My Roommate from Hell

Chapter One

The good thing about never getting your hopes up is that you’re rarely surprised.

In fact, I can think of only two occasions in the past year when I’ve been genuinely caught off guard. The first was when my best friend Ashley told me she’s pregnant, and was therefore staying in Bakersfield instead of going to college with me like we’d planned since we were freshmen.

The second was learning that Hell is real.

“Here we go,” says Mom, beaming at me from the driver’s seat of our rented car.

I smile back at her as we pass the Point University sign, which means we’re officially on campus.

Redbrick buildings are spaced out across immaculately kept lawns and spotless white pathways.

Everywhere I look there’s something eye-catching, from fountains to flower gardens and brass statues of college founders.

The whole place looks like something out of a movie, almost too perfect to be real.

Our next stop is my dorm, where I’ll be spending the next year of my life.

A part of me can’t really believe this is happening.

Thinking about college has pretty much consumed the past year of my life: from overanalyzing every major option to the stress of waiting to hear back from applications to, finally, the pure joy when I found out I got in.

It’s all been leading to this precise moment.

It’s unlike me to be like this. Getting my hopes up hasn’t ever really been my MO, especially after what happened last year, and my excitement feels a little dangerous.

After all, it’s not picture-perfect, because Ashley isn’t here when she should be.

Her absence is making everything feel slightly off-kilter, no matter how cinematic the campus is.

But Mom is here, so I’m keeping all that shoved down. It is the Greene way, after all. I learned it from her.

“Oh my God,” says Mom, pointing at one of the buildings, a library, I’d guess. One of the walls is covered in creeping ivy, giving pure dark academia vibes, which Ashley would love. If I know anything about Ashley Wyman, it’s that she’s obsessed with those types of books. “It’s so pretty.”

She’s right, it is. Truly.

I know Mom, and I know she’s been putting on a brave face all day.

It’s only faltered a few times, like when we were eating breakfast at the hotel.

She saw I was eating mushrooms and her face cracked because I hated mushrooms until I was fifteen, and she always forgets I like them now and treats that as a sign I’m growing up.

Or when tears welled in her eyes when she saw that I’d packed the Squirtle plushie, Mr. Turts, she got me for my sixth birthday who has been a mainstay in my room ever since.

She’s genuinely happy for me, I don’t doubt that. But two things can be true at once, and I know she’s not exactly thrilled that I’m moving. In a lot of ways this is as big of a change for Mom and Dad as it is for me. As of today, they’re empty nesters.

I check my phone, hoping for a message from Ashley to distract me from the gnawing guilt.

Ever since my going-away party a few days ago, I’ve felt this weird distance between us.

It’s mostly because we’re in new, uncharted territory.

Our friendship has always been easy, probably because we like the same shows and games, and we see the world through a lens you could call realistic if you were being kind, cynical if not.

For both of us, an ideal night is not drinking or partying but staying in and watching a marathon of a TV show we’ve already seen so many times we could quote it.

For the record, I totally get why Ashley decided to stay back in Bakersfield.

Her baby is due near the end of this semester, and she doesn’t want to be away from her family or her boyfriend at the end of her pregnancy, plus her parents are letting her and Jackson live rent-free in the bottom level of their house, which has its own kitchen and bathroom.

On top of that she already got into a great college in-state.

So, like, hey. Fair enough. Understanding why she stayed doesn’t mean I don’t wish she was here.

I pull at my phone, hoping it’ll refresh.

Nothing. Is this the start of our new status quo?

As similar as we are, we’ve always had the benefit of physical closeness keeping us together.

Her place is only a ten-minute drive from our apartment, and we had school to keep us close.

Now I’m a plane ride away. How could the distance be a good thing?

The saying goes it makes the heart grow fonder, but I suspect that’s only true in fiction.

In real life I’ve only ever seen it make people grow apart.

My phone buzzes, and I scramble to check it. It’s not from Ashley, though. It’s a news report about the exchange: A DEMON GOES TO COLLEGE. I flick it away as fast as possible.

“You good?” asks Mom.

