The Roommate Who Vanished—And Came Back Screaming
When my roommate disappeared overnight to shack up with her boyfriend, I thought she’d at least have the decency to handle the rent like an adult. But nope. Two months later, she was pounding on my door like a madwoman, screaming about changed locks and missing stuff.
The Beginning: Too Good to Be True
When I first moved in, the landlord told me, “There’s already one tenant here—Milly. She’s nice, you’ll like her.”
And at first, I did. Living alone seemed scary, and splitting bills sounded perfect. Milly was sweet—she’d ask about my day, remember little details, and we’d even watch movies together.
But then… the red flags started piling up faster than her dirty dishes.
The Freeloader Lifestyle
Milly never bought her own stuff. Toilet paper? Mine. Dish soap? Mine. Shampoo, coffee, laundry detergent? All mine.
Every time I mentioned it, she’d flash this innocent smile and say, “Oh, I’ll grab some next time I’m out!”
Spoiler: She never did.
And rent? Oh, that was a nightmare.
First month, she came to me three days late, looking all stressed. “Cynthia, I’m so sorry, but I’m a little short. Can you cover me? I swear I’ll pay you back next week.”
Being the sucker I was, I covered her.
Next week came. No money.
When I asked, she hit me with the guilt trip: “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: She never did.
The Disappearing Act
Then, when our lease switched to month-to-month, Milly vanished.
No warning. No texts. Just… gone.
Turns out, she’d moved into her boyfriend’s mom’s basement, playing house like a teenager. Meanwhile, I was stuck paying her rent while she ghosted me.
When I finally texted her, her response made my blood boil:
“Well, I’m not living there right now, so why should I pay rent?”
EXCUSE ME?!
I fired back: “So, are you officially moving out? Because I need to know what’s happening.”
Silence.
The Final Straw
Two months passed. No rent. No replies. Just me, working extra shifts, watching my savings drain.
Then—out of nowhere—her mom texts me:
“Hi honey, Milly’s going through a rough patch. She’ll be back soon, I promise.”
I nearly laughed. A rough patch? She was the one living rent-free while I struggled to keep the apartment!
I sent one last warning: “If you don’t respond by July 1st, I’m assuming you’ve moved out for good.”
No reply.
Operation: Bye-Bye, Milly
I called my friends, and they were furious. “She’s stealing from you!” Sarah said.
So we packed up all Milly’s junk—clothes, books, random crap. Donated the old stuff, kept anything valuable.
The landlord backed me up: “She’s off the lease. If she’s not paying, she’s got no rights here.”
New locks installed. Problem solved.
…Or so I thought.
The Explosive Return
Three days later—BANG BANG BANG!
“WHY ARE THE LOCKS CHANGED?!” Milly screamed, pounding on the door like a horror movie villain.
I opened it, calm as ice. “Oh, hi. You haven’t lived here in two months. Or paid rent.”
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! I JUST NEED MY STUFF!”
I pointed to the closet. “What’s left is in there. The rest? Donated.”
Her tears stopped instantly.
“DONATED?!” she shrieked, shoving past me. She tore through the apartment, then spun around, eyes wild.
“WHERE’S MY GRANDMOTHER’S WEDDING DRESS?!”
My stomach dropped. “That dusty cardboard box? I thought it was trash!”
“IT WAS IN THERE! YOU GAVE IT AWAY?!”
Now she was furious. “YOU MONSTER! I’M CALLING THE POLICE!”
I shrugged. “Go ahead. I warned you. Multiple times.”
She screamed, threatened to sue, called me every name in the book—but in the end, she had nothing. No lease. No keys. No case.
“THIS ISN’T OVER!” she yelled, storming out.
But it was.
The Lesson?
Ghost your roommate, and your stuff doesn’t ghost with you.
I didn’t kick her out. She left.
I just made it official.
