the mannequin man ☞ patd

iii

When I was scheduling my classes for the semester, I chose only afternoon classes for one reason: I could never find myself awake before eleven o'clock in the morning. Why has that suddenly changed? The analog clock on the bedside table says five-thirty, and it surely didn't have any alarms to go off, because I would have heard it in my sleep. I didn't exactly sleep very deeply. However, whatever woke me up doesn't matter anymore. There is no way I'm going back to bed anyway. It's hard to sleep in a room of statues.

Choosing the room that Mr. Urie was mysteriously standing in yesterday is starting to seem more and more like a bad idea by the second. There are mannequins and statues and busts in every corner of the room staring straight through me. They all look like they were begging me... for something, I guess. There are even those creepy plaster-white statues all over the backyard. They're visible from the window that I stand at as I put on a new shirt, a new shirt of the same color as The Mannequin Man's many creations.

While I put on my socks, I close my eyes. I can't take another waking minute of those statues. A huge breath escapes my mouth when I leave the room, but it hitches when I hear a barely-audible noise come from behind the walls.

The only things illuminating the hallway is the natural light that leaks from below the doors, coming from the windows that are in most of the rooms, presumably. However, there's one door with light that doesn't match the others. It's the one that was eerily locked yesterday.

The wooden floors creak under my toes as I walk toward the door and lean my ear on it. There's a faint knocking noise behind the wall that avoids any sort of steady rhythm. This time when I try the knob, it actually works. I take a deep breath as I slowly push the door open, trying to prepare myself for what I could see. However, I only get to open the door a couple inches until a hand grips my free wrist. It yanks me, making the door I held onto slam. When I turn around, I see Mr. Urie standing directly behind me, stern look on his face, causing a tiny squeal to come out of my mouth as I fall back onto the floor.

"Not a good idea," he says before extending his arm out as if to offer his help, but I don't take it. I can get up on my own. Then, as if a switch flips inside him, he smiles. "I made you breakfast though, Ryan. Come." He beckons for me to follow him downstairs to his dining area. On the table, he has one plate set up at the far end. I sit down where the plate is and look at it. The breakfast consists of bacon, eggs, and orange juice. I refuse to eat any of it. I'd be a fool to even taste it.

We state at each other for a few eerily silent seconds, then something comes over me. Suddenly, I'm parched. The back of my throat is as dry as a desert. I grab the orange juice and chug it.

And then we sit silently again. What am I even doing here? As I come to my senses and leave the table, Brendon jumps quickly to his feet and follows me. "Ryan!" he says. "You didn't eat the rest of your food!"

I laugh. "Nice try, you fucking creep, but I'm not consuming whatever poison is in that food. You'd better hope the orange juice alone was enough to kill me."

He laughs, too, but it isn't funny anymore. His laugh is the opposite of infectious. It makes me cold. "Oh well," he says. "But could I take you on a short tour? Of my backyard? I'd like you to see my collection."

It scares me, the way I instantly turn around and walk up to him. I thought that maybe my body was taking control and going to punch Mr. Urie in the face. That doesn't happen, though. Instead, my body betrays me. "Sure," I say as I follow him outside. At least now someone can hear me if I scream.

The tour is innocent enough. Mr. Urie gets very excited as he talks about his statues. Every one of them has some soft of unusual backstory. They didn't interest me enough to pay attention, though. I was focused on one thing: Every statue here is a woman.

He stops and sucks on his teeth. "You're right." It's a silent second as Mr. Urie chuckles and scratches the back of his head. "There's not a single male statue here." That's when I notice Mr. Urie's eyes change for the tiniest of seconds. "Now that you're here, maybe you can help out on my first." His voice is brooding, but he's still got a light heart, I guess. Before I say anything, I notice that every bird that was chirping literally five seconds ago has gome silent. Fuck.

"Sure," I say. It's as if I've become a yes-man. I've got to snap the fuck out of it.

Then, the jubilance in the air continues, and Mr. Urie breaks into a big smile. "Great! I hope you're enjoying my whimsical manor." He starts to walk back into the house, and that's when I realize how soundless he is. Not a single sound expels from his footsteps as he walks through the house, whereas mine echoes theatrically through the walls.

Mr. Urie disappears somewhere into the other side of the house, and I make my way back to the only other room I know, where my phone has been charging all night. It's only on 20% battery level, though. I have a few texts from each of the guys, but I just ignore them and call Jon.

"Hello?"

"Hey Jon."

"Oh my gosh, Ryan," he says with a laugh. "Everyone else was convinced you were dead."

"Nope, I'm alive. But this guy I'm living with is in-fucking-sane."

"Be careful, man," Jon says. Right now is one of those rare moments when Jon is actually serious.

"I'll be fine," I sigh. "But—" I pause when I hear Mr. Urie yell out my name. "I have to go," I mumble.

"Where are you going?"

"I gotta go. I'll call you later."

After putting my phone back on its charger, I turn around to see Mr. Urie already behind me. Fuck. I didn't know he was already so close.

"I hope I didn't startle you," he says with a smile. "Are you ready for me to start preparing dinner?"

My eyebrows furrow in confusion. "We just ate breakfast, though."

Mr. Urie shakes his head and giggles. "It's been hours since breakfast. How long have you been on your phone?"

I turn to my phone, only to realize that it's actually half past nine PM. I hadn't even realized the night sky outside the window. How did I just miss sixteen hours of my day?