Important: I Believe my Roommate is a Serial Killer.
Trust me it’s worth your 20 minutes. I didn’t post it on only member reading.
I met Sarah in my first year of college (I’m now in my second year). For the first term of our biology class together, we were paired up in the lab. Sarah was nice; she was polite, friendly, and open. She was majoring in math and didn’t want to be taking a biology class. People in their first year of college took bio 101. Sarah was two years ahead of me, so she was just taking it to get some points.
Anyway, the point is that she made a good impact on me.
The next semester, we took another class together. This time, it was an LFIT, which is like a gym class but only gives you one point. Everyone has to take one to finish. We began to talk because she looked glad to see me. There is no point in LFIT classes because you don't get anything done. You do things like walk around, play basketball, or do workout sheets that are all about muscles and shit.
In short, Sarah and I had a lot of time to mess around in class.
I think I got to know her pretty well over the course of the semester. We began to hang out after school over time. Sarah never really talked about her home life. I guess she didn't think it was important since our whole school was under quarantine lockdown.
"Not gonna see my family until the end of the semester anyway," she would say to me. "Why talk about it?"
I gave a shrug. That was it. "Fair enough."
She was there for me during my first year of college, and I don't think I would have made it without her.
I asked her if she wanted to room with me this year, and she said yes, even though she said she could be...difficult.
I told her it was okay; I didn't mind having a tough flatmate. I also told her she could make it up to me by helping me get around campus and talk to people (I have terrible social anxiety, so Sarah has to help me out sometimes).
That's right, Sarah is a bad housemate. I'll say that. She never folds her clothes, never makes her bed, or takes out the trash on time. Plus, she always brings home strange Tinder dates. She does let me know ahead of time, and she won't do it if I tell her not to. But I don't want to be the fun police. Sarah has a lot of friends, but I don't. I guess it's okay. I know a few people, but I wouldn't say I'm close with any of them.
Not Sarah.
I'll be honest: she's a bad flatmate, but she's always there for me when I call, ask her to come to a meeting with me, or need help writing an email to a professor. She's also always there when I'm sad and lonely and need a friend. All the time.
I try not to ask too much of her, but she doesn't seem to mind, to be honest.
In any case.
Things stopped making sense about three weeks ago. It all began at the party that night.
Yes, it was a club party. I told Sarah I was going. I'm still not sure why. I guess I just wanted to feel alive. Don't just sit around and do your homework and feel down. Besides that, I had never been to a party before.
Sarah looked at me funny and smiled when I told her. "Damn, really? Betty Foster, going to a party? Oh I have got to see this."
The party began around 9 p.m. on a Friday, so it was likely to go on until early in the morning. Still, I was nervously getting ready and taking a shower long before that, because I didn't have anything else to do on Fridays after class at 3 p.m.
I thought I looked pretty good after taking a shower, putting on makeup, and doing my hair. I only had a t-shirt and shorts on hand, so I wouldn't have anything else to wear. Like, a hot, laid-back look or something. I have no idea.
Sarah met me in front of our dorm building at 8:30 and gave me the once-over. "Damn, Betty. Looking good!"
I laughed. "Yeah? You think the guys will like it?"
Sarah gave me the evil eye. She had never been with a man, and I could tell she didn't like them in general. I think it was because of her home life, but I'm not sure.
"The guys? Yeah," she said, "the guys will 'like it,' as you say."
I didn't like how she said it, but I knew she meant it. I looked good.
Of course, I didn't look very good next to her.
It was something Sarah never did because she told me she didn't like it. Not even their own.
She always looked beautiful, though. I don't know how she always looks like a model because she never wore anything fancy. It's not funny.
Anyway, that day was the same; she looked stunning.
Under an unzipped leather jacket, she wore a tank top that was just tight enough to show off her abs. She also wore dark pants that were tight enough to show off her legs but free enough to be comfortable, and combat boots. It looked like she had pepper spray and her keys on her belt. I know she always hides her switchblade in her boot.
