The Mask Of Beauty and Rage (Brahms X Greta)

Chapter 18 - Running Low

Greta was in the kitchen cleaning the plates humming softly to herself. It was good to keep herself occupied and perhaps get a little break every now and then. Even though she was still technically doing something, she needed a breather from Brahms. He wasn't with her at the moment she knew he was busy downstairs trying to patch up that hole in the thinner and tighter wall space. The traps haven't been set for months on end. It wasn't her fault a rat decided to come on over for a quick visit, she thought humorously. It was gross but funny at the same time thinking back on how panicked Brahms was by her shouting and seeing the rat. It was like a fast-moving comical episode of the Looney Tunes.

She didn't want to get in his way, so she thought maybe she'd whip something up for the two of them. Greta dried her hands with a quick shake in the sink and took a towel to damp herself lightly. Making her way over to the fridge she opens it wide. The idea of eating for today wouldn't last for another day. It was very low with no nutritional fruits or vegetables. Greta scrunched her face in grossness picking up the tomato as she squeezed it a little seeing the withering juices slip out. It was old, she concurred, and they said this was a country house and that nothing, absolutely nothing gets thrown away in this house. My ass, she thought unconvinced, tossing the rotted vegetable in the trash.

Wiping her hands on her sweater grossed out. She went back to the fridge hoping something magical would pop up again but no luck. This isn't good, she grew worried now, with no food or any contact to order the food they would most certainly starve and many even die by the end of the month.

"Let's not think that far." She whispered to herself trying to think it out properly. Map it out more like the bottom line was they needed to get food and fast. Oh great, she hissed in her frantic mind, Brahms would never let her leave this place nor was Brahms going to go out. Why would he, he doesn't know the outside world, and plus she knew he wouldn't want to leave this place. Plus, he probably wouldn't even want to discuss this at all but theoretically, Brahms is supposed to be dead to the world. It was all on her, she was the responsible one of course and he was technically the child with an adult-sized body who just wouldn't understand how bad this really is. What was Greta going to do now?

Greta plopped herself on the chair next to the table sitting at the very end. She didn't want to starve to death, and she was pretty sure Brahms didn't want to starve either, but she knew he wouldn't like this idea of leaving. If he let her go alone, no, she thought defeated, he was smarter than that and she couldn't fool him that easily. He'd probably fear she'd run away to Malcolm or the police. Greta rolled her eyes, feeling rather stressed out right now. This was something she didn't need to strain herself with at the moment. Greta needed to know how much was exactly left for the two of them.

Greta shot up from the chair pushing it back in a grumble. She opened the fridge once more and dragged all the remaining food. Tossing it all onto the table, whatever it was it didn't matter she needed to know what was good and what was bad. The things that were good can be placed back into the fridge but the things that were bad can be tossed away. In a rush, she slammed the remaining pieces of meat onto the table with a slap. Greta looked over the food and eyed it carefully.

"Tomatoes no, carrots no, canned potatoes yes, canned food yes, onions no, eggs no- EW MY GOD- "She gagged, tossing them in a big garbage bag. Greta shivered at the smell when she opened the final carton of eggs and threw it all away. Ok, she gazed over what remained, and it wasn't good.

.

Brahms was at this desk walking back and forth to the wall area and retrieving his materials. He thought he had everything but seemed to be lacking in a few things. No matter, he thought, he always found a way to get the job done without using any proper or the correct materials. With his cement gun in his hand, he refilled it with what little materials he had left. He went back over to the wall area and pushed half his body inside and reached in to spray the cement. Codding it over and over with multiple layers of cement hoping the rats wouldn't want to chew their way through it. Dirty pests, he thought feeling revolted by the nasty rodents.