[Welcome to the first chapter of the "Roomate from Hell" (RfH) series: "That Thing in the Corner."]
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I should have never stayed. From the very first day I set foot in that awful place, I should have known there was something wrong. But it was cheap rent, and the only thing available in the area on such short notice. Sometimes I ask myself if it's worth dealing with the crappy roommate, the constant sense of dread, and what ever the hell that thing in the corner is supposed to be.
I must have looked like a maniac when I first saw it, that day the landlord took me up to this apartment to go over the rules, introduce me to my co-tenant, and give me a key. Right as the manager opened the door I could immediately see it sitting, no, not sitting, festering in the living room. Despite that, he just went on showing the room as if nothing was wrong.
I stood shocked in the doorway. Surely what ever it was, could not be normal. It filled the corner of the living room from floor to roof. Pieces of it were sprawled across the entire floor where they seemed to almost writhe imperceptibly. The trunk, body, or core mass of the thing was breathing softly, and it's bark, skin, or surface was moist and organic.
As I stood there, I noticed that the landlord was looking at me expectantly. It seemed that he was trying to introduce me to my new roommate; Melissa. They both stared impatiently, both completely unaware, or at least apathetic to the thing menacing silently from the corner. And that's when I realized that I was the only person who could see it. Not wanting to look like a lunatic, I introduced myself, and went on with the tour, desperately looking for the right time to broach the subject.
Even if I'd had the initiative to say something then, what could possibly be the appropriate way to address concerns with an imaginary monster that only I could see? I don't think that's covered in the renter's rights. So I said nothing, and sure enough I was moved in before I knew it.
I held out a cautious optimism that I wasn't going crazy, that this was just an elaborate prank by the landlord and the co-tenant, but as the days wore on, it was clear that they didn't find anything funny about it. I tried inviting friends over to see if they could see it, and got consistently inconclusive results.
They were just like my roommate and manager in that they were unable to perceive it, but that isn't to say that they couldn't tell it was there. They never wanted to stay around long, and quickly became uncomfortable the more they lingered. They never looked directly at it, as if avoiding eye contact. When I tried to point it out, they could only glance nervously. Even then, it was impossible to miss with those limbs draped everywhere, so it was safe to assume that it remained invisible to them as well.
I didn't really have time to put its ability to negate perception to the test because the sense of dread it imposed over all those who entered was consistent in its effect to keep people away from it. I wasn't comfortable around it either, and would quickly dash into my room to avoid the gaze of those eye-like facets growing out of fleshy tissue of the figure.
But even in my room I felt like I wasn't alone. There was a dark patch of mold or something growing out of the roof in the corner. That same corner whose walls contained that thing growing out of it on the other side. Even when I was alone, I couldn't shake the feeling like I was being watched from that brackish spot, so close and similar in hue to that thing in the living room, just beyond those thin layers of drywall. I couldn't get it out of my head, that on the other side of my bedroom wall, that thing was sitting there. Waiting. Watching. Taking root. Sometimes I thought I saw some of those ocular growths gazing at me from that dark growth on the roof. Most of the time, I pretended that I didn't see it at all. It made it impossible to relax or get any alone time in my own house.
Pretty soon its effects on me were beginning to show. It wasn't long before my friends were just as uncomfortable around me outside the apartment, as they were in it. Strangers and coworkers avoided me, and it was impossible to get a date. Eventually I became isolated, my only contact out of work being my roommate, who just made things worse.
As if that thing in the corner wasn't bad enough, my roommate just happened to be lazy, reclusive, and a total bitch. She would never lift a finger to do any cleaning, often leaving her dishes and laundry around the place for days. I tried confronting her on it at first, but she had the audacity to just tell me to "deal with it" and retreat to her room every time. I didn't want to stay in that in the same room as that thing any longer than I had to, so the living room quickly became messy and neglected.
I tried connecting with her and being friendly, but she wouldn't have any of it. She rarely left her room, never went outside, and never had any guests.
I tried knocking once. She cracked the door open only enough for me to see the venomous intent from her eyes.
"Don't ever knock on this door again. If you ever come in here with out my permission, I will kill you." She told me before slamming the door in my face.
Bad manners aside, I just couldn't understand why an attractive woman of her body type wouldn't have a boyfriend, and believe me, I was painfully aware of her body type.
When she wasn't hiding in her room, she would lounge around on the couch in her underwear and watch TV. Her dingy panties would get saturated with sweat and show off the cleft of her pussy through the cheap fabric. All of her bra straps had worn out, and would hang low on her chest; surrendering to the time and tension of enduring such a mammoth burden for so long.
I tried not to look, but she would go weeks with out showering, and the whole living room began to unignorably smell like woman. Even with out looking, the scent of her nearly naked body invaded my head unconsensually, and forced my mind to see her curvature in explicit detail whether I looked or not. This made the absence of any dating life, as well as the inability to find a comfortable place to attend to my masculine urges, even worse.
With nowhere to bring any adult guests, and my increasingly disheveled appearance, my slight dry spell was turning into an extended drought. I couldn't even jack off. Believe me, I tried. But that thing growing out of the roof seemed to get more active every time I attempted to have a little "me time," and I swear I saw it move once.
So that's how it was. For the longest time, I just went to work, and came home to sleep. Slowly losing my sanity, and wondering if I had gone mad already. I found my thoughts drifting, less so towards the thing in the corner, but towards that damn roommate. I hated her. I hated the way her ass would lazily swish as she wandered around the house. I hated how she pretended to not see the thing in the corner. I hated the way she pretended not to see me. I hated her stupid sexy face. I wanted to do things to her. Dark things. Painful things. As time wore on, I knew it was just a matter of time before I snapped and did something unforgivable, a permanent harm from which there could be no recovery. To her, to myself, or maybe even both.
I could feel the edges of my resolve cracking. I knew something had to change soon, or my broken mind was going to take charge and force it to change, and she wasn't going to like the way it did things.
