The semester started some weeks ago. Not nearly enough for me to get used to my new life. Everything had changed, yet nothing truly had. This is what had to have happened, and it is what did.
It was a Friday evening, at four when I got back to my dorm room and finally intended on closing the week, regardless of the assignments I had due shortly. I had not yet unpacked. The floor was littered with suitcases full of more clothes than I could ever wear, and boxes full of books that would take me years to read. My bed was unmade, as is its natural state, cementing the atmosphere of filth I had unintentionally created.
The bed looked different in a way I could not discern quite as easily. There was a rectangular hole on the corner of the bed that hadn’t been there before. The eye staring back at me was also new. But others denied its presence. None could see it, and my camera refused to capture it. I taped the hole shut and attempted to ignore the entity hidden beneath me. It had an awfully good way of reminding me of his existence. I was repeatedly woken up by loud knocks on the door. Except I rarely had any visitors. Rarely at five in the morning.
He spoke to me in a language I was not yet familiar with, but one I would get accustomed to during my stay. It started negotiating with me. At first I refused to listen. He demanded to be let out. From a state of utter sleep deprivation I relented and agreed. The terms of our agreement clearly stated that he would be beneath the bed with the hole sealed half an hour before I got home. It had access to my schedule, and abused it fully. From then on, I could finally focus on my Mathematics 1 course.
Due to a slight inconvenience, I have fallen behind on the coursework by just over three weeks. We had just covered matrices when I noticed the hole beneath my bed. I haven’t attended university since. It had my schedule and thought I was keeping up with my studies. In reality I have been stuck in the city library, researching. There have been no other recorded testimonies regarding such events. The few explanations I could uncover hurt me more than the eye ever could. They were outdated, written by ignorant vermin who merely wanted to invoke fear and grief in those who were gullible enough to listen. I refused to read another word, comprehend another thought. To waste another second of my life ignoring the thing that had kept me awake for weeks.
He had broken our agreement and sentenced himself to death. It had been clearly written in our contract, but then again, he signed it without much thought. It’s understandable for him not to have read that particular condition written on the bottom of the page, in smaller font than the rest.
It was clear what the university expected from its candidates. It was clear that they would yield to no excuses, and that few spots were available. I fulfilled their requests. He didn’t. I got in. He didn’t. I asked him to take it seriously. I pleaded with him. But it was futile. Nothing I could have done would have changed the outcome of the situation.
He is now gone. In a way everything has changed. I am here, he isn’t.
He still follows me everywhere I go, showing no care for our agreement. Has anything truly changed? His actions have done me more harm than him. He sits by my side during lectures. He has achieved our dream through my own struggles. He has me, yet I no longer have him.
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