Devil Child

I moved into the home of a single mom and her 5-year-old daughter for my first job.  Everything was great.  Then things started happening.  These are just the highlights.About a week in, I brought home a slice of pizza, partially nibbled – still warm.  Approaching the door, I heard the girl shouting “she’s home!”.  Aww, how cute.  The kid opened the door a crack, and stared at the plate in my hands.  Little did I know what evil the kid was plotting.  I was still thinking how cute this was when – wait, hold on, what did she say?  No need to second guess my hearing, she said it again: “Give it to me!”  What?  Am I being bullied by a 5-year-old?  Should I just force my way in?  I couldn’t get the door opened without knocking her over and I didn’t want to hurt her.  I looked towards her mom, watching tv not 3 yards away perfectly in earshot, and called to her.  No answer. I told the kid to move.  No pizza, no entry.  She was getting louder, I was starting to panic.  I admitted defeat and watched in horror as she pawed at my pizza.  I retreated to my room to wallow in the self-pity of having a 5 year old bully me from my dinner.The kid mostly ate unhealthy food at enormous portions (6 slices of 18” pizza in one sitting.  No kidding).  I wanted to say something to her mom, but I was taught: Never tell anyone how to raise their child.  Instead, I thought, exercise!  I invited kid and mom out on, more often than not, tame walks.  Until one day, when the mom was too tired, and I offered to take the kid myself.  We barely started when the kid declared she wanted to pick flowers.  Nice ones.  From the neighbor’s flowerbeds. When I suggested the park instead, she screeched like a flaming banshee, and ran for the flowers, yanking handfuls as she passed.  The kid ran like the wind, screaming all the way.  Luckily for me, she tired quickly and collapsed on the floor, asking for chicken nuggets.  At least she got her exercise that day.There was the time I learned to lock my doors.  One day, my door flew open and a flash of flesh flew pass me.  I was horrified.  There was a girl, rolling on my bed, naked.  Normally, I would just pick her up and toss her out, but I didn’t even want to look at the naked child who was now pawing herself, rubbing whatever grim that was on her on my blankets.  So I screamed for her mom.

Shortly after, the mom told me she was considering moving closer to family – to have help watching the kid.  Great idea!  So I said, no problem to showing my room during open houses.  I only had clothes and a fridge, everything was packed in my car (from other, unmentioned stories) – the furniture was hers.  I went away, only to come back to find that I had gone back in time to before she had rented out the room to me.  My clothes were missing from my closet, where there now hung the mom’s clothes.  My queen-sized mattress – now a twin!  My fridge, missing!  Silly me, it wasn’t time travel.  She just turned my room into a yard sale is all.  I was done and quickly moved out.

Convict Moving In

My husband and I were looking for our own place, when his best friend, Pat, came to us saying that he had no place to stay and asked if we would rent a two-bedroom house with him. Reluctantly, we agreed.

After a month, he moved in his girlfriend, Amanda, of three weeks. We were OK with that and were friends for while. She asked us if her brother could move in. He was just released from prison for rape and had nowhere to go. We did not know him so we said no, this is when everything started.

She began leaving her wet clothes in the washer for days, until I had to do their laundry every week in order to do ours. She never cleaned, and I washed all of their dishes. Me and my husband were getting fed up, so we moved our food into our room so they would stop taking ours without asking.

I began washing my own dishes and left theirs in the sink until they decided to do them. I stopped picking up their dog’s poop, which they never cleaned. Apparently, this made our roommates mad, because now they had to clean up their own mess. I was cleaning out the fridge one day and I threw away 7 days old raw brownie mix that had presumably gone bad, my roommate flipped. She messaged me on Facebook, wrote on the fridge, and the wall to not touch her stuff. Then she threw away most of our food in the freezer and fridge, because when I threw away her brownie mix it “gave her permission to throw my stuff away.”

Well, we moved out the following day and took everything that was ours, including the washer and dryer. And our roommate took our car, which was still legally in his name even though we have been paying for it. We will never have roommates again, we lost our car at the time, our house, and friendship. We learned our lesson.

