Mannequins | completed

Eight

OK, so I changed a few things in Seven, the previous chapter. They may seem minor for now, but they're actually really important. This is the paragraph that I changed, make sure to read it because it's important:

Deciding not to comment on the fact that he was uncharacteristically giving me free reign over this, I chose familiar names. I chose Francis Iman, one of the earlier victims who used to be a receptionist at Marty’s Motel and whom I met a while back, Olivia Hosk, one of the victims in between who used to own Flavor and Flames, a restaurant near C’est La Vie; Olivia had also attended my tenth birthday and brought me homemade seafood pasta she cooked herself, and Caroline Sumpter, who was one of the most recent victims and used to be my mom’s acquaintance in Calinton Medical Center where they both worked as nurses.

Thank you to Becca for editing!

IT TOOK A FEW days for Finn Iman to respond to my message. I kept myself busy with university and work, but I checked the Facebook Messenger app on my phone every time I could to see if Finn Iman had responded.

When I received his response, I couldn’t help but be a little peeved. He replied with you’re a stranger…why should I? I had expected something… better.

I was working when I received the message—yes, I went back to work at C’est La Vie after my week long break—and admittedly, it was quite hard for me to work around dead people posed as mannequins. So I mostly stayed in the stock room, doing inventory of the items we had and whatnot. It wasn’t a difficult task.

After my eyes scanned the message, I quickly emerged from the stock room, almost tripping on a pile of hangers on the floor as I did. My eyes swept the room in search of Callum, and found him hanging some shirts on the rack.

“Callum,” I called to get his attention. “Finn Iman replied!”

Callum quickly turned around after he hung the last piece of clothing he needed to hang. “Really?” he queried, sounding a bit unbelieving. “What did he say?”

I walked to where Callum was standing and practically shoved my phone at his face after unlocking it. Blinking, Callum took my phone from my hands and read Finn Iman’s response himself.

Callum frowned. “This guy obviously won’t meet up with us without a valid reason,” he told me after he read the message. “What do you think we should tell him?” He paused. “Do you think we should lie to get our way?”

I didn’t know what to reply. Honesty was the best policy, but then again, we couldn’t exactly tell Francis Iman why we wanted to meet up with him. “Um,” I said, not knowing what to reply.

“This guy works at Toyota, right?” Callum suddenly asked. I found his question quite random.

“Uh, yeah, I think.” I did remember seeing it on his Facebook profile. To make sure, I unlocked my phone and used the Facebook app to check Francis’ profile. In the “About” section of his profile it did in fact state that he worksd at Toyota. I showed it to Callum.

“We can just say that we want to inquire about a Toyota car,” Callum suggested, shrugging.

I shook my head. “Neither of us has a Toyota car to inquire about. My car is a Honda, and you don’t even have a car in the first place.”

“My uncle’s car is a Toyota,” Callum hinted.

I grimaced. “Your uncle, as in, Henry?” I didn’t tell Callum my feelings about Henry, but I was sure that he could tell I wasn’t exactly fond of his creepy uncle.

“Yes, my uncle Henry.” Callum frowned. “Is there anything wrong with that?”

Besides the fact that he’s a fucking madman? Nope. “Uh, no,” I said slowly.