The Boy (a Brahms fanfic)

Rule #1

Brahms' P. O. V.

They got away that easily. How could I be such a fool to believe that Greta will be there for me? That she'd always follow the rules? That she would willingly be with me? Now, I've got nothing left. Mother and Father are long gone. They say in the letter that I should be a good boy to Greta because she's the only one I have right now. But no, she just came back to save Malcolm. And I thought that she was sincere about what she told me: "Brahms! It's time for you to sleep, go back to bed!"

I went to the kitchen and found the medical kit that Mother would always show me when I was a kid. When I was young enough to scrape my knees and elbows while playing outside. I cleaned the wound on my stomach and covered it with a bandage. I have to put away the dead body of that man, but where should I put it? Should I bury it? I don't know. How should I know? I'm just a boy. Or maybe I'm not.

And so I screamed out of confusion.

I got inside of the room where the dead body is lying, the piece of a broken mirror I used to stab his neck is still perfectly there. Have I been a bad boy? Who will tell me what's good and what's not now? I just need someone to look after me, do what Mother and Father used to do before when they were still alive. Do I need someone to love me? Did Greta even love me? What does 'love' mean, anyway?

To escape the question inside of my head, I just covered the poor man's corpse with an old blanket. I started cleaning up the whole area in silence. When I finished putting all of the broken pieces of the mirror inside of a black trash bag, I saw the doll, with its head all destroyed into tiny bits.

I killed this man, I couldn't remember the name, because he destroyed me. The Brahms doll. And also because he hurt Greta. He wanted Greta to get away with him. No one will get what's mine!

While looking down at the broken doll, a tear fell down to it. Am I crying? Why am I even crying? No! I am not a crybaby! But the tears continued to flow out of my eyes. How am I supposed to stop these tears? Should I turn off the faucet? I mean, is there even a faucet in my eyes?

Angrily, I just went back up to my room using the secret ladders I made. I need to fix the doll, but maybe I'll do it tomorrow morning. Then I remember the body, what should I do with the dead body? Maybe I'll deal with all of those stuff tomorrow. I'm tired and sad. But who will sing me to sleep this time? Who will kiss me goodnight? Am I really on my own now? Why do people leave me all alone?

I closed the lights and hummed my lullaby, then the rain started to pour down outside.