Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - 12x03: Lost Stories 20

Episode Date: January 16, 2024

Stories in this episode: Get Out Of The Car | sinenox (1:18) I Watched It Beg For It's Life Before I Slit Its Throat | selfishxmachine (7:34) Adopt A Dog. They May Just Save You | dobiegirl1 (16:59) You Might Need This | hidingissafe (27:39) Mandy Roper | cnikkih (34:24) Two Years Of Hell | Socivarious (42:41) Extended Patreon Content: I'm Not Your Bonnie | exfaerie The Reason We Have Bars on the Windows | Emilli Apartment for Rent | Crystal Due to periodic changes in ad placement, time stamps are estimates and are not always accurate. All of the stories you've heard this week were narrated and produced with the permission of their respective authors. Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast is not associated with Reddit or any other message boards online. To submit your story to the show, send it to [e-mail]. Get access to extended, ad-free episodes of Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast with bonus stories every week at a higher bitrate along with a bunch of other great exclusive material and merch at patreon.com/letsnotmeetpodcast. This podcast would not be possible to continue at this rate without the help of the support of the legendary LNM Patrons. Come join the family! Check out the other Cryptic County podcasts like Odd Trails and the Old Time Radiocast at CrypticCountyPodcasts.com or wherever you get your podcasts! Download the DraftKings Casino app now and use code MEET. New players get an instant deposit match up to $100 in casino credits when you deposit five dollars or more. - Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/groups/433173970399259/ - Website - https://letsnotmeetpodcast.com/ - Patreon - https://patreon.com/letsnotmeetpodcast - Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/letsnotmeetcast/  - Twitch - https://twitch.tv/chipschicken  

This podcast contains adult language and content. Listen to discretion is advised. If you have a story to share, send it to Let's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com. Enjoy the show. Hello everyone, welcome to the Lost Stories Part 20, the series where we share some classic previously lost recordings from the early days of the show. Thanks to the help of our loyal fans, we've had the pleasure of recovering these classic episodes, which most of you have probably never heard before. We're back with another collection of tales from 2018 that are guaranteed to generate a scare.

Enjoy! care, enjoy. This one happened to me a while ago, but I remembered it when I was talking to some friends recently and thought that you guys might appreciate it. I attended a small liberal arts university between a desert and some mountains in southwestern United States. After a couple of years, I opted to move off campus with my boyfriend, and we found the cheapest housing imaginable in a tiny town across the wash-in up against the mountains. Very few people lived there and except for us all of them belonged to two minority groups

that hated each other, some of which were involved in active gang warfare that I suspected was related to the drug trade in a city nearby. A very large and depressed one for the area. We lived in a small gated community complex with the sad pool and six studio apartments and things in the area were just kind of strung around. There was no landscaping on any of the properties just desert sand everywhere. Chickens and dogs roamed free and you could hear gunshots nearby sometimes. We lived there because the rent was $120 a month compared with $1,200 apartments in any of the nearby

towns. I made friends with neighbors on both sides of the violence and was treated well by everyone. We just tried to be helpful, but otherwise kept to ourselves and living there really wasn't bad. The police would take forever to appear if you did have a problem, however. This happened early morning on the weekend. I was helping some professors with fieldwork and the high desert, so I had to head out unusually early. I dragged myself into some clothes at 5am, grabbed the equipment I needed, and loaded up into my car. As I was getting into my car I saw a huge, angry looking man heading my way from across the

street. Early 40s I'd guess, athletic, like a bouncer, at least 6'4". I only barely had enough time to discreetly hit the lock button before he was right beside the driver's side window. It was a good thing that I did because he immediately tried the handle. What do you think you're doing? He said in a way that sounded as though he really wanted to say, what the fuck do you think you're doing? But thought better of it. I looked around at the empty street as if some other person would materialize and make sense of this for me.

I had never seen this guy before. I wondered if anyone knew I was there. Well, he really did look mad and he was staring down at me through the window inches away. What? I said, placing the key into the ignition to start my car, but he put himself so close that I couldn't move without the risk of hitting him. You heard me, what are you doing? Driving? I said, trying to read his expression. The hell you are, get out of the car, now. I looked around more frantically, but everyone was asleep

and behind multiple barriers. I began imagining him dragging me into the Dark House project across the street. He might not even be local. Being pulled into a van might be even worse. I wasn't sure what to say, so I just stared at him. Hoping he didn't notice my right hand behind me, bumbling for my phone.

I said to get your ass out of that car. Get out of the car. At this point, he starts pounding his fist on the glass of my window, not hard enough to break it, but threateningly. I hunk the horn once, but it's quiet and puny, and no one appears. Thanks, Chevrolet. I finally muster enough confidence to say what's the problem here? My thoughts are racing.

No one would think twice about a broken window. It would take hours for my boyfriend to notice the car is still here. I left my knife inside. I gave my pepper spray to a friend. I don't have anything here to really defend myself with. If you don't get out of the car this instant, I'm going to drag your ass out. If you don't get out of the car this instant, I'm going to drag your ass out. He's yelling now. I feel trapped and frantic for a moment before he continued. And I'll get your parents out here. And they'll give you a whooping you ain't ever seen.

A wave of hope crashes over me and I momentarily suspended between fear and relief. What? How old are you anyway? Carefully and full view of him, I pulled out my wallet and withdrew my license, placing it against the glass so he could read it, and leaning around it so I could see him and so that he could see that it was clearly my face on it.

He stared at it for a moment, and then broke into a wide sheepish smile and began backing away. Oh, no way, really? Oh my God, I'm so sorry, miss, I'm sorry. I thought you were a 14 year old girl. I thought you were taking your parents' car to drive. I was like, no way that kid can drive. You look very young. I'm sorry.

He headed back across the street. Then, as an afterthought, turned and said, that hat makes you look very young. Have a nice day. I tried to smile and wave good and naturedly. I realized that the guy felt bad and instead of a violent rapy gangster was most likely a thoughtful, concerned citizen. He actually looked a lot nicer now as he continued to wave awkwardly. I caught my breath and put my car into gear and got out of there.

This happened to me last night, and I'm still feeling pretty uncomfortable about the whole exchange. Before I jump into it, I'll give you a little background context. I work with a guy named Mike who is two years older than me. Shortly after meeting Mike, he friended me on Facebook and I accepted because I wanted to avoid any awkwardness at work and don't really use it often anyways. Mike would send me weird messages that were often out of the blue and unrelated, but nothing creepy or worthwhile.

I figured he just wanted an excuse to talk, so I did my best to give him the hint that I wasn't interested, without being too rude by responding with one word answers days later, or not at all, and bringing up the fact that I have a boyfriend frequently whenever he spoke to me, both in person and online. It hadn't been a huge problem up until this point. Just more of a mild annoyance that I mostly didn't think about. But also started to realize from my experiences with him at work, that he may have an issue with social interactions,

which led me to believe he was even more mild than I had previously thought. He has a hard time picking up on sarcasm or body language, and usually starts conversations by bringing up the same topics over and over again. Most of our conversations in person involve him asking a series of questions that I answer out of politeness followed by an awkward silence. I usually feel forced to end by asking, you? Anyways, last night I was working and he came to visit unprompted from a different floor later in the evening when most of the residents were already in bed. We are both PCAs. He started up the same way. Have you seen any good

movies lately? Do you like to drive fast? I've seen you speeding in your car after work. Do you drink? Do you go to the beach? I was only half paying attention because I was doing paperwork and tried to make it pretty clear with my body language and repeated what responses that I wasn't too interested in continuing his interrogation. But then he asks me, have you ever killed a hog? I thought I heard him wrong, so I ask again, what? And turn to look at him, and he repeats, have you ever killed a hog?

