I lived in a tiny room. My room mates lived in much bigger rooms.
An inexplicable wave of apathy had struck me, leaving me to drop out of my study through not attending it
I was sitting in my room. That was all I did.
Eating discounted cornflakes out of the box with my hands, reality began to crumble.
One day the rat appeared. It sat in front of my small cupboard. It was looking at me. I stared back. I am not sure for how long we did this. The rat didn't move but I heard it breathing. Breathing sickly, almost breathing stertorous.

At some point I would fall into some sort of slumber, somewhat resembling sleep.
I didn't sleep properly since the apathy had kicked in. Just resting on my mattress, staring at the ceiling or wall. I was thinking of my life so far. But it hardly evoke any emotional response in me. It was a pure look at facts. The apathy was strong.
As I awoke, the rat was gone. My roommate knocked and told me to pay the rent in a voice, which showed clear disapproval for my lifestyle. I did neither move nor respond. The apathy was strong. I could not care, did not even aspire to care, although I could somewhat see the desirability of that feeling.
I stayed on my mattress, fell into a slumber once more.

When I opened my eyes, the rat was back. It was closer now. Halfway between the cupboard and my mattress it sat. Not moving, just staring at me. Breathing sickly, and oddly loud.
What did it want from me? Food? I had eaten my last crumbs of cornflakes a while ago. I thought that it must be unnatural for a rodent not to move for such a period of time.
I did not move. Days could have passed. I wouldn't know. Sometimes I thought of my old life in my hometown. Before the apathy came and I did not leave my room one morning. At first, my roommates were concerned. But as I showed no response to their help, their charitable feelings soon turned into hostility.
I did not care.
I stared at the rat staring at me. After a long time the slumber came.

As I was awake the rat was gone again. My roommate had slipped a note under the door: “Pay the rent! I will call the police or the ambulance if you don't come out and pay soon.” This did not really stir up anything in me.
My stomach was the ultimate emptiness. I did not remember the last time I ate cornflakes. Could have been weeks. I was not sure.
I did not feel like going out for groceries. I sat down again. But the pain of my stomach was hellish. Torturing me into spasms.
At least I got up and went downstairs to leave the house. My roommate was not at home.
I passed a mirror, saw myself.
Grey skin, dark, dark eyes. Pale. An unhealthy beard covering the sick looking face. And I was skinny. Oh, so skinny. Just bones left, with pale, dry skin tightly wrapped around them. How long hadn't I eaten? Maybe for weeks.

It was an afternoon, late winter. It was cold. I was only wearing an old purple sweater, grey skinny jeans and worn out black-and-white sneakers. I did not mind the cold as I approached the ATM.
Almost nothing left in the account. Maybe good for some cornflakes boxes. If discounted.
Certainly not enough to pay the rent.
I could not remember where my money had gone, but there was no emotional response in me. No anxiety, nothing. Just void.
I took the money and went to a store. Bought discounted cornflakes with it. The people in the shop and on the street looked at me in disgust, some in worry. It was as if they had seen a ghost. Albeit a smelly one. I had no idea when I had last showered. Didn't even know when the apathy had started. Somewhere after the summer? No sense of time. I was lost.
I went home.
Ate two of the three boxes of cornflakes.
Then I fell asleep.

The rat was back. When I opened my eyes it was directly in front of my face. Breathing on me. The breath smelled sick. It stood on its hind legs. We stared at each other again.
Was I mad? I could not care. All the same to me.

After a long time I reached into one of the open cornflakes boxes, only moving my arm. Staring at the rat.
I gave some cornflakes to it. Put them carefully in its mouth, like a lover. Rat drool on my finger. The box was empty, I opened another one. Feeding the rat. It ate and ate. So much. More than I imagined a rat could fit into its stomach. It ate the whole box. It was still looking at me. Did it want more?
My primal instincts started a last assault on my apathetic brain: “Don't give everything to the rat, you will starve!”
I did not attempt to open another box.
Suddenly the rat bit me. Snapping its sharp, foul teeth into my hand. I screamed in pain, rolling around on the mattress. Lost sight of the rat. As the pain receded, I turned. The rat was gone. Not a trace.
Suddenly it knocked at my door.

My roommate: “What are you doing in there? Are you okay?”
I replied: “I am fine. Don't come in, please.”
“Really!? You still didn't pay the rent! What is wrong with you?”
“Really, I am fine. Don't come in. Please.”
“No! I haven't seen you in ages! I won't take this no more. I am coming in now and I want explanations!”

She tried to open the door. It was locked.
Did I do that? I did not remember.
I did not even remember owning a key for my room. But the apathy was crashing in again in waves, so I sunk back on my mattress.

“You know what this means! Don't think you can just hide there. This is not the end!”
She was gone.

I was much more exhausted than I normally should have been from this short dialogue. I looked at my skeletal arms in apathy. The slumber came.

I awoke with weight sitting on my body. I opened my eyes and saw rats. They were sitting on me. Around me. My whole room was filled with rats.
They stared at me. Sick breathing.
Smell of garbage and dust.
I reached towards the cornflakes. Tried to open a new box. It ripped open, spilling out over my body. The rats ate. They came and came, eating from my body as a table. Sometimes I got bit. Pain, but I didn't care. I just stared. Opened another box. This time pouring it over me, also in my mouth. The rats were eating from my mouth as from a trough. Rat spit and human spit mixing.

Suddenly voices at the door. Banging. Getting louder. The sound of heavy tools. The door sprung open. Horrified faces of men in uniforms.
Parasite exterminators looking at a living corpse feeding rats with cornflakes from its mouth.
Stomping, shouting. Someone throwing up. The rats got pushed away with a broom stick.

They took me away. I was in a fog. No sense of reality reaching through. They put me into a hospital. Gave me drugs. My apathy was different then. More hazy. I lay in a bed under white sheets. Food getting pumped into me.
I heard the doctors talk: Malnutrition. No food. Survived on cornflakes for months. A miracle. A sick miracle.

There was a TV above my head. I was forced to watch. The news were on, local ones, national ones.
A rat plague. They showed my neighbourhood. Everybody leaving their houses. Such a clean neighbourhood normally. Now poison everywhere in the houses, laid down by government agents. They are all puzzled.
A live interview with an exterminator. He couldn't explain the sudden plague, the invasion. It is abhorrent, he said.
Suddenly I saw it. In the shop window behind him. A rat. Standing on its hind legs. It stared at me.
The apathy was useless. Terror struck me, like a knife. The drugs didn't help, I felt paralysed. Then I heard it.

Sick breathing near my ear. I closed my eyes.