Rachel had always felt like she was stuck in a never-ending struggle. Between her little brother’s growing medical bills, the pressure of full-time university classes, and late-night waitressing shifts that left her exhausted, she felt like she was drowning. When she received the acceptance letter to a university in a new city, she should have been thrilled.
But the reality of finding a place to live in a city she didn’t know was overwhelming. Affordable housing seemed impossible to find. Just when Rachel was starting to lose hope, she stumbled across an ad that seemed too good to be true.
The ad promised a cozy room for rent, owned by a kind elderly lady, at a price so low it seemed like a miracle. The pictures showed a charming, vintage-style home, with soft floral wallpaper and knick-knacks that made it feel warm and inviting.
The listing said it was perfect for a “quiet, respectful female tenant.” Rachel couldn’t believe her luck. It sounded like the answer to all her problems.
When she arrived at the house, Mrs. Wilkins greeted her at the door with an overwhelming warmth. Her lavender-scented perfume and neatly pinned silver hair gave her the look of a grandmother. “Oh, you must be Rachel!” Mrs. Wilkins exclaimed. “You’re even lovelier than I imagined. Come in, dear, come in!”
Rachel stepped inside, immediately feeling like she was in a storybook house. Lace curtains filtered the sunlight, and the air smelled faintly of vegetable soup. Mrs. Wilkins invited her to dinner, and they sat at the table, eating in a comfortable silence.
But then, Mrs. Wilkins leaned in, her smile warm but her eyes calculating. “Tell me about your family, dear,” she asked, her voice sweet, but there was a hint of something more.
Rachel hesitated for a moment before sharing the basics about her life—her parents had passed away when she was younger, and her little brother Tommy was being taken care of by their aunt while Rachel focused on her studies.
Mrs. Wilkins listened intently, and for a brief moment, her smile seemed to waver. “How convenient,” she murmured softly. “And it’s just you here now, then?”
Rachel nodded. “Just me.”
Mrs. Wilkins clasped her hands together, her smile returning with a glint of satisfaction. “Well, you’ll be safe here, Rachel. I’ll make sure of it.”
That night, Rachel slept better than she had in months, feeling safe and comforted. But the next morning, when she went to the kitchen for coffee, everything changed.
As she opened the fridge, she noticed something strange—a long list was taped to the door, written in bold, red letters: “HOUSE RULES – READ CAREFULLY.”
Rachel’s heart sank as she read through the list.
- No keys will be provided. Mrs. Wilkins will let you in between 9 a.m. and 8 p.m. only.
- The bathroom is locked at all times. You must request the key and return it immediately after use.
- Your bedroom door must remain open at all times. Privacy breeds secrets.
- No meat in the fridge. Mrs. Wilkins is a vegetarian and does not tolerate carnivores.
- You must leave the house every Sunday from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. Mrs. Wilkins has her “ladies’ tea.”
- No visitors. Ever. Not even family.
- Mrs. Wilkins reserves the right to enter your room whenever she pleases.
- Cell phone usage is restricted to 30 minutes daily, monitored by Mrs. Wilkins.
- No music allowed. Mrs. Wilkins requires absolute peace.
- You are not allowed to cook your own food without Mrs. Wilkins’s consent.
- You may use the shower only three times a week.
But then, Rachel’s eyes widened as she read the last line:
“**** RESERVED FOR LATER ****”
What did that even mean?
Before she could process the rules any further, Mrs. Wilkins’s voice suddenly broke through. “Good morning, dear,” she chimed, making Rachel jump. The old woman was standing behind her, her sharp eyes fixed on Rachel.
“Did you read the rules?” Mrs. Wilkins asked, her tone light, but there was something cold in her gaze.
Rachel hesitated, feeling a chill run down her spine. “I… yes,” she stammered.
“And?” Mrs. Wilkins’s smile stretched wider, but it didn’t seem as friendly as before. “Are they acceptable?”
Rachel took a deep breath. “They’re… thorough.”
Mrs. Wilkins stepped closer, her presence suddenly suffocating. “Thorough is what keeps us safe, dear. Safety is everything.”
That’s when Rachel knew she couldn’t stay. The strange rules, the odd way Mrs. Wilkins spoke—everything felt wrong.
As soon as Mrs. Wilkins left the house to tend to her garden, Rachel scrambled to pack her belongings. The house seemed to watch her, the creaky floorboards and quiet corners sending chills down her spine. But just as she was about to leave, she heard a crackling voice through an intercom that she hadn’t noticed before.
“Leaving so soon, dear?” Mrs. Wilkins’s voice echoed through the empty house. “You didn’t ask for permission.”
Rachel froze, panic rising in her chest. She knew she had to leave, but the idea of being caught made her heart race. She grabbed her suitcase and bolted for the door, her pulse thundering in her ears.
As she opened the door, Mrs. Wilkins’s voice called out one last time, this time from behind her: “Remember, Rachel: Everything is worth discussing. Always.”
Rachel didn’t look back. She didn’t need to.
Hours later, Rachel found herself sitting on a park bench, her suitcase at her feet, trying to process the strange and terrifying events. That’s when a young man, his name was Ethan, approached her with a gentle smile and a coffee in his hand.
He introduced himself, and as Rachel shared her bizarre experience, he didn’t laugh or dismiss her. Instead, he listened carefully.
“People like that don’t just have rules,” he said quietly. “They have reasons. Dark reasons.”
Ethan helped Rachel find a new place—one with normal rules and kind roommates. Slowly, Rachel began to rebuild her life, feeling safer than she had in months. But there were still nights when she couldn’t shake the memory of Mrs. Wilkins and the house with its strange, controlling rules.
Rachel would sometimes wonder what would have happened if she had stayed. The thought of the locked bathroom, the “reserved for later” line, and the controlling rules made her shudder. And as she settled into her new life, one phrase kept echoing in her mind:
“Everything is always worth discussing.”
A cold reminder of the house she’d escaped. What do you think of the story? Share your thoughts in the comments below!
