Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. "I know he wouldn't hurt me."
Malcolm was NOT getting you away from this house.
"It's not safe in this house, okay?" He said, struggling to convince you.
Irritated by the fact Malcolm couldn't let it go, you kicked back your chair and slammed your cup on the counter behind you. "I'm not leaving."
Damn, it felt good to put your foot down.
Malcolm sighed and ran his hand through his hair again, "Okay."
---
"Now, you go to sleep like a good boy," You softly whispered to Brahms, finally tucking him in for the night. You kissed the doll goodnight lightly and shivered at the cool porcelain on your lips. "You wouldn't hurt me, would you?"
As you drew away, the doll looked up at you with glassy eyes, rendering no emotion and only giving you a reflection of yourself back.
Looking around the room quickly, the number of dolls watching you made you feel uncomfortable.
Why would one child want so many toys?
It was beyond you.
---
The attic in the house wasn't a particularly nice place for you anymore, seeing as you had an 'incident' here, but it held the information you needed.
Rummaging through the boxes, you found a photo album. As you flipped through its pages, you finally discovered the photo you needed.
It was a photo of Brahms and Emily, on Brahms' eighth birthday. The photo itself was rather sinister, with Brahms standing quite a ways away from Emily, but looking at her with a transfixed expression. Almost as if he.. planned to kill her.
No.
Brahms wouldn't do that.
Would he?
You only knew Brahms as a doll, not an eight-year-old child.
For all you knew, he could've planned to kill Emily and his parents too.
"Emily Cribbs," You gasped, frowning at the picture.
You put it down quickly and ran back downstairs.
---
The next day, you pretended as if nothing had happened. Per the Heelshires request, you cleaned the rat traps outside, emptying the carcasses into a bin bag. You had taken Brahms out with you too, and he sat on the stone bench as you cleared out the traps. Finally, when you were done, you picked up Brahms, putting him under one arm and the bin bag under the other. Slowly, you walked back to the house.
---
As soon as you had disposed of the trash bag, you went into the kitchen and washed your hands, preparing to make dinner. Suddenly, there was a thump, similar to the ones you heard when you first entered the house.
"Malcolm?" You called out, not entirely sure if it was him just playing a prank on you. Although, you doubted he would do that, seeing how the past few days had gone for the two of you.
You heard pool balls clacking together not long after the thump, and making you slightly more scared than you were before. You made your way closer to where the noises were coming from, Brahms slung over your shoulder.
"Malcolm?" You called out once more.
You stopped. It wasn't Malcolm who was making the giant racket.
It was Cole.