Oh my god. Okay. I found something at my boyfriend’s place and I can’t make sense of it. Is he even my boyfriend anymore? My thoughts are such a mess right now…let me start from the beginning and hopefully make sense of things.
So I met my…boyfriend? Ex? We’ll just call him Joey. I met Joey maybe seven months ago at the bar and, honestly, I thought he was a dreamboat. Wide hazel eyes, curly brown hair, great sense of style—he was exactly my type. We really hit it off, exchanged phone numbers, texted back and forth, went on a few dates, you know how it goes. We both decided we really liked each other, so we made it official.
He was always so sweet, too, paid attention to the effort I’d put into my outfits and always told me how pretty I was. Honestly, he was the most attentive and considerate guy I think I’ve ever dated. Still, everyone’s got weird quirks, right? Of course he wasn’t perfect, and even if it never really bothered me, there were always little moments of oddness with him.
One thing I noticed was that he was always coming over to my place, but I had never seen his. He said he lived with his dad, and he just wasn’t ready for him to meet me this early, and at the time I thought that made sense. It wasn’t a huge burden for him to come over, and if anything it really motivated me to clean up a little more often, so I was fine with that.
It seemed like he was always having problems with his dad, though. Like, once his dad forgot to pay the electric bill and their power got shut off, or one time he got super pissed at Joey for staying out a little late and they had a major fight about it. I don’t know a ton of details except what Joey told me, and he never really mentioned the rest of his family except to say his mom had died a while prior, and that had definitely put a strain on things. I didn’t think to question any of it—why would he lie about that kind of thing, you know? And I figured if it bothered him to talk about, it was best not to bring it up. It just never occurred to me that he was being dishonest, that he would even have a reason to be.
But then one day…I don’t know, three months ago? He told me his dad was going out of town, and I could come over if I wanted to and there wouldn’t be any interruptions or general parent awkwardness. I was excited to finally see his place, so I took him up on it.
From the moment I got there something felt off. Or maybe that’s just how I’m remembering it now, I don’t know. But Joey himself seemed off, too. For one thing, he obviously hadn’t put as much effort into cleaning up for me as I had for him, because the trash hadn’t been changed and the counter was covered with old mail and crusty dishes and empty bottles. There were two or three candles in every room to cover it up, but the smell told me the fridge hadn’t been cleaned out in a while, either. I admit I kinda just chalked it up to guy stuff. It seemed like a lot of build up for just the few days that his dad had been gone, so maybe they were both messy or something.
This didn’t really seem weird to me, but another thing was that his dad’s bedroom door was closed. I mean, I had no intention of going in there anyway, so no skin off my back, but Joey was adamant about not even going near the door if I could help it. I don’t know, the way he acted was weird, but I did happen to pass by while looking for the bathroom and I caught a bad smell like more rotting food, so maybe he just hadn’t wanted me to notice? But the kitchen and his own bedroom smelled equally bad, so that kind of seemed like a lost cause to me.
And, oh my god, his bedroom. That’s where the smell was the worst. No amount of candles could hide the pungent, sour smell that must have been baked into the walls and furniture just from having been there so long. Not to mention all the garbage and dirty clothes piled up on the floor; I couldn’t imagine what must be under there. I think the weirdest part was his reaction when I offered to help him clean it. He was extremely opposed, so upset that I would even suggest it that he asked me to leave. I had never seen this side of him before, if anything I actually thought he was joking, and I pointed out that it would probably get his dad off his case to come home to a nice, clean house for once. But no, he was dead serious, and repeatedly told me to go, getting increasingly agitated each time, so I just did.
After that he didn’t ask me over again. I tried to apologize a couple times, but he just said he didn’t want to talk about it. I think that’s when I suspected something was seriously wrong with him, but every other time we talked or went out he was his normal sweet and funny self, so I ignored it. Honestly, thinking back now…he stopped mentioning his dad after that, too. I should’ve known then. Or at least, I should’ve known long before now.
