Reborn as a Roach: My Ex's Worst Nightmare

I died. Then I woke up as a cockroach. Starving, I fired off a post online. [Private Investigator. Elite tracking. Price: Ten bags of cookies.] My first client slid into my DMs.

Some girl behind a blank burner account needed her boyfriend trailed. "Don't sweat it." My antennae flew across the screen. "My tracking skills rule." Her reply stalled. "He hits up tons of events.

Bring backup." "Relax. I'll bring my sisters." "Oh? How many sisters?" "A hundred and thirty thousand." Chapter 1 I scaled the walls for two straight weeks. Not a single crumb.

Otis slumped against the bottom of an empty Ritz cracker tin, his antennae drooping. "Give it up," he wheezed. "No one lives here.

We're going to starve sooner or later." He let out a dramatic sigh. "I'm only two weeks old. I'm way too young to die." I rolled my compound eyes.

Normal people died and reincarnated as pampered golden retrievers or spoiled stray cats. Me? I came back as a cockroach. A starving one, at that. I stared up at the cracked ceiling.

I could have at least reincarnated into something with a bit more mass. Maybe then I wouldn't have gotten my ass handed to me by that corner spider last night.

My past life remained a total blank. The memories of my death were gone. All I knew was this: I lived in a deserted, onebedroom apartment. I stuck to the shadows during the day.

At night, I embraced the pitchblack corners. The only thing left in this empty space was a smartphone, permanently tethered to a wall charger.

The power and water somehow still worked. The phone sat at a crisp hundred percent battery. I might have forgotten how I died, but the corporate grind never left my soul.

The hustle was literally baked into my DNA. The rest of the colony didn't call me Hustler Roach for nothing. I scurried across the cold, glass screen.

With a precise tap of my right antenna, I traced the unlock pattern. The screen flared to life, casting an eerie glow across the dark room. I opened the local forum app.

I stroked my antennae, my tiny brain sparking to life. An idea hit me. I could hustle online. A true grinder never stops making bank—even if that bank is just literal food.

I practically tapdanced across the keyboard and hit 'Post'. [Private Investigator. Elite tracking services.

Price: Ten bags of cookies.] Thirty minutes later, the notification bell chimed. My first gig! My legs blurred over the digital keyboard. [Anon:] Hey there.

I've been dating this guy for two months, but I swear he's hiding something. Major red flags. Can you investigate him for me? [InnocentRoach:] Say less. I'm on it.

My tracking skills are unparalleled. [momo:] Well… his social circle is huge. He goes to tons of events. You might need a whole team to tail him. [InnocentRoach:] Relax.

I'm bringing my sisters. [momo:] Oh? How many are you bringing? [InnocentRoach:] We'll start with a hundred and thirty thousand. I'll call in more if we need them.

The chat went dead. A long minute passed before the typing bubble reappeared. [momo:] That many people? That's going to cost a fortune.

I… I'm kind of broke right now. [InnocentRoach:] It's cheap. Just ten bags of cookies. Chocolate and strawberry preferred. [momo:] Seriously? You're a lifesaver! What's your name?

My legs slipped on the slick glass. [InnocentRoach:] I'm a roach. [momo:] ??? [InnocentRoach:] Autocorrect hates me. My last name is Roche. I locked the screen.

Otis swayed as he hoisted himself out of the cracker tin.

He looked faint with hunger, but his eyes gleamed with renewed energy. "Let's move out at midnight," he declared, adjusting his legs. "The sooner we finish this job, the sooner we feast." He puffed out his tiny chest. "I have standards.

Fresh food only. No dumpster diving for this guy." Around the room, a massive swarm of roaches nodded in perfect synchronization.

Chapter 2 Nora fired over the address and a photo of the guy. I squinted at the screen. The dude looked familiar.

A faint memory scratched at the back of my tiny brain, but I couldn't place him.

I shook my head, clearing the thought. "There's a crack in the window screen over there," I signaled to the swarm, my antennae twitching with adrenaline. "Take your time.

Single file. Tonight, we score big." Empty beer bottles littered the sticky coffee table. I squinted from the ceiling, matching Nora's photo to the guy below.

The dude chugging a cheap beer was definitely Hunter. The apartment reeked of stale alcohol and sweat.

The humid summer heat hung heavy in the room as his bros cheered him on. "Hunter, you absolute legend," one guy slurred, wiping his mouth. "A few sweet texts and she's practically begging for a ring.

How much is her daddy shelling out for the wedding?" Hunter slammed his empty bottle onto the wood.

A greasy, arrogant smirk spread across his flushed face. "Fuck the wedding money," he sneered. "I'm dragging her out tomorrow night. I'll get her knocked up.

