My friends and I are all buying a house together. It might be the worst decision we’ve ever made.

If I were adopting a baby alligator, you wouldn’t need to know much more than that for it to be considered a horrifically bad idea. We’ve all grown up with the mantra that co-buying a home with friends will lead to financial ruin, friendships turned sour, and in the worst case scenario, homelessness. <br><br>Despite obvious warning signs, my friends and I took the plunge and applied for a mortgage to buy a house that none of us could otherwise afford. After months of paperwork, bank meetings, and inspection reports, we finally got the keys to our new home. Even though we were excited, we couldn’t shake off the feeling of impending doom.<br><br>We’re all wildly different. <br>There’s Shannon, my roommate since first year uni who works as a midwife. She’s a goody-goody, the exact type you’d want around when your baby’s coming out. Even if you weren’t. <br>There’s Jake, who spends his days playing instruments in his improv band and his nights working as a security guard. I met Jake at a house party and we instantly connected over our love of 70s rock. We’ve been thick as thieves ever since. If we could, we’d jam out all night, every night. <br>Then there’s Mark. Mark is our resident tech geek. He spends all day staring at a screen working for a company that does some sort of web advertising. I don’t really get it, but he’s the only one of us who isn’t chronically broke. <br>Notice a trend? None of us make a whole lot of money. We don’t have a lot of disposable income, and our lives aren’t exactly the most stable. <br><br>But we finally did it. We bought a house. <br>I’m writing this on the night of our housewarming party. It’s the first time we’ve all had a chance to sit down together since moving in. <br>Shannon’s sitting on the floor with a bottle of wine and hers arms around her knees. She’s frowning at the bottle. <br>Jake’s sitting across from me on the couch, his guitar slung low and a bottle of cheap lager dangling between his legs. He’s smiling lazily at me. <br>Mark’s pacing back and forth across the room, occasionally glancing at his phone as if willing it to ring. <br><br>Just after we moved in, strange things started to happen. <br>I’d be walking down a hallway and swear I saw a kid running around the corner, but whenever I went to check, I was alone. <br>Shannon would be boiling water in the kitchen and when she turned around, the stove would be off. <br>Jake found his guitar set up and ready to play even though he was positive he’d put it away. <br>We could never pin down anyone who was responsible, but we were all so exhausted from moving and starting our new lives, it was easy to brush off as fatigue. <br>That all changed yesterday. <br>I was in the living room about to play some video games when I got the feeling that someone else was in the room with me. I turned around, and there he was. <br>He was about four years old, with freckles and messy red hair. He was standing in the doorway with a stuffed rabbit held to his chest. <br>I jumped out of my seat, screaming at the top of my lungs. <br>When I came to, I was lying on the floor. Jake and Shannon were kneeling over me, looking concerned. “What happened?” I asked them. They told me they’d heard my scream and come running. They found me on the floor, out cold. <br><br>Now, we’re sitting in the living room, avoiding eye contact and trying not to bring it up. <br>It doesn’t take long. <br>“Has anyone seen Josh?” Shannon asks, still frowning at her bottle. <br>Josh is Mark’s boyfriend. <br>“Don’t think so,” Jake says. “I haven’t seen him all night.” <br>“He hasn’t called or anything?” I ask. <br>“Nothing,” Shannon says. <br>“Maybe he’s in the car with Mark?” I suggest. <br>I get up to check and the others follow. <br>I push open the front door and take a deep breath of the cool nighttime air before walking out to the driveway. Mark’s car is parked in the driveway as usual, but there’s no one inside. <br>Just as we’re about to go back inside, we notice that Mark’s passenger door is slightly ajar. <br>I walk over to close it, and that’s when I see him. <br>Josh is lying in the bushes just in front of the car, his eyes wide open and a terrified expression on his face. <br>I call out and the others rush over. We’re all staring at each other wordlessly, frozen in place. Even though it’s chilly out, sweat is beading on my forehead and I can hear a pulse thudding in my ears. <br>Suddenly, Josh groans and rolls over. <br>We rush to his side and start asking if he’s alright. <br>After a few minutes, Josh eventually calms down and tells us what happened. <br>He’d been driving behind Mark in his own car. When Mark stopped in the driveway, Josh stopped behind him. <br>Just as he was about to open his car door, he felt a hand grasping the back of his hair, pulling him backward. <br>He got a glimpse of a young boy. A boy with red, curly hair and big freckles staring back at him. <br>Before he could do anything else, the boy grabbed the back of his hair and dragged him out of the car and into the bushes. <br>He doesn’t know how long the boy held him there, but eventually he let go. Josh lay there, terrified, until he heard us coming outside. <br>We help Josh back into the house, where he spends the rest of the night sitting silently on the floor. <br>We never see Mark that night. It’s as if he vanished. <br>I’m writing this in bed. I was too terrified to fall asleep, but eventually my exhaustion got the best of me. <br>I just woke up, and I can’t. <br>I hear a noise coming from downstairs, the sound of furniture crashing and objects being thrown. <br>I rush to the bedroom door, trying to open it as quietly as possible. That’s when I see him. <br>It’s Mark. <br>He’s standing at the top of the stairs, just outside my bedroom. <br>He’s not alone. He’s standing behind the curly-haired boy, his arms wrapped around the boy’s stomach, a maniacal grin stretching across his face. <br>The boy is holding a knife. <br>I quickly shut the door and try to lock it, but it’s too late. <br>Mark and the boy burst through the door and a loud, piercing scream fills the air. <br>The last thing I remember is a feeling of excruciating pain and a wildly beating heart. <br>I think it might be over for me. <br>Wish me luck. <br>If I don’t see you later, it was nice.