In all the years I've known Sarah, I've never seen her dress up for someone else. That night was no different. Jeans, a tank top, and a leather jacket. The classic Sarah.
The sun was still up at 8:30. I thought Sarah's light brown skin might have had a little glow to it in the setting sun. Her midnight-black hair fell to her waist in full, thick, shiny waves. Thoughts like shiny bronze came to mind.
As I looked at her, she turned around and raised her eyebrows. "You good?"
"Uh...yeah," I said, snapping out of my dream.
"Good; let's go eat something, then we can head to the frats. Sound alright?"
As the sun went down, I nodded and looked at how her cheeks and forehead were lit up. It "sounds like a plan," I said somewhere.
That's what we did. All the places near college were pretty full on a Friday night, so Sarah and I ended up at a small bar next to a waffle house that was too busy but didn't have enough staff.
I felt bad for her, so she told me, "Looks like this is where we'll have to get food."
I sighed and followed her into the bar, which looked...eerily empty.
I thought we should go sit alone in a corner, but Sarah went right up to the bar. To my surprise, she didn't order booze, just regular food and water. I sat down next to her and ordered a plain burger with fries without much thought. The barman went into the back to get something, leaving us and the few other people in the bar alone. I asked her, "You didn't want a drink?"
"I don't drink at parties," was all she said.
"Um...isn't that the entire point?"
Sarah laughed. "I don't go to parties in general; if I want to have a good time, I hang out with a friend or open up tinder. And why do you, of all people, wany to go to one?"
I sighed and shrugged. "Tired of being alone, I guess."
The barman came back with two plates and then went to help another customer. Sarah shook her head. "You're not alone, Betty. And there are better ways to do this, you know--better ways to have a fun night. You don't have to go to a frat party and get wasted."
Of course I knew that. I did want to do this, though. I thought I had to because that's what college is all about, right? Sarah laughed when I told her that. "The experience, huh? Alright--well, I hope you have fun then."
As I ate my burger, I looked at her. "Aren't you coming?"
She said yes. "Yeah, but it ain't really my thing. I don't like frat boys."
As I took another bite of my burger, I laughed. "You don't like any boys, Sarah."
She took a sip of water and shrugged. "I consider that a blessing, honestly."
I raised an eyebrow and didn't say anything for a moment. Of course, I then asked, "Why?"
Sarah paused before saying: "I don't have good experiences with men. I know there's good ones out there and all that but since I'm not attracted to them, I don't really care about finding one. I think trying to find a genuinely good guy is like looking for a needle in twenty haystacks. You know? With women it's like, five or ten haystacks maybe."
"Seems more convenient to be into men though," I said. "Easier to find a partner."
She gave a shrug. Just "quality over quantity, hon," she said.
Before a stranger walked into the bar and sat down next to Sarah, we ate in silence for a while. At the bar, there were at least five other empty seats, but he picked that one.
I hoped he wouldn't flirt with her because, well, guys usually didn't. It looks like some of them don't like women who are muscular or who are like Sarah. It's scary to be around her if you don't know her.
They're also way out of her league most of the time. I believe she knows it.
"Hey there," the man said. His speech was slurred, and it was clear he was drunk. "You come here often? I haven't seen you in here before."
Sarah shrugged and didn't care. "First time," she said. "I can see why nobody comes here. This place sucks."
The barman gave her a mean look, and she smiled to say sorry.
The guy laughed. "Sucks so much, then why are you still here? You wanna get out of here, maybe?"
"No thanks," was her calm answer. "Why don't you check another bar?"
The guy let out a sigh and sounded sad and very, very drunk. "Listen, I just...really love your hair. You know? It looks really soft.."
I laughed so hard I almost choked on my water. It looked like this guy was...trying. And also doing a bad job. He was being a bit of a creep, but I felt bad for him.
Then he reached out and pulled Sarah's hair into his fist. He didn't do it quickly or fiercely; he just reached out and grabbed some. It looked like he wanted to touch it.
