Sorry for any misspelling or miswording's! Anyways, ENJOY! :)

It had been quite the dilemma for the past few weeks now. The tightrope was unsteady between the two souls. Whether one or the other would cut the string that held them together was uncertain. The long hours made it seem impossible for the days to pass.

Still, they were occupied with other tasks. Brahms had led his Greta to his room in the deepest part of the manor. She asked for a washer, and he obliged without questioning. It had been a few hours; Greta made her way along the inner walls and walked the dreadful floors. Trying to avoid every cobweb that landed on her newly cleaned bed sheets.

Greta folded the clothes and placed each set on top of the nearby table. They'd been stocking their piles for years now. They hadn't run out of anything. The Heelshire's replenish constantly since Brahms's accident. Greta took a jug of soap and put it into the machine for another refill.

She couldn't help but glance at Brahms's back. He was on the outside of the room where his work desk was. His broad back was hunched over as he worked on his task. He kept his mask on because she was in the room with him. Thankfully he let Greta do as she pleased. He wasn't harping on her like he always did, perhaps because he knew she was already in the same room, so he didn't feel the need to fret as much.

Greta hadn't any clue as what Brahms was doing at his desk, but she was thankful he was occupied. She wasn't the center of attention and believe it or not she was perfectly fine with that. She took a soft sigh but got a whiff of her sweater. She grimaced at the smell; it wasn't flowery. She slipped out of it and tossed it into the machine. She would clean the clothes she had on now, but she wasn't alone, so maybe another time, she thought.

Greta looked over at the quiet man once more. Her eyes went to the dark patches of his own sweater. He rarely ever took it off, why she thought, maybe it was his favorite. She couldn't comprehend why she felt bad for him at the moment. He was a killer and liked to play games, but she still found herself mournful, even if it was just a tiny piece, she did feel sorry for him.

Putting her own pride aside she cleared her throat as began to speak.

"Hey Brahms." She announced. Brahms turned to her almost too quickly to beckon her call. Almost like he was trying to hide something from her. Greta even felt herself go unsteady by his abruptness.

"Do you have anything you… need me to wash?" She offered to him.

Brahms stayed in his seat quietly and turned his head away slightly as he even looked about the room. Oh boy, everything could use a good wash, considering it has been years since its last cleansing, but Brahms wouldn't make Greta wash anything around the house. He wouldn't subject her to becoming a full-on cleaning lady twenty-four hours a day. Noticing Brahms didn't say much else she offered once more.

"I could, clean your sweater." She pointed at it. "I'll do it right now." She encouraged a little as she dared walked around to his side of the room. Brahms just sat and watched her moment. He wanted to but at the same time this sweater was all he had left of his parents.

Greta could see he wasn't budging as she drew near him. It felt odd being taller than Brahms as he stays seated.

"Only if you'd like." She added swiftly. "I just thought you'd appreciate it even more… if it was clean." She shrugged a little, but her voice was soft. Brahms seemed to be debating with himself as he looked down slightly at the sweater. It was overdue for a cleaning, and if it'd make Greta happy, then he would succumb to her wishes.

Brahms stood from his seat with ease. Greta was taken back slightly by his unexpected stance. He slid out his cardigan without a quarrel. Revealing his toned and lean form. Greta looked down slightly noticing his was wearing his white tank top. That also needed a good scrubbing, but another time would be more suitable for him to get naked when she wasn't around.

Brahms turned to her with those big eyes. Greta caught them in her sight as well. Brahms body was bigger than before. He towered over her, she felt so small next to him. He could dominate her at any time, but he'd always restrained himself. He wanted to be good, for her though, he preferred over all others.

Brahms handed Greta the sweater. She carefully took it from his grasp. There index fingers grazed over each other's suddenly as she was pulling away gradually. The overwhelming feeling between the two was staggering but unspoken. Brahms eyes gave away the feelings he felt but Greta prevented anything from showing. So, she simply offered a smile at the man.

"Thank you." She paused holding the sweater too closely. "I'm just gonna uhh… put it in the washer now." She felt a tad awkward at the intense staring he always did. Brahms only nodded a little as he watches her walk back to her clothes. Brahms himself took a breath under his mask. The touch was always so addicting to obtain, even if it was for just a brief moment.

