Heather awoke a few hours later in bed alone with no sign of the Brahms doll, and someone was screaming her name, "Heather! Heather! Get in here!" She jumped out of bed and raced down the hall.
"Heather!" Blake yelled again.
"Blake, what happened?" She asked as soon as she got there.
Blake came over and grabbed her arm, "Get in here" he yanked her into the room, "Right now. What is this?"
Heather looked up and stared in shock. There on the wall, written in blood, 'Get Out', and in his bag of clothes sat four dead, bloody rats.
"Was this you?" Blake asked her again shaking her.
She shook her head, "I-I didn't do that."
"Don't play games with me!" he yelled at her, "How can this not be you? No one else is in this damn house!"
Heather shook her head only to stop short when she saw something in the corner of her eye. There sitting in one of the chairs, was the Brahms doll, "Brahms." She whispered.
"The doll?" He asked angrily as Heather moved to grab it, "The doll wrote this? Don't pull this shit on me, Heather." He followed her around the table.
Heather picked the doll up and held him closely as she turned back to face Blake, "Okay, fine, it wasn't you." He reached his hand out, "It was the doll. Give it to me."
She started backing up away from him, "Give me the doll."
Heather shook her head, "No."
"Give me the doll, Heather! Hand him over!" He shouted as she tried to run from him.
Blake grabbed her arm and tried to pull her back, but she struggled to get away from him.
"No, no, get off of me!" She cried as she slipped out of his grip and ran into the parlor, "It was me, okay! You were right, it was me. I did it. I want you to go!"
Blake shook his head, "No, It's too late. Now, give me the doll."
"No." She whimpered as he tried to snatch it from her, "Blake, Stop!"
"Heather!" Malcolm called out for her as he ran into the house.
"Now! I'm not joking around!" He grabbed the doll and knocked Heather to the ground in the process of pulling the doll from her grasp.
Heather hit her head against an end table on her way down and spit it open a bit.
"Hey, get your things and get out of here!" Malcolm told him as he entered the room.
"You know, everyone just seems to be in a big hurry for me to leave." Blake sneered as he looked between the two.
"You alright?" Malcolm asked her as she pulled herself up off the floor, but frowned when he noticed the cut on her head and the trickle of blood running down the side of her face.
Heather nodded shakily, "Yeah."
Blake looked over at Malcolm, "Maybe... Maybe you left that little message for me. Or are you gonna say it was the doll too?"
Malcolm looked over at Heather, confused, "What did Brahms do?"
"Blake, please," Heather spoke up, her voice trembling, "you don't understand what's happening. The doll..."
He cut her off, "No. I think I understand exactly what's going on." He spun around, still holding tightly to the Brahms doll.
"Give me the doll!" Malcolm yelled
"What's so special about this damn doll?"
"Blake! Blake, please. No" Heather sobbed as he started swinging the doll around haphazardly, "Blake!"
"Fine." He said simply before grabbing the doll by his feet and slamming him down on the table, smashing his face to bits.
Heather let out a cry at the sight, "No!"
Suddenly the whole room started to rattle and the floor boards began to creak.
"What the hell was that?" Blake asked.
There was a thudding noise above them, "I think we need to leave." Malcolm said slowly as he began to reach out for Heather.
"What's...What's going on?" Blake asked as the lights started flickering and the walls started shaking.
Blake walked forward and placed his ear against a mirror hanging on the wall, trying to listen. "We should... We should really go." Malcolm tried again but was shushed by Blake.
There was creaking behind the mirror "There is something..." all of the sudden the mirror shattered and the force of it sent Blake flying backwards, glass raining down on him.
"Oh shit." Malcolm muttered
"What's happening?" Heather whispered, frightened as she looked down at Blake lying on the floor groaning.
Her head shot up when she heard Brahms calling for her, "Heather?" and she turned to look back at the hole in the wall.
Heather could see the outline of someone standing there, in the hole, but couldn't make out who it was. "Heather." Brahms called for her again as a hand slowly crept out of the hole... Malcolm moved in front of her, "Jesus, what is that?"
The body attached to the hand followed. Then before they knew it a man was standing before them; a very dirty man wearing a mask that replicated the doll's face exactly.
"It's Brahms." Heather breathed in shock.
The sound of her voice caught the man's attention and he looked over at her, staring for a minute. His eyes darted up at the cut on the side of Heather's face; then turned to look at the man on the ground.
Brahms rushed at him.
Malcolm tried to push him back, but Brahms just grabbed a lamp from a nearby table and bashed him in the head with it, knocking him out.
Heather slowly backed away from them, she was in shock. There had been a man living in the walls the whole time she was living here? The real Brahms had never died; the fire was a set up. He had been living in the walls for twenty years. But why?
She watched silently as he began mercilessly beating Blake. Heather didn't even try to stop Brahms as she watched him grab a piece of the doll's face off the table and shove it into Blake's neck; and he kept shoving until Blake stopped moving.
Once Blake was dead, Brahms turned his attention to Heather; Malcolm was still knocked out on the floor, "Heather?" he questioned quietly in a childlike voice, bringing Heather out of her shock.
She looked up at Brahms, who was staring at her almost nervously, then down at Blake on the floor, then back to Brahms, "Brahms..." She breathed out stepping closer to the man.
He just stared at her silently, waiting for her to make the first move.
Heather looked back down at Blake's body, "You...I" she looked up into Brahms' eyes, "...Thank you." She whispered and Brahms cocked his head in shock, "I asked you to help me, and you did. Thank you."
She walked closer to him and hesitantly raised her arms. Brahms watched her cautiously, but didn't try to stop her. Heather took this as a good sign and reached forward to wrap her arms around him in a hug.
She felt him stiffen up under he touch, but then he lifted one arm and wrapped it around her body, though his own never lost the tension and Heather realized that this was probably the first time he had been hugged in twenty years.
Heather stepped back and gave a small smile to him before turning to look at Blake and Malcolm's bodies. What were they going to do about this?