The Roommate Who Vanished – And Came Back Screaming
When my roommate disappeared overnight to shack up with her boyfriend, I thought, Okay, fine, but at least she’ll handle the rent like an adult, right?
Wrong.
Two months later, she was banging on my door like a furious ghost, screaming about changed locks and missing stuff.
The Beginning: A Roommate Dream… Or So I Thought
When I first moved in, the landlord told me, “There’s already one girl living here—Milly. You’ll be sharing the place with her.”
Honestly? I was relieved. Living alone seemed scary, and splitting rent sounded perfect. Milly seemed sweet—always asking about my day, remembering little things I mentioned, even watching movies together sometimes.
But then… the red flags started piling up faster than her dirty dishes.
The Freeloader Lifestyle
Milly had a weird habit—she never bought her own stuff. Toilet paper? Mine. Dish soap? Mine. Shampoo, coffee, laundry detergent? All mine.
Every time I’d bring it up, she’d flash this innocent smile and say, “Oh, I’ll grab some next time I’m out!”
Spoiler alert: Next time never came.
The Rent Debacle
Then there was the rent. Always late.
First month, she hit me with: “Cynthia, I’m so sorry, I’m a little short. Can you cover me? I’ll pay you back next week!”
I did.
Next week? Nothing.
When I asked, she gave me this wounded puppy look. “I thought we were friends! I’m going through a rough time!”
“We are friends,” I said. “But you promised to pay me back.”
“Next week,” she swore.
Spoiler again: That money vanished faster than her sense of responsibility.
The Disappearing Act
Then, when our lease switched to month-to-month, Milly ghosted.
No warning. No texts. Just… gone.
Her stuff was still everywhere—clothes, random junk, half-empty coffee cups—but she wasn’t coming home.
Turns out, she’d moved into her boyfriend’s mom’s basement. Playing house like a teenager.
Meanwhile, I was stuck paying her rent.
The Texts That Made My Blood Boil
I finally texted her: “You’re not living here—why aren’t you paying rent?”
Her reply? “Well, I’m not there right now, so why should I pay?”
Excuse me?!
I fired back: “So… are you officially moving out?”
Silence.
The Breaking Point
Two months passed. No rent. No replies.
Then, out of nowhere, her mom texted me:
“Hi honey, Milly’s just going through a rough patch. She’ll be back soon!”
A rough patch?!
She was living rent-free while I worked extra shifts to cover her half. And I was the one supposed to be patient?
Nope. Done.
Operation: Take Back My Apartment
I gave Milly one last warning: “If you don’t respond by July 1st, I’m assuming you’ve moved out for good.”
July 1st came. Crickets.
So, I called my friends.
“Girl, she’s stealing from you,” Sarah said. “Time to take action.”
We packed up all Milly’s stuff. Clothes, books, random junk—gone. Donated what looked replaceable, kept anything that seemed important.
Then, the landlord changed the locks.
“She’s been off the lease anyway,” he said. “No pay, no stay.”
Freedom.
The Explosive Return
I thought it was over.
I was wrong.
Three days later—BANG BANG BANG!
“WHY ARE THE LOCKS CHANGED?!” Milly screamed through the door. “I LIVE HERE!”
I opened it, calm as ice.
“Actually, you haven’t lived here in two months. And you haven’t paid a dime.”
Her face turned red. “I WAS COMING BACK! Jake’s mom kicked me out!”
“Not my problem,” I said.
Cue the waterworks.
“I HAVE NOWHERE TO GO!” she sobbed. “I JUST NEED MY STUFF!”
“What’s left is in the closet,” I said. “The rest? Donated.”
Her tears instantly stopped.
“DONATED?!”
She stormed inside, rummaged through her old room, then came back furious.
“WHERE’S MY GRANDMOTHER’S WEDDING DRESS?!”
My stomach dropped. “Uh… that dusty cardboard box? I thought it was trash.”
Nuclear meltdown.
“YOU MONSTER!” she shrieked. “I’M CALLING THE POLICE!”
I shrugged. “Go ahead. I warned you. Repeatedly.”
She screamed, threatened to sue, called me every name in the book—but she had no case.
Finally, she stormed out, yelling: “THIS ISN’T OVER!”
Oh, but it was.
The Lesson?
Ghost your roommate? Your stuff doesn’t ghost with you.
I didn’t throw her out. She threw herself out.
And honestly? Best. Decision. Ever.