Goth Girl Vanessa

It’s empty. I arrived later in the day, so I assumed my roommate would have already made it, but I guess not. I let out a sigh of relief. I guess that means I can unpack in peace, but it also means I’ll be on edge waiting for the door to open. Hopefully they knock so as to give me some kind of warning… oh. Of course the right answer comes to me after I’ve already done it and it turns out my choice didn’t matter.

Too late now. My roommate will probably know to knock without even thinking about it. I proceed to put my luggage away. I unpack my new patented monochrome wardrobe and arrange my school supplies on the dorm desk. My school supplies are not monochrome, different colors make organizing notes and projects easier. The room itself is pretty basic, two beds with drawers underneath for storage and two desks, each symmetrical in layout across the room and a window directly between the beds with a shared nightstand underneath. The room was plenty big for two people but visitors would make it cramped quickly. I choose the right hand bed, since that would be seen second after the door was open and would give me at least a fraction more of a second to prepare when my roommate arrived.

I finish pretty quickly, and think about scouting out my class schedule route to make it to my classes. I look out the window and see lots of normal confident people doing just that. Some have even found or made friend groups to do it together with. Maybe I can do that with my roommate. We’ll be hanging out a lot in the room, even I can make friends with someone you’re stuck with for hours on end. It may be awkward at…

My train of thought is derailed and set on fire with napalm as the door is thrown open and slams into the wall. I instinctively jump and try to turn around at the same time, losing my balance on my heels and falling down to my hands and knees on the floor between the beds. Paralyzed by surprise and embarrassment, I timidly use my eyes to look up while lacking the willpower to stop my head from facing the ground.

In the door way stands the living embodiment of what I hoped to become. 5’9”, dyed straight black hair falling to mid-back, full goth makeup like mine but… somehow better. Maybe it was her slight black blush accenting her cheeks, or maybe it was the look of disdain she has for the goth girl pretender she finds on the floor before her. She’s wearing black combat boots that look far more practical than the faux pair I have in my luggage, black denim jeans with a metal skull belt buckle, and a black tank top under a studded black leather jacket. She also has several earrings, a nose stud, and her exposed stomach shows a belly piercing, all of which I was far too squeamish to ever get.

“You the roommate or the maid?” Yep, if there was any doubt about her first impression of me then her voice dripping with derision clears that up. I can feel my throat constrict too much to do more than squeak, so I just point at the bed I had made with all my stuff. “What, just because you got here first you get first call on beds? Hardly fair. Tell you what…”

She stops talking as I was already unmaking the bed. I throw the blankets and sheets to the other bed to make it clear I was moving sides. I don’t know what challenge or deal she was about to propose, but I already knew I didn’t have it in me go through with it. I can feel my eyes tearing up as I try to hold it together while moving all the cloths from one set of drawers to the other. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Maybe I’m overreacting. She’s barely said anything to me, she might be nicer once she gets to know me. I glance back at her only to see an annoyed frown on her face. I look back down to my work and try to go faster. I think she might be growing impatient, and I don’t really need to maintain the folds of my cloths.

Before I can finish with the drawers she begins throwing her things in a haphazard pile on top of the bed. Not just bedding but clothes as well. She then begins to set up her desk, including what looks to my admittedly unfamiliar eyes like a powerful gaming laptop. The weird thing is, I haven’t gotten around to moving my desk yet. So she’s setting up on the desk that is now at the foot of my bed, instead of hers. I don’t know what to make of these mind games, best not to think about it before I can’t stifle my sniffling.

I finish with my cloths at the same time as she does with her desk. “I want to go check out my classroom locations before it gets too dark. Do me a favor and put away my stuff will you? You seem pretty good at that.” She is out the door before I can respond. I stand still for a moment before collapsing to my knees and crying with my head in my hands. I can’t even call myself a pushover, that implies she had to push. What can I do to fix this? I need to put my foot down and… I don’t know. Ask her to be nice? Or at least introduce herself before ruining my short lived college dreams.

I sob for what was probably only ten or fifteen minutes but felt like hours. Once I finally exhaust my tears I sneak to the bathroom to wash away my ruined makeup. I don’t bother reapplying, it’s getting late and I feel silly in comparison to my roommate anyways.

Returning to my room I stare at her pile of clothes and bedding. She’s… so mean! She doesn’t deserve her bed made and clothes put away. She has no manners at all. I ought to tell the… what were they called? The dorm leader? Those folks I’m supposed to go to if I have room or roommate issues. I desperately try and remember the name of that position as I finish making her bed. I guess it’s not surprising I forgot. A person with whom interacting is optional? Nope, not bothering to remember that. And why should I interact with them? It’s not like I can’t learn to get along with my roommate. I bet if I be extra nice she’ll come around. She probably was joking about making her bed and stuff, and will be super happy with me for helping her out. Yep that’s exactly how it’ll play out.

Feeling a bit better after forcing my brain down the path of denial, I put the last of her surprisingly normal underwear away. I considered looking for my classrooms, but it’s pretty dark out already and I am mentally and emotionally exhausted. I dig out my pajamas, an oversized black button-up shirt made of some kind of fluffy cloth, and dark grey sweat pants that I have to wear because my mom lost the matching pants for the shirt. I loved those fluffy pajama pants… at least I still have the shirt though.

I consider waiting up for my still unnamed roommate, but realize that means interacting with her again. So I shut off the room light, crawl into bed, then hit the lamp on the nightstand off. I take a nice calming breath and try to put this terrible day behind me. Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow will be better.

My wishful mantra is interrupted as the door slams open for the second time this evening and the light turns on. My flailing makes it impossible to pretend to be asleep, but after I get my body under control I slip my head under my blanket and tried my very best to be ****.

A moment of silence, then the door slams shut. Foot steps. I feel like a kid again, hiding under my blankets from the monsters my nightmares convinced me were right next to my bed. A couple of thuds as she removes her heavy boots, some rustling of cloth, then springs moving as she climbs into her bed. Then more springs as she gets out of bed to turn off the lights. I guess it’s nice to know even other-side-of-the-blanket monsters sometimes forget things.