/Cult Fiction\

Page 5 - Who is He?

The front door was agape and moving softly with the wind picking up into the open stairwell.

Ryan stirred on the stiff tacky couch cushions, sweeping the hair off of his forehead and scratching there lazily. He was sleeping almost completely upside down, his feet at one end of the couch and his chest turning off of the couch to the floor. He lifted his thin eyelids up, squinting out to look around the living room. Ivy Green walls, an early 2000's television collecting dust on the short-legged table. The creme roof that was smooth for only a few hours grew rough again. He looked over to the kitchen to find a silhouette hunched over next to the granite counter top. Ryan opened his eyes more and flipped onto his stomach. The windows drew in larger amounts of light, leaving Ryan half blinded. The silhouette grew taller as they stood back up. Ryan looked to see the door was open.

Ryan, putting two and two together, dragged both feet onto the floor and pushed himself off of the couch. His eyes adjusted to see the back of the intruders head was facing him. He tip-toed as quietly as someone who was toked out of their ass the night before could, being careful to constantly look back up from his feet. The figure was about his height, pitch-black chin length hair and a leather jacket to match the tone. When he had crept 7 feet from the shadow of a man, Ryan ran at him with all he had, jumping and missing, spearing the air and falling face-first into the carpet. His target had ducked. He laughed, Ryan grunting and quickly getting back up. His comeback was short lived however-- before he could catch so much as a glimpse, he was jabbed on the backside of his neck with a small needle. The pinch was quick, but the effects came in quicker. Ryan was fading fast and reaching for the pant leg of the winner. He looked down at Ryan and smirked, mumbling, "Why do I always have to handle the crazy ones."

The victor quickly tugged his foot back, leaving Ryan limp and unconscious on the floor. He swiped the garbage bag into his hand, walking into the single bedroom. "God, how does he get by." Trinkets were all around the room, the carpet covered in crumbs, hair and other trash. The mattress sat lone on the floor, a few blankets crumpled into a large, flat ball on top. A small desk in the corner held bottles. Empty and full, small and tall. The only light in the room was a small  table lamp that was turned off. Drawing back the curtains, he took one last intake of the room before putting back together. He washed the blankets at the local laundry mat and put them back onto the mattress, layering them with each corner neatly tucked under the mattress, not a wrinkle to be seen. He threw every bottle into the trash bag and put Brendon's cologne bottle, along with his other personal belongings, into a separate bag. He vacuumed every square inch of the house, moving Ryan on the freshly made "bed"  and even scrubbed the couch. The lightbulbs were changed, the light switches were fixed, every doorknob was tightened and greased, by the time he was leaving the house not a single spot in the apartment needed tending to. All he had to do was take down Brendon's original note and leave a new one along with the key;

Ryan,

I've done some very questionable things in my life, and I have hurt way too many people in the process. I do without thinking and it screws me in the end. I don't want to continue in this spot where I am, and have decided to get professional help from somewhere I know I can get it. I know what I'm doing is right for me, and I hope you can understand that. If you want to come visit me, you'll have to contact the head psychologist, Dr. Sean F. Phorphy (240-587-2409). While I'm gone, I only ask of you to look after the apartment and keep the house clean of everything (you know what I'm talking about). The key is on the counter in the dish.

Wish me luck, Brendon

"Seems good enough," he mumbled while carefully checking over the handwriting of the fake letter. Taking one last sweep of the house, he quickly exited the house and ran out to his car, hoping to never have to return to that complex again or ever see Ryan Ross ever again. He almost felt guilty about leaving him to wake up confused and upset.....