Sorry I'm late I had mental health.
"GO TO BED!" screams Greta, her voice loud and stern as Brahms stands shocked and almost tearful as he slowly heads through the long quiet hall and into his room, laying down on the bed and softly whimpering. Greta, clenching a screwdriver in her hand, marches not far behind, thinking of how Brahms killed her stalker ex boyfriend Cole and knocked out her new friend Malcolm. She was going to get revenge against Brahms for almost killing her and Malcolm while she entered Brahms room.
Her dress and jewelry were scattered about the room, stolen by Brahms earlier in the day, this only enraged her more as she marched to Brahms who was in his bed, a sullen and sad expression seen on his eyes under the porcelain mask.
"I'm really sorry for hurting you and your friend..I'll follow the rules I promise, I won't be a bad boy anymore…" Brahms clutches his blanket apologetically as he sees Greta's face almost soften.
"It's time for you to sleep Brahms" she utters lowly, the screwdriver still in her hand.
"Could I have a kiss Goodnight..?" Brahms asked with his eyes hopeful but still tearful.
Greta leaned over to give him a kiss on the forehead but instead she went to stab Brahms viciously and Brahms face contorted into anger and hatred suddenly "I THOUGHT YOU WERE A NICE PERSON BUT YOU JUST WANT TO HURT ME LIKE EVERYBODY ELSE!!" Brahms screamed emotionally, catching Greta by the arm and shoving her back, her weapon flying out of her hand as Brahms rose out of bed and screamed again
"I DON'T WANT TO GO BACK IN THE WALLS!" Tears filled his eyes as it covered his mask and dripped down onto the floor, each tear correlating to each step that he took towards Greta, her own face was fearful, she was going to die and she knew it. Greta stumbled backwards away from Brahms as her back hit the wall and her eyes squeezed closed.
"I thought you wanted to be my friend….my lover….." Brahms choked out, starting to cry as he slammed his fists into Greta's face repeatedly, each blow harsher than the last as he sent her to the floor and got on top of her. He sniffled and reached for the screwdriver, picking it up with both hands and holding it over his head.
"You're a bad person…and bad people can't stay here.." he whispered quietly as he plunged the screwdriver into her head multiple times, stabbing her until all that was left was a mash of flesh where her head used to be. Brahms gasped loudly, looking at her dead body that he was still on, and he started sobbing. Why couldnt he get the family that he so desired, why was Greta so mean to him, why couldn't he have a parent that was proud of him, these thoughts ran through his head as he got off of the carcass that was now Greta and went to his bed, sitting down and sobbing further.
After an hour of seemingly non-stop sobbing, the manors phone rang from across the hall. Brahms slowly stood up as the phone was rarely used – if at all in the house. His hands were still shaking lightly as he picked up the receiver to his ear and softly spoke.
“...Hello?” His voice still sounded raspy from heaving. He waited until the line spoke back.
"Would you like to play a game?" A mysterious voice questioned quietly.
“I…am not sure. I cannot feel my head. I want to go to bed…” Brahms tried not to cry again, especially on the phone. His only concern was if the police called, but thankfully they didn’t.
"It's a simple game, you answer my questions and you get to sleep for tonight." The voice sounded soothing but also striking, like it was almost commanding but relaxing in a quiet way.
“Okay…I will answer questions, but I am not…very good at conversation…” Brahms struggled to get certain words out as living in the walls for most of his life damaged his social skills.
"The first is simple, do you like horror?" Energy raised in the voice,they sounded excited but steady, already another question invaded the voices mind.
“I…have never seen any horror before. I feel…horror though. I feel I am horror.” Brahms stared at the lifeless body of his caretaker from the hall.
"Mmmm is that so? Is that why I found this body, long brown hair, male…dead?" The voice gasps, inhaling sharply, trying to hide their excitement.
“...Are you police? Don’t come closer. I will kill you if you come any closer. I am not afraid.” Brahms grips the phone cord tightly and breathes heavier, looking around the hallway.
"Ohohoho quite the opposite, I'm known as Ghostface, and I'm proud of you..your work too, how well you killed this…gentleman is exemplary."The voice now known as Ghostface chuckles, it sounded wispy and far away but close as if right behind Brahms himself.
“Ghost…face? You have an…odd name. You like the body of Cole? You…not police? Where are you? Show yourself to me.” Brahms whips his head back to check behind himself.
"Answer this last question and you will find me, where can you reflect on yourself?" Ghostface chuckled again softly as Brahms stood, momentarily speechless as he thought about the answer.
"Uuh…mirror..?" Brahms sounded unsure with the answer he gave, he quivered, waiting to see if his answer was correct or if he was about to get attacked.
"Good boy, don't keep me waiting." The phone cut off suddenly as The Boy stood in the hallway of the Heelshire Mansion, slightly bewildered but mostly unsure if he should find the voice on the other line. He placed the receiver back on its hook and thought quietly for only a few seconds, if this Ghostface attacked him then he could kill them but if he did then he'd be alone yet again, how could he trust this voice, the voice did call him a good boy though, Greta couldn't do that, that's why she lays dead, but where was Ghostface? The answer to the question was mirror..and Ghostface mentioned Cole..the realization hit Brahms quickly as he took a step forward, then another and another right past his second kill this year and straight to the bedroom that lay Cole, the blood around him was dried by now, the walls were dented outward from Brahms banging earlier that night and the mirror was shattered, the thing he broke to finally escape the walls and stab Cole.
Among the rubble was something new, a being was hunched over inspecting the body of Cole, they were wearing a black cloak and hood with a jagged base, it was simple but effective.
"W-who..you..?" Brahms uttered shyly as the being rose, standing up and twisting around suddenly revealing a white face resembling an anguished ghost in the middle of a long mournful howl.
"We talked on the phone and I'm very proud of your killings, call me a fan, Ghostface" as the darkly dressed being spoke, the face didn't move but that didn't stop this person from motioning around the room with their black leather gloves, their sleeves following in a wispy ghostly way that made this person almost otherworldly.