Spraying for Relief

My very worst roommate ever came my freshman year of college.  I didn’t know anyone going to my university so I was assigned a random roommate.  I ended up moving into a suite with four rooms with two girls in each (eight girls all together), two bathrooms, and a common area.  I figured that this dorm would be the best in case I didn’t get along with my roommate, I would probably get along with someone else in the suite and I ended up being right!  I should have known things were up when I received her phone number and called her, just so we would have talked a little bit before moving living together.  It was an extremely one sided conversation.  I asked her numerous questions in an attempt to get to know her and engage her in conversation but she gave short, one word, disinterested answers.  While I thought things might be a little awkward I never expected them to be as bad as they got.

When I first moved in, everything seemed pretty okay.  We talked a little bit and we even ended up joining the same church.  Soon after the semester started I noticed things took a turn for the worse.  The bathroom area consisted of two rooms with a toilet and shower in each and then there were two sinks and a large mirror in the back of the common room.  You could see the sinks from my room and from the living room and I started to notice that she never washed her hands.  This really grossed me out, obviously.  I immediately bought some Clorox wipes and would wipe down anything in our room that I touched once or twice a day.  Things got even worse when I noticed that the weird smell in our room wouldn’t go away.  I ended up realizing it was her.  She stunk and I noticed that she took a shower maybe once a week, but she’d frequently go longer.  It became so bad that I joined the gym on campus and would frequently go for two hours a night, just to escape her.  I had a ritual whenever I got back.  First I would go into the room, with my nose covered, (at this point the smell was unbearable because she had been in there sleeping for a few hours and the door was closed) and spray some body spray, perfume, or whatever else I could find over my bed to attempt to get rid of part of the smell, then I would grab my pajamas and close the door.  I would change and then wait around thirty minutes to let the perfume or body spray make my side of the room at least bearable.  I soon started spraying Lysol at least once a day to do the job of sanitizing the doorknobs and other things we both touched and to kill her stench. Then she would constantly complain to me and everyone else how the room always smelt like Lysol.  I was always tempted to retort, “the smell of Lysol is much perferable to your smell!”

There were other bad habits that soon got on my nerves, such as how she would bite her toenails.  Biting fingernails is common habit for a lot of people but I’ve never seen anyone bite their toenails.  Not only did she do this in our room, but she also did this in the common room when the other roommates were there and even when they had guests over.  She would also sit on her bed and pick at an ingrown toenail (at least that’s what I assume it was, her toenails were the most disgusting I have ever seen) with some sort of nail tool, then she would put it on top of the mini-fridge that was between our beds, this was right next to my face.  She also left half eaten cheese Ramen cups all over the room and never threw out her trash.  She didn’t do her laundry too often either, and it was in a gigantic pile that had started out under her bed and had soon grown to cover all of her side of the room.  This laundry smelt just as bad as her.

At first I thought that it was just me who noticed these problems but all of my other suite mates noticed them, too.  And we had joint complaints about her, like how the sink she used was always clogged with her hair.  She would straighten her extremely nasty and dirty hair and a ton would fall out into the sink and she would just leave them there and never pick them up.  We also noticed that she would stink up the common room every time she would sit in there.  We also noticed that the smell became unbearable when it was a certain time of the month for her (gross, I know).  We also took turns cleaning the suite (each room would clean for the week) and she never helped me when it was our turn to clean.  She would just look and watch me clean but she never actually helped.

Thank God one of my other suite mates did not get along with her roommates and I ended up moving into her room for the spring semester.  It was amazing to be able to stay in my own room without gagging at the smell or having to spray perfume to make the room livable.  I had envisioned many awful roommate situations I could have when I went to college but I never thought I’d actually get a roommate who smelled and was adverse to any sort of personal hygiene.

Mooch Much?

My then-boyfriend and I lived on the second floor. The people beneath us moved in with only a few bags of clothes and they didn’t appear to have much money even though the rent we had to pay was really expensive. At the first day they moved in they came begging me for a pillow to borrow and a mattress. I didn’t have an extra mattress, but I did have an extra pillow (I’ve never received that pillow back by the way.)

