Today, I finally leave behind the suffocating comfort of my parents' mansion. No more staff watching my every move, no more formal dinners. I get to live freely, independently—even if that means sharing a space with a mysterious stranger. Odd, yes. Concerning? Slightly. But it doesn't diminish the sheer joy swelling in my chest. This day marks the pinnacle of my college experience so far—charged with anticipation and the thrilling fear of the unknown. In two weeks, my classes begin, and while anxiety simmers quietly in the background, today's spotlight belongs solely to the moment I meet my enigmatic new roommate.
I clutch the key tighter in my palm as the elevator hums upward. I'm leaving everything I've known, stepping into something entirely uncharted. A small frown tugs at my lips. How did life change from being simple to becoming so complicated so quickly? I can't even remember my childhood clearly…
Ding.
The elevator doors glide open, jerking me from my thoughts. I step out and follow the hallway until I find the door that matches the one in my welcome packet.
"Thank God it's not as far as I thought." I let out a breath, placing my hand on the doorknob.
Click.
"It's… unlocked?" I whisper to myself, my nerves prickling. "Shit," I mutter under my breath. The door creaks open. My heart stutters and then roars to life all at once.
Standing in the living room is a boy—tall, muscular, and shirtless, wearing only ripped black jeans. His skin is lightly tanned, his hair short and black, and his electric blue eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that makes my spine tingle. I stare, shamelessly. His physique resembles a Greek statue, and I find myself staring in awe.
Before he notices, I force my gaze to the floor. "Who are you?" I manage to ask the question while attempting to sound composed.
"I should be asking you the same question," he replies, walking toward me with a sudden burst of energy that makes me blink. His mood shift is almost comical.
"So… you're my roommate then?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.
He nods enthusiastically. "Yes, I am. Mrs. Votterello."
That takes me by surprise. "How do you know my last name?"
"I did a background check on you," he says casually.
I laugh, despite myself. "Seriously? Why?"
"To make sure my rich roommate isn't a serial killer," he says with a wink.
"Well, in that case," I smirk, "I guess we're both serial killers."
He grins. "Then I guess I'll have to kill you first," he says lightly—and then, like something out of a dream, he walks past me and… vanishes.
I blink, trying to collect myself. He could have at least told me which room was mine—or that he was stepping out. A little communication wouldn't kill him.
I pull out my phone and press the call button.
"Hey, Mom," I say with a grin.
"Hey, sweetie! Did you meet your new roommate? Is she friendly?"
"You mean him, Mom?" I reply with mock sarcasm.
"What the—" I hear Dad swear in the background.
"Mom, you didn't tell me Dad was home," I laugh.
"Oh, sweetheart, he's been sulking all day waiting for you," she says dramatically. I can almost see her clutching her imaginary pearls.
Then, out of nowhere: "Marie, I'm back."
I whirl around to see him again—this time fully dressed, thank God—with two large pizza boxes in hand.
"I'll call you later, Mom," I say, ending the call quickly.
"You're already plotting my death, aren't you?" he teases, setting the boxes on the table.
I sigh and tilt my head back dramatically. "I thought you'd disappeared for good."
He chuckles, flopping onto the couch and devouring a slice of pizza with an embarrassing food moan that sends goosebumps up my spine. I try not to let him see the effect it has on me.
His stuff's still in the hallway—completely unpacked. That means I get first pick of the rooms. Why didn't I think of this sooner?
Grabbing my suitcase like a girl possessed, I bolt down the hallway.
He laughs through a mouthful of pizza. "Didn't know rich girls ran like that."
I open a door and toss my stuff in, claiming the room.
"You can pick whichever one you want," he calls. "That's why I didn't unpack yet."
I peek out. "You planning to lure me into a trap?"
He coughs violently on his pizza. "Damn, Marie. You really are a witch."
Rolling my eyes, I shoot him a look of mock offense. "Once you finish stuffing your face, come help me eat the last of that pizza."
"That food moan was almost a declaration of war," I add under my breath, smirking.
He grins. "Your traps don't work on me, Marie."
"No, you're just trying to kill me with food poisoning."
I settle onto the edge of my new bed, glancing at my phone. My lock screen shows a photo of me and my parents. A lump rises in my throat. A single tear escapes before I wipe it away quickly.
Sleep tugs at me, but I fight it.
The nightmares have been worse lately.
And my parents… they've never told me why. What really happened in my childhood? Why are so many memories just… missing?
I shift onto my side, eyes scanning the shadows dancing across the walls. The hallway light goes dark.
He's finally asleep, I think.
But what if he's not? What if he's lurking outside my door?
I have a knife in my hand.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Don't be stupid, Marie.
I don't remember falling asleep. One minute, I was staring at the ceiling, counting the faint shadows cast by the moonlight through the blinds. The next, I woke up with a jolt, my sheets tangled around my legs, and my shirt damp with sweat. My heart was racing. Another nightmare, I guessed. But as always, I couldn't remember what it was about—just a lingering sense of dread, like someone had been watching me.
I sat up, squinting at the dim numbers on my phone screen.
3:12 a.m.
Of course.
I reached for the water bottle on my nightstand and took a sip, trying to steady my breath. Then I froze. A faint sound, akin to something brushing against the wall, reached my ears. Slow. Deliberate. Not the settling of a building or the rustle of a breeze. No. This sound felt… intentional.
I pulled my legs up, holding still as stone, listening.
Maybe I was imagining things. My dreams had a nasty way of bleeding into reality. Still, something didn't sit right. I slid out of bed and padded silently across the floor. I cracked the door open just an inch and peeked out.
The hallway was empty.
He left his door slightly ajar.
Something flickered inside me. Curiosity, maybe. Or that same stubborn recklessness that made me say things I shouldn't and trust people I don't know.
I crept closer.
There was a faint light on inside—maybe from a lamp or his phone. And then I heard it.
A voice.
Not his.
Faint and mechanical. Like a distorted whisper coming from… a speaker?
I leaned in, just enough to catch a glimpse through the crack in the door.
He was sitting on the floor, back turned to me, shirtless again, hunched over a strange device. It looked like a radio, but it wasn't—sleek, silver, with small glowing buttons. The screen displayed a flickering image that didn't make sense—static, and then a flash of what looked like… symbols? I felt a tingling sensation on my skin.
He turned around—fast.
His eyes locked with mine.
Shit.
For a heartbeat, neither of us spoke.
Then he smiled, slow and calm, like he'd been expecting me.
"You couldn't sleep either?" he asked, rising to his feet. "Nightmares?"
I stepped back, heart hammering. "What the hell was that?"
He tilted his head. "You tell me, Marie."
The way he said my name sent a shiver down my spine. Familiar. Too familiar.