I laugh a little awkwardly because it was unexpected, and more than a little weird, and respond, no, to which he stands there smiling. And because it's so awkward, eventually, I stupidly ask, have you? Mike laughs and says simply, yes. This leaves me weirded out enough to ask, why? To which he responds, what do you mean why? Me flabbergasted. I ask, why did you kill Hog, dude? Mike laughs. I'm confused and desperate for context, so I ask. You just went out and killed a pig?

No, it was for a function. I let out an uncomfortable laugh of relief, but before things can go back to normal, he hits me with, yeah, I was the one that got to kill it. I got to see it beg for its life before I cut its throat. At this, I'm completely shocked, creeped out, and a little worried that no one else is around right now, because I know him enough to know that he's not joking. Why did you say it like that? My claps, even though there's no humor in my response or voice and repeats himself. I watched it beg for its life before I slid its throat.

I responded. Dude, stop. Seriously. Mike smiles and I pointedly ignored him. Now as I text my boyfriend because I'm pretty thoroughly disturbed. It's quiet for a few moments before he says, yeah, it took a long time to bleed out too. Much longer than the chicken I killed, I responded. Mike, stop. And he says, I thought you liked horror movies. I say as firmly as possible. Yeah, I do, but this is creepy and you're making me uncomfortable. Mike continues to linger, repeating one of those same creepy statements

every once in a while, but I am now fully ignoring him since he is repeatedly disrespected my request for him to stop after I told him I was uncomfortable. He finally stops and then again out of the blue. Do you have Instagram? Even though I'm pissed, I'm more than a little relieved with the change of topic and respond with a very rude and angry yep to which he says oh cool and then proceeds to go back to his floor. I wish that that was the end of it because as if I was not freaked out enough 10 minutes later the phone at the desk rings and I thinking it is just a

resident's family member as per usual I answer but no it's Mike calling from his floor and he seriously asks me do you want to go eat octopus later? I'm completely done with this dude because I'm angry and responded no to which he says, okay, how about pork? I tell him a resident needs me and hang up, busy relaying my story to my boyfriend over text when finally my coworker on that floor for the night makes an appearance. We are sitting together but I refrain from telling him what had just happened because he is a lot older, might think it's funny, or misunderstand and is friendly

with Mike. But the phone rings again 10 minutes later. And I ask my coworker to answer the phone this time. And it's Mike again. And I can tell by the side of the conversation, I can hear that he was looking to speak to me again and asks about the resident I said I needed to help. My coworker doesn't know about the problem and jokingly tells him to come down and hang out with us. And before I can make any sort of gesture that says hell no, my coworker turns to me and says, Mike wants to know, your favorite type of wine so he can bring you some. This guy is relentless. I tell my coworker I don't want any and he relays the message before hanging up a few

seconds later. The phone rings again before we leave, but this time it thankfully isn't him. I'm a little worried about walking out to my car at this point because I'm super uncomfortable and he has already made it clear that he knows which car I drive, so I called my friend to talk to me as I walked through the dark in the parking lot. It was 11 p.m. and my boyfriend's phone had died, thankfully, Mike does not make an appearance and I get home okay. Maybe it was an overreaction on my part but the whole thing creeped me out. And I am honestly worried about the next time I will have to work with him.

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And while you see a lot of fucked up shit that you would probably go into a fit of rage after you hear, you also get to channel that rage into helping lots of awesome critters. It's pretty much what it's meant for. Anyway, the way the block is set up, it's like one winding stretch of county buildings. Basically, there's everything on this side from doctors to homeless shelters, so this block is full of interesting characters. No biggie, I live in a pretty shit area so crazy stuff happens all the time. Someone jumped out of their car and stabbed someone in a different car in traffic in front

of me last year. Didn't even make the news. Took the cops almost 30 minutes to get there. So the cops sucked too. Back on track. My job lets me bring my dog to work, which is awesome. He just hangs out with me or gets put in the doggy play group

with his friends depending on my day's activity level. He's super nice to everyone but can be a little intimidating to some people at first, which is understandable since he's a 95-pound doberman, and they get a bit of a bad rap. So a few days ago, I was in front of my office on my own since my coworker was on a break. Two guys come in right off the bat.

I'm like, damn, dudes are high as a motherfucking kite. Whatever, it happens. We're located next to a large college. It's to be expected. Anyway, one of the dudes starts asking about volunteering because he has some community service hours due from breaking the law, and I point him into the direction of the coordinator who does that. He goes.

The other guy stays and starts making idle conversation. What's my name? My birthday, favorite color. He complements my tattoos and asks if I got them all for my birthday. I don't know, like I said, this town's weird, so I don't question too much anymore. Then out of nowhere, he starts telling me how hot I am and asks for my last name. I had to give him my first name because it's engraved on my shirt, but I lied about the last name. I should have told him I was not comfortable with giving my last name, but I have a

two nice syndrome, and honestly I didn't want to be harassed any further from saying no, as I have been in the past. So the other guy comes back. They leave and I take my break. Low and behold, not 10 minutes into my break, I get a text from my coworker that the guys came back looking for me and not to come back to work.

They leave about 20 minutes later. I'm in the clear. So fast forward, the day's pretty much done and I'm just closing up shop. A different coworker than the one I worked up front with comes and sees I'm hurrying to leave. They ask me if I want them to take the dog out to the yard, we have in the front of the property to do his business.

I appreciate it and agree. The coworker says he'll put him in my car too since it's park next to his and he doesn't mind. He has the night shift to watch the animals so he's got some time to chill. The coworker is also a homie and knows my routine. I say sure since I have a few binders to carry out anyway and hand him my key and off they go he brings my key back about 15 minutes later. I'm the last to leave for the night besides coworker 2 who is staying overnight till someone releases him in the morning.

It's about 8 and pretty dark here and the parking lot we have is so small employees have to find street parking which is a whole other level of shit. As I'm about halfway to my car, probably a five minute walk away, I can hear some low talking and footsteps behind me. It doesn't ring any bells at first, and there's lots of buildings and stuff on the street, and some homeless people mill about later at night, but they're pretty harmless. So I just keep on trucking. Not that many steps later, I hear the steps speed up and a hand on my shoulder.