Brahms turned away as well and went back to his own busy. He had papers with beauty script writing on them, on the top could be seen to read, 'Dear Greta,'. Brahms was troubled at the moment, he couldn't find himself to write what he wanted, not while she was here in the same room as him. For a brief moment he almost preferred to have this room never to be discovered by her. Now it felt like privacy was no longer a privilege. He scoffed himself at the thought, his Greta wasn't a nuisance of any kind. He wasn't feeling up to writing what he always wanted, the words were there, but he need to be alone to commence his chore. So, he decided to put his papers together and put them in his draw for later.

Greta was left a little dumbfounded on the whole gazing of the hands but shrugged it off feeling quite silly. She was too eager to get all her clothing washes and dried so she wouldn't have to come back down here for a while. Swiftly turning back to the task at hand she continued her own work.

Greta was now doing the last of the laundry. She flicked one of her pants out from having any wrinkles. Abruptly, the sound of a little piece of metal clanked onto the floor. The ring she had forgotten about in her pants had fell to the dusty floor like a chiming penny.

Brahms's head immediately shot towards the echoing sound as it encountered the floors. It bounced and ricocheted with full speed off objects that were in its path. Brahms stood up quickly to see what happened. He looked over with curiosity to what had just happened.

"OH… Oops." She said aloud as she went to reach for it under one of the tables. She rises back up with a Brahms inching to her side. Greta didn't even hear him come over, that's how slick this man was, she thought rather impressed. She took note that he was looking down at the item in her hands as she wiped it clean with her shirt.

"Oh, yeah... I-uh found this in the rumble." She spoke quietly and she showed it to him carefully.

"See." She glanced at him. Brahms gradually extended his hand to it. She didn't hesitate to give it to him.

"It's not mine... I don't know who's it is." She went back down to doing her laundry as she continued folding and tossing things in the machines. Brahms hadn't moved from his spot as he look down at the tiny ring in his giant hands. Greta eyed him rather skeptical, she didn't understand why he was so intrigued by the trinket, but to Greta's knowledge it was quite the oppose of what she was assuming. Suddenly finding the courage to speak up.

"Do you… know who it belongs to?" Her voice sounded curious as she folded the next shirt. He held it, so tight, he might've broken the fragile thing. A mere child's laughter emerged in a far-off forgotten memory; it had now resurrected itself from the dead. He glanced down at her for a moment with a questioning look on how she acquired this little fiend. His thumb grazed the inner part of the thin metal, removing the decades of powdered dust. He'd dread to see it slowly becoming uncovered. His thumb moved away revealing the initials of E.C. His eyes loathed the sight he'd so wish to forget. Greta looked up at the silent but very entranced Brahms.

.

A gathering had come together to commence a party for the children. Outside the Heelshire Mansion was a large crowd. Parents had their chats and drinks as they socialize with one another. The children were running amuck and screaming with joy. Balloons, streamers, snacks, colorful toys, and candy on each kitty table. Everything a child could ever want to have to celebrate Brahms's Birthday.

"Helen dear!" A woman called for Mrs. Heelshire. "You have truly out done yourself this time." They spoke with heads up high with their upper received pronunciation British accents. Mrs. Heelshire turned to the woman with a delighted greeting.

"Thank you." She said with such confidence. "Only the best for my Brahms." She drank her champagne.

"I must say though your home is quite ravishing to the eye." The woman looked at the mansion to Mrs. Heelshire. "You must invite us over for tea so time. I was just saying to the ladies that were simply dying to see the inside." More women came around as well. Mrs. Heelshire loved the attention, but she could simply laugh at the snobbish overbearing woman wailing to desperately enter her mansion.

"Built in 1860 by Henry Hobson Richardson. Perhaps I'll present an interesting lecture another time though ladies." She chuckles lightly. "Today is about the children and of course my little Brahmsy."

Mr. Heelshire was also talking to the gentlemen going on about hunting and horse riding. They did not quarrel over anything like the women always did. Everyone was minding their own business and enjoying themselves to the fullest.

The children laughed and played running back and forth in not general direction. They ate food and did what young kids do. Brahms was turning eight today, it was his big day and the highlight of the evening. He was the special boy, but he wasn't with the other children screaming and laughing. Instead, he was being seen sitting below a small hill on the grass. He wore his fitted little suit; his father got a tailer to fit it and his mother help him put it on. It wasn't very comfy but rather snug, at this rate he wished to be wearing a dress instead. He had a piece of cake on his lap as he ate it gracefully. He was eating alone. The kids at his house weren't any one he recalled as being his so called 'friends'. He was confused but didn't think much of it as he continued eating in peace.

He reckoned that these kids called him weird in school. Even though he tried to pay no mind to it but the aching feeling he got in the back of his head was always nagging at him. He didn't know why it hurt so much every time something happened to him. It was almost as if something wanted to come out, it wasn't pleasant the feeling it gave him.

