Before I dive straight into the story, you may need some of my background to understand. I am the type of person who easily forgets where something is, even when it is in my hands. Usually, I rely on others as my memory, so much so that I become easily gullible. I have been sent a picture of my phone before, with my friend saying that I forgot it. I used my phone to see the image of my phone in the messenger app, and yet for some reason, it works. More than once, actually. I rely on others that much.
Recently, my roommate moved out after saving enough to buy their own property and maintain it, which had left me forgetting where I placed things every so often. When I left something there and forgot it, it was as if my roommate had an innate sense of where everything was and immediately spotted it. My roommate’s name was Connor, which I found such a generic name, even picking on him a little for it. Nearly every morning, I would holler his name, asking where things were. "Connor!" "Do you know where my phone is?" "In your pocket!" he would yell back. Yeah, I was that bad at remembering things. It was a pretty bad set of circumstances I was dealt with...
I was sad to see him go, we had bonded for all this time, and he unfortunately moved on. I honestly don't blame him, who would really want to live in a house that isn't really theres? That sounded like living in a hellhole, even to me. I was just going to need some time to get used to being alone. Soon after, I started noticing my forgetful behavior. It was like losing a light in the dark, forced to stumble around trying to find things without it. I was practically blind without someone who had the basic understanding of where to look for things. I would find things weeks after losing them, nearly forget things before leaving for work, the whole shebang.
One day, my remote went missing, and I just thought it had hidden under the cushions. I had the smart idea to place a bit of green string on it to ensure the remote wasn't too hard to see if it was buried somewhere. However, I didn't ever find the green string. I had completely lost the remote and was left in a daze. I decided to search later, usually I would run into it somewhere around the house. Eventually, I realized it had been over a month since I lost the remote. I decided to prioritize my free time into looking for it. Something I don't usually enjoy doing, but it was better than letting it disappear forever.
I wanted to look under the couch, but for some reason, the flashlight I always left in the drawer was missing. I didn't remember the last time I ever used it. It had stumped me completely. I always placed it back in the drawer, why would it be missing now? The disappointment didn't last long, as I saw another flashlight that was cheaper but would get the job done. I kid you not. I looked in every crevice, every drawer, every table, every goddamn nook and cranny of the house, and yet the remote was still missing. Disappointed and worn out, I decided to just order a new one, they were cheap, so I didn't really mind.
I eventually had to open the small box for the remote, so I went looking for my knife. Wouldn't you know it? It was missing from the spot it resided in too. It was like my things were moving into my roommate's house because they missed them or something. At that point, I was starting to get mad, so each time I needed something, I would start placing it into spots I would always use. I never placed it down on a table or any other space I would easily forget, just kept track of it. It worked fine for a while, but then something happened, something I would never quite forget.
After I was done brushing my teeth and headed downstairs to get the usual items, I felt like something was wrong with the house, like it didn't look right. I then realized it was the lights. I usually had four lights in the kitchen, evenly spread out like the pattern on a die. It had somehow turned into just one light in the corner of the kitchen that still lit the whole kitchen like normal. "Whaaat the fuuuh..?" I said out loud to myself. I don't usually forget lights, do I? I swear there used to be four of them, not just one! It felt like my mind was playing tricks on me.
Then, I noticed a small portion of food missing from the fridge. It started with leftover food, but then it had increased night by night, ever so quickly. It had moved from the leftover food to freshly bought refrigerated treats, then it went from that to a whole gallon of milk, and then from that came an entire segment of my fridge. I had now started to believe it was possibly my roommate, I am pretty sure I had left him with the keys, I am sure he was messing with me! He would do something drastic like this, I just know it.
Every time I mentioned it, he would deny my claims, at first I thought he was just pretending to not know, but I had finally remembered something that sent shivers down my spine. His keys, the replica of my house keys, I had put them on my desk. I checked to confirm, and it was indeed there. I had started to genuinely worry, this wasn't an apartment room, for Christ's sake, it was my actual house! Something had been sneaking in somehow, and taking things around my home! One day, while I was completing my morning schedules, I had walked into my living room and dropped everything I was holding, before blankly staring at what had been left of it.
My couch, the table in front of it, the TV that hung up on the wall, they were all gone. "How is this even possible?" I thought to myself. The items in my goddamn house went missing, and I didn't have a clue about where they could've gone! At that point, I called off work and had contacted the police. I told them that someone had broken in and stolen my furniture, I had to, they wouldn't believe me if I had told them everything that had been happening! They would've thought I was delusional.