The hand stopped me so abruptly, I end up dropping my binders with loose papers I just organized, so I'm a little irked now. I turn and freeze when I see it's the two guys from earlier. Did you need something? I asked while a sinking feeling set in for some reason. I just wanted to know why you lied to my brother here about your name. Are you like one of them stuck up bitches who think they're too good? The guy who wanted to volunteer asked, I stood there with my mouth open like a fucking fly trap. No idea how he knew I lied when the other guy answered for me. He told me he found

me on Facebook from searching my work and saw me here, some shit like that. So I came up with the smoothest lie I could and said that I'm not allowed to give up my full name to customers for counting lost safety regulations, which is total bullshit. But they looked like they believed it. While I'm saying all of this, I see his hand resting on his pocket and I subtly take in, they both have decent sized pocket knives halfway concealed. I carry one myself at work just in case an animal ever gets caught on leash or something and we need to free them quickly But I'm a 21 year old girl that is 5 foot 2 and 100 pounds. I'm not doing shit to two guys if it came down to it

I know that so I'm wanted to cry while the volunteer guy is going on about how it's good I'm not a stuck up cunt because they don't like stuck up cunts. And they think they all should be taught a lesson in mannerisms. Gag me with a fucking spoon. What a prick. I'm trying to think of how to get the fuck out of here. No one's around. I don't want to use my cell phone and call 911 or anyone in front of them. And I'm almost in my car so I don't want to risk going back to work. The guy who's got the hots for me is staring at me like a damn Christmas ham and I want a puke. Then they tell me about this party they're going to and that I should come since I'm a good girl

and good girls good at parties with them. The way the volunteer guy said it made it seem like an order or not a request and the hairs on the back of my neck went up. So I get the idea while he's talking and just pray to the Almighty and it fucking works. I forced a relaxed smile and agree, saying I just have to put my binders in the car or my boss will kill me. They look stoked on my agreement and proceed to follow me to my car. It's too dark to see

inside the windows and street lights are a rare thing on this side of town. The businesses are pretty spaced so the streets are not lit well. I get to the back door of my car, open it, and smile when I see my dogs head pop up from the trunk out of his slumber. I drive an SUV, so I lay the back seats down and my dog has the whole back seat and trunk area. Before I even make a sound, his ears go up and he starts growling. I hear a, what the fuck is that behind me? And that's all it took for him to get his ass up and lunch for them, doing his best to get his large body between me and the door.

for them, doing his best to get his large body between me and the door. I grab his collar and let him jump out of the car, out in front of me, and let me tell you, he's going fucking nuts. He's got Saint Bernard Drul flying out of his mouth, and he's snapping and barking, and growling something fucking scary. The guy's back up and tell me we can't bring the dog to the party and to put the fucking deranged mutt back in the car. I hold back from holding my eyes and apologize, saying, I'm just going to give him some dog food that I keep in the glovebox. I shut the door and open the front door. The dog will not get in, he just keeps growling and

snapping at the two guys. So I keep a hold of his collar, and I get into the driver's side first, then calling him in. Thankfully, he reluctantly follows. I shut it as soon as his ass is in the passenger seat, slightly crowding and giving those little boof barks. If you know what I mean. I hit the lock doors button and turn on my car. As soon as I do that, they know I'm not giving those little boof barks, if you know what I mean. I hit the lock doors button and turn up my car. As soon as I do that, they know I'm not about to go to some fucking party with their dumb asses and start banging on my window.

My dog goes into rage mode and hops and the back and starts going ballistic while I peel the fuck out of there. Not caring if I hit either one of them. Once I'm down the street a bit, I see them in the rear view mirror, just staring at my car. It took the opposite direction in which I normally go home just to make myself feel better,

even though I have an hour commute home. As soon as I get home, I deactivate my Facebook. I called in the next day and told my boss what had happened over the phone. And they're working to transfer me to one of the other shelters in the county, which is pretty sweet because all of them would still be a shorter commute,

but it still sucks to be afraid to go into work. So fucking creepy drug guys, let's not meet again because my dog goes everywhere with me, and I'm sure he'd love to have a second cut, and I spent most of the day in total darkness, and it isn't something that I enjoy. I ended up wandering around town throughout the day to kill some time. After spending a few hours at my university, I decided I should get a hotel for me and my dog, as the power outage was expected to last a few days, and we live in the

south where no AC can be a big issue. I finally manage to find somewhere nearby that will book me and my pup without costing a few arms and legs, and that's when everything started to go downhill. I would need to get a cab from my old school back home and then to the hotel. Everything is within three miles of each other and I figured it would be simple. I wasn't aware that there was a late graduation ceremony going on, so every time I tried to call a cab, they wouldn't show up or someone else would take them. When the sun was starting to set, I found someone who was a previous classmate of mine. They gave me a ride home and I packed my stuff up and called another cab. Lo and behold, it

didn't feel like coming and since Uber wasn't working, I decided I would take my bag, my pup, and myself, and walk my happy butt the mile or so to the hotel so that she could have a good rest. I start walking, and about one quarter of the way there I hear someone behind me, in term my nightmare, a six-foot-something brick house of a person with a grisly look about them. They looked me up and down and said, Hey there girl, where are you going? Now let it be known, I am new to this area. I am in the middle of nowhere and this is horrifying to me. I decided my options were to be incredibly polite, or to run screaming, so I fell back

on politeness. After rejecting him, it turns out he was walking to the place right next to my hotel, so I decided I would try to humanize myself as much as possible and keep a dialogue going between us. He asked me questions about my family, friends, and why I was here. I made a bit of a story that I had family, and I was here for graduation, so it seemed like I would have people who knew I would be expected. Shortly after this, he reaches into his pocket and says, you might need this, as he hands me a small knife. Not knowing what to say, I thank him a few times.

Moments later, he is talking to himself before looking at me, and inviting me to live with his niece and her boyfriend. Internally, I am screaming. I know I could do nothing to this guy. He has at least a foot and half on me and I'm exhausted. We continue walking as he tells me he gets a good vibe from me and he could see us in a relationship and with a family. He keeps muttering to himself about tons of stuff, people, girls. It was hard to make out. Then he looks at me and says, I have epiphany. I realized he meant I have an epiphany, but that was how it was said.

I said, oh, he just smiled and did a head shake and kind of chuckled to himself muttering, goodnight, goodnight. Figure it's all right, we're about halfway there, and I'm holding a conversation listening to how he went to prison for two years over a gun and how Snoop Dogg dedicated a song to him. We get to a very dark part of the walk and he looks at something walking towards us and pushes me to the side of the sidewalk that is away from the street and says, you walk here now because you're mine now little girly. Suddenly people walking to their cars from graduation walk past us as I feel safer and I know I'm home free. As we approach the hotel parking lot, he asks if he can join me and make up some excuse about how it's only booked for one

person and it's not in my values. He follows me into the lobby. He follows me to the front desk. He follows me into the lobby. He follows me to the front desk. I am told I can't stay because I'm 20, not 21, and they had a recent policy change. My heart sinks. He is attached to my side and I can't tell anybody I'm terrified. I see a worker at another desk and I say I'm going to the bathroom. I whisper to her. Please, can I talk to you somewhere? I'm in a small emergency. She escorts me away and I explain that he's been following me.

She has me sit down and he's trying to talk another person into using their ID for what he is now calling our room. A woman employee walks over and says, do you know this girl? And he replies baffled. Yeah, this is my girl. We've known each other for years. She looks at him and asks him my name. She's my girl.

He says. She tells him if he doesn't leave the lobby police will be called. It ends up that she is the bar tender. She sits me down and ended up helping me get my room and I fully intend to thank her and the other woman properly. After an hour of sitting in the bar and her negotiating my stay, she looks at me and says, if you wouldn't have been able to stay, I would have paid for you or taken you home because he's still out there. He has still been outside on and off since this morning. So good vibe, knife man. Although you are determined to try, let's not meet again.

