After a about half an hour she gave up. At this point her wrist wasn't just raw but would soon be bleeding. It would swell too. She had stretched as much as she could and the areas she could reach had nothing she could use as a weapon. She felt hopelessness well up inside her. Her situation looked dire.

She had no weapon. She had no idea where the way out was. If she tried to run she'd just piss him off and invite more pain if not death. What did that leave her with? She'd have to kill him but that again reminded she had nothing to use. She needed a way to keep him occupied and gain his trust enough to get out of here alive.

The large ungainly doll drew her glance.

She didn't have any doubt what he was doing with this thing as she recalled the crusty residue on her night gown a few nights ago.

Seduce him she thought. Fuck him until he couldn't move hell if she might enjoy it after the dry spell. Keep him occupied long enough to make her situation more in her favor that seemed like a great idea and relief tried to creep over her. Then she frowned. Did this man even know what sex was? She tried to imagine his parents talking to him. In the painting they had looked to stuck up and regal to speak about such things. She sniffed and wiped her nose.

Okay more then likely a virgin.

She'd never broken one in but it couldn't be difficult and would be to her advantage. Follow the rules and seduce the psychopath in the mask to aide her not only to not die but to escape. She could do this. She cast her thoughts around again trying to come up with a plan when she sat up suddenly. He was taking a shower. He might let her take a shower sooner or later. The bottle of Laudanum was still in the guest bathroom. If she could get it might she try to get him to take it? Wouldn't that put him out enough to run? It was worth a try. She wouldn't be any deader if she didn't try.

Movement made her perk up and she tried to look calm and serene like she hadn't been trying to get out and scheming. He was damp and she found herself wondering why the hell his bed didn't have a better blanket. It was freezing in here. It was a miracle he hadn't been carried off by pneumonia. Small wonder he didn't take showers that often.

She reminded herself not to feel sorry for him.

The clothes still didn't fit the white shirt had simply been replaced with another one cleaner this time but still small. He had on pants that stopped well above his ankles giving him a scarecrow personage. He had put the same green cardigan on. She stifled a sigh deciding laundry would have to do another time. She remembered her plan and set up straight putting her shoulders back to showcase her breasts. Has she hoped his eyes narrowed in on her chest and he stepped closer to the bed.

On the cluttered table he sat down the first aide kit and 'A series of unfortunate events.'

"Are you ready for bed?" She asked in a throaty voice. He nodded his hands creeping behind his back like a shy boy. "Untie me Brahms let's go to bed." She gave him a coy look. " And a kiss goodnight." He stepped up to the bed she smiled up at him before she raised her bound arm as far as she could and shook it.

He fumbled in the cardigan for a moment and pulled out the knife Marcus had had in his possession.

He flipped the blade out somewhat clumsily and warned her in a sing song voice.

"Be Good. Will you be good pretty Marissa? I'll tie you up again if your not!."

Marissa almost rolled her eyes before she caught herself. If he had been an eight year old boy the threat would have been ludicrous and earned him a spanking and time out. Being a full grown man a couple years younger then her it was frightening.

She cleared her throat "Yes Brahms I'll be good."

Once she was free she laid down and tried to make herself as comfortable as possible. Her eyes nervously flicked to the crude companion.

"Brahms?" He had been leaning toward her and he paused cocking his head which seemed to be his personal version of 'what the hell do you want?'

"Get rid of that." She motioned to the doll. He looked at it. He began to nervously flick the blade in and out of the handle. The clicking sounded like bones rattling.

"Brahms! Get rid of that. You need more room to lay down and put that damn thing away before you cut yourself."

He looked at the knife almost comically as if he'd forgotten he even had it.

I can do this, yeah of course I can. She thought. She set up and grabbed the cloth doll and picked it up settling it down at the foot of the bed.

"You don't need it anymore Brahms, I'm here."

He stood up sliding the knife into some hidden pocket. She refrained from scolding him about the danger of switchblades in a pocket. She patted the small space next to her. She wasn't sure how they were going to fit on this narrow bed but one thing was for sure she wouldn't be able to move any where. She shivered the chill seeming to seep into her bones. She took a moment to run her foot along her shins drawing attention to her legs.