"Don't touch me," was all Sarah said, and I could feel her tighten up next to me. Without any feeling, her voice was as cold as steel.
The guy giggled. The barman suddenly wasn't there when I tried to flag her down or something. The bouncer wasn't either, which I thought was strange.
When the drunk man laughed, he pulled Sarah's hair and grabbed a fistful of it roughly. After pulling her close, he reached out with his other arm and touched her chest. I could only think, "Oh fuck."
Sarah hates being touched in any way without her permission more than anything else. Most of all by strangers and men twice as much.
Sarah's body let out all of its stress in one smooth motion. It happened so quickly that I barely saw her move. She was in the man's hands one second and not there the next. I saw her legs move, and one of them kicked her stool backwards into the man's chest. Her other leg stayed firmly on the ground, and I later realised that she was standing on it. As the stool hit him in the gut, the man let go of her. There was a soft click, and Sarah's switchblade flew open.
It was right there, even though I hadn't seen her take it out of her boot. Everyone in the bar was looking at this point, but no one moved.
The man was on the ground with a knife to his chin and fear in his eyes. Sarah was on his knees. She had one hand on a bunch of his hair and the other on her switchblade, which had the point hitting just below his chin. Her knee was on his chest.
"If you touch someone like that again, I'll gut you like a fish. Do you get it?" Her voice was as cold as ice and even. He choked out an answer that I didn't hear, but it seemed to make Sarah happy. She got up, put her switchblade away, and turned around to face me again.
She said, "Come on, Betty," in a nice way, like nothing had happened. "We're leaving."
Sarah was already on her way out, so I wasn't asked to go with her. So I went after her.
I really didn't want to be by myself with that drunk guy.
As soon as we left, I heard normal talk starting up again in the bar. It was like nothing had happened. It was like they hadn't even seen a man be literally killed in front of them.
"You wouldn't really gut him, would you?" I asked, not sure what to expect. "Also, what if someone calls the police?"
Sarah laughed. "Nobody's gonna call the police, Betty. A guy harassed me, and I defended myself. That's all there is to it."
I didn't want to nod because I felt like there was something I was missing, even though what Sarah said was true. There was a problem. Why did the guard and the barman leave? Who didn't move at all during the whole thing? What was going on if no one seemed to notice?
I didn't know what was wrong. Still, I believed Sarah. I had never heard her say I shouldn't.
Anyway, I tried to forget about everything when we got to the frat house. I came here to have fun, feel alive, and be with other people.
The first couple of hours were pretty boring, but also kind of fun. I danced to too loud music, drank a lot more booze than I should have, and felt more sure of myself than I ever had.
I thought Sarah had gone somewhere and was probably fucking a girl she met at this party.
People around me were smoking weed, kissing, and touching. It was a pretty normal party, but it was the craziest thing I've ever done in my life.
After that, I found Manny. To be more precise, he found me.
He looked cute while sitting next to me in chem class. That being said, he looked great. It could have been the drink.
"Hey! Betty! I sit next to you in chem; I didn't know you were the partying type," he said. We talked about nothing important until my beer ran out. Manny only said, "Don't worry girl, I'll get you a new one," and then he left.
He brought me a new bottle, and we talked some more. Then we started chatting, and that's when he punched me.
He asked, "Do you want to leave?" I answered before he could finish his thought, and we left the party together.
After that, I began to feel sick.
Feeling faint, dizzy, or sick to your stomach kind of sick. I tripped and realised all of a sudden that I had forgotten where we were because I had been looking at Manny.
I was scared because my vision was going in and out. What the hell did that happen? Had someone put something in my drink? Manny? Had? He wouldn't, right?
It was completely dark outside, and I couldn't move.
It took two sets of strong hands to pick me up and carry my limp body for a few minutes until I heard the key go off in a car.
He said, "Just dump her in the trunk." Manny's words made me want to throw up. I thought, "This can't be true."
Then I was thrown into a car trunk like a trash bag, and I passed out.
I woke up naked on the floor of a college room. The beds and other items were new to me, but I knew I was still on campus.
