The next day...

Your POV

Aware of the fact that Brahms could come into my room whenever he pleased made me feel uneasy. In the bed, I squeeze and tug at the skin of my wrist to keep myself awake. My long nails pierce deep and yet, my eyes continue to close. I wanted to stay awake throughout the night but, I could feel my body give in. After many failed attempts, I eventually succumb to the sleep, hoping I'd still be alive to see another day. As much as this documentary means to me, I should value my life more.

Before I got into filmmaking, I felt like I had nothing going for me in life. I originally went to school for dental hygiene, since my parents wanted me to go into the health professions. Eventually, I stopped going attending those classes to major in film. Instead of telling my parents, I made it seem like everything was fine. I only wanted to make them proud. My parents eventually found out and they weren't happy with me. They said I wouldn't make it as a filmmaker. But, I had thought that, if I get this right I can prove to my parents that my decision is not a mistake. That I'm not a failure. This was the underlying reason of why I went back into the house after my first encounter with Brahms.

All of that doesn't matter now. First, I need to get stronger. I still don't feel 100% and until I can come up with a plan, I'll cooperate.

~•~

By the time I woke up, the sun was just rising. I got up from the bed and stood near the window sill, watching as the sky slowly turned into shades of orange and pink. The sunlight peeked through, gently kissing my skin. It gave my body the warmth this house went without. On the outside, beyond these gates, there was life. A forest full of bright green trees that have just blossomed from the showers of April. On the opposite side of those gates, where I reside, were nothing but naked trees. Its dead, dried up leaves whirled away by the cool winds. The sun was the only source of warmth around here since the house was bitterly cold, dimly lit, and hauntingly empty...apart from the silent ghost that occupies its walls.

In a desperate need of fresh air, I decide to open the window. Clumps of dust cling to my fingertips as my hands search around for the latch. I eventually find it and push the window up but it doesn't budge. I take a huge breath in, filling my lungs with air and holding it in my chest before trying again. I let out a few grunts in annoyance as I struggled to open the window. In confusion as to why it wouldn't lift, I took a better look around. I soon found out that the window had been nailed shut...

I put on some slip-ons and make my way downstairs, tiptoeing to minimize the noise of the creaky floorboards. As I get further down, I can hear the sound of a piano coming from one of the living rooms. Upon entering, I see Brahms sitting at the huge, shining black instrument. I feel my heartbeat starting to rise but the sweet, soothing notes of the piano calms me down. It draws me in closer and as I now stand beside him, I could feel the strong vibrations tingling on my skin. He continues to play, unbothered by my presence as he is completely lost in the music. I watch his hands, how they glide smoothly across the keys. How his fingers tap them, gentle and slow. After awhile, he stops, kind of abrupt and removes his hands to place them on his lap.

My lips part and I look down at him, "You can really play-."

Before I could finish, Brahms brings up both arms and slam them down on the piano keys. I quickly cover my ears to save them from the harsh ringing. After the noise fades out, I remove them to hear Brahms speak.

"I messed up..." He mumbles to himself, sounding completely out of it, "Mother...Mother is going to be upset."

When he turns his head, I see that his eyes are filled with worry. He blinks a few times at me. I can see that with each blink, he begins to return to a much more relaxed state.

"Y/n," he says, "Did I wake you?"

He speaks so normally. As if I hadn't just seen him go into a strange episode.

I cleared my throat, "No...I actually just woke up. I was coming down to get some fresh air. The windows, they don't-."

"Fresh air?" he interrupted, "Were you headed outside?"

I nodded.

He was sitting on a black wooded bench in front of the piano. He shifted his body towards me. As he turned in his seat, his knees brushed against my lower thigh. I didn't realize just how close I was to him and took a few steps back. His eyes glazed over my body, starting at my neck and down to my ankles.

"I take it that you're feeling better?" He asks, "You made it all the way down here by yourself."

"A little..." I reply.

He doesn't say anything after.

" So, you play piano?" I ask to avoid an awkward silence.

He nods, "Do you know it?"

"..Do I know it?" I repeat.

" The song."

" Oh...Um," I think, trying to remember where I've heard if before, " I don't know the name but, it sounds familiar."

" Piano Sonata No. 11," he responds, " in A major."

" I-...Is that one of Beethoven's?"

Brahms shakes his head and I see his eyes roll, " Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart."

" Right...," I reply, " Sorry, I don't listen to this kind of music."

" Classical music...my favorite genre. It's the only genre I have ever really heard," he tells me while staring at a picture of Mrs. Heelshire on the wall, " For my 7th birthday, I had asked for one of those small, convertibles. The ones you can collect. Instead, she buys me a piano. Mother thought it would be good for me to pick up some hobbies. She had hired a piano teacher for me. In a few months I learned how to play compositions from the most famous composers out there. Like, Bach, Mozart-," he stops and lifts his chin to look up at me, "...And Beethoven," he adds.

" That's impressive. She must have been proud of you," I say.

He shakes his head, " No matter what I did, I was never good enough. After each session, I was ordered to play for my mother. Any mistake and she'd strike me on the back with a fire iron.

Jeez...That would explain why he reacted that way earlier...

" What music do you prefer, y/n?"

"...I like [genre of music]," I tell him hesitantly.

He tilts his head in confusion.

" I-I guess I could show you," I then reach for my back pocket and pull out my phone.

"Have you had that the whole time?" He asks me.

I nodded, " It's not of much use since I don't get reception down here...Luckily, I have my music downloaded."

I unlock my phone and go through my playlist. I choose to play [pick a song]. As the song plays, I look at Brahms. I can't tell whether he likes it or not.

This is so stupid, I thought to myself.

I hit the pause button before the song could finish.

Brahms is silent.

" Yeah, it's not for everyone," I say while putting the phone away, " I'm gonna head outside now..."

As I make my way out, I hear Brahms' footsteps following behind. When I stop, Brahms stops too. I turn around and ask him kindly, " Can't I go for a walk outside?"

He nods.

" By myself?" I add.

" No."

" It's not like I can leave," I say, letting my voice get a tad bit louder.

" It's part of the rules," he responds.

Rules? What rules?