Also, the couple who lived there were very weird to say the least. The guy always went out to some pub drinking until he couldn’t walk normally and the woman came asking me for different things on daily basis. It started by asking me for some sugar. Then things got weird and she came knocking on my door in the middle of the night asking me for “sleeping pills.” I told her I didn’t have that kind of medication, but that didn’t stop her from asking me again for about 10 nights in a row.

I  never locked my door, and one time I woke up very early only to find out she was sitting next to my bed. I screamed so loud, which caused her to fall backwards on the floor with her legs up in the air. I must say I wish I didn’t had to see that. Once nce she got herself together again she told me she had to borrow my phone. I was annoyed obviously, but still I did give her the phone wishing she would go away quickly. Stupidly because I already let her borrow a lot, she came asking me for more, sugar, more pills, money for the bus, helping me with hanging up her curtains, fixing her television you name it and it only got worse.

At one point I got so sick of her asking me for almost everything, I decided to ignore her, lock my bedroom door and the contact with her slightly ended. Then the landlord visited our house and told me they hadn’t paid rent for months and he was throwing them out. I was relieved because other than asking me for basically everything she also smoked like A LOT. I don’t have anything against smoking, but she smoked so much the whole house smelled like the worst kind of smoke you can imagine making me wanting to throw up.

Finally the landlord kept his word. Only problem was they already left, meaning they left their garbage in their room and he had to throw everything out. It was the worst crap I had ever seen, vibrators, porn, a completely destroyed kitchen, handcuffs, nasty worn underwear, old food etc. It seemed she worked as a prostitute on some street corner when her man was drinking himself to death in the pub. After the whole ordeal, the neighbours on our street told us she also knocked on their windows in the middle of the night asking them for pills.

Mayor of Crazy Town

My parents bought a duplex when I was 19. The plan was for me to live on one side with roommates and my parents and siblings to live on the other side. “Kat”  moved in September 1. From the start she was difficult to live with. She didn’t work a regular job or go to school with any regularity so she kept odd hours. As I was a full-time student AND worked a full time job, her schedule was fairly disruptive. She would make messes all over the house and refused to clean up after herself. Shortly after she moved in, my younger brother woke up in the middle of the night to find Kat standing at the foot of his bed, watching him sleep. She wouldn’t leave. The next day, he had a lock on his door.

Often, I would go into the bathroom to find everything from the bathroom cabinets had been dumped into the sink and the sink filled with water. Other times, I would find the bathtub full of her things like CDs, clothes, makeup and magazines, topped up with water.

There were several times that she was brought home by police because they found her passed out in public places. Just before Christmas she locked herself in her room and wailed loudly, day and night. This went on for about a week.

It all came to a head on Christmas day. As I ran to my half of the duplex to get some gifts, I realized that my front door was open. There was Kat, laying on the front steps in -30 C weather, wearing just her pajamas — no coat or shoes, with her head propping the door open. We called the paramedics and she was taken to the hospital. She was kept in the psych ward for three months, during which time I had to pack her things.

When I walked into her room, the mess was unimaginable. There was a 2 inch thick carpet of old makeup, broken CDs, dried flowers and assorted other debris covering every square inch of the ground, and mashed into the wall-to-wall carpet. It took at least a month to clean and that room was never the same again. I learned over time that she had been destroying sections of my books and CD liner notes while she lived with me and just put them back on the shelves like nothing had happened.

I thought it was all over, but years later, she threatened to remove the cat we had adopted together unless I gave her a large sum of money (her name was on the contact info for the cat microchip). And one day I received a phone call from the police calling me in for questioning over an allegation that I was in possession of stolen property. Turns out she was convinced that everything I owned actually belonged to her. The police officer told me he didn’t believe a word she was saying, but had to question me.

I’ve had to block her on all social media sites, as eight years later, she was still sending me harassing messages. I’ve also had to warn all my friends, as she befriends those who don’t know of her and wrangles invitations to social gatherings, only to make a scene when she arrives. It’s now been almost 13 years since that ill-fated four months and I think I’ve finally erased all evidence of her from my life. I do still have the cat.

 

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