Once she's carrying my kid, she's trapped." He leaned back, getting more and more worked up. "Boom.

No need for a fancy ring, and her rich family can bail me out of that milliondollar bookie debt." Someone across the table frowned. "What if she says no?" "We're officially dating.

She doesn't get to say no." Hunter scoffed, the ultimate walking red flag. "If she pushes back, I'll just force it. We're a couple.

It's my right." He gestured broadly to the room. "Even if she cries about it online, you boys would back me up, right?" A chorus of drunken cheers erupted.

Out on the dark balcony, nobody noticed the invasion. Otis directed a squad of heavyduty roaches.

They hoisted a sleek digital voice recorder over the threshold, panting under the weight. "Little to the left… now right!" Otis hissed. "Careful, boys!

Roche said this thing costs a fortune." I had scavenged the recorder from my empty apartment. The battery showed full.

I leaped onto the device and stomped all six of my legs onto the record button. A tiny red light blinked to life.

Otis stared at me, pure heroworship in his compound eyes. "Roche, from the second I met you, I knew you were built different.

How do you even know how to work human tech?" I clamped my antenna hard over his mouth. "Zip it. Let it record. This is our very first gig.

We cannot blow this." We shoved the recorder into the shadowy corner behind a dusty couch. The red LED pulsed steadily, capturing every toxic word.

Hunter was drunk now, getting louder and louder. "Once she pops out that kid, I'm laying down the law," he bragged, pointing a beer bottle at his friends. "I'm telling you, boys, right after a woman gives birth—that's the absolute best time to break her down and train her right." The recorder rolled long into the night.

Eventually, the guys passed out, their snores echoing through the trashed living room. Otis scurried onto the dining table.

He took one look at the greasy takeout boxes and recoiled in disgust. "This food is garbage," he complained, cleaning his antennae. "I need real snacks.

The good stuff." The rest of the swarm nodded in unison, turning their hopeful eyes toward me. The squad heaved the recorder back onto their shoulders.

I thumped my chest with a foreleg. "Relax. We close this case, and we feast on cookies by morning." We hauled the evidence back to our base.

The second I hit the floor of my apartment, I leaped onto my phone, compressed the audio file, and fired the whole damning recording straight to Nora.

Chapter 3 Nora messaged me bright and early the next morning. [momo:] Roche, thank you. You showed me exactly who he is. I just broke up with him.

By the way, I bought the cookies you asked for. Where do you want them delivered? [InnocentRoach:] Riverfront Apartments, Building 1, Unit 405. Just leave them at the door.

And make sure you tear all the wrappers open. Modern packaging was way too tough. My mandibles didn't stand a chance against that plastic.

By noon, soft footsteps echoed in the hallway. A young woman stood outside, knocking gently on the door. Otis panicked and dove straight back into his empty cracker tin.

The knocking echoed in the silence. Nobody answered. Then came the beautiful, crinkling sound of plastic tearing. The footsteps retreated down the hall. The colony went wild.

We swarmed the threshold, dragging the sweet loot inside. Otis hauled ass, working harder than anyone. He took a massive bite out of a strawberryflavored Oreo.

His antennae stiffened like they'd been electrocuted. "That's the stuff!" he squeaked. "Absolute perfection." I gnawed on a piece of cookie. I squeezed my eyes shut in satisfaction.

But once my stomach was full, the existential dread crept back in. I used to be human. How the hell did I become a roach? And more importantly, how could I turn back?

I chewed on that thought all afternoon, but came up empty. As the sun set, my phone buzzed. I scurried over and unlocked the screen. A message from Nora.

But the tone was completely wrong. [Anon:] Listen up, you meddling dead bitch. You're the one who brainwashed my girl into dumping me, aren't you?

I absolutely despise you toxic besties pulling strings in the background. Good thing I had her password, or I never would have caught your pathetic ass. I've got your exact address.

You better sleep with one eye open tonight! Otis couldn't read. He waddled over, letting out a tiny, satisfied burp. "Hey, Roche. Another gig?

Let's ask for mangoflavored cookies this time." "It's a hit," I said, my antennae twitching. "Someone's coming for revenge." "What? Is it that stray cat?

Or that dead rat in the sewer?" "It's a human." Right on cue, violent pounding hammered against the front door. The vibrations violently rattled my antennae.

Even Dash, the massive spider who hadn't moved from his corner all day, snapped. "What the fuck is all that banging?!" he screeched. "He just snapped half my webs!

I swear, I'll spin a web across his ugly face tonight!" Otis burped again, totally unbothered. "Why didn't you say so? Humans are pathetic.

They're way more scared of us than we are of them." From deep within the cabinets, thousands of tiny roach heads popped out, their antennae twitching in confusion at the noise.