Picture it. Home Town, 2003. I was 25, a year out of college working on my first grown-up job, and had been living alone in my apartment for about six months when I arrived home to find my phone ringing. I missed the call, checked the caller ID, and didn't recognize the number. The area code was from my old college town about an hour away. I went about my business, but within a couple of minutes, the same number called again. Unknown caller says, Hey girl, how are you? It's been such a long time. Um, hi, who is this? Girl, it's Mandy. What are you up to?

Now I knew four Mandy's. None lived in my college town. None called me girl at the time. And none sounded like a valley girl on uppers. Mandy, who? none sounded like a valley girl on uppers. Mandy who? Oh my gosh, we have so much to catch up on. So you've moved back to your hometown, that's great. Where are you working?

Are you still dating that guy from high school? I so thought y'all would end up together. How are your parents? Where do you live in your hometown? What are you up to tonight? Wait, this was a fifth Mandy Mandy Jones from high school. I Mean we'd been friends when we took dance in elementary school, but we'd long since lost touch

Why in the world would she be calling me now? This didn't feel right. So I say, um, hey, yeah, so I'm working at this local business in my hometown. What are you up to? Oh, that's great. I always knew you'd really be somebody. So what do you live now? Are you still dating that guy from high school? That really cute one?

Weird. I had one boyfriend in high school. He attended a different school and we broke up after a couple of months. Hardly a love story for the ages. So I say, so this is Mandy who again? Girl, it's Mandy, come on now. She continues blathering on, asking all kinds of personal questions which I kept dodging. She kept wanting to know where I lived, telling her my hometown wasn't enough, and what

about the cute guy from school. So I responded, okay look, I don't know who you are and I have no idea how you got this number. She says, Mandy, Mandy Roper. Girl I know it's been a while but you should know that we played volleyball together. You wrote this number in my yearbook and I just came across it and thought we should catch up. All Red Flags A few things you should know about Mandy Roper. She sounds less like a chirpy valley girl,

and more like someone who started smoking a pack of day at the age of four. Two, while we did play volleyball and softball and other types of ball together, I guarantee that if you ask her, Mandy would tell you, we played basketball together, mostly because three, basketball is the reason Mandy Roper hated my guts. I was one of a handful of freshmen on the varsity team, and within two weeks of joining the team had made an enemy of the scariest bitch on the team. It's a very long, silly teenage girl drama that isn't relevant to the rest of this tale,

but just keep in mind that Mandy would rather have told me to go fuck myself with the rusty spork than have tea in a chat. mind that Mandy would rather have told me to go fuck myself with the rusty sport than have tea and a chat. Number 4. I had gotten that phone number when I moved into my apartment six months prior so I could not have given it to her in high school. Also, I would have faked my own death before purposely giving that crazy lady my number. So I told this quote-on-quote, Mandy Roper this much.

You don't sound like Mandy Roper. I couldn't have given this number to you in high school because I've only had it for a couple of months. And Mandy Roper hates me. She is the last person who would ever give a crap about what I am doing right now. Who is this really? There was no answer. Seriously, who are you? There was only one reply. Fuck you. And they hung up.

Over the next week, maybe two, I had several hang-ups at my office, and a rose was left on my doorstep that my then-boyfriend denied having left. I was literally clueless about stalking and harassment and whatnot, so I really wasn't sure what to do. After it seemed like the hang-ups weren't going to stop, I called a friend who still lives in my college town and asked her cop husband what I should do. He took the number and looked it up for me, then called the house. The most he could figure out is that it was a little old lady who lived alone and seemed

thoroughly confused by the whole story. Also, he swore that no one else could have used her phone. My dear dear friend Mandy must have been someone close to this little old lady because all of it stopped after he made the call. It wasn't until years later that I realized why someone chose to pretend to be Mandy Roper. We played volleyball together one single year, and it just so happens that we receded next to one another in the team photo in the yearbook. We were both smiling in that picture. We'd simply gotten used to ignoring each other by then. So someone somewhere got their hands on an eight-year-old yearbook. From someone I went to school with, looked me up,

picked the person sitting beside me in the team photo, then called and harassed me for a couple of weeks. I sit here 14 years later, still unclear on the who, what, when, where, why, and how. But Mandy Roper lets not meet. Also, PS, I figured there will be a lot of questions, so here are my answers. I have no reason to think that this cute boy from high school was actually involved. We had broken up nearly seven years prior and had no contact after we graduated. Initially I thought it was my then boyfriends ex Becky, who he dated before me and had always disliked me. She still lived in my college town, but could never tie her to the little old lady in the phone number and question. Also, Becky was way too timid to try something like that. She'd be more

likely to cry and write volumes of poetry while listening to Jewel. I eventually, belated, of course, realized it had to be a direct result of dating my then boyfriend, Joe Dirtbag, because I'm fairly certain he had a girl in every port, so to speak, and most of them were as crazy as a cat and heat. Mandy Roper faded into the ether. I do see the real Mandy Roper, though. We avoid one another at the grocery store.

She still looks like she wants to hunt me down and stuff me in a locker. I've been reading everyone's amazing stories for years and felt like it was only fair that I can tribute something back. Allow me to tell you about the time I dated a guy on my space for two years that nearly ended up getting my entire family murdered, me stalked by a psycho and everyone involved nearly losing their minds. I've never written this down before, or told many people that I would even trust. It's all just too painful and quite honestly unbelievable to tell often.

If it didn't happen to me, I probably would not believe it either, but unfortunately it did. I promise you what you are about to read is 100% the absolute truth. I hope you find it interesting. Let me give you some background for the story. I'm an almost 28 year old gay male who was born and raised in the Appalachian Mountains, which, for my friends, not in America, that's in the south, more towards the mid-Atlantic region. I usually don't just throw being gay out there, but it's important to my tale and to understand why I made such insanely poor choices in my teenage years. I know almost everyone does, but this really takes the cake.

Follow me back to when I was 16, just about 12 years ago. I was a junior in high school, had plenty of friends and no trouble with bullies, at least not while I was at school. My parents are now wonderful people who greatly regret the way they treated me when they found out that I was gay. At the time I hated them for being so horrendous to me, but as I got older, I finally understood that their reaction was just a product of the strict religious movement that they, and myself, were brought up in.

Myled the Sclamor, I do not have any hatred in my heart for any religion no matter what its views are. Whatever you choose to believe in is all right by me. I'm more of a treat people the way you'd like to be treated kind of guy. This just doesn't happen to be my parents' reaction, so don't judge them too harshly. Also I don't want comments to turn into a religious debate or some LGBT rights discussion. This post is none of that. It just so happened to be my circumstances.

My parents, who at the time firmly believed that this would send my eternal soul into damn nation, pretty much only allowed me to stay at our house a couple of days a week. For at least a year, I was living on friends' couches and off of the kindness of their parents. I was in what I can only describe as the worst state of miserable major depression that I have ever been in my life. I had tried to commit suicide the year before with a very serious overdose that cost me nine days in the ICU. I should have died, but your liver is an amazing thing and it started to regenerate on its own. A year to that date, literally to that day, the first guy I ever fell in love with was

killed in a tragic car accident. My parents had zero sympathy for my feelings. They were the immoral feelings of the blasphemous son, so this person didn't count. I guess. I remember coming back home from his funeral that night, and my father asking me, where are you so upset? Were you a fag with that boy or something? I didn't even respond. Just walked right past him and straight into my room where I proceeded to cry myself

to sleep. Again, don't judge them too harshly. They were different people back then. Needless to say, this sent me completely spiraling downwards in the worst way possible. Drugs, alcohol, you name it. I did it. Anything to stay numb and keep myself from feeling the immense amounts of pain I was in emotionally every single day.

