Real Roommate Horror Stories Scarier Than Any Halloween Movie

Forget ghosts and demons. The scariest roommate stories don't need supernatural elements—just regular people doing absolutely unhinged things. I've collected these from friends, Reddit threads, and my own nightmare experiences in Boston and Toronto. Trust me, after reading these, you'll understand why thoroughly vetting potential roommates isn't just recommended—it's survival.

Story One: The Secret Life

Met Jamie through a roommate-finding app in San Francisco. She seemed perfect—graphic designer, clean, quiet, paid rent early. For three months, everything was great. Then I came home early from a work trip.

There were cameras. Everywhere. Hidden in smoke detectors, behind picture frames, inside the bathroom vent. Not pointing at her room—at mine, the bathroom, the living room. She'd been streaming our apartment on some fetish website. My bedroom. My bathroom. Everything.

When I confronted her, she acted like I was the crazy one. "It's my apartment too. I can put cameras wherever I want." She'd been making money off people watching us live our lives. Watching me sleep. Watching me change. Everything.

I called the cops. Turns out it's a legal grey area if it's "shared space," but the bathroom stuff was definitely illegal. She was arrested, but the damage was done. I had to tell my girlfriend, my family, that strangers had been watching me for months. I scrubbed the entire internet trying to find the videos. Some are probably still out there.

I broke my lease and moved out within a week. Lost my deposit, didn't care. Some things you can't put a price on.

The lesson? Meet potential roommates multiple times, in different settings. Check their social media thoroughly. Trust your gut. And maybe do a sweep for cameras when you move in. I know it sounds paranoid, but I do it every time now. Every. Single. Time.

Story Two: The Collector

Austin, 2021. My roommate Derek seemed normal enough when we met—a software engineer, kept to himself, paid his half. His room was his business, I figured. We all have our quirks.

Four months in, he went on vacation. Asked me to water his plants. I opened his door and immediately understood why he never let anyone in there.

Floor-to-ceiling shelves. Jars. Hundreds of them. And they weren't empty.

Dead insects at first—butterflies, beetles, moths. Weird, but okay, some people collect bugs. Then I saw the larger jars in the back. Dead birds. A squirrel. Something that might have been a cat. All preserved in some kind of fluid, labeled with dates and locations.

The smell hit me then. Not all of them were properly preserved. Some were rotting inside the jars. The wall behind the shelves was black with mold.

But the worst part? The journal on his desk, open to a page that said: "Neighborhood cat—Dec 3rd. Stopped coming to my window. Finally got close enough."

I packed my essential stuff that day and went to stay with friends. Called the landlord, called animal control. They found more in his closet. Evidence that he'd been actively trapping and killing animals. He was arrested on animal cruelty charges.

The apartment had to be professionally cleaned. The landlord tried to charge me for breaking the lease early. I told him to talk to my lawyer.

Red flags I missed? He was too quiet. Never had friends over. Never talked about his life. I thought he was just introverted. Turns out isolation can hide a lot of darkness.

When you're living with someone, pay attention if they're overly secretive about their space. Everyone deserves privacy, but if someone literally never opens their door, never lets you see inside even briefly—that's not privacy, that's hiding something.

Story Three: The One Who Wouldn't Leave

This one's from my friend in Chicago. She found a roommate on Craigslist—first mistake, she admits now. Marcus seemed fine initially. Month-to-month lease, casual setup, both young professionals.

Three months in, she started dating someone. Marcus got weird about it. Asking questions about her boyfriend. Where they met. When he was coming over, making comments about how "we were fine before he came along."

She gave her 30-day notice to move in with her boyfriend. That's when things got dark.

Marcus refused to acknowledge the notice. Started acting like she wasn't leaving. Made dinner for two every night. Left her favorite snacks on the counter. Texted her throughout the day like they were a couple. She'd say, "I'm moving out in two weeks", and he'd respond, "What do you want for dinner tonight?"

Moving day, he blocked the door. Physically stood in front of it and wouldn't move. Her boyfriend had to call the cops to get her stuff out. While the officers were there, they found a box under Marcus's bed. Letters he'd written to her but never sent. Hundreds of them. Some angry, some romantic, all completely delusional.

And photos. He'd been following her. To work, to the gym, to her parents' house in the suburbs. Documented everything for months.

The cops made him leave while she got her stuff. She got a restraining order. He violated it twice before finally stopping. She still checks over her shoulder three years later.

The warning signs? He had no other friends. No life outside the apartment. All his attention focused on her from day one. She thought he was just friendly. Turns out he was obsessed.

The Takeaway

These aren't ghost stories. They're real people who've had their sense of safety destroyed by the people they lived with. And the scariest part? All three of these people seemed completely normal at first.

When you're looking for roommates in competitive markets like New York, LA, Vancouver, or anywhere else, desperation makes you ignore red flags. You need a place, they need a roommate, it seems fine. But "fine" isn't good enough when you're letting someone into your home.

Meet them multiple times. Video chat before meeting in person. Check references—actually call them, don't just take someone's word. Look them up online. Ask mutual friends if possible. Trust your instincts if something feels off.

And remember: it's easier to say no to a weird roommate than to escape a nightmare situation six months later. The worst roommate horror stories always start with "they seemed fine at first."

They always do.