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My sugar daddy asks me for weird favors. His Tinder profile said he was 45, but he looked to be in his early thirties at most. Looking for a sugar baby. $700 weekly. No sex. It sounded too good to be true, but, as a broke university student, I was willing to take my chances. I swiped right, and Tinder let me know it was a match. His message came seconds later. Hey, there sweetheart. I cringed at that word, I hated it, but seven hundred dollars was seven hundred dollars, so I sucked it up and replied. Hey. His name was Jack, and he told me he owned his own business, although he never specified what kind of business it was. We talked for a while before he asked me for my Venmo to send me the first payment. After a few minutes, I got the notification. I stared at the $700 for at least twenty minutes, expecting to wake up from a dream at any second. But it wasn’t a dream. You still there? I clicked on the message. Yeah. Sorry. If you don’t mind me asking, what are you looking for in return? I stared at the chat until he replied. I’m just looking for you to do a few favors for me. That sounded like it was going to be sexual to me. Like what? For example, the first thing I need you to do is pick up a delivery for me. That sounded innocent enough, but I was still expecting there to be some kind of twist. Seven-hundred dollars to pick up a package? Come on, even I wasn’t that naive. From the post office or something? No. I’ll send you the address, but I’d rather not do this through Tinder. You got Kik? Or you can give me your number. Kik? What was this, 2011? I decided to give him my number instead, and he texted me the address immediately, followed by the address to his house, where I would have to drop off the package. I’m not home right now, but there’s a key on the bottom of the blue flowerpot near the door. Go inside and put the package on the coffee table in the living room. Make sure that you lock the door when you go inside the house, and then lock it again when you leave. I grabbed my car keys and wallet and got into my car, putting the address into Google maps. Got it! On my way. My phone buzzed as I backed out of my driveway. I’m serious. Lock the door BOTH times. Please. I thought that was a little excessive, but I promised him that I would. The house looked abandoned. It had a broken chain link fence around it, with a small door that was hanging onto dear life. It stuck out like a sore thumb, surrounded by houses that were a lot nicer than this one in comparison. “You here for Jack’s ish?” I looked up to see a man standing in the open doorway of the house. He took up almost the entire space, his head skimming the top of the door frame. He was huge; in height and muscles, and his entire torso was covered in tattoos. “Uh, yeah. I guess.” I replied, not moving from my spot on the sidewalk. “Stay right there.” He said. I did. I actually don’t think I would have moved if he had asked me to. I looked around and realized that there was no one else on this street. I was a twenty-one-year-old woman alone in the street. I gripped my car keys. A few minutes later, the man came back out carrying a cardboard box. It was about the size of a shoebox but stained and damp on some of the corners. “Can you open your car?” He asked. I opened the trunk, not wanting that inside on my car seats and he set it in. “Alright, there you go.” He said. “Thanks.” I replied. I walked around to the driver's side of the car and opened the door. “Oh, and one more thing!” He said. I looked at him. “Watch out.” He said. I didn’t reply. I blasted my music as I drove to Jack’s house, hoping it would drown out my anxiety. It didn’t. I parked my car in the stone driveway and stayed inside the car, admiring the house. It was a huge house; with stone pillars on the front porch, and the greenest grass I had ever seen in my life. I turned the car off and got out. I grabbed the package, and walked to the front door, getting the key from where he said it would be. I opened the door and stepped in, closing it behind me. I thought about what he had said, about locking the door when I got inside. I thought that was a little overboard, but as I stared at the closed door something made me reach out and lock it. I walked inside, my feet cushioned by the thick maroon carpet, and admired the inside of the house. All the furniture was wooden and looked incredibly expensive. I would probably finish school a dozen times with the money that it took to furnish this place. I set the package down on the coffee table, and as I walked back to the door, I heard a phone ringing from somewhere inside the house. I froze. In my pocket, my phone buzzed. I took it out to look. Don’t answer any calls that aren’t from Marvin. I put my phone back and followed the sound of the phone, poking my head into a few different rooms before I found it in an office. I walked over to the desk and looked at the caller ID. Incoming call from Jack. That was odd. I grabbed my phone to look at the message again. I was starting to get a little bit creeped out and decided I wouldn’t answer, just to be safe, and left the house, remembering to lock the door as I left. I’ve done a few more favors for Jack since then. I drove a BMW to a random park in another city, only to get out and drive a different car back to Jack’s house. He had me meet one of his “employees” at lunch, who then gave me a briefcase to deliver to the first house I had gone to and told me he would know if I looked inside. On several occasions, he asked me to drive down to that same house and stay with the guy, whose name was Julio, for a certain amount of time. In total, I’ve made around $3500. Most recently, Jack asked me to stay in his house overnight. I woke up to a text message from him. I need you to spend the night at my house. I hadn’t ever seen him in person, but I had talked to him on the phone a few times. He proceeded to tell me he would pay me $1000 to spend the night at his house, provided that I followed a few rules. I drove to his house that evening. The driveway was empty, and it normally was, but the porch light was on. I walked up, unlocked the door, went inside and then locked it again. Everything in the house looked the same. Jack had told me over the phone that he would leave the list of rules on the dining room table. I set all my stuff down in the living room. My bags looked like garbage compared to the fancy furniture in there. I wandered into the kitchen, and then to the dining room. Sure enough, there was a piece of paper on the wooden table, held down by an empty glass. Lock the door when you come in. Only answer calls from Marvin. Don’t turn on any faucets between 9 pm and 11 pm. Don’t open the door for anyone- no matter who they say they are- after 10 pm. If the door to the closet at the end of the hall is open, sleep in the library. If closed, sleep in any of the bedrooms. The gardener comes at midnight. If he starts knocking on the windows, hide. Turn the tv on and let it play on static through the night. DO NOT FORGET TO DO THIS. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. :) I’ll pay you in the morning. Goodnight! I made sure to follow all the rules. To be honest, I was regretting my decision. But, seeing as I was already here, and I was getting paid, I decided to stay anyway. I figured as long as I followed all the rules, I’d be perfectly fine. Still, it felt a little odd. What was this? A haunted house? Nevertheless, I lounged around the house for a few hours, as I was planning on going to sleep around nine since that’s the time that all the weird shit would begin to happen. At 8:50, I brushed my teeth, using the faucet for the last time before 9. I checked the closet in the hallway and upon seeing that it was open, I moved my stuff into the library and got ready to sleep on the couch. I locked to doors just in case, and laid on the couch, scrolling through my phone. I hadn’t gotten any more messages from Jack, and I started to think up scenarios and reasons as to why he had such strict, peculiar sets of rules in his house. I had dozed off at some point because, at exactly 10:16 pm, I was woken up by the doorbell ringing. I was about to get up to check, but then I remembered the rule. Don’t open the door for anyone- no matter who they say they are- after 10 pm. I stayed on the couch, trying not to move, paranoid that they would hear even the slightest sound. “It’s the police! Open up.” I didn’t move. “Hello? It’s the police! Open up or we’re coming in.” I still didn’t move, but I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. There was silence for a while after that. Then the doorbell rang again. “Hey, it’s Jack! Let me in!” It sounded like Jack, but still, I didn’t get up. He would have a key, wouldn’t he? Why would he need me to let him in? This continued for almost a full hour; different people would ring the doorbell, announce themselves, and then disappear when I didn’t respond. I was finally able to fall asleep, and the gardener never came. When I woke up the next morning, I heard someone in the kitchen. I got up slowly, and unlocked the door as quietly as possible, taking my phone with me and walking across the living room and into the kitchen. I stopped at the entrance and peered in.