Brahms climbed up on the bed until he was looming over her his mask. This close she began to pick up details she missed. It was cracked badly on one side possibly from being thrown. It seemed to have been made just for him as opposed to some generic mask you could buy in a store. She found that puzzling. Who would make it? Why? One eye was bloodshot, no not bloodshot just red from some injuring. She wondered if it hampered his sight on that side. She filed that away for later. He was slowly relaxing his weight on her and she was a bit alarmed wondering if she would suffocate under him.

She cleared her throat. "Um What are you doing Brahms?"

"Kiss." He demanded impishly leaning down.

"Brahms, you are not a doll...please talk to me normally." She asked softly.

He pulled back slightly and she watched his eyes dart around. After a moment he cleared his throat.

"Kiss."

His voice was deep and gravelly from little use. How the hell does he pitch his voice that high she thought. Does he have his balls tied up?

It didn't matter.

His eyes were narrowing. She threw her arms around his neck and mashed her lips against the cold mask feigning passion. He hitched a hard breath startled and brought his hands up to grip her shoulders.

She closed her eyes wanting to pretend she was with anyone else but then they flew open again as she realized she was too scared not to look at him. He tipped his head apparently in his mind kissing her through the mask. His hands slid down and cupped her breasts somewhat clumsy squeezing them almost hard enough to hurt. She pulled away trying to bring her mind in sync with her body. He abruptly rocked against her his face above her head now his chin digging into her scalp.

What the hell is he doing? She thought. He rocked against her again and he snatched in a harsh breath of air trembling.

She didn't know whether to be offended or amused. She cleared her throat. "That's alright Brahms, ah if you give me the kit I'll do your bandage."

He sighed.

"Or I can read to you." She said softly. She reminded herself, passion, it wasn't just about fucking it was about touching, hugging, kissing all those little things that made intimacy powerful beyond just chasing bodily relief.

"I'm just going to put my hands on your back, I'm not trying to hurt you." She slid her hands in the cardigan wondering if she was close enough to whatever pockets he had to get the knife. He sighed again. It dawned on her he wasn't sighing he was already asleep which was why she felt pinned in place.

Nice to know you're a typical male she thought. She was curious enough to run her hands over him where she could reach and on his left shoulder down to his side she felt the rough scar tissue.

She stilled for a moment She couldn't see anything other then the room over his shoulder and she was glad he wasn't further up he might have suffocated her. Her eyes went around the room looking to see if there was anything else that she might be able to use to escape.

Damn this is serious. She ran her hand down his back again and he shuddered in his sleep. She took a breath and stopped trying to find the knife. She couldn't reach it and if she had reached it this man was hard everywhere. She wasn't sure she could even stab him hard enough to give him more than a paper cut. She was 100% sure if she didn't get a fatal stick he'd probably just take the knife and use it to carve her up.

Her fingers kept tracing the edge of the burned skin.

Did they take him to a hospital? Her eyes glanced around the sad room again. No she was pretty sure they hadn't. She winced suddenly realizing the pain he must have endured and for what? Why hadn't they? What exactly happened to the Heelshire family to be this callus to someone? She found herself incensed on his behalf. She slowly reached up and buried her fingers in his hair causing him to moan softly in his sleep.

What kind of man would he have been if he had been allowed to grow up normally outside these walls?

An angry one. Probably stuck up from the wealth that allowed him to live this way. He rolled over on his side and the cold air hit her causing her to shiver. She tried to look for the blanket but he wrapped his arms around her and dragged her up to his chest burying his nose in her hair like a boy snuggling a teddy bear.

It wasn't very comfortable. She breathed shallow trying not to wake him up. She began trembling from anxiety struggling hard to keep from waking him. She wasn't sure what he was like if he was awoken from sleep since he wasn't the doll.

Her hands trembled and the shakes drifted up her arms. Soon she'd be shaking like a person caught out in the cold. She placed her hands flat on the bed to still them. She whimpered softly. This was not the life she wanted. She could have easily been a caretaker but confined to this dirty dusty room behind the walls tiptoeing around the temper of a man boy?

No she thought she'd rather die if that option became her only way out.

Maybe the best thing to do was just take the whole bottle of Laudanum herself.