from my wrist and ankles and placed them on the drawer. Faint line marks of the rope still there but it was painless. The soreness, scratches, bruises, and pounding headache still remained.The amount of times I blacked out already was insane. Definitely, I was in no shape or condition to try and escape. If I wanted to make it out alive, I'll have to behave and try not to make him angry.

I limped my way over to the door, wincing with every step. I pressed my ear against it, not hearing any movement coming from the hallway. I opened the door and immediately was hit with the smell of something cooking. Curious, I made my way towards the stairs. I placed only my tippy toes on the first step. Both of my hands holding the railing tightly, traumatized by the fall from yesterday. I put my foot back, chickening out. As I turned around to head back to my room I was stopped by Brahms who had been standing right behind me.

Startled, I jumped back and my foot suddenly slipped on the wooded floor beneath me. I was about to fall down the stairs yet again but Brahms quickly grabbed my arm and pulled me close, causing me to fall into him instead. My head was placed against his chest with one hand on his stomach. He was wearing an oversized black scoop neck shirt that hung low, exposing the hair on his chest. His body warm and strong...I felt his mask graze the top of my head, tickling my hair. I dare not look up.

Beneath my fingertips I could feel the ridges of his abs. I started getting this weird feeling in my stomach and pushed him off of me to make it go away.

Brahms stood up stiffly and then began walking down the stairs. He took a few steps down and turned his head back at me to follow. No uh, curse these damn stairs! I thought. His eyes were commanding and I could sense he was getting impatient. I was afraid to make him angry so I decided to try again. Inhaling and exhaling before placing my foot on the first step carefully. I could picture how foolish I looked, as if I were a toddler learning how to walk but, I took my time. These stairs were hard, nothing to cushion my fall. I was surprised I hadn't fractured or broke any of my bones.

All of my weight was pushed down on that leg as I tried to take a step with the other one. A sudden strike of immense pain shot through the lower half of my body, sending a scream of agony out my mouth. Brahms' hard look in his eyes changed and grew wide with worry as he came rushing towards me. He helped me back up to my feet and then turned so that his back was facing me. Confused, I just stood there.

"Get..on.." he mumbled in his small, kid voice.

He was going to give me a piggyback ride down the stairs.

Slowly, I wrapped my arms around his neck. Brahms squatted down a little for me, his hands held behind him, trying to feel for my legs.

I lifted one, and placed my thigh in his hand. He held it secure so I could then lift the other, wrapping them around his slim hips. Once I was on he jolted up, making me bounce on his back so he could adjust me. When I was secure, he made his way down. I looked at his hands, large and veiny, gripping tightly around my thighs. My head next to his, so close that sometimes I would accidentally bump my cheek against his cold, hard mask. I examined him. His hair, jet black and curly, smelled fragrant of an ocean-y scent mixed with hints of mint. A little bit of his beard was shown underneath the mask, from his jawline to his lower chin. I think Brahms could sense my stare, he shot a glance over at me with his eye. His good eye. Shiny, almond shaped, hazel and green with long lashes. In the other, the sclera (white part of the eye) was blood red which, must have been from the fire. I wasn't sure if he was blind in that eye or not. It had me wondering what the rest of him looked like.

We entered the kitchen and he let me down near the table. He slid the chair for me to sit. I did so and in front of me was a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of water.

Brahms took a seat across from me, nothing in front of him to save himself from having to take the mask off. Him watching me as I ate was very uncomfortable. I took small bites but my gulps still sounded loud. It was too quiet, too awkward and so to break the silence, I decided to make small talk.

"Are you really Brahms?"

"Y-es." he replies.

"How old are you?"

"28."

Brahms is close to my age...

"Then..." I hesitated, "-why is your voice that way?"

He tilted his head slightly, as if he found nothing wrong with the way he spoke.

Brahms' POV:

I stood up from my seat, and walked over to y/n. She put down her piece of toast and her body tensed as I came closer. I crouched down, in level with her.

"What's wrong with my voice?" I asked gently.

"It-It sounds like a child. And you're clearly not one anymore."

You're right, y/n. I'm not. Since I'm not using the doll anymore, I have no reason to keep talking like this. But, it's what I'm used to. I have to keep reminding myself that my parents are gone. They don't have control over how I talk or what I do.

The thought of my parents made my muscles tense, I angrily shot up. Now towering over y/n.

Your POV:

He stood, clearly pissed off at something. I don't know whether it was because of me or not. Maybe it was because I bombarded him with questions and he felt the need to become defensive. My face remained with a blank expression, though I couldn't hide my fear as my body trembled.

Brahms spoke, "Would..." he cleared his throat, "-you rather have me talk to you like this?"

His voice changed drastically from a little boy to a grown man. After that, Brahms stormed off somewhere. My brain shuttered for a moment as I thought about the sound of his voice.

Deep, yet soft and modulated.