The Chance to make a Change

Chapter 15: The Paint

Summary: He isn't going to his ordinary job today.
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Max did not find your note. Either that or he was indeed an idiot like Albert had claimed in the movie. The next day passed uneventfully. You kept waiting for him to come, but he never entered Albert's chamber, and your leash was kept too short to alarm him. Albert had made sure that there were no items nearby enough for you to reach and use to make noise with. You were left with clear instructions to keep quiet and to hide in the toilet if anyone ever came inside. But he shouldn't have bothered.

Of course, you had tried to catch his brother's attention while Albert was off to work. You had screamed and kicked your feet against the wall until you'd grown tired and your throat hurt. But apparently, Max hadn't been home. And neither had any of the neighbors, for no one came to your rescue. And you had regretted your action severely when Albert came home and forced his hard cock down your sore throat. Yep, never again. The day after you remained silent, not even bothering to shout for help.

You were awfully alone during these times when Albert was away. Bored and lonely, a sad combination. You had to wait for your food much longer than before Max had been staying over. Albert probably had to wait for his brother to either be out or be out cold before he could bring you some. It was irksome, because you'd been awfully hungry, and the hungrier you got, the fiercer the urge to vomit became again.

And yes, you had created an intimate relationship with Albert's toilet in the en suite. You'd hugged the damn thing more times than you wished to remember. But at least the nauseousness was settling down now that you were out of the basement, and it seemed that whatever illness had befallen you was slowly ebbing away.

You missed scratching marks on the basement wall. You had no idea how much time had flown by, despite being able to see the light of day more clearly now. You thought it felt like months since you got here, but in reality, it would probably have been weeks instead. Two weeks? Three? Why were you still alive even? And why keep you up in his room? Wasn't it incredibly tricky with Max around?

Perhaps that's why he hadn't left for work yet, you thought. Had he taken the day off? Everything started out normally though. With him deep inside you before the alarm went off and he had to be up. He finished inside you, then rolled over and slid out of the bed to dress, like he always did.

But then, the day that had started like all others took a nasty turn.

The faint sounds of the television switched on drifted to you from the living room, where Max presumably sat. You had heard him mumble a few times, even shouted for Albert to come and help him with something once. You knew that you weren't the only two people around the house now. But still, Albert had not mentioned his brother to you. He had not said a damned thing about him.

You watched Albert as he started to dress for the day. Not the usual casual shirts or his working clothes. The long grinning face had to be removed for him to put his red turtleneck on – he turned away from you so you couldn't see his face, then re-attached the mask again before he continued putting the rest of his clothes on. You watched him put on his black shirt and pants, the red turtleneck proudly popping out from underneath.

He was donning his magician's clothes. A feeling of dread settled deep within the pit of your stomach. What did it mean? You watched in silence as he put everything on, then waited as he disappeared into the tiny bathroom. You heard the click of the mask as it was being placed on the sink and heard him rummage through the little medicine cabinet. He usually kept that last one locked, a means to stop you from either poisoning yourself or him, you thought grimly.

You assumed he was fixing his makeup, for it took a while before he re-emerged. The devil's horns were mocking you. But the bottom half had gone and you could now see his lips. Chin white. You had been right then.