The Rental Trap

My name is Dylan Reed. I’m a senior college student on the track-and-field team.

With graduation right around the corner, I started looking for an apartment near campus. After a few days of searching, I spotted an unusual listing on a rental app.

The landlord’s requirements were simple: tenant must be healthy, reliable, and preferably male. The catch? Half rent, free utilities.

It sounded too good to be true.

I went to view the place just out of curiosity. To my surprise, the landlord—who called herself Marge—approved me on the spot and offered to sign the lease immediately.

She lived in an old, standalone house. The exterior looked run-down, but the inside was clean and tidy. Marge explained that she lived with two young women and that the house was all female. She said they struggled with heavy lifting, lightbulb changes, water bottle replacements, and other physical chores. That’s why she preferred a strong, helpful male tenant.

Two girls stood behind her.

The older one was Lila, in her early twenties. She seemed gentle, soft-spoken, and polite.

The younger one was Maya, barely eighteen. She was more energetic and held eye contact in a direct, almost intense way.

Her explanation made sense. I was an athlete, worked part-time at a gym off-campus, and was used to helping people move heavy things. The low rent and short distance to campus were perfect for me.

So I moved in right away.

The first two weeks were completely normal.

Marge would occasionally cook and invite me to eat with them. Lila and Maya asked for help moving boxes, fixing locks, and replacing lightbulbs. The whole family was warm and generous, often sending over soup and homemade meals.

I thought it was a little unusual, but I didn’t read too much into it.

When renting a place, it’s better to have kind landlords than difficult ones.

One night, I worked my late shift at the gym and didn’t get back until nearly eleven. I showered and fell asleep immediately, exhausted.

Half-asleep, I heard a soft knock on my door.

I jolted awake and sat up. “Who is it?”

A shaky voice answered from the hallway—it was Maya.

“Dylan… it’s me.”

I quickly got up and opened the door.

Maya stood outside, pale and teary-eyed, clearly terrified.

“What’s wrong?” I frowned.

She whispered, “I think someone was following me when I came home. I’m so scared I can’t go back to my room. I ran here instead.”

I froze for a second.

There had been a few nighttime robberies in the neighborhood lately, and people in the campus group chat had been warning each other. It made sense that a girl walking alone at night would be frightened.

“Okay, I’ll walk you back right now,” I said.

Maya shook her head urgently. “No! What if he’s still nearby? I don’t want to put Mom or Lila in danger!”

She was so upset that tears were about to fall.

I let her come inside and sit down, then poured her a glass of water.

“Don’t be afraid. Stay here for a while. I’ll call Marge and Lila to come get you.”

At the mention of calling, Maya’s expression flickered for a second.

But I didn’t think much of it—I assumed she was just too shaken up.

As soon as I picked up my phone, rapid knocking came from the front door.

“Dylan! Is Maya with you?”

It was Lila.

I opened the door. Lila stood outside, looking panicked. When she saw Maya sitting safely in my room, she exhaled deeply in relief.

“Maya, you scared us half to death!”

Lila explained that Maya had gone out alone to clear her head, and never came home. She and Marge had been searching for hours until someone said they’d seen Maya heading toward my room.

After hearing that, my doubts faded a little.

Lila thanked me repeatedly. “I’m so sorry we disturbed you this late.”

I waved it off. “It’s fine. As long as she’s safe. The neighborhood isn’t great at night—don’t let her go out alone after dark.”

As Maya left, she glanced back at me. Her expression was hard to read.

I didn’t read into it at the time; I just thought she was still in shock.

But after that night, I started to feel that something was off about this family.