Hunter's ragefueled voice boomed through the door. "Open up! I know you're in there, you bitch!" He kicked the wood. "Not gonna open the door? Fine.

I've got my ways!" The agonizing screech of a power drill ripped through the air. Hunter was drilling through the damn lock. The noise was deafening.

It rattled my microscopic eardrums. Dash lost his grip and plummeted from the corner of the wall to the floor.

Otis clamped his forelegs over his head. "Roche, what's the play?" Tens of thousands of eyes turned toward me, waiting for the signal. "When that door swings open," I commanded, my voice steady, "we fly straight for his face." A massive wave of roaches nodded in agreement.

I flexed my wings, feeling the raw power of my new body. Southern roaches hit different. We could crawl, we could fly, and we were much stronger than those little bugs in the north.

The lock shattered. Hunter kicked the door wide open. He stood in the darkness, looking like a total psycho.

Chapter 4 I narrowed my compound eyes. "Hold the line—" Hunter's hand slapped aggressively against the entryway wall, fumbling for the light switch. "Get your fucking ass out here, you dead bitch!

I'm gonna tear you apart!" he roared. A suffocating black cloud exploded.

Tens of thousands of wings buzzed in a deafening, vibrating hum, launching a kamikaze assault straight at his face. His arrogant sneer vanished, replaced by pure terror.

His airway clamped shut. A phantom wad of wet cotton shoved itself down his throat. He threw his mouth open. Nothing came out. Not a single sound. Otis led the vanguard.

He divebombed straight onto the bridge of Hunter's nose. Mandibles twitched. Compound eyes locked onto human pupils.

And behind Otis, tens of thousands of other unblinking eyes stared back. Hunter couldn't hold it in any longer. A shrill scream pierced the silent night.

He blindly thrashed backward, stumbling out the doorway. His foot caught the edge of the top step. He plummeted down the concrete stairwell.

A sickening crack echoed as his leg folded under his weight. Otis puffed out his chest, straightening his antennae with absolute swagger. "What did I tell you?

They're terrified of us." Behind him, the massive swarm shivered their antennae in a collective victory dance.

Down in the stairwell, Hunter pulled his broken body along, scrambling desperately into the dark corner.

He slapped frantically at the bugs crawling over his clothes, his voice shattering into a hysterical sob. "Get off! Get the fuck off me!

Help!" Roaches rained down onto the concrete. A fresh wave immediately surged up his pants. He desperately stomped his good foot, crushing a few of the females.

A horrifying burst of microscopic baby roaches flooded out from the splattered remains, swarming his shoes. Hunter totally broke.

He dragged his shattered leg across the pavement, whimpering as he limped off the apartment complex property. The smartphone on the table lit up.

A notification flashed from my very first client, Nora. [momo:] Roche, Hunter just logged into my socials. Is he coming after you?

Please be careful! [InnocentRoach:] Already came and went. Sent that piece of trash crawling out of here with a snapped leg. [momo:] ? Wow!

You're incredible! [InnocentRoach:] Appreciate it. Keep me in mind for your next stakeout. Toptier service, cheap rates, and absolutely zero risk to my personal safety.

Nora's cookie dropoff was enough to feed the colony for a solid month. I was literally vibrating with energy, ready to hustle for my second gig.

Then, Nora's name frantically popped back up on my screen. After the hacking incident, Nora smartly nuked her old profile and switched to a new name.

Hunter tried searching 'Anon', and thousands of identical burner accounts with the same default avatar flooded his screen. He practically popped a blood vessel.

He somehow dug up her actual new handle. Smug, he typed it in—ManifestingSixFigures. Another endless wave of cloned meme accounts stared back at him.

He snapped and hurled his phone against the wall. Nora's frantic messages lit up my screen. [ManifestingSixFigures:] Roche, I swear someone broke into my apartment last night.

Can you track down who did it? [InnocentRoach:] Say less. Drop the pin. I'll be right there. [ManifestingSixFigures:] I'm at the Oakwood Complex.

I'm stuck at work right now, but I hid a spare key behind the porch light just for you— [InnocentRoach:] Keep it. I don't do keys.

Chapter 5 [ManifestingSixFigures:] How will you get in without a key? [InnocentRoach:] Through the window.

If I couldn't manage that, I wouldn't be much of a P.I., would I? [ManifestingSixFigures:] The job market is brutal right now. Even private investigators need to fly.

I was thinking about quitting my job yesterday. Never mind, I'm staying put. I locked the screen. I stroked my twin antennae, lost in thought. Roaches had terrible noses.

I needed backup. I crawled into the cracker tin and dragged out a pristine Oreo that Otis had been hoarding.

