Chapter 2

Mark had this thing he did. Whenever he bought something for himself, he' d leave it out on the shared desk space, almost like a display. A new video game, a bag of expensive jerky, a fancy energy drink. He' d use it, enjoy it, and then, when it was half-gone, he' d offer to "share" the rest with me, which was his code for demanding I pay for half of the original price.

It was a pattern. A bizarre, predatory ritual. I learned to ignore the items he left out. I started buying my own snacks and keeping them in a locked box under my bed. I ate my meals at the dining hall or out with friends. I tried to create a life that had as little overlap with Mark as possible.

My attempts to avoid him only made me a bigger target. He saw my avoidance not as a boundary, but as a challenge. Since I wasn't falling for his small-time "split-the-bill" scams, he started thinking bigger. He began complaining that my side of the room got more sunlight, so I should pay a larger portion of the housing fee. He argued that because my alarm was set ten minutes earlier than his, I was using more of the room's "quiet time" and owed him a "sleep tax."

Each argument was more insane than the last. I shut them all down, but it was draining. It felt like I was constantly swatting away a persistent, buzzing fly.

I knew I had to get out. My sanity depended on it. I went to the university housing office and explained the situation. The woman behind the desk gave me a weary, unsympathetic look.

"Roommate disputes are common, Mr. Collins," she said, reciting a script. "We encourage students to work out their differences through communication. A room change is not possible mid-semester unless there is a documented, serious incident."

"His behavior is serious," I insisted. "It's constant harassment."

"Is he threatening you? Is he a danger to you?" she asked, her fingers poised over her keyboard.

I hesitated. "No, he's not violent. He' s just... a manipulative parasite."

She sighed. "That doesn't meet the criteria for an emergency transfer. You can file a formal complaint, and we can schedule a mediation session with a resident advisor."

I walked out of that office feeling completely defeated. I was trapped. Trapped with a man who thought I owed him money for sunlight. I realized then that I couldn't just avoid him. I had to confront the problem head-on, but I needed a real reason, a "serious incident" that the university couldn't ignore. I just didn't know it would come so soon, and so publicly.

I was in the library trying to study for a midterm when my phone buzzed. It was my girlfriend, Sarah.

"Hey, what's up?" I said, trying to keep my voice down.

"Alex, you need to get over to the Student Life building right now." Her voice was tense, urgent.

"Why? What's going on? I'm in the middle of studying."

"It's Mark," she said, and my stomach immediately clenched. "He's here. In the main lobby. And he' s making a huge scene. He' s crying, Alex."

"Crying? About what?"

"I don't know, something about you and groceries and money. He's got Mr. Harrison, the school counselor, with him. He' s putting on a real show. It looks bad, Alex. You need to get here."

A cold dread washed over me. This was it. This was his next move. He had decided to take his personal brand of crazy public. My plan to handle this quietly was officially dead.

"I'm on my way," I said, shoving my books into my backpack. I was no longer just annoyed. I was furious. He had crossed a line, taking his petty schemes and turning them into a public spectacle designed to ruin my reputation. I walked out of the library, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. The time for avoidance was over.