Young and Scared

first day

Greta heard her alarm blaring as she slowly sat up, and turned it off. What did she have to do today? She couldn't quite remember.

But soon enough all memories flooded in, Cole, Malcolm, the doll and...
And Brahms.
Who is alive,
6'3,
28 years old,
And just murdered her abusive ex the night before.

The American found herself waking up faster then normal, questioning literally everything; why did she not leave? Why is she looking after Brahms? He's a pyscho for god's sake! At this point is there a God? She's stuck in a house with a deranged murder?! Why did she think this was a good idea? She soon remembered why.

He's not an adult, not mentally at least, and whilst she is creeped out of her whits, she feels like she had to take care of him. He's mentally stuck in a place where he doesn't understand right and wrong, and she literally ask for him to help her (although she did think he was a ghost or something, but the point still stands)

Slowly, she sat up on the side of her bed. Mentally preparing herself for the day ahead, and planned her next move. Greta looked at her phone, 6:57 am. 3 minutes until she woke Brahms up.

So, rather than try get dressed, the slightly shaky woman gathered herself for the 3 minutes in her pajamas; then stood up and walked quietly to the room next to hers.

Knocking on the door was all the warning she was going to give as she walked in. And there he was.

Brahms in his off green cardigan, braces and dirty white vest. She sat at the edge of his bed, taking in the sight briefly. His unruly brown hair stuck up at every place possible, and Greta could see how he desperately needed a bath, and a shave.

During his sleep his porcelain mask must of been moved as she could see his mouth and chin. She could see slight burns but obviously he was able to escape without much damage...
Physically.

She soon realised she had spaced out and ran her hand down Brahms back softly,
"Brahmsy, it's time to wake up. Come on bubba, I promised pancakes"

At the mention of pancakes, Brahms slowly opened his eyes. Blinking sleep out of his eyes as he sat up and stretched, towering over Greta with his sheer hight.

Finally he yawned, fixed his mask and laid his hands in his lap, staring at the woman.

"... You stayed."

The statement surprised Greta but she quickly melted into a soft smile and confirmed that yes, she promised she'd stay after all.

Though his mask was on, she could see how the man's eyes became squinted as he smiled, filling with joy at the pure fact that she indeed stayed and wanted to look after him

"Come on then little one, let's get you dressed and make pancakes for breakfast."

Excitedly, Brahms rushed out of bed, bouncing on the balls of his feet as Greta followed and took in a breath of relief that he remained happy.
What a mistake that was.
The smell of blood, death and sweat filled her sences.
Staring at the little who cause the smell, the one who saw her stare and simply cocked his head in question, she realised something.

He needs a bath.
Now.

Not even a second later, she firmly but kindly gripped his fingers and led him to the bathroom and sat him in the toilet as she started the shower.

Soon, Brahms realised what was about to happen and the tips of his ears became red in embarrassment as he knew he wasn't the best smelling. Tears started welling in his eyes as he looked down in shame.

As soon as Greta heard a small sniff, she turned to see the boy curled up and crying almost silently. Immediately she rushed to comfort the boy, rubbing his arms and holding him close.

"Baby boy, it's okay. I promise. It's perfectly fine okay? It's expected seeing as someone so small has been alone for so long."

But despite her comforting words, he couldn't look her in the eyes. So she simply held him.

Whispering comfort in his ears and he eventually unfurled himself but eyes still down cast. Greta knelt down so she could look at him and held his porcelain cheeks with both hands. His eyes met hers, still wet and shiny.

"M' sorry"
That was all he whispered out, and a little of Greta's heart broke.

"Can I have your mask? Please bubba."

The question got the little to sit still, completely frozen and taken off guard. The two sat like that for what felt like hours when it was simply seconds.

Soon, a tiny nod came and Greta thanked him, calling Brahms 'such a brave boy' and slowly removed the mask. Gently placing it in the sink.

Despite moving his eyes away, she moved her hands to his cheeks, reminiscent of just minutes ago with the mask. She stroked his cheek with her thumbs.
" You don't have to be sorry. Nobody looked after you before and that wasn't fair. You are not at fault for their ignorance."

He finally looked at her again and smiled. Only then did she taking in his face. Like she thought; he had burns, but not too badly, sticking to the right of his face and chin. No hair grew there but even without that he still had plenty of facial hair.

Just so he didn't get scared, Greta told him what she was going to do.

"First shower, so you can be all fresh again, I'll leave you alone for that cause your a big boy aren't you? You don't need me to help bubs. Then would you like me to help you shave your face? You don't have to but the mask might be better without?"

As much as she didn't want to, Greta knew the mask was comforting to him and decided that rather than taking that comfort away, she'll just clean it.

Brahms seemed to like the idea, but wanted to watch Greta clean the mask first. So she did, not wanting to upset the little. Once she was done, she lent the mask up and softly guided Brahms hand to the shower water, asking if it was okay.

He lent in just a bit and turned the water slightly colder but nodded at the temperature. She left him in the bathroom but not without a small hug and kiss on the temple, simply telling him to find her once done in the kitchen.

She proceeded to make her way down to start pancakes and her new life with her boy.

Her boy?