My Roommate: The Untold Story

The List

I've been watching him for a while now, observing every detail. Chris is lying prone on his bed, scribbling something furiously into his notebook. A diary, perhaps? Suddenly, he rips the page out, crumples it with a sharp twist of his wrist, and tosses it toward the garbage bin without even looking. It misses. The crumpled paper lands on the floor, bouncing close to my feet. Chris glances at it for a moment, then completely ignores it, returning to his frantic writing as if nothing happened.

I can't shake the feeling that something is off about him. Twice now, I've had the same disturbing dream, and it feels less like a coincidence and more like a warning. There's something hidden beneath Chris's surface, something dark. I just don't know what it is yet. But I will. People might think I'm crazy if I start talking about this without any proof, but I'll find evidence. I'll make them see.

Slowly, I slide my foot over the crumpled paper, dragging it toward me. I bend down and, without Chris noticing, slip it into my pocket. This is the first clue—my first piece of evidence.

I chuckle to myself, shaking my head. *Am I really doing this? It was just a dream, for God's sake. I must be losing it.*

Without saying a word, I get up and leave the room.

The dormitory is just a stone's throw from the school where Chris and the others study. With nothing better to do, I wander through the school lobby, hoping to kill some time. People are bustling around, their movements a blur. Some walk slowly, others rush past me in a hurry. It makes my head spin trying to keep track of them all. Eventually, I find a bench to sit on and clear my mind.

Sitting there, I feel a pang of loneliness. I've only been away from home for a week, but homesickness is already creeping in. My thoughts race, circling around the strange dreams I've been having, but no matter how hard I try, I can't make any sense of them.

I pull out my phone and earbuds, scrolling through my playlist until I land on something mellow—a ballad. As the music starts, the noise and chaos around me fade, and I lean back, letting the tension drain from my body. I close my eyes, hoping to rest for a while, but before I can sink into relaxation, a gust of wind smacks me in the face.

"Eddy! What's with the long face?" A familiar voice cuts through the music, and I blink open my eyes to see a man waving his hand in front of me.

I grin in disbelief. "Alex? You're back?"

Alex, the half-Spanish, half-Filipino guy who used to live in the dorm last year, stands before me. He's twenty-one, tall, with a penchant for weirdness. We used to hang out all the time, especially since my old roommate was a recluse. Alex writes novels and contributes to *Moonstar*, a local magazine that's gained a bit of notoriety. His stories are usually about unsolved mysteries and the bizarre.

"Still writing, I see?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"Yep," he says, grinning. "In fact, I've gotten even more serious about it lately."

"Oh really? What's your latest story about?"

He scratches his head, looking sheepish. "That's the problem. We've got a new issue coming out in a month, and I still haven't come up with a story."

He walks over to his car, pulls out a stack of magazines, and hands them to me. I flip through them. *A Heart-Eating Man*, *The 9-Year-Old Killer*, *Human Slaughter*, *Girlfriend Feeds on Boyfriend's Blood*—the titles are grotesque, the stories even more so.

"These are yours? Seriously?"

He nods proudly. "All one hundred percent real. No embellishments."

I give him a skeptical look, but before I can comment, something stirs in the back of my mind. "I might have something for you."

Alex's eyes light up. "For real? You're gonna help me?"

"Well, I'm not sure yet. I'm still trying to figure it out."

"That's perfect! We'll figure it out *together*!" he exclaims, jumping in excitement. "What's it about?"

"My roommate," I say, almost hesitating.

"Oh, this is gonna be good," Alex says, rubbing his chin theatrically. "How about we call it *My Roommate: The Untold Story*?"

I laugh, though part of me isn't sure this is going to turn into anything at all. Chris is strange, yes, but dangerous? Still, it's fun watching Alex get worked up about it.

"Oh, wait a second," I say, pulling the crumpled piece of paper from my pocket. "I found this. Consider it the first clue."

We both unfold the paper and read what's scrawled on it:

*They are fascinated by Satan*

1. The janitor

2. Mr. Jung

3. Mr. Kang

4. Eddy

5. I don't know her name.

I freeze. My name is fourth on the list. My chest tightens, and I can feel my heart start to race.

"Oh my God!" Alex slaps his forehead dramatically. "Do you know what this is? It's a death list! He's gonna kill these people—including you!"

My stomach drops. Could Alex be right? Could Chris really be that dangerous?

Seeing my pale expression, Alex quickly waves it off. "Hey, don't worry. We're going to solve this. We'll figure it out. You're not in this alone."

I hope he's right. But deep down, the fear is already settling in.