To have your situation go from a year before seeing your father cry for the first time as you lay dying in a hospital bed, to him spewing so much malice and hatred towards you. Let's just say it was enough to make anyone have a mental breakdown. I had friends who cared about and loved me deeply. I don't know why that wasn't enough, it just wasn't. I felt like no one truly loved me or ever would. Hell, if my own parents couldn't, then what were my chances of finding a soulmate? Would I just be alone forever as miserable as I was then?

At the time, in my angsty teen mind, That's exactly what I felt. Which finally brings us through my background and mindset leading you into the pure unadulterated hell that was soon to follow. In the midst of the deepest, darkest despair, the brightest idea anyone has ever had on the planet popped into my head. Well, if no one around here will ever love me, then I'll just go online and try to meet someone who will. Pure stroke of genius, right? It made such absolute biblical sense at the time. I felt like the only gay teen in the whole damn state, like the only person who really understood

was me, and only ever would be me. That in order to find someone to love me, I would have to search far and wide beyond the borders of this mountainous fortress that I had resided in my entire life. Proud of myself, for having such an ingenious idea, I immediately hopped on my space. Facebook for us old people, for all the young folks saying what the fuck is my space. I spent the next hour making it as badass looking as I thought I could. You could customize just about everything on your profile, so of course mine had to accurately reflect my emo fillings and the darkness

in my soul. Where do the wise? And something I wish I realized back then, if you're trying to attract the darker things in society, you're probably going to get back exactly what you're sending out. I know I sure as hell did. It all started out innocently enough. I clicked on one of my gay acquaintances' profiles, and for some reason the guy on his top eight just flew right out at me. His name was Jacob. He was gorgeous dressed all in black, and

that was pretty much all I needed to know at the time. I saw he was from Maryland. Several hours away from me, but far enough to possibly not be like everyone else. Far enough to hopefully have exactly the kind of mentality that I was looking for in another human being. So I sent him a message. Something lame in the effect of, hi, what's up? I just saw you on my friend's top aid and I thought you were cute so I figured I would say hello. I wasn't expecting a response. None whatsoever. He was so gorgeous and seemed way too cool for me. So why in God's name would he message a guy like me back. And then it happened. Within a minute of me sending that message, I got one back. And it was from him. Not gonna lie, I exploded, enjoy on the inside, something

that I hadn't felt in years and years. It was just something like, hey you're cute, how are you? But it was enough to send me over the moon. I felt alive again. But what I really felt was hope again. We talked to the rest of the day and night. We talked about each other and how much life sucked. How bad we wanted to be away from our hometown and our lives. You know, the usual teenage gay boys living in repression. I fell for him hard, too hard.

I mean, hook line and sinker. We chatted for maybe a week before he asked me out. I had no problem with dating online. Hell, that was the whole point of me doing this in the first place, so I eagerly said yes. We had only been dating for a week after that, so when he introduced me to the rest of his friends, I met his ex-boyfriend Zachary and their best friend Josie, who I quickly became best friends with, along with about 10 other girls and guys.

Josie was a cool chick and she had known these guys for years. Who better to give me all the dirt on them? During the course of the next month, Josie and I became the closest friends out of everyone he introduced me to and what turned out to be a gang. They were mostly just a group of suburban white kids who called themselves the elites and just drank and smoked a lot of weed. I heard some crazy stories here and there about them beating up people and some of them taking the gang things way too seriously, but I didn't really think too much of it. Josie and I had been talking over the phone every single day, and I really made a genuine connection with her. She had my sense of bizarre humor, was extremely intelligent, and still like to have

a crazy time on top of it all. During this period, Jacob and I were doing great, but there was one little problem. I started to fall in love with his ex-Zackery the more I talked to him. Jacob would be intense and at times violent when he was angry, from what I heard. But on the other hand, Zachary was his complete opposite. He was too kind for his own good, an extremely caring guy, and he wrote the most beautiful piano music I had ever heard. Being a musician myself, French horn for ten years, I was immediately endeared to this guy. The more and more time I spent online talking to Zachary, the less and less I felt like talking to Jacob. Eventually, Jacob kind of figured out what was going on, and to my shock, he let me know he was cool with it,

and wished us the best. That's how, after about two months with Jacob, I started dating his ex-Zackery. This would be the guy I would date for the next two years, and with whom the worst times of my life would be spent. Josie was clearly thrilled for me. We still talked every day online and on the phone. Sometimes I talked to Zachary on the phone, but more often than not, we just kept our communications to AOL Instant Messenger. When we started dating, was when everything started to collapse. Jacob, who

has initially said he was okay with everything, ended up exploding. He completely tore me a new one online, and then proceeded to go and kidnap my current boyfriend. Josie called me up, freaking me the hell out, saying that he'd taken Zachary and no one knew where they were. This clearly sent me reeling from shock. I guess all of the rumors I had heard about Jacob were true. And now because of my actions, the guy I'm in love with is in danger.

I quickly contacted some older guys in the gang and let them know what was going on. Their response was basically, ah shit, not again, which caught me off guard. Again? You mean this happens frequently? I talk to Chaz, the leader of this gang, while he sent some guys out to deal with Jacob and retrieve my boyfriend. He basically told me in a nutshell that Jacob has been and always will be obsessed with Zachary, that when he gets wasted on whatever,

he goes kuku for cocoa puffs and sets out on some wild mission to kidnap and apparently violate my new boyfriend. I couldn't believe it. I mean, I was in complete and total shock. boyfriend. I couldn't believe it. I mean, I was in complete and total shock." But apparently this situation was resolved easily, and he handed over my man without too much incident. He also received a healthy ass beating to remind Jacob that it's not nice to go around kidnapping people just because you can. This was the first and certainly not the last incident. I can remember where a pattern I'm all too familiar with now would develop over the next several years. Jacob we get drunk and jealous.

He would do something completely insane to me or my boyfriend and then after all the freaking out and worrying was over with, he would come crying back to me begging mine and Zachary's forgiveness. This became a weekly routine and it began to wear me out mentally, very quickly. Fast forward, around a year after I had sent my very first message to Jacob, I was still with Zachary and still best friends with Josie. And was still dealing with Jacob's crap-tastic insane plots to ruin my relationship and give me a stroke before the age of 20.

None of this craziness set off any red flags on my head. Not one. As a matter of fact, nothing period during that entire year gave me a second thought about anything going on, really. That day-to-day, the sky is falling lifestyle had become the norm for me, and I was used to it. Several of my friends, however, had their doubts, though they were polite enough to keep them to themselves for the time being. This was in the first true danger that threatened me and my family ever arose, and it led to a night that I will never forget as long as I live. Cut to me as a 17-year-old, who in the span of one year had accomplished everything he set out to do.

