The Fourth Roommate

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I was so not staying here- I couldn't face all the looks tomorrow. I couldn't deal with this. So I did what everyone should; I decided to run away from my problems. Yeah, I knew that there was this whole 'Face your Fears' thing going round, but honestly, when you could flee or fight... choose flee. Fighting was for brave people.

Gosh, I hated brave people.

I ran upstairs to our room, grabbed my suitcase and two cardboard boxes. I opened my closest, and pulled out my winter clothes, stuffing them into the small battered suitcase, along with my socks and underwear. Then I saw the dress I had bought so long ago, with 'him'- or should I say, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, be ause honestly, he was worse than Voldemort. 'He' stole my candy once- at least Voldemort didn't steal my candy! And no good person stole candy.

I sighed. This was all ways to deflect my thoughts. I couldn't bear to think of what had happened earlier - oh god the image of 'them' came up in my head once again. I suppressed it down with thoughts of my favorite characters and movies. That was my way of dealing with my problems; relating them to a fandom.

I grabbed my favorite books (all the Harry Potter books, a few good old murder mysteries- which I could use now to plot murder against 'them', I mean the perfect murder wasn't going to be too hard to think of) and threw them into my cardboard box. Then I snatched a picture of me and my mom off my desk and chucked it in along with it.

Maybe I did have issues, running away because of 'them'. And seriously, moving in with a bunch of college guys was maybe not the best idea. There were three of them, and one of me. That didn't sound so good, especially when I saw all their drunk facebook pictures. Honestly, it looked like they were high. Every. Single. Day.

But still, this was Cam I was talking about, our old childhood best friend. He wasn't exactly psychopath, and he seemed so sweet when we had coffee the other day, in a macho kind of way. Cam had turned handsome too, not that I was planning on dating... I bit back the sob trying to erupt out of my chest, I had other things to do. Like pack...

I filled up the other box and then I dragged my heavy suitcase down the stairs, thanking whoever was up there that my mom was working night shift- for the hundreth time this month. She was a single mother and a nurse, so she worked her butt off. I flung the suitcase into the boot of my old, rusty minicooper and winced as the car creaked and groaned. Then I hurried up and down again with my two boxes, tossing them along with it. It had seemed so unlikely- an impossibilty for me to move in with three guys.

I was a girl raised on morals, never kiss before your dating someone, don't steal, don't throw a fuss about the lack of money (my mom was single and worked her butt off trying to get us enough money and basically, the life she never had). And I was sure, as sure as I was that 'him' and 'her' were kissing in the backseat, that my mom was going to kill me when she found out that I was moving in with a bunch of horny guys who went to wild parties.

And so the hard part, or well... hard kind of, since I was sort of skipping the difficult parts. I grabbed a piece of paper and began to scribble, knowing that I had to do this- quickly.

Mom,

I love you tons. And I am so sorry but I have to move out without saying goodbye. I am so SO sorry, and I know you're grabbing your car keys to throw a bag over my head and drag me back home and beat the sense into me, but.... I am offically eighteen years old. You can't force me to move back home, mom. I just can't live here like this.

By the way, I am also dropping out of the universty I got into. But do not freak!!! I signed up to a new one and it's in New York! And no you can't know my address, because I am going to live with hobos. Or well guys- close enough to hobos, right? Ha, ha

Sorry, lots of love, your daughter forever and ever and ever and ever and well... you get it

Serena

****

It was probaly the worst ever written letter, but I didn't know how else to put it. I was leaving and I wasn't coming back. The clock chimed to signal three am, and I took a deep breath, adding some x's and lidding the pen. I grabbed my coat, my nice white blazer and hurried outside, feeling the cool wind on my cheeks.

And I started the long drive to New York city, wondering if I had completely and utterly lost my mind, whilst singing loudly to heartbreaking Adele songs because it was the only thing which cured a broken warzone of a heart.

Round sixish- the time my mom usaully came home my phone started to ring fanatically. 'Him' and 'Her' started to call too, but I sang over the ringtone. Eventually though it became to annoying, I stopped and threw my phone out of my window.

Yes, I had lost my mind.

And I had arrived at eight am in front of my tall towering appartment block.

Where three hot, college boys were waiting for me.