Housing Problems

You know something? Being chained to a wall really isn't very much fun. Neither is living with a group of sadistic strangers. I'll give you a free hint about life- some people just always win. Ignore the fairy tales, life just is not fair.

It started innocently enough, or what passes for such on a college campus. Six people stuck living together. Six different closet sized rooms, one common area, one kitchen. Should be simple, peaceful.We didn't get along. We argued, snapped, bickered, and chose sides. The floor was littered with make-up and dirty dishes and old knitting projects. The atmosphere was tense, and thick with animosity (not to mention hairspray and the scent of old food). The situation degenerated into a mire of manipulation and psychological torture. Then things got bad.

Don't get me wrong, we always fought. It just used to be in the verbal rather than physical sense. She was a manipulative (I'll give you another hint, rhymes with witch) from the start, but her rotund figure didn't seem to lend itself to violence or any other type of exercise. The idea entered my mind, but never lingered. I mean, I came to university to learn academics, not hand to hand combat.

I can hold my own in a fair fight though. I was sick of being kept awake into the predawn hours by the rather. uhm. strident tones of two of our residents as they sang along to musicals, and equally annoyed at being awoken slightly after sunrise by the noises of the superficial monsters preening and training their vocal cords. I was not used to living with people who presumed themselves royalty and well above the demands of common courtesy. My requests to be considerate had gotten less civil as they had been ignored for months, that day it was met with a hairbrush flying at me head. It heralded the first outbreak of physical violence. Not much, she stopped when her hair fell into disarray. I should have been proud I finally got a definite response rather than an inarticulate grunt and a slow increase in the volume of the activity under question or the mess on the living room floor. Instead I hid in my room for the rest of the day.

There were three sides in the apartment. Two antagonists (my present captors), two so apathetic to their situation I would suspect medication if I didn't know just how deep twenty something apathy could run, and two of us at our wits end. (Some cruel individuals might point out we never had much in the way of wits, but that is irrelevant here.)

The two of us spoke of survival over takeout Chinese. We ate in the shadows and twilight of the living room. Thieves stealing a moment in the common area of their own home. Loud voices in the hall outside caused me to start out of my chair. She'd made note of the speed of my instincts, and chastised me for obviously intending flight rather than fight. I hope she made it.

Closer to finals everyone's stress levels rise. Here it was astronomical. Having chosen flight as instinct I stuck to it. My lack of coordination condemned me. I was fleeing the two harpies, not watching my feet, and tripped over the outstretched cord of the laptop on the floor. My attempts to stand up were hampered my the yarn tangled around my ankle. I was ensnared by their slovenliness and they fell upon me faster than I would have believed their short legs capable of. The heavier one sat on me, the other restrained me. I tried not to wonder why they would have chains (I generally make it a point to stay far away from other people's .. uhm. private lives) as I kicked at the surgically augmented figure tying me up.

Needless to say I failed. (My captor's perfectly straight nose mocked me, begged for one good hit, and it was to my deep regret that I couldn't oblige.) I pray that my ally got away, but my faith is rapidly draining. I'm not sure where the others are, and my duct tape went missing some time ago.

Now I have to wait, I'm sick of struggling, of trying to look nobly defiant, I'm just tiring myself out. At this point I'm just hoping they let me out for class tomorrow morning.