Hoarder Buried Alive

Beatrice got out of bed happy, the walls were white, the house was clean, and not a single piece of trash on the floor. No clutter around or thing out of place. She cooked herself some bacon, but the grease leaped off the pan and burned her hand.

And she woke up.

Trash filled the floor. Newspapers and boxes stacked to the ceiling. She walked around the mess and almost tripped. She jumped over some used tissues and ketchup bottles and went to the kitchen. She grabbed herself a bowl and wiped it clean with a paper towel. The water was turned off since she didn’t pay the water bill, but the sink was extremely full anyway. She heard a knock at the front door and she shimmied around her stuff to open the door. Four men in hazmat suits rushed in carrying trash bags and one of them lifted her out of the apartment. The men started filling the trash bags. The man lifting her put her plopped her outside. He took off his helmet and said, “I’m sorry, ma’am until we removed all the waste from your house, you cannot return. We’re quarantining this house until further notice.” “Wait, where do I stay until then?” Beatrice asked the man. The man just walked back inside the apartment building. She called her younger sister, Candice. “Hi, Candice, they finally did it, they quarantined my apartment and I can’t go back until they clean it,” Beatrice said embarrassed. “Alright, you can stay in the guest room for a few weeks. But there are going to a few rules. One, you need to throw away your trash. Two, shower daily. And three, you need to see a therapist to deal with your issues, so when you do go back you don’t create another unliveable situation for yourself,” Candice said sternly. Beatrice agreed to the terms.

In the coming weeks, Beatrice called a few counselor offices and cleaned up act literally. The hazmat suit men called her and asked her what she wanted to keep. She came back to her apartment and looked for old photos and furniture she wanted to keep. She left her place crying because some of the stuff she wanted to keep were water damaged and full of dirt and mold.

A few days later, she talked to her third counselor, retelling her story to her. Her mother was also a hoarder and when she died a few years ago, she kept a bunch of her stuff. She took on her mother’s habits and trash. She started crying thinking about her mother and she’d become just like her. She told the counselor she wanted to be normal like her sister. The counselor said it may take years, but one day she’d be a completely different person. She was scared about the person would become.

A week later, she got out of bed and made herself some scrambled eggs. She was happy for now. She heard a knock on her front door, it was her sister. She wanted to see her clean apartment. The walls were white and the floor was walkable. Beatrice showed her the now working sink and shower. Beatrice was happy.