The Strange One

I woke up on the couch in a hung-over state late Sunday afternoon and pretty much fell onto the floor because my head hurt so much. I rubbed my eyes and went to the kitchen for some water. After a long sip of the ice cold drink I suddenly choked and dropped the cup. My eyes stared straight out into nothing, did that happen? I thought. The memory came back blurry and to this day I'm still not sure what to think.

I lived in a three bedroom apartment with my best friend, her boyfriend, and her boyfriend's friend, Roy. Roy was a bit strange. Not the immature "penis, hahahah" kind of strange, or the out-of-the-blue stoner thoughts strange, or even the random weird noises strange. Roy was something else, he was silent most of the time, he had very good manners and he never swore; he didn't even seem to get mad. He played video games, he ate pizza, and he drank beer like the rest of us, but whenever he was present, there always seemed like something was off about him. I was never able to place quite what it was. I always knew he was weird but I never thought he was weird enough to be a part of what happened the other night.

I stumbled out of the rain through the door of the apartment building from a night out with the girls and headed up to the second floor. I fumbled with my keys and jiggled them in the lock. I was super drunk and really tired; I just wanted to go to bed. I thought I would drift right off because no one was supposed to be home; my best friend was at her parents' for the weekend, her boyfriend was working the night shift, and I thought Roy was out with his friends.

I walked through the kitchen and down the hallway, I thought it was just my head pounding, but there was a dull thudding noise that got louder as I approached my room. Roy's room was just beyond mine, the thudding was the bass from some weird dubstep music he liked to listen too. Usually if I asked him to turn it down he would nod and shut it off. Roy's door was already slightly ajar so I pushed it inward silently and leaned in to ask.

I stopped; the sight before me cut through my drunken haze like a knife through butter, my jaw hung open and all I could do was stare. I took in every detail of the scene with great fear, simply because I did not know what to think.

There Roy was, bare naked with a damp bath towel covering his head and face. His dick was hung over the back part of his wooden desk chair and he was slowly moving his hips back and forth, rubbing it on the chair. Behind him, a girl was sound asleep lying on his unmade mattress in a purple g-string, rainbow knee-highs, and a flat brim Lakers snapback. I heard Roy grunt and he shuddered as he shot a big rope of cum across his desk.

What.

The.

Fuck.

I must have accidently whispered it out loud, because Roy reacted immediately. He threw the towel off his face and charged me. Before I could scream or even react, he knocked me down to the floor and held me in place with one hand over my mouth and the other on my stomach. He leaned down real close to me and whispered to me swiftly and urgently. Don't scream. Don't yell. Don't be loud. She's asleep. He gestured to the girl on his bed. I only nodded, terrified out of my mind. What I want you to do is go to the kitchen, have some water, and sleep on the couch. Don't call anyone, don't run out of the building, just stay put and go to sleep. If you remember this encounter in the morning, DO NOT tell a single soul about what you've witnessed.

He never told me what he'd do if I did tell anyone, but I just took his unspoken word for it, had some water, and went to sleep on the couch.

Now, standing in the kitchen, water spilled all over the floor, standing still, and staring into nothing, I remember. I remember every last detail, every exact word, and the fear is still fresh. I know nothing about Roy and, at the same time, I know all too much about him.