The Roommate Who Vanished—And Came Back Screaming
When my roommate disappeared overnight to live with her boyfriend, I thought, Okay, fine—but at least handle the rent like an adult, right?
Nope.
Two months later, she showed up at our apartment, pounding on the door like a furious ghost.
“WHY ARE THE LOCKS CHANGED?!” she shrieked. “I LIVE HERE!”
Oh, Milly. Sweet, clueless, freeloading Milly.
The Beginning: A Roommate Dream… Or So I Thought
When I first moved in, the landlord told me, “There’s already one tenant—Milly. She’s nice, you’ll like her.”
And at first, I did.
Milly was friendly. She’d ask about my day, remember little details, and sometimes we’d binge movies together. It felt like the perfect setup—split rent, split chores, no drama.
But then reality hit.
The Freeloading Begins
Milly had a special talent: using my stuff and never replacing it.
- Toilet paper? Gone in two days.
- Shampoo? Suddenly empty.
- Coffee? “Oops, I ran out! Mind if I borrow some?”
Every. Single. Time.
And when I’d gently remind her, she’d flash this innocent smile and say, “Oh yeah! I’ll grab some next time I’m out!”
Spoiler: She never did.
The Rent Disaster
The first month, she hit me with the classic:
“Cynthia… I’m a little short this month. Can you cover me? I’ll pay you back next week!”
Being nice, I said yes.
Big mistake.
Next week came. No money.
When I asked, she gave me this wounded 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: It never happened.
The Apartment Warzone
Our place looked like a tornado hit it—daily.
- Dishes piled up like a Jenga tower.
- Trash overflowed until it smelled like a dumpster.
- The bathroom? A biohazard zone.
I cleaned everything, and within two days, it was a disaster again.
How did she survive before I moved in? I wondered. Did she just live in filth? Or had she always found suckers like me to clean up after her?
The Disappearing Act
Then, when our lease switched to month-to-month, Milly vanished.
No warning. No texts. Just—poof. Gone.
Her stuff was still everywhere, but she wasn’t coming home.
Then I heard through friends: “Oh, she’s living with her boyfriend now.”
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
The Ghosting (And My Breaking Point)
I texted her: “Milly, you still owe rent. What’s the plan?”
Her reply? “Well, I’m not living there, so why should I pay?”
My jaw dropped. Did she seriously think that’s how renting works?!
I covered two months of her rent—all of May, all of June—while she played house in her boyfriend’s mom’s basement.
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’S THE ONE LIVING RENT-FREE WHILE I WORK EXTRA SHIFTS TO PAY HER BILLS!
The Final Straw
I sent one last warning: “If you don’t respond by July 1st, I’m assuming you’ve moved out.”
Silence.
So I called my friends. “We’re packing up her stuff.”
We donated the old clothes, the junk, the things nobody would miss. I kept anything that looked important—just in case.
Then I called the landlord.
“She hasn’t paid, hasn’t lived here in months. Can we change the locks?”
He agreed. “She’s off the lease anyway.”
VICTORY.
The Explosive Return
I thought it was over.
I was wrong.
Three days later—BANG BANG BANG!
“WHY ARE THE LOCKS CHANGED?! I LIVE HERE!” Milly screamed through the door.
I opened it calmly. *”Actually, you *don’t* live here. You ghosted me for two months and left me with the bills.”*
Her face turned red. “I WAS COMING BACK! Jake’s mom kicked me out!”
“Not my problem,” I said.
Then—waterworks.
“I HAVE NOWHERE TO GO!” she sobbed. “I JUST NEED MY STUFF!”
I pointed to the closet. “What’s left is in there. The rest? Donated.”
Her tears 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… was it in a dusty cardboard box?”
“YES! THAT WAS IT!”
Oh. Oops.
But instead of taking responsibility, she lost it.
“YOU MONSTER! I’M CALLING THE POLICE!”
I crossed my arms. “Go ahead. I warned you. You ghosted me. Your mom knew. You have no case.”
She screamed, cried, threatened to sue—but in the end, she had nothing.
“THIS ISN’T OVER!” she yelled as she stormed out.
Oh, but it was.
The Lesson
Ghost your roommate? Your stuff doesn’t ghost with you.
And no, Milly—I didn’t throw you out.
You left.
I just made it official.