I had the perfect boyfriend, even if I had never met him, didn't care. I had an awesome new best friend, Josie, and we'd hung out a few times at that point, and I adored her, and I had joined a group of my own in my hometown. My parents were going to throw me away just because of who I loved. Well, then I was going to throw away every single religious thing I had ever been taught and go to the dark side. I became a Luciferian, otherwise known as a Satanist, and boy, oh boy, did I think I was a badass now. When it comes to the covenant joined in my hometown, that could fill a completely different story

in an entirely different subreddit. Maybe I'll post that experience sometime, but the point of me telling you about them was so that you could understand what happened next. I received a call one night around 12 a.m. from Josie who was almost beside herself. Very out of character for her. I mean hell, Zachary had been kidnapped over 40 times in the past year and she hardly batten in eye. But this was different. She explained to me that Jacob

had really outdone himself and lost his mind this time. He had hired a guy from the elites named Sean to come down to my house and kill me and my mother, father, and younger sister. My sister is about seven and a half years younger than me, My sister is about 7 and a half years younger than me. And from the day she was born, I have always been fiercely protective over her. She was and still is my beautiful baby sister, and truly, the only one in my household that I loved at the time. When I heard that my ex had taken it so far to hire a hitman to come after my family. I threw in to what we around here call a mountain rage. It didn't matter to me if someone simply

came after me, but to target my precious sister who had nothing to do with any of this was the boiling point for me. And even though I despised my parents at the time, I'm still a southerner. And when you mess with a southerner's family, then all the crap you're fighting about goes out the window. Complete and total defend the homestead mode, kicked in. I asked Josie when he left Maryland. She told me she found out that he started driving towards my house maybe an hour ago, and as soon as she found out she called me immediately. Okay, so that meant I had at the most six hours to prepare, and at least possibly four if you got a good head start. She also informed me that Sean was a former army guy that got kicked out for

failing several psych tests and being completely sociopathic in general. I'm not a big guy, and at the time I weighed even less than I do now. I was 5'7 and maybe weighed 130 pounds soaking wet, but my first thought didn't require boot strength to beat back this attacker. I called up my coven leader, Brandon, who lived not even 10 minutes away from me and explained the situation. I told him I needed to borrow his favorite toy and I promised that I would bring it back in good condition with as little blood on it as possible.

He agreed. About 30 minutes later, I was back home in my room, cleaning and loading an extremely nice over and under pump action shotgun. Like I said, no brute force required. I called Josie back up and got the details on exactly what he and his car looked like. Then around 4 a.m., I told her I would Josie back up and got the details on exactly what he and his car looked like. Then around 4 a.m. I told her I would call her back and crept out into my front yard.

Now for people who had never been to my house, they always got where to park at, wrong. They always ended up in front of the house, down a hill instead of in the driveway, on the side. This little detail was stuck at my mind and probably saved my life. In the very front of my yard there was a huge oak tree that was big enough for my skinny, girl-chain-wearing emo-ass to hide perfectly behind. All I had to do was wait and hope that he did exactly what I thought he would do. I got so lucky, he parked exactly behind the opposite side of the big tree I was hiding behind. I heard

the corridor open and someone step outside the vehicle, shortly followed by the unmistakable caulking of a 9mm handgun. While that sound may have struck fear in the hearts of others, it absolutely enraged me to the core, so I replied in kind with the sound of my own. As I stepped from around the side of the tree, he was directly in front of his car, gunned down by his side. In one motion, I simultaneously pumped a shell into the chamber of my shotgun and raised it, direct level with his head, about 10 feet away from me. This caught him off guard, and completely by surprise. I didn't hesitate. I simply told him the God's honest truth. I said, buddy, you've got one of two options right now. Either you get back in your car, turn around and drive straight back to Maryland without stopping, or you can so much as flinch in my general direction, and I will splatter your brains all across that great state of, insert my state.

You have five seconds to decide what's it going to be. I kid you not. The most sickly smiles spreads across the psychos face and for a moment I thought we were about to reenact the movie Tombstone. Unfortunately, he had much more of a sense of self-preservation than I had thought someone who just drove eight hours to kill a family would ever have. All he did was give a little chuckle and said, You're a cool dude.

See you around. He then walked backwards very slowly. My gun following him, the entire way, got back into his car and drove off. Right then and there, I made up my mind. I had to tackle the beast head on. I was always raised that if you have a problem, be a damn man and take care of it yourself. I had to go to my enemy, Jacob's home turf, and bring this war to his doorstep. Just like he brought it to mind.

It was time to go to Maryland. After all the drama of nearly being murdered by a nut job, I had really had enough of Jacob's bullshit at this point. I got online and cussed him out until a fly wouldn't land on him, making a point to let him know that his little plan backfired. He wasn't dealing with some poor little boy that couldn't fend for himself, and each and every crazy situation that evolved had made me a stronger person, if

not a little bit more of a mentally disturbed person every time. I told him he was going to regret the day that he ever crossed me and my boyfriend. Instead of apologizing like usual, his true colors finally came out. He laughed at me. He freaking laughed at me. He told me I was cute when I was angry and said what a damn shame it was that I didn't have a bullet hole in my head. He wished I was dead and that he never spoke to me in the first place because he was still in love, more like insanely obsessed, with his ex, my current boyfriend, of a year's ackery. He informed me that the war was just beginning, and he would do everything in his power to

win Zachary back, like he was some kind of adorable trophy, you won, for baking the best freaking pie at the county fair. I was completely livid and brimming to the edge with fury. I told him to watch his back because I'm coming for him. I called Josie and told her everything that had happened and asked if I could come stay with her for a week. She excitedly agreed. Zachary was asleep for this whole ordeal, and blissfully unaware that anything had happened.

When he found out the next day, I think he was even more angry than I was. Fortunately for us, the gang's leader Chaz liked Zachary a whole hell of a lot more than he did Jacob, so we hatched a plan with him. The idea was for them to kidnap Jacob, just like he had Zachary so many times before. They would be accomplishing this task while I was on my way up to Maryland, and when I got there he would be mine to do with as I pleased. You can imagine on the eight hour drive up there all the hideously brutal ideas that were going through my mind.

I was going to inflict maximum amounts of pain on the guy that had caused so much in my own life, and I would relish every second of it. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you look at it, my dreams of reviving the Spanish Inquisition on my ex's head never came to fruition. When I arrived in Maryland, Josie came skipping out to greet me, happy as a lark like always to see me. She had some good and bad news. I always asked for the bad news first, and the bad news was that Jacob had gotten tipped off by Kenny. God, a freaking loathed that guy, always meddling where he didn't belong. He told him that I was coming for him. He made a hasty

retreat and had intended to kidnap Zachary and take him on the run, too, but that was the good news. Before he could get to him, Zachary had hopped on a bus and headed to New York to stay with his mom while things cooled off. As sad as I was that once again I had missed seeing him for the first time, I was just relieved that he was out of harm's way. Safe and sound. Again, Noah Larnbell is going off that for the second time that I had made the trip up there, Zachary was not around.

Josie called him on her cell, and he apparently picked up his moms because he never had his own cell, and we got to enjoy one of the rare times we actually spoke on the phone. All was well. Now for a week of fun and plotting on what we were going to do to Jacob the next time he reared his ugly head. Later on that week, Josie wanted to drive to an old colonial part of Maryland and go ghost hunting on these abandoned railroad tracks. However, uneventful that may have been, we did end up inviting Sean to go with us. Turns

out, psycho dude actually felt bad, well, almost. He blankly told me that if I didn't have the balls to stand up to him, he would have killed me and my whole family for just $500. Instead of killing him on the spot, which every fiber in my being was telling me to do, I decided to play nice and get him on my side. That way, if Jacob ever tried that crap again, he would definitely tell him no because I'm the quote unquote cool dude.