Suddenly seeing from a far some of the kids can be seen whispering to one another as they looked at Brahms's direction.

"Oh yes Brahms of course, such a quiet lad, but I know he'll grow up to be a fine gentleman." The women talked to Mrs. Heelshire. They would suck up to the Heelshires but they donated a generous amount of money to the school's private district Brahms was attending. The currency is what drew everyone into the Heelshire's lives. They were the supporters of the private schooling, fundraisers and others had money too, but not like the Heelshire's stature.

"My, my, yes indeed." Mrs. Heelshire spoke satisfied. "He will grow to become a find young man I hope to see him flourish and inherent what is rightful his when he reaches the right age." Mrs. Heelshire enjoying the talks about her son.

"If you don't mind me asking." Suddenly a woman came up to Mrs. Heelshire she knew too well. Her daughter came over all the time to play with Brahms. Mrs. Heelshire smiled at the woman.

"Not at all, Mrs. Cribbs. I hope it's not another inquire to borrow my jewelry again." She jokes with a chuckle and the woman did the same.

"That one time I need something flashy, and you'll never let it go." The woman rolled her eyes playfully. The Cribbs were the second wealthiest in sponsoring the school. It was almost like a competition. Both women played the game accordingly. Bringing Emily to the Heelshire's was one step closer to the grand doors. The Cribbs mother was a Dame, she'd been knighted by the Queen of England a few years back for her outstanding work on helping the children at the hospital, donating millions to those in need. She and Mrs. Heelshire had known each other for quite a few years now. The ones who carried the most currency was the Heelshires.

"Well, you know you're always welcomed to my finest of pieces." Mrs. Heeshire offered to the woman.

"Thank you, I'll keep that in mind for the future." She paused for a moment. "But I wish to discuss business with you." Mrs. Heelshire almost looked surprised.

"I'm intrigued. Do tell me." Mrs. Heelshire took another sip of her drink.

"No here." Mrs. Cribbs shook her head lightly in dissatisfaction. "I don't wish to have gawking eyes and prying ears." She said almost annoyed. Mrs. Heelshire could only laugh.

"Come now my dear friend." She walked with her away from the other women. "Let us sit in my gardens, where no one will hear us but the birds." They both walked to the gardens a little further away from the people.

Brahms had a book in his hand as he read it quietly to himself. It was a child's book, but he much rather enjoyed his father's literature in his library. He was to himself most of the time feeling rather content.

Suddenly a shadow casted over him. His light source had vanished for his reading. Brahms turned to look up at the figure, seeing only that there were a few more.

"You aren't in school you know." One of the boys said seeing Brahms's book in his lap. Three boys Brahms's age circled him. Suddenly Brahms noticed other kids coming around. They started to trinkle in on him.

"He gets a table full of presents and he's reading a book instead of opening them." Another kid said. Brahms didn't understand why they were bothering him and his reading time.

"Well, aren't you going to speak ya bloke?" Brahms didn't answer to the kids as he stood from his sitting position and stared right in the boys' eyes. He was a smidge taller than Brahms.

"Why is it that the one with the most money are always the quietest?" One of the little girls asked.

"Maybe he's stupid." They laughed. Brahms felt uneasy as he looked about at the kids.

"I'm not… stupid." Brahms tried to conjure up his strength, but the will power struggled to release.

"Oh, look the freak talks." The boy said with a snicker. "I heard Emily comes over a lot." The boy looked mad. "She's my girlfriend and you're not allowed near her. I gave her a diamond ring. You don't even have a chance with her." The boy spat at Brahms like a bully would do to the quiet kid.

Brahms was annoyed at the boy; it was his Birthday, and it wasn't going how he wanted. He wished his mother didn't invite his entire sodding classroom of little rats. All they did was feast, take and control thinking they had some type of power over him.

"I don't even want her over my house." Brahms suddenly spoke aloud. "She's annoying like you." Suddenly Brahms was pushed onto the grass rather harshly from the bigger kid. He fell backwards with a little grunt. He felt so utter weak in front of them. The other kids started hollering and laughing. The two boys started to fight and none of the adults noticed a thing. They grabbed and ripped at each other's clothes. Brahms was underneath giving the other kid more of an advantage in this battle. Brahms was punched in the eye rather quickly hitting his head back against the grass harshly.

