Who’s by far the strangest person you’ve ever met?

The Unbearable Environment

As the semester progressed, so did the gravity of Tom’s habits. He began leaving food out for days. I’m not talking about packaged snacks, but open cans of beans, half-eaten takeout, you name it. Everything was left to rot openly on the kitchen counter.

When I confronted him about the smell and the critters it attracted, he laughed it off and told me to chill. I asked him if this was really all because I rejected him, but he stayed silent, refusing to answer.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, he started making weird passes at me whenever I brought friends over. He’d make jokes about their bodies or weird comments about our looks, just loud enough for us to hear. He even made a joke about getting intimate with us as a joke.

It was embarrassing and started to feel unsafe. My friends stopped visiting and I felt bad for having to deal with that. I also started feeling more alone.

One weekend I came back from a study group to find Tom throwing a massive party in our apartment. He hadn’t told me anything about the party and I obviously didn’t agree to it. The place was packed; the music was deafening.

Then I saw my personal belongings were being thrown around by these drunk strangers. I snatched back my things from the living room and locked myself in my room. The chaos was too much.

When I tried to look through my backpack, which was being tossed around like a beach ball, I saw that my study notes were trashed. My clothes were stained with drinks, and the apartment was a disaster area.

I confronted Tom the next morning, but he just rolled his eyes and told me: “That it was just a party.”

That was the last straw. I decided to report Tom to the University Housing Office. I told them everything: the mess, the food, the parties, and his behavior.

The housing staff seemed sympathetic. I left the office feeling a bit relieved and hoping that things might change. But when Tom found out, he was furious. He cornered me in the kitchen.

He accused me of trying to ruin his life and demanded I take back my Complaint Form. He threatened to make my life even more miserable if I didn’t. I was scared of what he might do to me as he towered over me.

I called the housing office the next day. I told them that I’d exaggerated the report due to stress from school work. But as expected, taking the complaint back was the worst thing I could have done. He started acting worse.

This time, besides the usual negligence, he started keeping jars filled with his nail clippings and strands of hair in the bathroom. It was as if he wanted to get payback for me even thinking about going to the University’s office.

One afternoon I came back from my classes to a foul smell from the kitchen. It was a familiar aroma by now, but this time it was somehow worse. This was more intense.

That’s when I noticed them. They were eggs that Tom had taken out of the fridge weeks ago to cook but never bothered to put back. They were just sitting there on the counter, and it looked like he had no intention of moving them.