Sometimes you catch more flies with honey. Anyways, the rest of the week was normal and a damn good time. Josie and I set our good buys and we parted ways, wishing each other a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. The next couple of weeks were semi-normal. No word from Jacob at all, not even a peep. What a gift I thought. I'll take it. Two years of my relationship began quite happily, believe it or not. Even my birthday month of January was an unusually good one. Then came the next couple of months, two months which quite vividly live within me to this day, they also defined my life for the next several years. This is when the sky stopped falling and my world completely crumbled underneath me

into utter devastation. At the beginning of February, Josie had a sudden and urgent impulse to get away from her parents. Now I could completely understand that, so I happily agreed to let her come stay down south with me. I borrowed my best friend's car and drove a 15-16-some-odd hour-round trip all the way to Maryland and back. My parents were less than thrilled. They told me she couldn't live in the house with us, so I said fine, and shelled out my own money to a local La Quenta Inn where she and I lived for almost two weeks before my

parents caved in and let us come back in my house. Now I forgot to mention something extremely important earlier about my boyfriend's battery. He was very sick. I mean terminally ill, but we thought it wouldn't be for years. I was told that he had cystic fibrosis, and he needed a double lung transplant in order to live much longer. He was hospitalized in the beginning of February and rushed up the transplant list because

his condition was so grave. I can't even begin to tell you how after the year we'd been through together, how badly I wanted to be by his side. Unfortunately, he was at a hospital in a part of the country that specializes in treating CF and was way too far from me to travel. Josie kept me in pretty good spirits about the whole thing. She had a lot of experience with cystic fibrosis since her sister died from it several years earlier. She reassured me that since he was so young and tried to take such good care of himself, that he would probably receive donor lungs very soon and be just fine. I tried not to worry too much, but in reality I was worrying my ass off.

Losing him after getting him out of harm's way so many times before was not an option in my mind. How could we have overcome so much only for him to succumb to this disease? Zachary and I talked constantly when he felt like it, and even though he was scared and alone, he said he felt like a million bucks knowing I was supporting him with my love no matter where I was. That made me feel wonderful being able to comfort him from so far away, and for a couple of weeks my comfort seemed to be doing the trick until one day. That day. My boyfriend died suddenly on February 14th of 2008.

His lungs filled with fluid. He suffocated and died. There was nothing anyone could do. I was completely and totally lost. Josie broke the news and I collapsed into the biggest mess you've ever seen in your life. She was still living with me at the time, so she tried to console me as best as she could, while she was shedding her own tears at the loss of her best friend, that forever ruined Valentine's Day for me, to this day it only reminds me of loss and

death. You don't realize how fragile your heart truly is until you've experienced a loss like that. Little did I know that even worse moments in my life were about to occur a month later. I was headed on a course for total destruction and still blissfully unaware of the one person who had been driving this crazy train from day one. Skip forward to March, St. Patrick's Day to be exact, a little over a month since Zachary had passed. Josie had forcefully been returned to Maryland by her parents, seeing as how she had practically ran away.

I was often la la land of booze-drugs, and more pain than either of us could cover up. I was chilling with my Satanist posse, doing what all normal American teenagers stood on St. Patrick's Day, pretending like we were Irish and testing the limits of alcohol poisoning. My alcohol tolerance back then was ridiculously high, so I had already drank in an ordinent amount when my phone rang. It was joie. I slurred my words as something to the effect of, hey girl, what's she doing? And it came bumbling out of my mouth. I announced to the room it was Josie, to which everyone replied, hey, she had lived with

us for several months and love her or not. she had become an honorary southerner. The next words out of her mouth once again sent my head spinning off into space and my world into complete chaos. Zachary is not dead. I stopped breathing for a moment and when I caught breath, I asked her to repeat that again. She did, except this time she added the fact that his life had been in danger, that he had to hide even from me. Jacob just had to think he was dead.

I could literally fill my brain dripping out from my ears as my mind turned into mush with every word out of her mouth. Then for the real kicker to my drunken mental meltdown, Zachary got on the phone. Sure enough, it was his voice. He apologized for what he had to do. I apologized for what I was about to do, which was scream and yell my lungs out, throw the phone into the wall, smashing it into a million pieces, and then proceed to go from being super hammered drunk to completely shit head-wasted. I drank everything that wasn't nailed down.

Who knows what other drugs I did on top of that, because I sure don't remember. I was literally having a complete and total mental breakdown, the last strand of sanity in my brain just snapped. I did this for a couple more hours until I somehow drove back home, put on my work clothes, and tore out of the parking lot to go to my job in a city half an hour down the interstate, with people chasing me trying to stop me. I don't recall any of what happened next, but apparently this is what I did.

I showed up to work completely wasted and got fired from a damn good job. I called my father freaking out in the parking lot of said job. He realized I was drunk and told me to stay there and he would come get me. Now how I wish crazy drunk me would have listened. Instead of doing that, I started driving on the interstate again not caring if I lived or died. And obviously not caring about anyone else. According to the police report, I was tearing down the interstate at 130 miles per hour. I apparently hit two mile markers on the side of the road, and blew both my right hand tires, but continued on driving with sparks shooting 50 feet out of the back of my car.

I took the exit to the hospital, going that fast, and had spun out and completely told what was left of my car. According to the bystanders, I then proceeded to exit my vehicle and run across the damn interstate towards the hospital with people chasing after me. Once I got to the ER doors, I heard the now familiar whoop whoop of a police cruiser. I was so arrested for driving under the influence. I blew a point two, about 12 hours after having my last drink. If I had blown a point two one, I would have gotten a felony charge.

That led to years of failed drug tests, violated probations, and ultimately a year in jail down the line. After that, I decided enough was enough. These crazy people from Maryland and their insane concept of living could all go to hell as far as I was concerned. It had been nearly two years of torment, fear, and unimaginable pain. Worst of all, it was starting to cost me my mind and my freedom. I was done listening to Josie and ready to start listening to some of my actual friends in town who had been begging me to stay away from those people for a long time now. Some good friends set me down and started to tell me the inconsistencies and all their

stories over the last few years. At first I didn't want to listen, but then eventually there was too much evidence not to listen. Finally I opened my ears and my mind to what was really going on. I decided to figure this one out once and for all. I got on my space, Facebook,

and every other social media I could think of. I typed in Josie's full name into the search bar of every single one. What I found of this day still makes me want to turn my stomach contents inside out. There on every social media possible by using her name and a few email addresses I knew she had. I found dozens and dozens of accounts linked to her email. Duplicate after duplicate of Zachary's full name on accounts with pictures of her, and the same thing with Jacob, and every single solitary other person in the supposed elites.

That's when it finally, after years of denial and torment, it finally freaking hit me like a railroad car full of bricks. Holy shit, she's every single one of these people. She's absolutely and unequivocally made up every single solitary one of these people and has been pretending to be a dozen or more people over two years. As you can imagine, my jaw hit the damn floor. Thank God I had some close friends there who kept me from falling apart and helping me find every single fake profile she had ever created.

