the mannequin man ☞ patd

ii

The next day seems gloomy, regardless of how much I told the guys that they shouldn't be worried. Jon had a smile the whole time, and Alex seemed to be giving a disappointed scowl to Jon, while Dan tried his hardest to be optimistic.

When all of my bags are packed, Spencer and Jon and Alex and Dan help me carry them outside, before leaving me on my way. I don't have a car—none of us do—so I'm forced to walk the whole way to Pine Road. It's not far, but it's not fun, either. The guys didn't even accompany me. I was on the phone with Jon the whole way, trying to make sure I had the directions right. It's not too long before I reach a tall, dark house at the very end of a long road. Next to it is only woods and dark brush.

"I think I'm here," I say, stuttering only the slightest bit, due to the intimidation that oozes from the house. Now that I'm here, I kind of want to go home.

"The house at the end of Pine Road?"

"Yeah, the one with all the statues," I say, taking in a deep breath. No one had ever said anything about statues. It's not that I'm afraid of them. It's just that they seem kind of... ominous.

I didn't get a response from Jon before the line hung up. When I looked at my phone, it reported of a service issue, and I was about ready to fucking leave.

But I couldn't. I accepted a dare, and what fun would I be to back out? Shoving my phone in my pocket and tightening my grip on my suitcases, I turned the door knob and walked into the dark house. It wasn't lit, but the sunlight that leaked in from the windows was just enough illumination. My footsteps echoed throughout the house, which didn't ease my nerves at all.

"Its only a week," I repeat to myself, setting up a mantra in my head that would reiterate with every step up the stairs I took. All I need to do is find a room to stay in for a full week, and hopefully there's food here. The man from the rumors, the "mannequin man," probably doesn't even exist. I'll just be here by myself for a few days. Like a vacation from Spencer's bad roommate habits.

The first door I tried was locked or jammed or something. Whatever it was, I wasn't going to force it into anything. That will be the door I avoid for the week. Ignoring all the mannequins and statues around me that seemed to look me in the eye, I try the next door. A restroom. That'll be useful incase of creepy ghosts in the bedroom. Or in case of serious pelvic emergencies.

I nearly crap my pants when I open the next door. I'm seeing things. I'm crazy. There is not a guy in that room, right? Is he still there? No. I was seeing things.

When I open the door again, sure enough, the man is standing there with his arms behind his back, but now he's staring at me. Shit. He exists. His dark brown eyes are mysterious, but engaging. He starts to walk toward me as I start to walk away from him... until there's only wall behind me.

His cold hand lands on my shoulder, sending tingles down my spine. He says nothing. Just stares at me. My eyes shut tightly, a tear of pure fear threatening to fall. But then the tingles are gone when the man removes his hand from my shoulder.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, my voice shaky from my heavy breathing.

The man chuckles. It's dark, long, and low. "I live here," he says with a partially amused tone.

I straighten up, my back still against the wall. "Don't you think it's kind of crazy to be just staring out the window like that?" I ask, referring to the first time I opened the door.

"Don't you think it's kind of crazy to walk into some guy's house?" His face is straight, but his eyes seem to be quite humored.

"I'm scared shitless. This isn't funny," I say.

The man shrugs, and then he walks away from me.

Some stupid part of me feels obligated to follow him down the stairs. The other part of me, the part that has common sense, must have been gagged and bound.

"Would you care for a drink?" The man asks me. "Water? Tea? Coffee?"

"No."

We walk to the formal area, which has fancy chairs and sofas in the middle of it. He sits in a velvet chair with ornate designs that faces a loveseat of the same appearance. I don't realize I'm staring at him so hard until we make eye contact. He gestures for me to sit down. I obey.

"You're a strange boy," he says.

"You're a strange man."

"I suppose we can agree on a mutual sort of strangeness, hm?" I shift around in my seat. "What's your name, son?"

"I shouldn't tell you my name if you haven't told me yours."

He sighs, crossing his legs. "You're a difficult one, aren't you?" He breaks into a tiny smile that just barely shows his impossibly perfect array of teeth. The way he's sitting is making me uncomfortable. I guess because he's so comfortable. His legs are crossed and both of his arms are resting on the arms of the chair. He looks regal. "My name is Brendon," he says. "Brendon Urie. Pleasure to have you in my home."

"Pleasure?"

He nods. "Your name?"

"Ryan, Mr. Urie." I was an idiot to tell him my
actual name. I needed to come to my senses and take control of my actions. Come on, Ryan.

"You can call me Brend—"

"No," I interrupt. "I'm sticking with your last name. No fraternization of any kind. I'm just here to complete a stupid dare."

He chuckles. Contrary to my sexuality, there's something about Mr. Urie that's... attractive. Sort of beautiful, like an angel, but according to the rumors and legends about him, he can't be a virtuous man.

"You're a dominant boy." He cocks an eyebrow and gazes at me with an inexplicable expression that
makes my heart skip beats. Any more of this and I'll have pissed myself.

The following silence is almost unbearable. It lasts for a few grueling seconds but is cut short by Mr. Urie's booming chuckle. His laugh is creepy, but it seems intentional. Whatever he's laughing at is actually amusing to him, although there isn't much entertainment around. Maybe my fear is showing more than I expect it to be, which is already a lot. "Well, dear boy," he says finally, "the time is half past six. What would you like to do now?"

"I think I'll just go to bed." I get out of my chair and hurry up the direction of the hallways where I left my bags.

"But, Ryan! You've just arrived here. Do take the time to enjoy the amenities of my home while you're visiting!"

Before I reach the stairs, I stop. I turn around, give him a wide-eyed, confused look, then I continue walking away. Why is he so... welcoming? Shouldn't he have reported me for trespassing by now? Fucking creepy, dude. I'll have it in for Jon when I get back to the dorms.