I tried to find my clothes while I was still sleepy but failed. I thought, "I need to call the police." I need to get my phone back!
As I tried to stand up, I threw up several times on the ground, and my ears were ringing nonstop.
I couldn't find my clothes, but I did find my phone. It had a broken screen, a cracked case, and a SIM card that looked like it had been hit with a hammer. It was lying outside next to the cracked case.
I tried to open the room's door but failed. Of course.
I pounded on the door with my head still spinning, not really expecting it to work.
I was shocked when someone outside called out, "Hey! Are you okay in there?"
"CALL THE POLICE, CALL THE FUCKING COPS R-" I started to cough and fell to the ground as the ringing in my ears got worse.
A different voice said, "Jesus Christ, there's a girl trapped in there!" Then, the sound of a talk.
"Yeah, there's a girl trapped in our building! She's been uh...kidnapped, I think? Look, just--you need to get over here!*"
I could barely make out what someone was saying on the phone.
"It's an emergency, I swear to God, you piece of sh-"
A break.
"He fucking hung up on me. Thinks I'm bullshitting. You guys have to call too--otherwis-"
I know that voice from anywhere: "The police won't do anything." Took my heart out of my chest and turned my insides to lead. Manny.
Manny told them, "Listen, you guys need to leave this place." After that, his voice got quiet, and all I could hear were whispers.
It was the first voice that asked me if I was okay. It said, "Okay, okay!"
After a second, the door flew open, knocking me backwards. The hall was empty; Manny was the only person there. His voice was mean, "Hey, Bettyie." "You thought you were so smart calling for help as soon as you woke up. The damn police could be here any second and....ugh!" He growled in anger and hit me in the face with a slap.
At this point in time, I couldn't even do anything about the pain other than whine a little.
"Goddammit," Manny was saying below. He hit me in the back again and said, "You fucking bitch!" I felt blood run down the side of my face and intense pain shoot through my head.
Two guys came into the room and looked down at me. Manny got up and looked at them. "Pick her up. We need to move her. Now."
"How's she even awake, man? Thought you said 24 hours."
"I don't fucking know, Raymon, I don't fucking know! Just...move!"
Two sets of hands I knew picked me up, and I passed out again. The next time I woke up, my head felt a lot better. At least it wasn't pounding or ringing. I was in the same kind of college room as before.
When I sat up, I screamed and saw a man standing next to me.
"Hey, hey! I'm Raymon, okay? Listen, I know you hate me, okay, but I'm here to help. Manny doesn't even know I'm here."
I spat at him because I couldn't move. Still, my body felt slow and numb.
Raymon told me, "I did this just to give you something." I got a phone from him. A cell phone! I looked up at him in shock, but he didn't meet my eyes. Just "I'm sorry," he said. He got up and left the room, but he forgot to close the door.
When I slowly stood up, my clothes were on the bench next to me. Before leaving the building, I put them on as quickly as my shaking, weak body would let me.
Thank God Manny wasn't around when I left.
I found myself in a place I knew—one of the smaller dorms on the edge of campus.
I called 911, but no one picked up. Could that... even be possible? Why didn't anyone answer? Okay, fine. It was too late for me to think about it.
I knew I couldn't walk to the college hospital when I felt that way. Before that, I would pass out.
So, I ran straight to my room because I needed to go somewhere safe and familiar. The time was getting close, and I was pretty sure I could make it.
And I almost did. Since it was about 6 a.m., thank God no one was around to see me. I walked back to my room while shaking very badly. My key card was still in the pocket of my pants.
When I walked in, the room was empty. Sarah hadn't slept in this bed last night because it was cold and not made up. Hold on! Sarah! I felt stupid because I thought she might be looking for me. I had forgotten all about her until now, and all of a sudden I realised how much I needed to be with someone. Why did I need a friend so badly? I really needed someone to be there for me. How much I missed Sarah.
With shaky hands, I picked up the phone and called Sarah. At 6 a.m., I thought she probably wouldn't answer, but she did.