I was dumbfounded. Profile after profile after profile that had her pictures, but the names of people I thought were entirely real. Prototype accounts before she ended up making the actual fake accounts. All of this just had to be one psychotic joke. I was too shocked to be enraged yet, but don't worry, that's coming. I diligently copied every link, every single one of her profiles, and everything into my AOL and St. Messenger, then I called her. Hey, how are you? I'm alright, I guess. Just bored, you? Nope. Definitely not bored over here. Get on aim, chat, and I'll show you something really interesting.

I was nearly hysterical at this point and I could tell she knew something was up. When she was online, I simply asked her, hey Josie, what are these? Then I sent her every link to every single fake profile that she had ever created in her miserable life. And a few from email accounts that didn't even know belong to her. The silence on the other end of the line was deafening as I heard her clicking through link after link. Her two-year-long mental game was over, and she finally realized it. Her words? Well, fuck, man.

Guess she got me. Then she started to laugh. Genuinely laugh as though something remotely funny had just occurred. I don't recall what I said, but apparently it was bad enough for my friends to take away the phone and have to hold me down. Catfish the show or movie wasn't around back then, so I had unwittingly become one of the first hardcore victims of a stalker in the internet age. Worst than that, I had talked to, lived with, and even befriended the girl who had been

stalking and trying to ruin my life for over two years. It was literally and still is the single biggest mind fuck I have ever had in my entire life. Thousands upon thousands of messenger conversations, hundreds and thousands of hours of phone conversation, countless amounts of cash being spent to drive up several states away, just to stay with my psychostocker every single time.

Even bringing her down to live with me for months, having $5,000 mysteriously vanished out of my bank account. Everything was starting to make sense. There was no Jacob, there was no Zachary and there was no gang. What there actually was was one completely batshit in same girl with more mental problems than I could fit in an encyclopedia. She was the only person I ever talked to. She was the only person I ever saw and even worse, she was the only one that paid Sean to come down to my house with a

gun to try and kill my entire family. Josie, the only person in these last two years that had orchestrated any of this. From all the fake kidnappings and boyfriend drama, to faking the death of someone I had fallen in love with and bringing him back just to screw with my head, who the hell does that? All the events of the last two years came flooding back into my mind as I realized each and every one. It was solely her and no one else but her.

So many questions raced through my head, and least of all, why me?" I deleted my my space and made my Facebook profile private. I only accept friends that I know are real. I fell completely off the wagon and out of my head, drugs, alcohol, and more drugs. That's all I could do to cope. Here I was, a gay man that had an unknowingly fallen in love with a straight woman, and regardless of whether or not I thought it was a gay man, which I wholeheartedly did, that shit still fucks you in the head pretty bad.

I didn't think I could ever be close to someone again. My world had been rocked and ruined. To this day all these years later, I still don't trust people. I don't think I will ever be able to trust someone ever again. Can you blame me? Well, turns out she came down here. You heard that right. That bitch moved into my sister town not even half an hour away from me. I bumped into her by accident and we started talking. Again, as much as I wanted to stomp her into a bloody pulp on the ground, you can catch more flies with honey.

I wanted answers, hell, I deserved them. I told her I was just trying to forgive her, and I needed answers to my questions in order to do so. I asked her if she would sit down with me and tell me everything, and she reluctantly agreed. I politely informed her that this forgiveness was not for her, but it was for me so I could stop holding on to and living in the past. I explained she nearly killed me and ruined my life, and what she did was the most personal and horrific thing one human being can do to another. Especially after I was so damn good to her, she was polite and let me get what I needed to off my chest. I tried to be calm and not be rude so that she wouldn't run away, and I did get closure somewhat and answers to everything. Here's her explanation and take it with a grain of salt. It started out as a joke when she was in

high school. There was a girl who was being mean to her and bullying her, so she thought she better get back by getting her to like a guy online and reveal the awful truth later. She had a bunch of prototype profiles and eventually almost 20 in total, so it looked like this group of people had the same friends and they were all real. She just pulled pictures off of freaking Google. She knew none of these people in real life. She was having a good ol' time tricking this girl when a long comes a spider to mess up her web. Me.

She said she thought she would just mess with me a little bit and let me know that she was actually a girl. But after talking to me, she unintentionally fell in love with me. Whether or not that's true, I don't know what to believe. If she really did love me, then why put me through all this pure freaking hell her two years? She said she wanted to tell me a million times, but it just got out of control and before she knew it She was really getting into being these people and somewhat believed she was them and they were real.

Again this chick is the world's best bullshitter. All I wanted to know was how did she get the music and how did she sound like a guy on the phone. The music, as she shockingly demonstrated to me, was actually hers. She's an amazing pianist and guitar player. I saw this with my own eyes and even heard it with my own ears. Zachary's voice on the phone wasn't very complicated. She paid this guy friend a few bucks to be in on it with her, which this jerk off

eagerly agreed to. Brewing someone's life for a few bucks, how sweet. Sean was all her. She paid him 500 bucks to do that, and she had zero explanation as to why. She knew he wouldn't do it. He's just as much as a psycho as she is. The rest of it is purely fantasy and imagination all dalled up to be extra crazy so I would care more about Zachary and give her more attention.

As lie after lie was finally revealed and the truth brought to life, I had heard enough after around 8 hours of this. I had heard everything I really ever needed to hear and wanted to hear. My life was nearly destroyed, my family nearly killed, my mental and emotional health scarred forever and ever simply because she wasn't getting enough attention in her life. Neither was I when that all started but I didn't go about like a human wrecking ball trying to make myself feel better. I'll never be able to comprehend or understand the mind of someone like that, people who derive pleasure from other people's pain and misery.

I'll never be able to fully trust, not in that way that's required of a true partner and companion. I just can't do that again. If I'm mortally betrayed again, I know the next time will kill me. So as I write this in my apartment, a little over a decade after this all happened, I am alone. One good thing that did come of this, it sure as hell, made me the person I am today and it strengthened and toughened my resolve into tempered steel.

I learned to be okay with myself, and to finally love myself after so many years of self-loathing. I'm a pretty amazing person, I don't need a man to define my life and who I am in any shape, warm or fashion. Obviously, I'm worth something, otherwise this psychotic chick wouldn't have latched on to me for years, and it ended up moving eight hours away from her home to be 30 minutes away from me, all this damn time. What she stole, I will never get back, but what I gained, she can never take away from me again. Thanks for listening and make sure you stick around after the music if you're a patron

for your extended ad free version of this week's episode. If you'd like to get access, head over to patreon.com forward slash let's not meet podcast to sign up and support the show today and get access to hours and hours of bonus content and stories you won't hear anywhere else. This week you have heard Get Out of the Car by Sign Nox. I watched it beg for its life before I slid its throat by selfish machine. Adopt a dog, they just may save you by a doby girl one. You might need this by hiding and safe, Mandy Roper, by C. Nikki H. and finally two years of hell, by Sosa Various. All of the stories

you've heard this week were narrated and produced with the permission of their respective authors. Let's not meet a true horror podcast is not associated with Reddit or any other message boards online. As always, if you have a story to share, send it to Let's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com. Finally, make sure you check out the new episodes of my other podcasts like Odd Trails, my true paranormal podcast, and the Old Time Radio Cast at crypticcountypodcasts.com,

or wherever you get your podcasts. We'll see you all next week. Everyone, stay safe. This took place in 2016. I was born in 2016. This took place in 2016.