Brahms' POV:

"It's not like I can leave," Y/n says.

She had a sudden change of tone and volume in her voice. As her irritation grew, I could feel mine growing as well.

"-It's part of the rules," I blurted out.

A feeling of immediate regret followed after saying those words. I lifted a hand to rub at the temples of my forehead, trying to relieve an upcoming headache from forming. I keep telling myself that it's going to be different with Y/n. That meant no more using the doll and no more rules but, I can't seem to part ways with them.

" You have rules?" She asks me.

I let out a silent sigh. Since y/n wanted some fresh air, I figured I'd tell her all about it on a stroll outside together. Y/n stood there for awhile, as did I. Both thinking about whether we could trust each other or not. I decided to lead the way, bringing her to the front of the yard. Y/n followed a few feet behind, keeping the same distance each time I walked. With every two steps forward I took, she'd take only one. As I headed towards the left and through the garden, I began to reveal more about my childhood.

" After the...incident, my parents tried to hide me from the outside world, " I began, " I spent most of my time hidden inside the walls of my own home." As I made my way past the daffodils, I let my fingers gently brush over the withering petals, " Since my parents worked long hours and I was too young to look after myself, they had to hire someone to look after me. Of course, since I was "dead" it was hard for them to do so. That was until they came up with an idea to purchase a doll. They would then use and treat the doll as if it were an actual boy to fool others...To create the picture of some heartbroken parents who use the doll to mourn over the loss of their dead son. Basically, they only bought the doll to give them an excuse to hire a nanny to watch over me. Upon hiring the nanny, my parents and I created a list of rules for her to follow."

I stopped and glanced at Y/n to see if she was still behind me.

"What were the rules?" she asks. Even though I had stopped walking she took a few steps forward in curiosity.

As I listed off the rules, we continued walking, " There were ten of them. Number one was that there were to be no guests. My parents didn't want to risk having more than one person in the house. Afraid that I might be discovered. Number two," I continued, " never leave Brahms alone. Three, save meals in the freezer. I had to have some way to eat so, whatever the nanny doesn't finish, it was put into the freezer. While the nanny is busy, I would go out of the walls to retrieve the food. Rule number four, never cover Brahms' face. Number five, read a bedtime story. They would have to read in a loud clear voice so that I would be able to hear it from within the walls. Rule number six, play music loud...I really loved my music. Seven, clean the traps. Every morning my father would set up traps around the house to keep the mice and rats from getting inside and into the walls. I'm not very fond of rodents. Number eight, only Malcolm brings deliveries-"

"Malcolm..." I heard her mutter.

"-He was our grocery boy...Nine, Brahms is never to leave. That rule was made by my parents to remind me that, I can never leave this place. And lastly, rule number ten, kiss goodnight."

Brahms begins walking again. At the field of roses, he stops, as if to admire them.

That's when I decide to bring up a few questions, " Do I have to follow all these rules?" I asked.

Brahms continues looking at the roses. Most of which had browning petals, curled and stiff. Though, there was one rose that magically held up its shape and color. I lifted my hand to it's bright red petals. It felt velvety to the touch.

"Just two for now," Brahms replied, "No guests...and clean the traps."

"What happens if I break any of these rules?...What happens if I," my voice starts trembling, "-If I leave?"

As I stood there waiting for a reply, I continued fondling with the rose. My finger draws circles along the top of the rose, causing bits of powdery yellow grains to fall. There's a gentle breeze of wind that passes by, carrying the pollen along with it.

" People will come looking for me," I warn him, " I have family, friends, classmates that will get worried about why I haven't returned from my trip."

That finally gets him to talk as he asks, in that deep monotone voice of his, " How long are you supposed to be gone for?"

The trip is supposed to be two to three months long..." A month," I lied.

As I start to hear the crinkling of leaves and squishing of soil, I know that Brahms is coming towards me. When I look towards his direction, I see his tall figure towering over me. Out of fright, I squeezed the hand that I had wrapped around the rose. I feel a sharp prickle that's followed by something warm and wet trailing down my finger. Even though it hurts, I still don't let go.

Brahms leans down closer to me until we are at the same height. Under his stare, I could feel my body starting to wilt like, the flowers that surround us. In the natural light, his eyes were the color of glimmering emerald. I knew that he could sense my fear so when he spoke, his voice was little more than a murmur. From under his mask I hear him softly whisper, "Then, y/n...From now on until that time comes-," his black curly locks swayed with his next words, "I'll give you reasons to stay."