You found yourself locked inside one of the mansion’s old, dust-choked rooms, heart pounding as he stormed through the halls, calling your name in a fractured scream.

The doorknob rattled violently behind you. “GET BACK HERE! DON’T LEAVE ME!” Brahms howled, fists slamming against the wooden door with a force that shook the frame. It felt like he could tear it down with sheer will alone.

You’d managed to pry open one of the windows. The night air was cold against your skin — freedom was right there if you just climbed out. ...But did you want to?

His shouting faded into gasping, ragged sobs. Real sobs. You turned, just for a second.

The banging stopped. All that remained was the pitiful sound of his crying on the other side — choked, wet, like a child abandoned. Then came his voice again — not furious this time, but broken:

“Please... don’t leave me...”

Your breath hitched. From beneath the door, fingers crept through the narrow gap, trembling and reaching — as if by touch alone, he could make you stay.