I loved everything about my new hostel. That is, everything except for having a skinny drunk as a roommate. My stuffy two-bed room was constantly submerged in a dizzy whiff of alcohol, which got overpowering whenever she swayed into the room at past midnight, sometimes even with a bottle of unfinished beer. It did not matter whether I was in the middle of a deep sleep or rushing to finish an article, the minute the doorknob turned, I would be forced to drag myself to her and demand that she rid herself of the pungent smell before going to bed. Needless to say, I never succeeded. The alcohol stench continued to linger, as did my feelings start to snowball from irritated to loathing.
One quiet night, I was working by my table lamp, fingers typing furiously to meet a deadline. Perhaps it was the pile of stress that initiated it, or maybe it was just the fact of not being able to take any more of my roommate, I stood up and walked to the door. Hesitatingly, I turned the key and the soft ‘click’ confirmed that I had secured myself from the outside. It was time to teach her a lesson she would never forget.
The clock struck two as I got ready to climb into bed. Just then, a loud thud sounded at the door. The wobbling shadow seen from under the door waited a moment longer before slamming the door again. I froze, contemplating if I should allow her into the room. The slamming turned into pounding and not long later, she was half cursing and half yelling at me to let her in.
Like a stone-hearted monster, I did not.
Snuggling into bed, I tried hard to not imagine her desperation. Her frantic hammerings reduced to distraught whimpers, begging me to open the door. How I managed to fall asleep, I did not know.
Halfway through my slumber, a faint waft of alcohol tickled my nose. Instinctively, I pried my eyes open.
Two bloodshot eyes peered back.
There were hollow and sunken, the whites flooded with a terrible red, as if having been slashed by a knife. The eyes belonged to a bony figure which was bent over my body, swaying violently, at the brink of crushing me. I lay shell-shocked, feeling fear freeze my blood, paralysing me such that I could do nothing while watching her open her rancid mouth, the pungent smell of alcohol overcoming my senses once again. Then, with a piercing shriek, she lunged at me.
I forced my eyes closed. Quiet engulfed me and when I tentatively opened my eyes again, the figure was nowhere to be found.
The reassurance I gave myself of only having had a bad dream crashed when the city police came and announced the death of my roommate. According to their story, while drunk, she had been trying to haul herself to a nearby motel when a car crash took her life.
Life was relatively normal after the incident, except the extra burden of remorse and guilt that weighed me down. Nobody moved in to stay with me ever since, because strangely enough, every night without fail, a faint yet distinct alcohol smell could always be caught.
Photo credit: Storyblock
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