Suddenly the boy on top of Brahms was lifted by someone. Brahms tried not to cry as his grinded his teeth and breathed heavily. Suddenly seeing it was Malcom who lifted the brat from Brahms's tiny body.

"Oi! What's all this mess?!" Malcom hollered at the group. Malcom was little just like Brahms, but Malcom was a few years older.

"He's been with my girlfriend Emily!" The boy shouted back. Malcom almost laughed. How utterly ridiculous, he thought amused. The boy pushed himself out of Malcom's arms.

"Oi mate!" Malcom waved in front of his face to wake the fool up. "You can have her. No one wants her anyways!" Malcom laughed at the boys angered face. Emily was there the entire time. She had laughed before as well but wasn't laughing now. Brahms huffed and breathed like he was about to throw a tantrum.

"Well Happy Birthday little shit!" The brat suddenly kicked the cake that was on the grass as it hit Brahms. The boys group ran off together like little cowards.

"Oi that was a dick move assholes!" Malcom shouted at the running kids. "You're lucky you weren't fighting me!" Malcom huffed annoyed as the party was ruined. "What a bunch of Mary's." He muttered.

Malcom was about to turn to help Brahms but paused seeing Emily was still standing there like a dope. Malcom could laugh but felt rather riled right now. She laughed along with them.

"Why are you even still here?" Malcom looked at her confused and irritated. "Your charming boyfriend is waiting for you." He gestured dramatically basically telling her to get lost.

"Look, I'm sorry bu- "

"You're not sorry, you laughed!" Malcolm interrupted. "I saw!" He yelled completely bewildered.

"It was funny though!" Emily tired to justify. "Every time I'm with Brahms he doesn't even talk to me or at least try to have fun. I mean it is his birthday party." She shrugged.

"Well maybe you're not all that much of a pleasant conversation." Malcom assured her with a smug face.

"You two are no fun. It's no wander no one wants to be your friends!" Emily crossed her arms in a huff.

"Not everything is fun and games. And believe me I'd rather die with Brahms then be yours or anyone of your friends!" Malcom pointed at her harshly. She didn't say anything as she suddenly fell silent with a stuck-up face.

"Maybe it's time you make a few changes." He eyed her like her venomous snake. "You're not very nice." He sneered at Emily. She was totally in raged as she stormed off with her blonde locks bouncing every which way as she ran away.

"What a bitch." Malcom rolled his eyes annoyed with a shake of the head. Remembering Brahms was still lying on the grass. Seeing the blood dripping from his nose. Malcom winced almost feeling that terrible pain.

"Oi you got slugged bad Brahms." He observed closely. "You couldn't kick him in the nuts?" He asked genuinely interested. Brahms just shook his head slowly everyone now knowing he failed miserably. Malcom pulled out a napkin from his own coat pocket and handed it to Brahms.

Brahms was taking off his suit that had cake on it. Then he took the napkin from Malcom, and he wiped his face roughly without a care in the world.

"Don't hurt yourself even more chap!" He reminded him seeing the blood was starting to smear. "You're going to be bleeding a river soon." Brahms eased up on the wiping and tried to calm down.

"Thanks…. for making her go away." Brahms said almost too quiet to hear. Malcom heard though which delighted him to say the least that his braver wasn't taken for granted.

"With pleasure." He laughed with a charming smile, but Brahms did not find any humor in this situation. "And I uh… came a little late to your party… but anyways Happy Birthday Brahms." Malcom shrugged a little.

"You didn't have to come." Brahms stated silently. "I know your mother is sick."

"Yeah." Malcom did not like being reminded his mother was sick in the hospital but it was Brahms so he could not be too mad. "Hey, how'd you know anyways?" He asked slightly surprised at him even knowing anything about Malcom's family. Brahms never even gave him a glance whenever he came over with his father to deliver their groceries.

Brahms pointed at his ear and then to the mansion.

"I hear in the walls." He said quietly.

"The walls?" Malcom snorted. "That's weird." He chuckled aloud. "Well, whatever. My father has a friend coming over soon, I think he is bringing him to your house later today."

"There's too many people here already." Brahms murmured.

"Ya I guess they know each other and are going to go hunt for deer or those little birds." Malcom was not entirely sure, but he knew the man was a long-time friend of the family. He was coming back from his trip to America. Perhaps he missed London and all its rain too much, he thought.

"Well, sorry Brahms." He paused. "About the…" He pointed to his own face. "Fight."

"I was fine before your showed up." Brahms said a little irked off.

"Not from where I was standing." He laughed. "But hey I'll be your big brother and I'll be here to protect you!" He shined with pride.

