The Walls Have Eyes

Chapter 4

Isabella immediately snapped out of the trance and made a way to make a distance between her and the masked man, however he had some other plans in his mind. He grabbed her shoulders slammed his cold procelain lips on her.

He felt the palms of her hand on his chest trying to distance herself from his hold but he pulled her closer and tried to deepen the kiss as much as he could with the mask on. Brahms was surprised by this sudden emotion that surged through him, this want so strong to possess her, to taint her. So strong that he failed to even feel her nails digging on the flesh of his arms. Brahms let her go after he was content with his kiss. He was surprised, very much surprised she did not try to impale him with a screwdriver like Greta did. Unlike all other nannies he killed, Greta was the only one to escape.

Brahms did not intend to let go this one, he liked her. He wanted her to be his nanny. He was torn away from his less than pure thoughts by her voice.

"It's about time you go to sleep"

He just nodded in response. The girl, he did not even know his name started to look around for something.

Her backpack...

"Where's my bag?" She asked.

"No need"

Brahms was really not in a mood to argue with her but the girl being a girl could not stop herself. "I want my bag, Now!"

Brahms just ignored her and closed his eyes trying to get some sleep. Finally some sleep since his pretty Greta left him. After a minute or two he finally felt the serenity of sleep welcoming him in her arms but suddenly, he woke up to a large clatter of sound of his precious belongings falling on the floor. The girl had intentionally knocked them off their places.

"Where. Is. My. Bag?" She repeated her question laced with threat that did not arose any fear in him. She was so much like a kitten, baring her tiny paws at him.

Brahms got up and sat on his bed one leg propped up and the other dangling down the bed. He watched her throw a tantrum over a bag. He felt like laughing at her antics because of how childish she was being.

Isabella internally screamed in frustration, she had all the things that she was in dire need of. Her personal sanitary products, her clothes, her phone all gone! It's because of him!

She could feel her anger radiating off her form and glared at the man through the corner of her eyes. There he was sitting nonchalantly on his bed acting like he's done nothing wrong. "I'm asking you one last time, hand over my bag!" She exclaimed throwing her hands up in the air. But Brahms just tilted his head like a confused kid would do. Clear, it was crystal clear he was enjoying toying her.

"What are you going to do?" He dared her with that raspy baritone voice of his.

Stomping her foot in frustration she looked around and her gaze zeroed on the procelain doll. A smirk adorned on her thin lips on realization of how much effort the man had put to glue them back together whatever the reason was of it's destruction.

"No, you won't touch Brahms" he warned her slowly getting up from the bed and nearing her in a manner as if she was a panicking wild animal.

"Oh..but I will" she teased and made a beeline for the doll. Isabella knew the game she was playing was a very dangerous game. At first she thought he was just a petty criminal but the more she observed him the more enigmatic he became. She knew somewhere in his brain, he was was not right in the head. He must've hit his head when he was born. She laughed.

She could sense the sudden drop of the temparature in atmosphere as if it was the nature itself saying. "You're treading on thin ice" The man froze when she poked the doll on the cheek and looked back at him smug as if to say " yo! I touched the doll, what the hell are you gonna do"

She again made an effort to touch the doll but suddenly she felt the cold floor on her back. She felt a tight grip on her neck and it made her see black spots in her vision, she realized that the crazy man had lunged at her and both of them toppled on the floor. He being the stronger one, he quickly got up and sat on her pelvis restraining any movement from her waist down. He was holding her neck in a tight, steel grip promising some bruises on her neck.

She chocked and struggled to breathe and scratched and dug her nails on his biceps to release herself. She was really short compared to his monstrous height and her arms were too short to reach his face therefore she struggled to even touch his face much less punch him in his face.

The force that he used to choke her, she felt like finally she will die. She could see her world shaking and darkening and then she was thrown into the oblivion.

After she blacked out, Brahms got a hold of himself and released her neck quickly. He panicked and put his ear on her chest to make sure her heart was beating, finally a breathe of relief left him when he felt her faint heartbeat.

She's just unconscious...

He smiled behind his mask and stroked her soft round cheeks. She was very pretty. It would've been a waste if he killed her accidentally, she was too pretty to die. She stroked her hair and wondered what she would smell like. Would she smell of Vanilla like Greta, his pretty Greta? She stoped stroking her soft brown hair and picked her up bridal style and sat her on his bed. He gently pushed her and placed her head on the pillow.

His eyes roamed over her figure and he took in the breath taking sight of her hiked up T-shirt. He could see her erect nipples through her thin clothing. Brahms then suddenly felt his slacks tighten with a familiar need when he saw Greta in the shower. Even though he saw her silhouette he was pretty sure Greta had a nice behind. He quickly turned away from the sight and cleared his head from those impure thoughts.

Mummy would've been very ashamed of you Brahms...

He shook his head and tightly held his hair because of the frustration he felt after watching the girl. He remembers, he was very ashamed of himself when he first felt like this year's ago. It was his nanny, Mariel. He got up midst in the early hours of the morning with a strange feeling in his trousers. It felt strange to touch too. He could not stop fantasizing about Mariel and then he felt like it wouldn't stop.

Years after her death by his own hands he somehow learned to control those 'feelings'. He learned that touching himself would relieve him off the ache.

Brahms once again took a last glance at Isabella and left his lair in search for something to eat. Since Greta left, he had been forced to do his own cooking, it was difficult at first but he learned it quickly, thanks to mummy. However it was nowhere near Greta's cooking, he missed her so much.

I wonder if this girl knows how to cook or not?

He thought as he made some scrambled eggs.

I'll not kill her, not now...

♤♤♤

Sorry guys, but this chappie was a little bit of short. But don't worry the next chapter is gonna be long.

Andddd don't forget to click that cute star to turn it into orange. 😊 bu-bye!