Behind the door lay a series of rooms all interconnected and lit with lamps and string lights. The clutter was chaotic; bits of paper and photos and drawings pinned to the walls, odd things hanging from the ceiling, old toys, books, a whole wall filled with what looked like sewing notions and wood carving tools. There were stuffed animals and birds, and bottles of embalming fluid and formaldehyde. In the far room, against the furthest wall, stood a single cot bed, neatly made. Laurie stared at the small kitchen with fridge and microwave and the bathroom beyond. She walked here and there, bending to peer at objects, reaching out to touch a crayon drawing clearly drawn by a child.

"Brahms?" She called out softly.

The ceiling above the bed had luminous plastic stars and planets pinned to it, and Laurie wondered how many long lonely nights he'd lay staring up at them while the boy grew into the man. She gripped her own arms and shivered. For some reason it felt wrong to be here. Wrong in the same way is was sneaky reading someone else's diary. She turned to leave. Brahms stood at the head of the stairs.

It was usual for Brahms to stand so still and be so silent. But something about his body language felt different, and the mask was on.

Laurie licked her lips and swallowed. "The back of my closet was open. I found...I'm sorry to intrude on you, Brahms."

He took one long legged step down towards her, his hands swinging limply at his sides. In the dim light he looked somehow taller and slimmer, almost gangly. His black clothing heightened the illusion and the pale porcelain mask seemed disembodied as though floating towards her and not a part of him. Laurie took two steps backwards and put an old wooden table between herself and him. She caught the glitter of his eyes behind the mask.

"I understand why you'd want to come here," she faltered. "I would too. It's so...peaceful, yes?"

He took the table and threw it across the room.

Laurie screamed and cringed as it smashed apart against an old cast iron fireplace. She held out both hands in a mute gesture of appeal but he charged towards her with a speed and agility that took her breath away. She tried to run, only managing to half turn, and then he was upon her, gripping her in a bear hug that made it difficult to breathe. The more she struggled, the faster he held her and the tighter the grip, the higher her fear. In that wild instant, he was Joel. Joel on the night he'd murdered their baby. A killing rage swept over Laurie and she reached behind and ripped a handful of hair from Brahms's head. She heard him hiss with pain, then grunt as he gripped her harder. Lashing out, she tried to kick him, then threw her head back viciously trying to crack the mask or break his nose. But Brahms was too tall and rangy and he held her at bay easily, smothering her attempts to seriously hurt him by his superior height and reach.

He pulled her backwards towards the door, and her feet lost contact with the floor peddling frantically as she tried to escape his clutches. Laurie shrieked at him over and over, "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"

Brahms hefted her from the hidden rooms, along the corridors and back through her own closet. In her room, he let her go but she rounded on him furiously, slapping at his chest and shoulders with her fists, trying to shatter that fucking creepy mask. She wanted to smash it because behind it he could be anyone. He could be Joel. He was Joel...

Brahms fielded her blows, turning his head this way and that to avoid her clumsy punches. Then, she caught him a blow over his right ear and laughed out loud because she knew she'd finally hurt him.

Brahms glared at her before picking her up and throwing her down on the bed so hard she banged her skull on the bedstead. For a moment she lay stunned, dismayed at what was happening between them and her own temper. She watched him pause a moment as he got his breath; sensing that he was thinking about something, or about saying something. She wanted him to speak because to do so would break this horrible spell; this lack of empathy between them.

Then slowly, he turned to leave the room.

Laurie sat up, set her jaw, then reached to the bedside table for the heavy crystal water pitcher there. She picked it up by its base and launched it at the back of Brahms's head. The jug exploded against the door jamb missing him by a whisker. At his startled reaction, she almost laughed again...until he swung back towards her. With a squeak, Laurie bounced off the bed but he caught her and put both hands around her throat, pinning her against the wall and lifting her off her feet. Laurie gripped his hands desperately. This time he meant to truly hurt her. This time he was in earnest. Be good to him and he'll be good to you... He began to slowly throttle her.

She tried to call his name but her tongue felt too big and her face began to congest. She heard his words though, as clearly as anything, grating out from behind the mask, thick with indignation and... betrayal?

"You...weren't...invited."

He's really going to kill me, she thought fatalistically. This is for real...

She could hear ringing and the room was getting darker. Her heels beat a weak tattoo against the panelling and slowly, her fingers slid from his hands, her head drooping as she lost consciousness.