"You're not my brother." He tossed the napkin a side.

"We'll call it a draw; you owe me, and I declare you as my brother. And now we are even." He claimed with a bright smile. Brahms just rolled his eyes.

"Well, I'll see you later little brother I must go and clean up your party." He waved goodbye. "I mean I'm getting paid to clean… that is just bloody brilliant. I wish I got paid to clean my own room too." He snickered like a boy as he walked away.

Brahms watched him leave but quickly turned away. He felt so sad on the inside and so weak on the outside. He was utterly useless; he hated the feeling. He hated all these people, he hated the parties, the bullies, and especially Emily. He'd prayed every night to not have her come over again, like he was a spot for amusement. It was humiliating to Brahms, as if he was their entertainment to bestow upon.

He never had the slightly clue of why Emily even came over. To him it felt endless. Brahms wishes one day that he'd be stronger and taller then all these other jokers. For now, though, he wanted to be alone with his book and his cake was now all over him. What a Birthday surprise.

Both the women came to a halt as they turned to continue speaking.

"Now, what's so important that can't seem to wait until after my son's birthday." Mrs. Heelshire was a little bothered but still wanted to know this suspenseful conversation waiting to be unfolded.

"Well, that's precisely it Helen. This is about your son." She inquired with her head held high.

"Oh." Mrs. Heelshire did look skeptical but was interested. "Do go on."

"I have a proposition for you, my dear friend." Mrs. Cribb said.

"How interesting.

"Yes, you see my Emily is very fond of your sweet little Brahms and they have become such good friends." Mrs. Cribbs reminded her that they are close. Or so they thought.

"Yes of course, Emily is lovely. Who wouldn't love her?"

"Well, I was brewing an idea that your son and my daughter could perhaps became something more in the future. When their young adults."

"I don't see why not." Mrs. Heelshire slightly shrugged. "I wouldn't mind my son being with someone like Emily. They are close after all, they play together, they eat together, and yes, I don't doubt they'd wind up together." And there it was, Mrs. Heelshire had fallen right into the trap.

"Would you consider settling that with my proposition." Mrs. Cribbs paused. "To accumulate them, into an arrange married." She offered. Mrs. Heelshire never thought of the idea, it never occurred to her until now.

"Oh, Helen could you imagine our children and what they'd inherit from both sides of the coin." Mrs. Cribbs tried convincing her swiftly. "I know your son would take care of my daughter."

"I do believe he would." Mrs. Heelshire agreed with her. "Still, an arranged marriage is a rather… tradition idea."

"Emily is a Lady a young one at that but with a Sir by her side they'd be grand together and Brahms would be blessed with royalty." Mrs. Cribb could see the spark in Mrs. Heelshire eye for a moment.

"You don't suppose the Queen would Knight my dear Brahms?"

"I believe she will if he'd marry my daughter." Mrs. Cribb smiled ever so sweetly.

"Of the right age of course." Mrs. Heelshire said sternly.

"Of course." Mrs. Cribbs concluded. "You and your fine husband would have your name engraved." They be known everywhere, not only because they were extremely wealthy but to have all of England know their name.

"Your wicked idea inspires me." Mrs. Heelshire chuckles. "Fine, then we agree as mothers that our only children will court of the right age." She smiled. "May they have wealth, health, and happiness. May they live together and for each other, as one."

"I couldn't have said it better myself Helen." Mrs. Cribbs agreed.

.

"Brahms?" His head jerked to Greta's view as she saved him from his antagonizing thoughts. Greta took a small step back too from his sudden tautness, it almost had her in suspense as well. Why'd the ring seem to trigger him as it made him go even more silent than ever before.

"You don't like it?" Brahms looked back down at the exposed initials quickly brought his attention back to her. He covered the little initials with his thumb as he held the ring steadily. He suddenly shook his head gesturing he indeed did not enjoy the little site. Greta's eyes widen a tad as she pondered but didn't want to question it.

"Here." She extended her hand between the close distance they shared. "I'll get rid of it, if that'd make you feel better." Yes, get rid of it, but not a job for Greta's hands. Brahms glanced down for a moment at his empty pocket suddenly placing the ring inside his suspender pants. Greta found it odd that'd he'd dislike its company when it seemed he'd much rather enjoy tossing it to the curb.

Brahms shook his head at her refusing her help. He needed to do this himself.

"Well ok." Greta retracted her hand from him. He was sad to see it go but didn't want her to touch the diseased ring he could not let stay in this house one more second.

