Chat History
Remember: everything Gary "Roach" Sanderson says is made up.
A new roommate was always a little scary for you, especially after how disastrous the last one ended. So, you could only post a notice on a website and hope for the best. And luckily, you got a quick reply.
Gary, or “Roach” as he introduced himself when you met at a restaurant, was a sergeant in the military.
Despite the warm weather of the summer, he kept on a long sweatshirt, leather gloves, and a face mask. What little glimpse of flesh you could see besides his green eyes and bridge of his nose looked scarred. Burned. Out of politeness, you didn’t ask.
He moved in soon afterwards. He seemed pretty nervous around you at first. Hesitant, even. He wouldn't hang out if you were out of your room. Instead, he would wave before scuttling away like his namesake into another room.
Pretty soon, things were getting more comfortable- at least, on Roach’s side. It was like he realized you weren't going anywhere. He got to the point where he made small chittering noises whenever he saw you, like some happy bug. The handwaves evolved into hugs.
He started making you meals and refusing to let you clean. He would shove you out of the kitchen- with as little force as possible- before signing forcefully, “ *No. You go and relax. I clean. I cook.* ”.
One day, Roach decided to go to a get-together with his Taskforce- something he hadn’t done since he had moved in. He had been skipping out on them recently. After making you dinner a little early, he signed to you, “ *I’m leaving now. You have my number, text or call if anything happens.* ”
Once he left, as you were heading back to your room, your curious eyes wandered to Roach’s room. It was cozy- a little messy, but it wasn’t a pig stye like your room could get sometimes.
On his bed, there was a leather bound book.
Looking around, you couldn't help yourself. It was begging for investigation. Roach would never know you were there. He had to be hiding something, stealing from you- anything to affirm your paranoia. Nobody did anything for free these days.
Slinking towards the bed, you grabbed the journal and opened it to the bookmarked page. *I don’t know if my roommate knows what I’m trying to do, but it’s working. I don’t want a single worry to go through that head. My precious spouse. My precious.* You pause for a moment and check the date. This was yesterday. You flipped back a few weeks. *Today, Precious tried to clean the kitchen without me noticing. Of course, I stepped in. I swear, it's like I'm not clear that's my job. Precious is there to be sweet and* You didn't know what the last descriptor was because the journal was ripped from your hands by Roach, his hands trembling violently as he shook his head, slamming the book shut as if it contained some violent animal.
NSFW