I Thought The Noises I Heard In My Apartment At Night Were Caused By Roaches, Unfortunately The Truth Was Much More Terrifying

My hands are shaking as I make coffee in the kitchen, one hand shoving a mocha pod into the maker, the other jabbing out the text I’d intended to send the night before. “EXTERMINATOR NOW”, I type again, and this time I actually hit send.

The coffee comes out hot, fragrant. This is good. I hold the mug with both hands, soothed by its warmth as I take long, slow sips. Jack will get back to me, of this I’m sure, and we will get the roach problem taken care of. No one can ignore a text in all-caps.

It’s late, almost 11:30am, but I don’t see Marnie anywhere. She must still be asleep. I finish my coffee at the kitchen table, checking Twitter and Facebook on my phone while I wait for a response from Jack.

Noon comes and goes. I watch Marnie’s door, expecting her to come out at any moment, but she doesn’t; soon I’m overwhelmed by the need to wash the grease from my hair and the sleep from my eyes. I leave my empty coffee cup in the sink and go down the hallway to her room, rapping my fingers on the closed door.

“Marnie?” I call softly, not quite wanting to wake her but also thinking hey, you lazy ass, get out of bed. “I’m jumping in the shower, Marnie, that okay with you?”

Silence. I wait a courteous thirty seconds before shrugging and heading to the bathroom, eager to surround myself with hot water and steam. I don’t think there are cockroaches in the bathroom, not yet anyways – I haven’t seen them there, but the little fuckers are so good at hiding I can’t be sure.

I’m out of the shower, wrapping my wet hair in one of those mini-turban things when I hear a strange sound just outside the bathroom. I keep the door closed and locked when I shower, a bad habit I know – it can lead to black mold, but what the hell, we’re already infested with roaches so what’s a little mold in the face of total privacy? – but beyond the door I can hear this strange sound, munching, slurping, almost like a dog rooting through its bowl of food for something better even though all that’s there is a pile of kibble.


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