The First Stranger

When I said I didn’t want to be alone anymore, this isn’t what I meant. I watched this boy, around my age I think, saunter in like it's nobody’s business and plop himself on MY couch. I mean, who does that? Whatever. With one last look at him, I head back upstairs into my room. The first few days were rough. I would be in the bathroom, and he would just walk in, but as soon as I close the curtains suddenly he freaks out and leaves. As if he wasn’t the one who just barged in uninvited. I’ve seen and heard his late nights, screaming into a mini flat television about ‘heals?’ I don’t know. I’ve seen a fair share of sick people in my life, and he seemed perfectly healthy, besides his late nights. I guess that’s the benefit of moving out, no parents to tell you to go to bed.

I glanced out the window, my foot tapping against the floor. The boy is taking his sweet time in the damn bathroom and he’s cutting it very close. I have half a mind to just barge in. Just before I knock, I hear an “I know, I know” from the bathroom. Finally, the door swings open, and out comes the boy. The bathroom is foggy, but on the mirror, there are small words and a drawing. I see our house and a smiley face. Finally the message, “thanks for having me, I hope we can be friends one day.” I can’t fight the small smile that cracks through my face, although it quickly hides once I hear him yelling from across the hall at his mini tv again. 

I don’t know exactly when, but I was settled in his presence. I guess that’s just what happens when you cohabitate. You learn about each other’s routines and it becomes like clockwork. At sundown I get the bathroom uninterrupted. For the most part, he’s even considerate of noise after 9pm. We don’t talk much. That’s fine by me. I was never much of a talker anyway. However, I did learn his name was David. He didn’t really go to school much, but he did spend a lot of time on his television, and when bills came in, he didn’t seem to break a sweat. The thing I appreciated most about David was that he always respected my space. Even as he brought in new things for our house, I sometimes couldn’t understand, but at least he always left my stuff alone… and that was good enough for me.  

As the days progressed, we grew closer. “Hey, I’m back,” David would call out as he came home, full bags in hand. “Hello” I would say back. Although that seemed to be the end of our conversations on a daily basis. I think, when he has a particularly hard day, he appreciates my company. One time I walked past the couch, and he sat there curled up on the couch, a little pathetic honestly. We all have those days. But I’ll never forget, besides being muffled by the sound of a throw pillow he bought, he said “Please. Come sit with me. I don’t want to be left alone right now.” I nodded before walking back around and sitting next to him. The couch sinking under my weight. I pulled the blanket over his shoulders. It was cold tonight. I remember the way his shoulders trembled, and I had to hold the blanket down. “Thank you,” His hoarse voice whispered. He sounded far away. He was somewhere he didn’t want to be. A minor anecdote, but ever since that incident, something changed between us. 

He would greet me every morning after he woke up. Every few days, he would come into my room and help me do some chores. When his feelings were particularly large that day, he would leave a drink for me on the table. He would sometimes buy me gifts, like my own personal glass with a little Halloween theme. Things were good between us, in our home. I was happy.  

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The Second Stranger

One of these days, David brought home a girl. He told her to wait outside for a moment. He stepped in. “Hey, the girl that’s about to come in. Her name is Phoebe, and she’s really nice. So try not to scare her.” Without even giving me the chance to process, our door is opened and in she walks. She was beautiful, but that was a given. David was somebody that I imagine would be quite popular. I immediately didn’t like her. It was something deeper than the pit in my stomach every time I saw her. There was this greed in her. I couldn’t quite describe it. I just remember, I felt like she was here to consume. I didn’t bother remembering her name. That would give her too much significance to me. Even as she slowly took over my house. 

Just as David respects my space, I respected his. Whenever she was around, I made myself scarce, mainly staying in my room besides going to the bathroom and occasionally the kitchen. I do know that David mentioned our house rules. That parasite didn’t care. She would barge into the bathroom, and then yell at me when I pull the curtains closed. When I went to go get drinks, she would make a huge commotion. Although I don’t regret it, it certainly wasn’t my most proper moment when I sprayed the faucet at her for the first time. She’s just lucky I wasn’t cruel, the water was a nice temperature. However, I did find that spraying her was efficient to get her to stop causing problems. When the parasite yelled or made a commotion, a little spray here, a little spray there, the shower, the sink, anything. One time she did get mad and try to burn all my things. Luckily, when David took a break from his work on his computer (I learnt this is what his mini tv is) he noticed what she was about to do and he intervened quickly. They compromised, and he just packed my things into boxes. Was I happy? No. I was a stranger in my own home. For the next few days, David couldn’t even look up from the floor. All he could do was mutter apologies I didn’t need or want. 