“So good. Not freaking out at all.”

“Why would you freak out?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “It’s just a lot.”

“A lot can be a good thing.” She gets distracted by something out the window. “Is that a gallery? That’s cool.”

I pull at my phone screen. Still nothing.

“Hey, Owen,” says Mom. “What’s the name of your dorm again?”

“Clark Hall,” I say, and I look up from my phone to see what is causing the hesitation in Mom’s voice.

And oh no.

This can’t be happening.

There’s a huge protest in front of Clark Hall. There must be hundreds of people crowded around the entrance. A lot of them are holding signs that say things like:

GO BACK TO HELL

REPENT OR BURN

NO SATAN IN SCHOOLS!

I nearly roll my eyes. Point’s most famous exchange student might be a demon, but he’s not Satan. There’s a difference. If you’re going to protest, at least get your facts right.

What this doesn’t explain is why there’s a protest in front of Clark. Then it clicks. Is he staying at Clark? I had considered it a possibility, but the odds of it happening were too slim to really stress about.

And now this.

The prince of Hell is staying in my dorm building.

“That’s a plot twist,” says Mom. “Ugh, this is going to make parking a nightmare.”

I lean closer, looking out the window at the protest with a mix of surprise and resigned acceptance.

Because of freaking course this is happening; it’s almost too comedically perfect to not happen to me.

I’m not the type of guy who should be sharing a dorm building with a demon.

So many people come to college seeking new experiences.

Not me. I’m here to eventually get a high-paying job, that’s it.

I roll my eyes.

I’ve known for a while now that the prince of Hell would be studying at Point.

Sometimes it seems like the first-ever interdimensional exchange program is the only thing anyone talks about.

Turn on the TV and there’s a good chance there will be some story about the upcoming exchange.

It’s probably because it’s the biggest news since the initial discovery, when a team of the world’s best scientists discovered undeniable proof of a dimension close to ours that has all the trappings of Hell: demons, brimstone, rivers of lava.

Those scientists gave it an official scientific name, Tartarus-β, but it’s rarely used.

Four months later, a different team discovered a “dimensional weak spot” deep in a national park near Sedona, Arizona. There, they built a lab that houses a portal capable of slicing the dimensional membrane between worlds, making travel between the two dimensions possible.

Anyway, one Point student, a girl named Ellie Smith, is going to spend a semester in Hell.

Taking her place at Point is Zarmenus Bloodletter, the Unspeakably Foul, Lord of the Screaming Sea, and Herald of the Crimson Moon.

From what I’ve read online, he’s kind of a jerk, but he is a prince, demon or no.

He’s been told he’s better than everyone since birth, and that changes people. And demons, I guess.

“Are you okay?” asks Mom.

“Yeah, just processing.”

I look out at the protest. Things like this always pop up whenever anyone talks about anything related to Hell.

For most people, life has mostly gone back to normal after the news broke.

It’s hard to worry too much about alternate dimensions when you’ve got bills to pay, after all.

For some, though, it’s become this sort of fixation.

They see it as a sign the end times have arrived: not with pillars of fire and blood rain, but through science and man-made portals.

They are so loud and ever present at everything to do with Hell that I nearly wanted to change schools when I first found out about Point being the host school.

In fact, if it weren’t for my pact with Ashley, I might’ve.

“I’m sure it’ll die down,” I say.

“Are you really?”

No. Not even slightly. There are a lot of people out there who are terrified of Hell. There’s now even a new group of people called the Order of the Golden Sun, who train their followers to be demon killers. What if they target Clark Hall?

And that’s not even mentioning the prince himself.

I know that the citizens of Hell, who accepted the human word “demon,” have been trying to convince humanity that they aren’t the malevolent corruptors, fallen angels, or soul stealers like our folktales or religious texts have described.

And that might be the case, but I don’t want to spend my time at college finding out.

I want to learn about software engineering so I can get a job at Google or Facebook or any other big tech company and never have to worry about money.

A literal demon doesn’t fit into that picture in any way, shape, or form.

“Yup,” I say. “Totally sure.”