I dislike shared houses, somewhat
Many years ago, I was seeing someone who lived in a shared house. At the time, she had two flatmates, the odd one, and the really odd one. Odd, but harmless. One offered me the use of his room while I was staying - but I didn't use it in the end.

Anyway, we became an item. A remarkably mismatched one, as the future proved, but even so. And so we continued. I'd weekend commute from my flat to her place, we'd spend weekends together, and all seemed mostly OK.

Then someone moved into a previously empty room. This chap was living in a crappy house in the Midlands, but somehow didn't seem to fit. Then his girlfriend turned up too. Both of them seemed to spend a lot of their time in their room, but out of their boxes, tripping happily, or whatever it is that drugs do to you. Every now and then they'd have a fight, but nothing major.

Then there was this one night. They were disagreeing somewhat about something. This disagreement escalated to the point where they destroyed one of the bathrooms in the house. Like totally. They smashed the bath, the cupboards off the wall, the toilet, the whole lot. The walls were shaking (as was myself and my hostess). And the fight continued. I decided to go downstairs and ask the others whether they'd called the police. I doubted it, as I had a mobile phone but no-one else did (told you it was a long time ago - pre-GSM!). We called the police anyway, but they had no means of locating me, and got the address wrong. Of which more later.

And so I headed off downstairs. But at the top of the stairs, I meet the GF. She's carrying a *huge* kitchen knife and a vast pair of scissors. She's literally foaming at the mouth, and has got the maddest eyes I've ever seen. She just didn't look human. No idea what she was planning, but it didn't look good. Now, I've done the usual near miss in car stuff, I've crashed on a motorbike, I've had a fair few moments, but this was definitely the one and only moment that I thought I was going to die. I was trapped - she was going that way, and I honestly believe she'd have killed me if I'd got in her way. I flattened myself against the wall, and she blazed past. I let her go by, then went back to our room, grabbed my other half, and dragged her out of the house. We ran down the road to the police station, and begged for help. They radioed the cars and got them turned around. The police then sent us back (oh, thanks)!

When we got there, there were four squad cars outside. He was being trucked off in one car, and the police were trying to get someone to accuse someone of something, so they'd have something to do.

Dunno what he did, but he'd knocked three teeth out of her head with something, and that stopped her. I recall one of the fire extinguishers was missing for a while.

She got hauled off by the police too, and that was almost the end of it.

Thankfully, and still terrified, me and the other half turned in for the night. That's when I found a four-inch white scratch on my stomach, and a rip in my t-shirt... That was close!

His father paid for all of the damage to the house, and a week's rent for everyone as an apology, and we never saw any of them again.

But that moment, where I looked into her eyes and didn't see a person, only an insane animal - that terror will never leave me, and that's the most scared I have ever been.

(2nd most? The American remake of The Grudge. I'm a little girl when it comes to horror movies, and I was crapping myself.)

Apologies for length, but it was very very nearly a whole lot shorter.
(purplegod counting down for Christmas!, Tue 27 Feb 2007, 12:20, Reply)