Tyger Tyger, burning bright,

In the forests of the night;

What immortal hand or eye,

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

-William Blake -

Laurie stood at the graveside, holding a black umbrella against the drizzle The headstone was black marble with gold lettering bearing the names and date of death of the Heelshires. Brahms stood beside her, for the grave was beneath one of the great Cedars of Lebanon in the grounds to the west of the house. There'd been nobody at the actual burial other than Laurie, the funeral directors and local vicar. It had been the request of Margaret and Richard that they be put to rest with minimum fuss and no mourners.

It had been a week since his parents had been laid in the ground. Laurie wondered how Brahms must be feeling. But he stood stoically staring down at the stone and the wreath of lilies wilting in the rain.

"Shall we go inside now," she ventured. Rain sparkled in his hair, dripping from the twisting curls in tiny drops. He wore no mask. Tentatively, Laurie took his hand and led him from the grave.

Inside the house, she watched him move about the kitchen. He seemed to enjoy cleaning and did so methodically and slowly. She'd managed to get down to the village by taking a lift off Thomas, where she found the small library had wifi. After checking all her emails and messaging Amanda, she'd done some internet shopping and purchased Brahms a whole wardrobe of clothes.

At long last he looked like a 28 year old man should, dressed in skinny jeans, Converse trainers and a thin black sweatshirt that showed his body off to perfection. Laurie smiled to herself. Clothes didn't necessarily make the man but he was doing total justice to what she'd chosen. He rarely wore the mask now, though he still slept in his own bed hidden behind the walls. Laurie respected his needs totally and this, she reasoned, was why he, in turn, trusted and respected her. She'd seen no temper tantrums, no aggression, nothing but his best behaviour. Something inside her, something deep and dark, wondered just how long that would last. Would her tiger show his claws? Turn on her? Be unable to jettison the damage done so many years ago?

He finished wiping down the kitchen worktops then turned to her. "The traps," he said. It wasn't a question. But it was the Rules. Laurie nodded. Lunch would be at 12.30 prompt. Dinner at 7pm. Bedtime was the only routine broken now. Their desire for each other hadn't waned; if anything it was growing more intense the more they explored and pushed each other into extremes of passion and lust.

"Brahms, before we do that, there's something I need to discuss with you. Please, sit down for a moment."

He did her bidding.

"Your parents left this house, the estate and all finances to me...in their Will. I have to sign the papers and send them off but, I'll be honest with you, I'm not happy about it. I think you should be the one who inherits this, not me."

"Why?"

"Because you're the Heelshire heir. Their only son. It's your birthright...not mine."

"But we are one."

Laurie shook her head. "You don't understand..."

"It's you who doesn't understand."

He sat upright, both palms pressed to the tabletop, his eyes burning into hers. Laurie felt the futility of her predicament. With this kind of financial gain she could wave goodbye to all her struggles, never have to rely on another person, never have to suffer a shitty job again with low pay and arseholes for colleagues. But the price? The price was Brahms.

She scanned his face; still handsome in spite of his injuries. with his beard cut close he looked a lot younger and more vulnerable. But she knew he was anything but...for those scars ran inwards too, and God only knew how deeply rooted they'd grown.

"You can't live this way forever," she said gently. "Closeted within these walls. Isolated. Wasting your youth--"

"This is all I know."

"Oh, Brahms..." She closed her eyes in frustration. "It's time to fly in someone else's sky!"

"I don't want anyone but you."

"That's not what I mean. What I mean is that this house is in danger of becoming your permanent prison. There's a whole world out there. Do you have any idea how many amazing experiences you could have. We could have? I'm not sure I can survive without spreading my own wings from time to time."

He was scowling. "You're not a prisoner here, Laurie. I trust you to always return."

She nodded and forced a smile she didn't feel. One day, she told herself. One day when you're strong enough to survive without me...perhaps then you can let go... "I know but--"

"But you're mine...to love and care for."

The spark of independence in her flared and showed itself to him. Brahms eyed her warily, his voice rising an octave. "Don't leave me, Laurie."

"Brahms, stop!"

He stood abruptly, his chair falling behind him. "Brahms is never to leave this house!"

"I'm trying to help you!"

With baleful intensity his voice dropped back to normal, grating at her, "No! You're trying to change me!" Laurie watched in dismay as he swallowed the distance between them with two strides. "I won't be changed. I can't."

"This isn't normal, Brahms. Living this way. Don't you want to be free?"

"Free? What's free? Being stared at and ridiculed and repulsed because of the way I look? Because I'm different. Because I'm not right? Do you think I'm stupid?"

She stared up at him not knowing what to say. He gave her such a glacial glare she almost shivered. Laurie knew she had to stay calm. Brahms was extremely reactive.

"You've been outside before, then?" she asked tentatively.

"There were others before you."

"Your mother mentioned that. What happened?"

"You're the only one who didn't run."