The parasite brought in a new stranger after all my things were boxed and confined into my room. He was in all black. These wooden beads wrapped around his wrists and a silver necklace with a cross. I didn’t mind this stranger, although I couldn’t really understand what he was doing. He came into my room and sprayed his strange smelling perfume, muttering words I couldn’t quite catch. His eyes were trained on the book though. I watched him. He was there for a while, before he left and said the room had been cleansed. I don’t think he did a very good job. My floors are all wet, some of my boxes have droplets on them. When David came home, the parasite proudly told him about the cleaner she brought into my room. David was a patient person, he was very kind, and I had never seen him even raise his voice when I accidentally bump his things. However, the rage he exuded, even I felt bad for the parasite. Their discussion quickly devolved into a yelling match. This felt like a lover’s quarrel I was intruding on, so I stepped away, until I heard the sound of glass hitting the floor. I came running down to see my glass… in pieces… on the floor. The glass David bought for me. The one he had filled countless times to drink alongside him. On the floor. Our best memories. Our mutual understanding. All reduced to shards. Finally, David said the words I’ve been trying to tell her since she came in. “Get. The. Fuck. Out.” 

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The Third Stranger

All traces of the parasite quickly vanished. It was as if the nightmare was lifted. Within the day, David helped unpack all my things. My home was home. David and I would hang out, more of his friends would come through, all of them were really nice, actually. A few people were a little rude, but came around eventually, or didn’t come back at all. That was fine by me. There was one girl in particular, Cassandra or Cass. She was really cool. She had this unique style, although my family would have freaked and called her a devil worshipper if they saw her. Cass taught us both a lot. She was very into spiritual stuff and paranormal things. Hearing her talk about it was fascinating. Even David was enamoured by her words. She talked about spirits and energies and hauntings. She even said she was a medium. I definitely believe her. Something about the way she spoke. I knew she wouldn’t lie about it. Hearing the things she described, I was starting to be convinced that I had the same ability. Especially when I saw this big guy walk in next to her the first time we met. He was really scary looking, but once he crossed the threshold of the house, he looked at me and just nodded. He mainly hangs out near my room when there’s too many people, understandable, I do the same. Sometimes, though, David and Cass would get me candles. It wasn’t my birthday, but I blew them out anyway at the end of the night.


One of these nights, when she came to hang out with us, she brought over a loud box thing, and told a spirit they can talk through it. They weren’t really responsive though, which was weird, because David and I were convinced our house was haunted. Cass kept on explaining the boxes and stuff, as if talking to a child. “This is stupid,” I said. “I mean, no spirit would want to talk through a box that loud.” Both Cass and David sat up a little straighter. They seemed surprised. I don’t know why though, I thought it would be common sense. After a few moments of silence, Cass and David exchanged glances. “Maybe she doesn’t know that she’s dead.”

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The Third Stranger

All traces of the parasite quickly vanished. It was as if the nightmare was lifted. Within the day, David helped unpack all my things. My home was home. David and I would hang out, more of his friends would come through, all of them were really nice, actually. A few people were a little rude, but came around eventually, or didn’t come back at all. That was fine by me. There was one girl in particular, Cassandra or Cass. She was really cool. She had this unique style, although my family would have freaked and called her a devil worshipper if they saw her. Cass taught us both a lot. She was very into spiritual stuff and paranormal things. Hearing her talk about it was fascinating. Even David was enamoured by her words. She talked about spirits and energies and hauntings. She even said she was a medium. I definitely believe her. Something about the way she spoke. I knew she wouldn’t lie about it. Hearing the things she described, I was starting to be convinced that I had the same ability. Especially when I saw this big guy walk in next to her the first time we met. He was really scary looking, but once he crossed the threshold of the house, he looked at me and just nodded. He mainly hangs out near my room when there’s too many people, understandable, I do the same. Sometimes, though, David and Cass would get me candles. It wasn’t my birthday, but I blew them out anyway at the end of the night.


One of these nights, when she came to hang out with us, she brought over a loud box thing, and told a spirit they can talk through it. They weren’t really responsive though, which was weird, because David and I were convinced our house was haunted. Cass kept on explaining the boxes and stuff, as if talking to a child. “This is stupid,” I said. “I mean, no spirit would want to talk through a box that loud.” Both Cass and David sat up a little straighter. They seemed surprised. I don’t know why though, I thought it would be common sense. After a few moments of silence, Cass and David exchanged glances. “Maybe she doesn’t know that she’s dead.”

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