{warning for gore, self harm, and medical talk}
Me and my old roommate (I will refer to him as Conner for privacy reasons) were in the pre-med program at University and had been getting along great at the start of the first semester, but now it’s gotten very strange around our dorm. Things have been oddly slow with our school work and teachers seemed distracted this time of year anyways so we both took that time to get some homework and study before going home for the holidays. I’m a resident training in orthopedic surgery and the tests I need to take have crazy amounts of literature, and take hours to get through. Conner was kind of a rich kid but worked hard at school too, he wanted to be a General Surgeon, and that’s even harder to do in my opinion. It requires patience and lots and lots of practice. I don’t mind sitting in a dimly lit room reading medical journals for an entire weekend, that reason is why Conner and I got along so well.
We were both self-sufficient enough to get basic chores and house needs done with little to no verbal contact. If he ever needs to ask me or tell me something he would text me or talk to me while I eat at the table. During the three day study cram both of us stocked up on supplies so we could study with little breaks for running errands. I got a bunch of chips, soda and cheap ramen packs to hold me over, Conner got a bunch of high-end energy drinks and frozen sausage pizza. When we got back to our place in Conner’s BMW, he grabbed a large duffle bag out of his trunk and carried it into his room along with his groceries. I wanted to ask him what was in the bag, because it seemed kind of heavy but I decided not to pry too much. That was my first mistake.
Day one was a Saturday, a perfectly rainy day and perfect for staying inside and getting some homework done. About halfway through the day and a two-liter bottle of mountain dew later, I need to go drain the lizard (piss). Our bathroom is in between the bedrooms, all three doors on one wall, and all lead out to the kitchen/common room. I closed the door to the bathroom and before I started to pee I heard heavy breathing from Conner’s room. At first, I assumed he was jerkin it or something but then I heard him drop several metal objects. I wash my hands and go knock on his door, see if he’s alright. He said something along the lines of “I’m ok, but don’t come in here!” I let him be after that but was still curious about what he was up to there. Unfortunately, I was also in the middle of a practice test so I hurried back to my room to finish it.
Later that day when I made myself a bowl of spicy noodles in the common area I listened to see if I could hear anything. It was all but silent in our little dorm, except the muted sound of a heart monitor beeping. At the hospital you are around it constantly and learn to tune it out but I noticed it because of how consistent it was. If it was a movie or tv scene, it didn’t change, no dialogue, no music, just a constant blip. A little unnerved, I took my dinner back to my room, and ate it while reading in bed. I couldn’t stop thinking about the rhythmic beeping coming from Conner’s room. Eventually after I had eaten and stopped reading, I tried to fall asleep. Tossing and turning all night, I couldn’t rest my head. When I got up to knock on his door again, I saw the bathroom light was on. The faucet of our sink was draped in bloody gauze. All sorts of used medical instruments lay in the clogged sink, submerged. I felt my eyes widen and face run cold, but I got a grip and closed the bathroom door. Frightened and worried for my friend I crept to his door and into Conner’s bedroom.
The stench of fresh blood filled my nose and light green/yellow fluorescent bulbs illuminate the space. All sorts of equipment stands in the way of any walking path. Camera tripods, multiple heart rate monitors, and tons of used IV bags still hanging on their IV poles. Blood bags hang in the middle of the floor above what I assume was Conner’s mattress soaked in sweat, vomit, and unnerving amounts of blood. Sitting facing away from me on the bed was Conner, leaned over his lap, holding something in his arms. I walked closer to him and I only spoke the first few syllables of his name when Conner turned around slow, we looked at each other with wide eyes. His body was opened up, organs spilling with tubes running to his cavity. From what I could tell he was damaging his body and then repairing the damage and to stay awake took doses of morphine to continue with the next procedure. I caught him just before he finished suturing a long slice up his inner thigh. There was a pause, just the sound of buzzing lights, ventilation/suction tubes, and beeping machines.
I took another step forward to maybe help Conner to the hospital but then his expression changed from surprised to angry. He screamed at me, it was almost unintelligible. Must have removed teeth as well, because blood oozed from his gums. I think he was trying to say “ Get out! Get out now! Leave me alone now and don’t come back in here!” I didn’t give it a second thought and ran out of there knocking over some old IV poles then slamming the door behind me. I wanted to call an ambulance or the police or something but I didn’t want to get caught up in anything that would jeopardize my future as a doctor. I had no idea what to do and didn’t want to talk to anybody about it. I felt sick to my stomach, the sickest I had ever felt without a fever. I curled up in my bed for all of Sunday and most of Monday but that night I worked up the courage to leave my room to go to the common area.
I navigated to the switch near the door, and flicked the light on. A trail of dried smeared blood on the wood floor, leading out to the hall. The front door was closed and locked up. Conner’s bedroom door was left wide open and marked up with dents and red streaks. I peeked in at a distance and to my complete surprise… it’s practically empty! He must have packed up all his junk into his car and taken off. The only thing left in his room was his abused mattress and an envelope resting on the floor right under the single lightbulb overhead. The envelope had my name on it. I hesitated to touch it, in case it became evidence or something but then I saw that there were bills slightly poked out of the envelope. Curious, I picked it up and opened it to find $1,000 and a short letter. Conner left that for me to pay his portion of our rent and maybe help get better groceries. I took his money, tossed the mattress in a dumpster and then burned his letter. I scrubbed his room down and put the money in a safe place but I’m nervous someone would come looking for him but they never did. It’s been 3 months now and I haven’t heard or seen anything from Conner and honestly I don’t think I could without becoming sickly. I can watch a bone marrow transplant with no problem but when I think about the state he was in, how he must have left, if he even survived. Alas my questions will probably go unanswered forever and I’m learning to live with that.