Ignoring his dramatic wailing, I lugged the prize to the mouse hole in the corner. "Hey, Enid," I called into the darkness. "Can you help me track a scent at my client's place?" Enid emerged from the shadows.

She smoothly kicked the Oreo back into her hole with a flick of her foot.

Her beady eyes glared at me with pure disdain. "First of all, I'm female," she squeaked sharply. "Second of all, I held you when your mother laid your egg case!" Noted.

Grandma Enid it is! Nora's onebedroom apartment was surprisingly cozy and welldecorated.

The moment Enid slipped under the doorframe, her tiny nose twitched in disgust. "Two distinct scents in here." My antennae whipped straight up. "Who?" Enid scurried frantically around the living room, taking rapid sniffs of the carpet. "Besides the pretty girl who lives here, there's another human.

The scent is fading, but it's here." Nora's intuition was razorsharp. The bedspread was slightly wrinkled. A dining chair was pushed out half an inch too far.

Tiny details screamed that someone had breached the apartment last night. Living alone made her hyperaware of her surroundings.

The second she unlocked her door last night, her eyes swept the room, registering the microscopic shifts.

She smoothly backed out into the hallway without making a sound and booked a hotel room. Enid systematically sniffed every square inch of the baseboards.

Finally, she vanished under the empty bedframe. "Right here," her voice echoed from the shadows. "They were hiding under the bed all night." "Do you know who it is?" "Ten cookies to unlock the rest of the intel." "Five!

I know for a fact Otis only stashed five.

I'll drag them all out for you the second we get back." Enid poked her head out and nodded in satisfaction. "The scent under this bed matches the guy who broke down our door with a power drill last month." My microscopic heart hammered against my exoskeleton.

It was Hunter. That psycho refused to let it go. He snuck into Nora's place to trap her. I launched myself off the floor, spreading my wings.

I flew straight back to our base and fired up the phone. [InnocentRoach:] Do not go home for the next few days. I'll clear out the intruder.

Stay put until I give the green light. [ManifestingSixFigures:] Thank you, Roche. Please be careful. Bring backup! [InnocentRoach:] We'll travel light.

I'm only bringing thirty thousand. Any more, and it'll get too crowded. [ManifestingSixFigures:] Thirty thousand?! Roche, my apartment fits ten people tops.

If you bring thirty thousand, you couldn't even fit their ashes in there! I didn't have time to argue with her logic. I turned my compound eyes toward Dash.

I couldn't exactly coat her pristine apartment with tens of thousands of roaches. Dash was the perfect operative for this. He was a clean freak, and very aloof.

Coming and going without a trace. I flew up to the ceiling corner, landing near his intricate web. He sat perfectly still, waiting for some idiot gnat to fly into the trap.

He had been in that exact spot for days. His patience was terrifying. Chapter 6 The silk threads vibrated.

Dash scrambled down his web, trembling with excitement. "Dinner practically delivered itself!" "Friendly fire, man!" I yelled. "Don't eat me." Dash froze.

Disappointment washed over his eyes, and he reverted to his aloof self. "Look, I need a favor," I bargained. "Ten gnats.

I need you to round up some guys for a job tonight." "Twenty." "Deal." Dash slipped out the cracked window. He returned with a literal army. Among them was Titus.

He was a massive huntsman spider, the size of a grown man's fist, with thick, banded legs clinging to the drywall.

He ruled the deep brush over in the city park, and he carried himself with a terrifying arrogance that eclipsed everyone else in the room. "Call me Titus," he demanded.

I dipped my antennae respectfully. "Titus." Dash led the battalion.

They marched through the shadows of the highrises and poured through Nora's open window in absolute, chilling silence.

Over thirty thousand spiders locked into their ambush positions. They didn't make a single sound. They were cold, calculated professionals.

Totally different from my chattering, hyperactive roach squad. The hands on the wall clock slowly ticked forward. 1:00 AM.

Metal scraped inside the front door's deadbolt. "When he steps inside, swarm him," I whispered. "Watch your spacing in the back—no stampedes." Thirty thousand spiders nodded in perfect unison.

Titus let out a silent yawn and lazily sprawled his massive, hairy body directly over the entryway light switch. Hunter had secretly copied Nora's apartment key.

The cylinder clicked. He crept inside. He shoved the door shut, plunging the entryway into pitch blackness.

A sick, toxic grin twisted his face. "Let's see where you run tonight." Titus lifted one heavy, banded leg. Click. The apartment flooded with blinding light. Hunter blinked.

The pristine white walls were gone. They were completely smothered by a writhing, suffocating blanket of arachnids. Millions of spindly legs overlapped.

The overhead bulbs cast horrific, jittery shadows across the room. The cabinets. The sofa. The dining chairs. The hardwood floor.

Every square inch of the apartment crawled with spiders