My room mate doesn’t acknowledge me, and I think I know why.

My room mate doesn’t seem to like me very much.

I remember introducing myself and he was so startled, he nearly fell out of his chair.
I chuckled under my breath and tried to apologise, reassure him, but he promptly stood up and left.
I came across him watching TV. I offered a “Hey, how’s your day been?”. He turned the volume up so loud the sound came out all distorted. I only tried to interact a few more times after that. He ignored me completely. This one time I tapped him on the shoulder, you know, just trying to get passed, and he practically jumped out of his skin. He ran off to his room and slammed the door shut. The sound of something heavy being dragged over the floor boards rumbled through the house.

His housekeeping skills don’t make up for this either. He’s the worst, to be honest. He rarely cleans after himself, his dishes are always piled in the sink, there’s dust everywhere, and he’s plastered over the windows with old newspapers. I don’t know why. He’s even taken all the mirrors down as well. There’s not even a single piece of shiny cutlery to chance a reflection off of. Everything is plastic.

I tried to peel some of the newspaper off a window once, and he screamed at me until I stopped and backed away. He retreated to his room for a while. I noticed the paper had been replaced an hour or so later.

I’ve kept mostly to myself since then. Of course, I still bump into him, but he doesn’t stay in the same room for long. I thought I’d try to be helpful and announce where I was and where I was going, to avoid another startled incident, but this seemed to make things worse. He started whispering things. Never loud enough to make out, but it had a similar rhythm to them each time. So I stopped.

I’m relieved that he doesn’t come anywhere near my room. He barely acknowledges that too. My sanctuary after dealing with his oddness for most of the day, because he is here all day. Or used to be.

I was up in my room, and there was a loud bang on the front door. It burst open, followed by the sound of multiple footsteps. I stayed in my room not really knowing what to do or expect. A soft, muffled voice came floating up the stairs, a woman’s as best I could tell. A few more words were exchanged and then another BANG! I could hear my roommate sobbing. It got louder before fading again and I realised he was being taken away. He was being taken somewhere. I ran to the window at the front of the house, tore off the newspaper, and saw him being carried into an ambulance. A few neighbours looked on with hands over their mouths, or heads hung low. I didn’t know we had neighbours. His last act before being bundled into the back was pointing back at the house, at me. Directly at me. One of the medics turned to look. It must have been windy, as they shook off a chill and returned their attention back to my roommate. No one came back for me. They left me. For the first time since I can remember, I was alone.

That was three days ago now. I wondered when he would return. I didn’t really like him, but he was a constant in the house and now he’s gone. It feels rather empty.

I never, ever stepped foot into his room before, and I’m not proud, but I didn’t know what else to do. So I went snooping. The door was wide open. The floor boards had worn out grooves leading from the doorway to his dresser. His room was a state. Newspapers piled high in each corner. Empty takeout containers scattered around the room, growing with mold. Flies buzzed somewhere, searching for what I didn’t want to think.

His desk was the only area he’d kept relatively clean. A laptop sat open in the centre with a scattering of notes pinned to a cork board behind it. I went over and booted it up. It blinked asking for a password. I scanned the notes looking for a clue, but my fingers instinctively moved to the correct keys. Numbers. 020226.

The desktop was a chaotic mess of saved note pad entries and links to various webpages. I tried a few. There were some for self help, some on how to deal with grief, coping strategies. Then I found something far more curious. His most recent searches were on topics like seeing things, feeling things, voices, unwanted spirits, exorcisms. His coping mechanisms were obviously failing him. I regretted never trying to get through to him properly. Maybe I could have helped. I tried the note pad entries next. A journal of sorts, starting from 03/28/26.

“My therapist wants me to write a journal, like I’m a 14 year old school girl. Nothing else has worked, so why not. Right? I can still see it, hear it, the smell of burning oil and rubber and something else. I want it to stop. I wish I had them back. I’m so sorry – Elias”

I jumped forward a few days to 03/31/26.

“I keep seeing it, standing there. Watching me. It doesn’t do anything. It just watches. It’s better when it’s dark. I can’t see it in the dark. I’ve blocked the windows, and taken down the mirrors. If I stop looking, maybe it will leave me alone. – Elias”

04/01/26

“It spoke to me! “Hello” it said. It’s voice, garbled, an amalgamation of… theirs. One’s own imagination can be very cruel it would seem? I couldn’t stand to hear it again, so I left the room. I don’t know where it went after that. – Elias”

04/02/26

“This thing is growing bolder by the day. I saw it drift into the living room out of the corner of my eye. It sat in the space next to me. I could feel it so close. But I kept my eyes on the TV. Ignore it and it will go away. It tried asking me about my day. It sounds so much like them, I barely held it together. I turned the volume up louder so I couldn’t hear it. I’m sure I’ll get complaints because of that, but I don’t think I could have stomached another word  – Elias”

04/03/26

“It touched me, physically touched me. It wasn’t in my head, I know it wasn’t. It crept up behind me and touched me, the bastard. The thing touched me! I ran as fast as I could up here and barricaded my door. It can’t get me in here. I know it can’t”

04/04/26

“It tried to peel off the newspapers! It wants me to see it. It is trying to torment me. It wants to torment me. I stared… for too long I stared at it’s face. I could make out some features. Of all of them. Her nose. His wide, innocent eyes. Oh my sweet boy, I’m so sorry I’ve made you into this, this THING!

I need to make it dark again.”

04/05/26

“Ignoring it seems to be working. I haven’t seen much of it lately, and when I do I immediately leave and it leaves me alone. It doesn’t follow. It doesn’t talk to me. I think it’s working. It’s finally working. I’ll be OK. I’m going to be OK.

04/06/26

“NO! NO! NO! NO! It’s telling me where it is in the house. Why? WHY would it do that? Can it not tell I don’t want it here! I want it gone, out of my life! I just have to keep reminding myself… I’ll be OK, I’m going to be OK. I’ll be OK, I’m going to be OK I’ll be OK, I’m going to be OK…”

The last entry is nothing but that same phrase repeated over and over again. I realised that was the same day he was taken. He must have still been typing when they came. I had seen enough. I powered down the laptop. The screen went black and for the first time I saw my own reflection. A pair of wide, misaligned yet innocent eyes stared back at me. I tilted my head from side to side, as a curious dog would. It followed. I closed the laptop. A note much larger than the rest sat dead centre on the corkboard. February 2nd, 2026. Fatal Crash on I-95. Father Sole Survivor. It showed the wreckage of a car. Two small pictures of a woman and boy were underneath it. I recognised their faces.

Elias is his name. I wonder when Elias is coming back.

I’ve booted the laptop back up again to ask you all. Does anyone know where they take them? People that scream a lot? I want to say sorry. Maybe Elias will come back? I need him back. I can’t remember feeling hungry before he left.