The first ring caught her attention. "Betty?"
"Sarah..." I choked out. Then my voice gave out, and I started to cry. I couldn't say anything because I couldn't find the words. "Sarah, I need you here. Come back," I said. I started to cry and didn't say anything.
"I'm coming. Stay on the phone, okay? You hear me? Stay on the phone!"
After that, I couldn't hear much on the other end. I broke down in tears and laid on the ground in a foetal position.
After about ten minutes, Sarah slammed the door with pants and a tank top on. Where was her jacket?
I did not ask.
In the dim light of our room, her light chocolate-brown eyes darted around quickly until they found me curled up in the middle of the floor.
I sat up weakly, and Sarah's face turned darker. "Who did this to you?"
I cried and didn't say anything. Sarah didn't ask me once more. She instead pulled me close, sat down next to me, and wrapped her arms around me. She also tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. I felt...safe for the first time since this whole thing started.
Sarah held me for a while, but we didn't say anything. Sarah and I both didn't know what to say. Sarah finally went outside and brought me food and water. He told me I had been gone for two days.
The next day, I told her what went on. She was mad that I left the party with Manny without telling her, which I guess was normal. It wasn't smart.
Sarah and I went to the police, but they said it was all just a rumour.
Because Manny washed me so well, there was no sign of his...DNA on me. I guess I should say in me. There was nothing left but the pain in my legs and the cuts and bruises all over my body.
The cops didn't care about it. They sent me on my way after giving me a form to fill out. They told me they had already searched the buildings and found nothing after I told them to do so.
Sarah hadn't said much the whole time, and I could tell from the look on her face that she thought this was going to happen.
In the evening, Sarah asked me a question that should have raised some red flags but didn't. Not right now. "What's Manny's last name?"
"Jordan," I answered.
That was it. "Okay." Okay. That's all she said.
After that, it got worse the next day. That's when people began to die.
"Steven Kahrer" was the first one. The school newspaper said it was a suicide. It's normal for college kids to kill themselves all the time. I guess nothing really interesting happened.
In that moment, I thought, "That's messed up," and that was it.
Before I saw the picture above the short story.
I was sure it was the same guy who had bother Sarah in the bar the other night. It was him in the picture, even though he looked better dressed and groomed.
I failed to see the link. Then no. I thought it was a strange occurrence. As I quickly skimmed the story, I saw that it said he had jumped off the roof of one of the higher dorm buildings and hit his head, breaking his neck and spine several times. He died right away.
They couldn't figure out how his gut got cut open in the autumn, though. He might have hit a metal beam. He might have hit a tree or something. No matter what happened, his stomach was cut open, and his intestines and other internal parts were spread out all over the place where he fell. It looked like he had been eaten.
That was basically it. That would never be written in the paper, though. That's something our school could never write. Things that bad were never written by them.
Also, how could they say it was a suicide if the man had been gutted? Wait, I'm sorry. I thought I should have put this together sooner.
"I'll gut you like a fish if you ever touch someone that way again."
There was no way, though. Do you agree? Sarah surely couldn't do that, right?
I talked to other people that day about the story and the suicide. Some thought it was strange, but no one thought it was just...wrong. A man was killed by a metal beam or a tree branch? That's it?
It looked like no one cared. It didn't make sense at all that the school paper had printed this detailed, bloody account.
The next day, they found another body. They said the name was "Raymon Layer."
When I read "Raymon," I knew what I was going to see. Yep. The picture showed for sure the person who gave me the phone and helped me get away from Manny.
The news story said that he was found hanged in his flat. His stomach was cut open, and all of his innards were taken out. "I'm so sorry" was written in his own blood on the wall behind him, too.
It wasn't a string that he was hung from. His own guts were there.
In the end, the story said it was strange, but it also said he was a crazy person who did it to himself.
That. No one would buy that.
But no one seemed to care when I talked to them. No one.
For her part, Sarah was not at all bothered by anything that happened. It's pretty clear that she's hiding something, if that's the case.
