The Roommate's Cruel Game

trouble was a pa

e sitting right in the middle of the kitchen counter, next to the toaster.

voice echoing slightly in our

ans

er bed, scrolling through her phone, a silk sleep mask pushed up on her forehead. The room lo

up the socks. "These wer

erfect blank. "Oh, thanks. Just t

rflowing. I knew t

set, right?" I asked, tryi

tuff aside. Thanks, Chlo

hloe Miller, journalism major, on a scholarship that barely covered tuition, let alone this apartment. The only reason I was here

ked me to re-do her bibliography because the formatting "looked ugly." The week before, she' d "borrowed" my favorite sweater and retu

applications. A bad roommate situation was a distraction I couldn't afford. So

wned the place. He was big, with the kind of polished, aggressive confidence that came from a lifetime of

straight to the fridge and pulled out my cart

said, my voice tig

his hand and put the carton back.

' t. He n

n an article I needed to edit for the campus newspaper. But then their voices got louder. It was a familiar patt

sion through the floor. I decided to get out, go to th

e was standing there, tears streaming down her face, her mascara

Tiffany demanded, her voi

I said. "I h

ng? Now? When I

"Upset about what

on Tiffany' s shoulder. He glared at

pped. "Me? Wh

omfortable in her own home. The passive-aggressive comments, the little

as pure theater. I hadn't made any comments. The sighs were r

y voice shaking a little. "Tif

impered. "You think you' re better th

field, that I almost laughed. But the look on Bre

" I said, turn

arm, his fingers digging into my skin. "You' re

hocked me. His grip was lik

" I said, tryi

ace inches from mine. I could sme

iffany said, but there was no force behind

out, adrenaline coursing through me. "You

nd I stumbled, my back hitting the wall hard. My head snapped back and c

houted, finally letting go. He pointed a

or, my head throbbing. I couldn

ng so badly I could barely unlock it.

calling?" B

," I mana

he phone out of my hand. "No! Don' t

yelled, scrambling to my fee

t. "Brett has anger issues. He' s working on them. Calling security will ru

y obvious. His father was a trustee. Her father owned ha

essness wash over me.

starting up again. "Let' s just forget this

runted, not

called, they would twist the story. It would be my word agai

essed against the growing lump on the back of my head,

a selfie of her and Brett, both of th

otects me from toxic people. Some people just try to tear

of comments from h

appened? Are

cut them out of y

best for standi

e had pushed me, had Brett assault me, and then framed me as the villain to her thousands of followers,

stant reminder of what had happened. I finally understood. I wasn't her roommate. I wasn'

the bone, that I had to get away from her. But