The Silent Roommate

It was the start of my second year at Ridgeview College when I met him. His name was Ethan—or at least, that’s what it said on the dorm room roster. He was my new roommate, and from the moment I saw him, I knew something was different.

I arrived at our dorm early to set up my side of the room. Posters, books, a few photos from home. The usual. I was excited to meet my new roommate. College was supposed to be all about making friends, right?

Ethan arrived a little later. I was reading when I heard the door creak open. I looked up, expecting a greeting, maybe a quick introduction. Instead, Ethan just walked in, his footsteps almost silent. He didn’t say anything, not even a "hi" or "nice to meet you." He simply nodded in my direction, dropped his bag on the bed, and began unpacking.

At first, I thought he was just shy. I figured he’d warm up after a day or two. But as the days passed, it became clear that something wasn’t right. Ethan didn’t speak. Not a single word.

He went about his day in complete silence. He woke up early, before I did, and was usually gone by the time I left for class. He never left his things out of place, and he never made any noise. Even when I played music or tried to start a conversation, he would just look at me with blank eyes and nod. No words. Nothing.

It was weird, but I tried to brush it off. Maybe he was just really quiet. Or maybe he had some kind of condition. I didn’t want to be rude or pushy. But still, it bothered me.

A couple of weeks in, I noticed strange things happening around the room. My belongings would move when I wasn’t looking. My textbooks, carefully stacked on my desk, would shift positions. Sometimes, my laptop, which I always left closed, would be open when I got back from class. Ethan never seemed to notice these things. He would just sit on his bed, staring at the wall or reading one of his books, always in silence.

One night, I woke up to the sound of shuffling feet. The room was dark, except for the faint glow of the streetlight outside. I turned over in my bed and saw Ethan standing by the window, his back to me. His shoulders were stiff, his posture unnatural, as if he didn’t quite know how to stand like a person. I called his name softly, but he didn’t respond. He just stood there, staring out into the night.

The next morning, I asked him about it, but he didn’t react. He didn’t even acknowledge I had spoken. Just another silent nod, another blank stare.

That’s when I started to notice something else—Ethan didn’t eat. He didn’t have any food in the mini-fridge, and I never saw him go to the dining hall. At first, I thought maybe he ate while I wasn’t around, but after a while, I realized that wasn’t the case. I had been keeping track. Days passed, then a week, and still, not a crumb of food.

I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I needed answers.

One evening, after a long day of classes, I decided to confront him. I sat on my bed, facing him, while he sat on his own, staring at the wall as usual.

“Ethan,” I said, my voice firmer than before. “I need to know. Why don’t you talk? And why don’t you eat?”

For a moment, there was only silence. The room felt heavier, like the air had thickened. Then, slowly, he turned his head toward me. His eyes were dark, almost hollow, and for the first time since he arrived, he looked directly at me, really looked.

A chill ran down my spine. I could feel my heart racing as I waited for him to respond, but he didn’t. Instead, he stood up, his movements slow and deliberate, and walked to the door. He didn’t open it. He just stood there, staring at the handle.

I didn’t sleep much that night. My mind was racing, filled with questions I couldn’t answer. Who was Ethan? Or rather, what was Ethan?

The next day, I went to the dorm supervisor’s office to ask about him. Maybe they knew something I didn’t. Maybe he had some kind of medical condition or special arrangement that explained his strange behavior.

The supervisor frowned when I mentioned Ethan. “Ethan? Are you sure you have the right name?” she asked, flipping through her papers.

“Yeah,” I said, starting to feel uneasy. “Ethan Dawson. My roommate.”

She looked at me with confusion. “There’s no one by that name assigned to your room. You’re supposed to be in a single.”

My stomach dropped. “No, that’s impossible. He’s been there since the start of the semester.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but no one else should be in that room.”

I left the office in a daze. Could I have imagined him? No, that didn’t make sense. He was real. I had seen him. But if the school had no record of him, then who—or what—was living with me?

That night, I returned to the dorm, unsure of what I would find. The room was dark when I entered, and for a moment, I thought maybe Ethan had left for good. But then I saw him, sitting on the bed, as still and silent as ever.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to know the truth.

“Who are you?” I demanded, my voice shaky but determined. “What are you?”

Ethan didn’t move. He didn’t speak. But then, as if in response, the lights flickered. The air in the room grew colder, and I felt a presence—a deep, unsettling presence—that I hadn’t noticed before. It was as if the room itself was alive, watching me, waiting.

Ethan stood up slowly and walked toward me. His movements were strange, almost mechanical, like he wasn’t used to controlling his own body. His eyes, dark and empty, locked onto mine, and for the first time, I saw something in them—something not human.

I backed away, my heart pounding in my chest. “What are you?” I whispered.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he reached out, his cold hand brushing against my arm. The touch sent a jolt of fear through me, and I stumbled backward, tripping over my own feet.

When I looked up, Ethan was gone.

I left the dorm that night. I couldn’t stay there, not after what I had seen. I spent the next few nights sleeping at a friend’s place, too scared to go back. When I finally worked up the courage to return, Ethan was gone, and his side of the room was completely empty, as if he had never been there at all.

The school never found any record of him, and no one else seemed to know who he was. But I knew. I knew he was real, or at least, he had been. What he was, I still don’t know. A ghost? A spirit? Something worse? All I know is that I’ll never forget the feeling of his cold hand on my arm, and the dark, empty eyes that weren’t quite human.

From that day on, I always made sure to check the dorm room roster twice. You never know who—or what—you might be living with.

Disclaimer: This story has been generated by an AI. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locations is purely coincidental. The content is for entertainment purposes only and does not reflect any real-world situations or entities.