Two people have killed themselves in two days. I believe this should have been a big deal. But there was nothing. Nothing. There were no police, reporters, news, or anything else. It looked like nothing had happened.
I was remembering the two days I was high, and they weren't good.
Being honest, I don't really mourn their deaths after thinking about what they did to me and how they did it. Raymon too. In the end, he may have helped me get away, but he had a lot of "fun" with me first. Yes, there was no reason to be sad.
Then a third person died. I can't remember his name, but he was definitely the other guy with Manny. I remember that he was the meanest to me. Even rougher than Manny. He hurt most of the people. What a jerk.
I really don't care who I hate more—Manny used a knife and that guy used his hands. In any case, they had both used me in horrible, horrible ways, and the more memories came back to me, the more I thought that this string of killings (sorry, suicides) wasn't really unfair.
Even though it was a horrible death, I don't think I felt any regret when I read about it. People said he walked out into the highway and was hit by a big truck. Killing oneself. Yes, of course. There is a highway not far from school, but we can't leave while we are in quarantine.
How did they find his body in his college room? On his bed? The story said that the way he looked now was strange, like he had been run over several times. It looked like different parts of his body had been slowly put under some kind of hydraulic press, which ground the bones into a fine powder. This person did this carefully and slowly, changing the body into a pool of bloody powder and torn flesh. They said the only part that wasn't crushed was the head. Whatever had happened began at the feet and made its way up, they said. They wanted him to be awake and aware until the very end.
After that, a few guys I had never heard of were killed in similarly horrible ways over the next few days. All of their deaths were ruled "suicides" and were not given much attention because they were "not a big deal."
Then the most latest one. Manny. He died yesterday. Not like the others, his death wasn't thought to be a suicide. After Manny was castrated, the hole was reportedly sealed with a hot iron right away. He did the same thing with his mouth, his toes, his fingers, his legs, and his arms.
Manny had been left with only his body and no tongue. He was still living, though. They say he was living for almost a week in that state...
He had been abused for two weeks, while the others were found, and then he was left for dead for nine days. That was the idea.
He was found in the men's bathroom, somewhere in the Arts building, in a stall. He was lying on his back with his head stuck in the toilet. At first glance, it looked like he drowned.
He had left his fingers and toes in a trash bag outside of his old college room with a letter that said, "Remember to take out your trash!" Later that day, they found them.
As thought, all limbs were cut off at all joints. Two of his toes and three of his fingers were cut off. The knees of both of his legs were also cut off. You get the point.
Yes, but one thing wasn't found: his penis. Then they found it stuck in his throat, so he couldn't breathe.
It was changed from drowning to asphyxiation as the cause of death.
While reading that story, I think I puked three times. But at the same time, I felt...relieved. Happy that he was gone. that he was really gone.
But no one has been found today, so I'm not sure if all the "trash" has been taken out.
Still, though. And Sarah is acting the same as always. I don't know how to feel about that. I know this sounds crazy after everything I've said, but I swear to God she cares about me. She worries, concerns, and supports me. She asks all the right questions and says all the right things.
Please, guys, help me out. I have no idea what to do. I haven't been to class in a month because of this crap (thank goodness I can turn in my work online); I'm so freaked out by how everyone is reacting to it.
Thank you. Please tell me I'm not crazy. That's all I really need to know. I need to be sure I'm not crazy.
I got a bit of an answer about ten minutes ago. Sarah's clothes drawer caught my eye while I was looking for one of my tank tops that I thought she had put there by chance. What I found was...a shoebox.
When I opened it, a bunch of student ID cards fell out. I think you can guess whose they were.
Does my flatmate, Sarah, fuck for rapists or something? Even if she is, how can she get everyone on campus to think that all of these "suicides" (except Manny's, which was called an accident even though there were clear signs of torture) are normal?
Also, should I be afraid of her? I don't think I'm in any danger right now. I mean, she's really nice to me. We're pretty close, you could even say best friends, so what the fuck do I do?
Please help me.
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