I'll Be Good, I Will (Brahms Heelshire × Reader)

5

First Person P.O.V - (Y/N)
Edit: Every paragraph is begun with a ¶ symbol, and any chapter without the symbol they usually begin with a -. I am updating these slowly but surely. Also; word counts!)
Word Count: 1,609

¶ It's been a week since I'd injured my legs, and taking care of the doll has slowly grown easier. This next time around, when the grocery woman came around, I opened the door and took them from her hands. She was so sweet, talkative, like an old elderly woman who lives alone and doesn't talk to her family anymore. Which means I stood there for st least half an hour listening to her tell a story about her recently deceased "best friend" that she was "roommates" woth for years. Today however, it was getting late.
¶ "Brahms, have I ever told you about my highschool days?" I speak outwardly as I sat across the table from him for dinner. "When I was fourteen, my greatest friend Sarah fell in love with this boy, Malcolm? He was the dumbest guy I'd ever met in my life.. Well, this guy thought that he was smooth and he said something about being able to read your soul age through your eyelashes or something. Let me tell you this, as a child you ought to know that sometimes grown people are really stupid. Sometimes I'm stupid. No one is perfect. You've just got to be grown enough to know when you're in the wrong and apologize for it."
¶ I pluck a piece of my recently cooked dinner and I pop it in my mouth, taste testing the meal. I realize how much better my cooking has gotten over the last couple of weeks; basically cooking for fun at this point. I've forced myself to just not think about what was going on around me, ignoring the fact that meals in the freezer would disappear, and the occasional sound of childish giggles that would creep up through the hallway as I tell Brahms a funny story that even I laugh at.
¶ I find it surprising how much I've grown on this doll, talking to him like he were a friend to me. Very rarely, he'll respond, telling me to keep going with the story, or asking what happens next? I found it a little cute, really, and at this point I'd rather just go with the flow than try to be logical about the situation. I've been forced here against my will, and I can't risk being found, though. I'm going to have to leave eventually.. I guess now I don't want to. It's been a long time since someone appreciated my existence, since someone has actually wanted me around.
¶ My smile seemed to fade slowly, only now did I realize I was even smiling in the first place. I let out a soft sight, before looking forward at the doll. "Y'know, uh.. The mistake I made? It.. Had something to do with Sarah. She, uh.. About half a year ago she got into the bad side of town, and.." I pause, staring st the child before I shake my head. "Sorry, no. You're just a kid, right? Nevermind." I place my face into my hand as I looked down at my meal. "Just remember, sometimes people are bad, and you just have to get over them.. No matter how important they were to you."
¶ I take another bite full, and then I leaned back in my dining chair and looked up at the ceiling, dazing off basically as I lose myself in thought. I never imagined that I'd feel so alone and not alone at the same time, sitting in a room with a supposedly possessed doll. I feel like I'm being watched on the constant, but at this point I'm so used to it that I can't tell the difference between being watched or not.
¶ I lifted my head back up as I swallowed and laid my eyes upon the doll once more. I no longer felt eerie staring at him, like my life was in the hands of something that wanted me dead.
¶ "...Do you actually enjoy my company Brahms? Or do you just tolerate me because you're afraid being alone?" A pause in silence; no response. "I guess I shouldn't expected that you wouldn't say anything.. But I am very curious, y'know. I tell you all of these stories, and.. Sometimes they're so stupid. Like watching my classmate in elementary school eat cashews through his nose...You just sit there and listen to me. I don't know if you have a choice or not, and that's probably why I'm curious. I've never been tolerated, really, by the people around me. I've had good friends before, I will admit, but the ones I ended with.. I don't think I could make any more friends. I don't have the capacity to trust anyone."
¶ I lean forward, resting my forearms on the table and my head drops to look down at the plate of food before me. I would've eaten this all by now, but the depressing tension overcame me and I was losing my hunger. I sigh through my nose, my hands clamping in between my thighs.
¶ "If you had the chance to grow up, Brahms, I think... I'd have a lot of good advice for you. Like, for instance, don't let your friends drag your name through the dirt and put you in financial situations that could cost your life." I find my fingers going under my legs as the kitchen loses it's heat slowly; the vents stopped ten minutes ago and the temperature was dropping; I was hanging out with a ghost. "Be friends with people you know you can trust, and even then, don't put real expectations up on them until they can prove what expectations they can uphold. Don't let people push you around, stand up for yourself, recognize your worth and realize that... The only person you got is you in the end."
¶ It was silent after that, and I was sick of talking. It didn't take long until the heaters started booting back up though, the air filling with heat. I hear a click and a squeak from afar, and that notifies me that some poor rodent soul has had its bones caved in. I'm about to get up and handle it before I freeze, noticing the dark figure in the corner of my eye, sitting in the window. I turn my head in a snap, and just like that it goes out of my sight. I've never had that happen before, and I can feel my heart beating deep in my chest over the fear it smothered me in. But just like everything else, I will foolishly disregard it. I rise to my feet.

¶ "Alright Brahms, it's time for bed." I say, sitting him down on the bed and then removing his doll clothes. Soon, they will be replaced with pajamas. "Tonight I'm gonna read you the last book that's in here. After that, I can start rereading other stories, alright? Unless you got secret books lying around."
¶ I lay him down under the thick blanket and I pull the book out from it's slot. It has no cover, none at all, and I didn't even remember it being in the case. It was just paper, and as I opened it, the pictures were hand drawn and the lettering was cursive.. Brahms' handwriting. I just smile, however.
¶ "Oh, did you make this? Your writing is very pretty Brahms.. Alright. Once upon a time," I switch the book to face towards him, reading his story out to him and letting him see the images he'd drawn. "There was a quiet, sad teddy bear, living all by himself in a cave. This teddy bear, had a teddy bear of his own that looked just like him."
¶ The images shown are of a bear with a sad frowny face, drawn plump and very simple. The next, he is still very sad, and the teddy bear he holds is smiling. I flip to the next page, and I read the words upside down.
¶ "This Teddy Bear made a bunch of friends, and all of those friends thought he was ugly and dumb.. So they left. He was all alone, all over again."
¶ The image of the bear with three different bears was shown, and then these three bears were presented leaving through the cave entry, and the smaller teddy bear was ripped to shreds on the limestone floor. The sad bear was crying into his claws, morbidly scratching out his own buttons. I flip the page.
¶ "Then, a new bear came along, finding somewhere to hide and hibernate. This bear, and the sad teddy bear became close, and the new bear promised to never leave."
¶ The sad bear smiles at the newest bear, who was smiling back, covered in dirt and grime. They held hands, and the broken teddy bear was fixed up and sitting upright on the ground. It was a short story, but I figured he put a lot of effort into it, especially if I was right about it being him who made it.
¶ I held it to my chest and I smile at the doll. "I love this book, Brahms. I think it's my favorite out of all the bedtime stories we've read so far. You are a great story teller."
¶ I put the book back into it's place before I leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Brahms' cheek. I wish him goodnight, before I leave to go to bed myself. I don't sleep well that night.