Well…the other night, he invited me over again. Told me his dad had gone on another trip, and that he was sorry for being weird the last time I was there. I told him I’d forgotten about it, but that was a lie. I don’t think I ever completely let go of it, and I don’t think I will. Not after what happened the other night.
The long and short of it is that he told me he had actually cleaned up this time, and that he would make sure it was nicer for me. Honestly, the only reason I agreed was because I didn’t have a good excuse not to, and I didn’t want him to realize how shaken I still was by my last visit. But, true to his word, he had actually cleaned up a lot better when I went over there. Still had candles to cover the smells, but by that point I think even if everything was deep cleaned, the smell was so ingrained that it wasn’t going to come out.
It was definitely nicer this time around, though. I could actually see the color of his carpet and I could tell the tidier environment had helped his mood. He was still insistent that I don’t go near his dad’s room, but other than that, it felt so normal that I agreed to spend the night. The only thing that had really seemed odd was that I kept catching him staring at me out of the corner of my eye, but when I tried to ask about it, he’d just smile and say that I looked pretty.
But it was during the night that it happened. He was asleep, and I had woken up needing to use the bathroom. In the dark and the unfamiliar surroundings, I couldn’t remember the way there, and I opened the first door I found. I’m sure you already guessed, but it wasn’t the bathroom.
It was his dad’s room. And his dad was in it, flies buzzing around his corpse on the bed.
I didn’t know what I was even looking at, at first. I heard the buzzing, smelled the stench, but it just looked like a shadow on the bed. I think the thought crossed my mind that his dad was asleep in here, and that for some reason Joey had lied about him going out of town, but my eyes adjusted with the help of the moonlight streaming through the window, and I saw it for what it was. A dead body, an actual dead fucking body, that had been lying here decomposing for—god. At least since the last time I was here, it had to have been. For months, Joey had been living with a corpse.
I’m not sure how long I was frozen there, and I can hardly remember all the rationalizations that crossed my mind, but it couldn’t have been too long before my brain focused on one single thing, clear as day: I couldn’t let Joey know that I knew. I don’t know why I was so certain of it there and then, because there’s no way I was thinking clearly, but that thought was at the forefront of my mind like a spotlight. So that was what I latched onto when I decided to very carefully and quietly close the door, and find the actual bathroom before I threw up.
Once I got all the bodily functions out of the way, I found myself making my way back to Joey’s room on my tiptoes. I had to get out of there, maybe tell him in the morning that I hadn’t been feeling well. Fuck, should I even talk to him at all? I felt like I should call the cops or something, but I definitely didn’t wanna do it there in the house in case he woke up. When I got back to his room, it looked like he was still asleep, so, silently as I could, I started gathering my things. I dropped my phone charger, and for a moment I was grateful again that he’d cleaned up his room this time. Then I knelt down and I wasn’t so grateful anymore.
Because, as if this night couldn’t have gotten any worse, when I reached down to grab the charger from under the bed, I felt something. And, like an idiot, I turned on my phone flashlight to see what it was.
It was another corpse. Under his own bed.
It took everything I had not to scream and run then and there. I grabbed the rest of my things, packed them into my bag, and I booked it the hell out of there. I think he heard me leave, because I swear I saw the curtains moving in one of the windows facing the driveway when I started my car. Like I said, that was a few days ago, and I haven’t talked to him since. But for some reason…I also haven’t told anybody. I don’t know what I’m scared of—obviously if I call the cops and they find two dead bodies, it’ll look bad for Joey. But what if they don’t? What if he knows why I left and why I haven’t been answering his messages and calls? What if he cleaned them up like he cleaned the rest of the mess in that house, and the cops come and find nothing, and he knows that I called them?
God, sorry. Now I’m just rambling. I’m so scared that any minute he’ll start knocking on my door. When I think about the way he was staring at me…what if I’m supposed to be next? Who the hell was that second body?
What am I supposed to do now???