They launched an investigation, but it sadly didn't last long. They couldn't find a single bit of clues that may have hinted at a burglary, they didn't even find a way the robber could've entered or even left the house without breaking the glass or the front door. Without any leads of what may have happened, they had to drop the case. It was unfortunate, but hey, at least they tried their best. Now I was left wondering if it was some paranormal shit, you don't just lose stuff in your house out of nowhere, especially large and heavy objects that were the main parts of the room! I was starting to believe it was a dream—until that night, when the dream had became a lucid nightmare.
I was startled awake by glass shattering from somewhere downstairs. My bedroom at that moment was illuminated by the open windows that had let in moonlight, which was enough to get a bearing of my surroundings. After sitting up in the bed, I watched the door intently, as if I was expecting something else to happen. I was expecting a footstep of what may have caused the noise, or even another sign of any movement. However, it was silence, covered slightly by the ringing in my ears and the muffled crickets outside my home.
Without hesitation, I silently got up and had picked up a flashlight I left sitting by my nightstand. I tiptoed towards the door and had opened it slowly. I was lucky to make no noise with the door before sliding through and silently closing it behind me. I crawled silently down the stairs towards my living room and found my lamp lying there in many glass pieces on the floor. It didn't seem accompanied by anything, so I had just gone over to closely inspect the damage. That was when I heard a quick shuffling to my right, where the wall was. I quickly turned, but didn't see anything, other than a painting on the wall. Just seeing it made my heart sink. Not because of what was on the painting or anything like that, but because I specifically restrict the use of paintings in my home...
I walked up to it to see what it was, it seemed like a regular old painting of an apple on top of a checker-covered table. I cleaned up the mess that had been left behind and went upstairs to bed, I could barely sleep that night, wondering what the hell could've even knocked that damn thing over? Then it hit me, like a train hitting a car. Why was there a painting there? How long has it even been there? It couldn't have been my roommate before he left, he respected my house rules. So what could've put that painting up?
"I'll just take it down," I thought to myself. It would ease my mind, I could just stuff it into the attic, maybe I would even forget it had been there. I rolled out of bed and made my way back downstairs to the painting once more. The painting had been hung up by the classic nail on the wall, so I just picked it up and lifted it out of the wall, then... I froze. I had found a hole dug deep into the wall behind the painting. What I had found shook me to the core, raising more questions than it ever answered. It was a room, a room made into the wall.
What had creeped me out the most was what was inside. The interior had a rug beneath what appeared to be the same missing couch that had a table sitting in front of it, with empty containers and the remote that had been missing this whole time. The room had the TV propped up against the wall and connected through wires from the outside of the room. I had felt as if my whole body went from hot to cold in the matter of seconds. Who had been living in my home? Stealing my food? Taking my furniture to make their own little goddamn room in my home? I heard a sudden slam from behind me and turned around in shock. It was my front door, someone had just slammed it shut.
I quickly ran toward it but found nobody there. Then I looked outside to see what seemed like a shadow in the night that seemed to limp away at an almost anomalous speed. It didn't run right either, oh no, the way the intruder had run was horrifying, scary enough to the point it burned into my goddamn skull. He ran without swinging his arms or even keeping his upper body straight, instead seeming to run with just his legs keeping him at that speed before disappearing into the night. I sat there, feeling pale. I couldn't chase after that! That motherfucker ran about as fast as Usain Bolt! Even then I refused to, after seeing the way they were running. I closed my door and locked it tight. I ran upstairs, slammed the door behind me, and locked it too.
I didn't move an inch, I just sat there with my mind blank, until I had finally snapped in reality, and noticed only then the sun had risen hours ago. How would you expect me to sleep? I wasn't ever alone when my roommate left, and the person keeping me company wasn't even a goddamn person, but rather this monster that had made itself home in my wall. Who knows how long they were there?
The cops never found out who was living there that night. I tried to get help from the police, but they were once again left without much to work with. I had to set cameras and other home defense systems up to make sure I didn't find another person trying to secretly live in my home. I had realized that night that if I hadn't found them at that moment, they may have stolen more than just what was in my house. They could've taken my life while I slept in my own bedroom. That thought only keeps me up at night, knowing that something wasn't just living in my home. It knew I easily forgot things.