"Anyways, I'm almost done here." She turned on the machines with the click of a button. "And I'll uh… say good night." She leaned against the machine nonchalantly. Brahms nodded a little to her own surprise. He had something planned already as soon as she gave him this ring. He'd just have to wait until tonight.

.

Greta had fallen asleep. It felt wonderful to have such nice clean bed sheets to lay on soundlessly. It was very quiet, more quiet than usual. It was like a normal house again, no noise or racket to echo the halls and wake her in the middle of the night. Instead, it was peaceful. Greta held the sheets close to her as she laid on her side.

A shadow loomed over her like a ghost in the night. He looked down on her with a small tilt of the head. He observed her features carefully, if he did not do it now, he was afraid he would never get the chance again. Brahms leaned forward a smidge as he bent down. There was just enough room for him to lightly sit down next to her. He was very carefully not to wake her, because he knows she'd scream in fright.

He didn't want Greta to be afraid though, he tried so many times to do right from wrong. It was a hassle to be good, but he'd done it for his parents, and he'd always do it for her.

Brahms carefully seated himself next to her sleeping form on the large bed. She was the definition of beauty. His masked face only saw her face, he just couldn't bear to release her. He knew she probably had a family of her own who needed her, but Brahms needed her more. He couldn't let her go, he just couldn't, he knew if he did Brahms would die from a broken heart. His intensions were not the best nor was he in the correct mind set, but he'd do right by her. If Greta would give him a chance.

Brahms raised a hand to her face but ceased for a moment, noticing the hairs that covered it. With delicate fingers he brushed away the strands careful as not to wake her. She was dead asleep though; she was indeed very tired. Brahms couldn't blame her though; even he could admit he was tired too. He didn't sleep much; it was hard for him. Brahms was always on high alert.

He brushed her soft cheek, it was smooth like butter, he thought. His hand was so big next to her face, he towered over her as he sat next to her like a mother does a child when its bedtime. His own mother was always next to him to make him feel better, maybe he could do the same for her.

Brahms leaned forward slowly. He descended to her sleeping face. He steadied his own breathing, so it did not echo throughout the mask. His other hand rested next to her body to support himself from falling on her. Brahms was mere inches from her face. He moved his masked face a little to the side as he rested in her soft straight hair. He rubbed against in lightly as he inhaled quietly. She always smelled so wonderfully, it intoxicated him.

Brahms wished his own skin was feeling the soft strands of her hair. He pulled away slightly to look at her face. It was beautiful, he was happy to see her, to hold her…. to kiss her. His big red eyes looked down at her lips. So luscious, his thumb traced her bottom lip carefully, the way it glistened as he moved its position a little. He knew if he kissed her, she would not wake up like in the story.

Brahms kissed her cheek gently through the mask. He wouldn't remove it; he couldn't let her see him. Even though she was sleeping he still felt she'd awake at any wrong move. He caressed her face one last time.

"I missed you." He whispered hoarsely. He watched her movements, she wasn't awake. Brahms could say he was disappointed but gladdened at the same time. He slowly eased himself up from her bed. She did stir much though; Brahms fix her sheets carefully. He even put the blank closer to her face. He didn't want her to get cold, he wouldn't let her be cold.

.

Brahms had left the manor and disappeared into the endless forest. It felt like hours had gone by as he walk further and further away. He had to do something, and he needed to do it now. Brams came into the view of the cliff. He was here, where he needed to be to get rid of it. For good.

He walked to the edge with no fear, he had none, what is fear without bravery. He looked below as the endless massive river was still moving to nowhere. Brahms put his hand in his pocket and retrieved the item. The tiny ring was bestowed into the moons lighting. He wanted it out of his life, out of his home and away from his Greta. She didn't need to know that bad parts he hated reminiscing. Better to move on now rather than wait another twenty years.

Brahms clenched the ring with his fist tightly and he cursed it. Without a second thought he threw it with such rage. Goodbye Emily, Brahms never liked her anyways and for what she'd done to him. He took care of her the first time, and he'd gladly do it the second time. The ring sank to the bottom of the river, never to be seen again.

"This is where you'll meet your demise." The voice had emerged.

Brahms stayed still as the figure floated its way next to him. It too looked down with him into the gently moving river. Too many years had gone by, where did the time go, he thought sadly.

"Brahms. Be careful." She warned. "Be mindful and be wary. You may think you're doing what's right, but your mind deceives you. You are not the savor here."

Brahms took a breath and for the first time he didn't fight it.

"We'll see." He said simply, as Brahms calmy walked away.