Kyushu

Bill looked at the pile of stuff he had to take to the already overflowing dumpster. It was pink and glittery and so completely emasculating, he loathed his last duties as an RA. It was insane that all three girls in that dorm had up and runaway. They left everything, everything! There were clothes and shoes and belts and handbags; if he’d been lucky enough to have a girlfriend, he’d have taken everything worthwhile over to her. Sadly there was only him and his XXX subscriptions, so to the dumpster he would be going.
It took him half an hour to tote everything over to the dumpster and hand it over to the Mexican women monitoring the output. He knew they’d take half of it home themselves; he should’ve donated it to the Good Will. Hindsight was 20/20 and he was past the point of caring. The only thing left to do in that dorm was to make a checklist of the damages and get out.
He was so close to being done when he saw the problem in the second bathroom. Without the shower curtain, he could see that the drain in the center of the tile was clogged with hair. He groaned; Bill hated dealing with other people’s nasty wet hair. He shrugged and said to himself “the faster I get this done, the faster I can be out of here!”
Ever since that thing with the girl in the third bedroom had happened, he hadn’t even been to the first floor except on his way to class and to work. The kids on the floor had gone buck wild and he’d almost lost his job as RA…but he couldn’t bring himself to be down on the first floor. He’d almost cried at the thought of going into the fourth bedroom, where plaster and paint couldn’t hide the scar from…that incident. He couldn’t bring himself to think it out anymore, but he couldn’t keep his thoughts away from that horrific morning as his fingers tangled in the wet hair.
Had Bill been a brighter boy, he would’ve noticed how very odd it was that wet hair was clogging the drain in an apartment that had been completely abandoned for almost the entire school year. However, Bill was not a bright boy at all, and he was almost up to his wrists in hair before he even acknowledged the peculiarity of the situation.
“I’ve been waiting so long for ya Bill.” someone said as something cold and wet dribbled down the back of his neck.
With his hand held fast by the clog, Bill could only throw hasty frightened looks over his shoulders. He looked down; the hair around his fingers and wrist was thick…and red. He tried to pull his arm back, but the hair seemed to be holding him down.
“You’re a really sucky RA Bill.” the voice replied as something gooey ran down his neck and under his shirt. “The guys down here have really gone wild but you’re nowhere to be found. What went wrong Bill? They weren’t three very scared girls so you didn’t want to deal with them? Shame, shame. You lack compassion and common sense.” the voice continued.
Bill reached down to try and pull the hair off of his hand, succeeding only in getting his other hand caught in the hair. The bathroom door shut behind him, on his ankle. He heard the bone snapped, but for some reason he couldn’t scream.
“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue or you too manly to scream? You little bitch with your Napoleon-complex.” the voice chided nastily. “You should count yourself lucky that you’ll be dead before it really starts to hurt.”
“HELP!” Bill managed to bellow, his fingernails scraping against the tiny holes of the drain. His knuckles cracked as his fingers pressed hard against it. “What…what?” he blubbered, his fingertips burning. Drool ran over his bottom lip in a big fat stream as his mind fought to ignore what was about to happen.
“Looks like your career is about to go down the drain.” the voice then sniggered.
Bill couldn’t think of anything to say, couldn’t comprehend what was going to happen or even why. He didn’t believe in ghosts or anything that wasn’t written in a history book. As bone snapped and his fingers disappeared into the red hair and down the drain, he realized that what had taken over the apartment had a very terrible sense of humor.