Oh. My. God. In the course of coming up with the title for this post, things in the house where I live went from “really unpleasant” to “I just called 911” I’m fine, I’m in my room with the door locked, but there are cops in my house.
I initially intended to write a post complaining about the little irritations of living with a seventeen year old – I’ll call him T. (In a roommate situation, I live with him and his mother and another roommate) He doesn’t lock doors, he doesn’t respect other peoples’ stuff, he’s a drug dealer (not confirmed), blah blah blah, et cetera, ad nauseum. He and his mom were arguing *again*, and I wanted to just open my door, swear at them and be like “can I please just have *one* night of peace??” and decided that wasn’t worth it, that I was going to just curl up in a ball in my bed and cover my ears. I’ve only lived here a month, which in my opinion is too soon for things to go so far downhill.
But as I was about to do that, I decided to bitch on my blog instead. So I pulled up MT and started typing. A knock at my door proved to be T’s mom, asking me to call 911 since I have a landline and she doesn’t. I’m not going to go into details about that, I just don’t know enough of them, but I guess he was talking about suicide, which was the excuse to call but only the tip of the iceberg.
As I write this, T is in jail (I think- he’s not here anyway), and now that he is gone the unearthly screaming has stopped. Now there are cops downstairs in the kitchen (three of them) talking to Chris. T supposedly isn’t coming back for a while, but I’m not sure I want to take chances. I’m going to talk to Chris in the morning, but I may be staying somewhere else for a few days, and looking for a new place to live. I’m going to go to sleep now, the adrenaline rush is subsiding and I’m suddenly very tired. I’m just praying I don’t have nightmares about the screaming.