Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - 15x26: The College Kid Kidnappers

Episode Date: December 29, 2025

Stories in this episode: Dog Sitting Turned Dastardly | Made4Mordor (0:39) Yukon Highway Stalker | LouisPls (11:58) I Pretended To Be On The Phone | KimKim (17:05) My Co-Worker Kept a Really Weird Notebook | alyssa_lcsw (21:34) Just can't get away from them | BlondieBee96 (25:16) The College Kid Kidnappers | Mako (40:04) Extended Patreon Content: Kitty Kitty | Starling Lip Biting Subway Creepy | Billy Gary, The Creepy Neighbor | Cam The Work Friend | Danielle The Hate Machine | Essay Due to periodic changes in ad placement, time stamps are estimates and are not always accurate. Want Bonus Weekly Stories? Hate Ads? Join our Patreon for only $5 a month for over 100 hours of bonus content, and it's all ad-free! Send your stories to [e-mail].    Right now, DripDrop is offering podcast listeners 20% off your first order. Go to dripdrop.com and use promo code MEET. Join the Discord:https://discord.gg/84WXQud4gE Follow: - Twitch - https://twitch.tv/crypticcounty - Website - https://letsnotmeetpodcast.com/ - Patreon - https://patreon.com/letsnotmeetpodcast - Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/letsnotmeetcast/ 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.             

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If you have a story to share, send it to let's not meet stories at gmail.com. After college, I wanted to volunteer in my community in a meaningful way, and I chose to become a suicide and crisis, lifeline volunteer. The training took place every Saturday for two months, and each session lasted several hours. It was intense and a big commitment, but I felt like that. empowered to help someone at their lowest point and keep them safe for at least one more day. Once I started answering the phones as a lifeline volunteer, it was heartbreaking and energetically taxing, but also incredibly rewarding. I tried my very best to connect with anyone who heard my

voice on the other end of their line. My fellow volunteers were a huge reason as to why I was successful. They provided support and encouragement and sometimes ideas on what to say. We were all pretty tight-knit in my class of volunteers, and I assumed anyone else who worked or volunteered there would be as compassionate, lovely, and trustworthy as the people I had trained with. That included Greg, a volunteer who wasn't in my cohort group, but whom I started to casually get to know through working a lot of the same shifts. He was in his 50s while I was in my mid-20s. He was somewhat of a legend at Lifeline,

as he had volunteered there steadily for decades and was both a military veteran and a recovering alcoholic. He was able to reach and help so many people through his story. Or so, I always heard. So when Greg asked me to dog sit for him a few hours one night, I was happy to oblige. I love dogs, and I figured he had to be a decent, person for all of the good that I heard about him.

He gave me his home address, and we arranged for me to come by Friday night to meet the dogs and get all the usual instructions before he left. I made my way to his neighborhood and parked in front of a very normal, nice-looking, two-story home. Greg met me at the front door with his two sweet golden retrievers, whom I loved immediately. He showed me the food and said that they had already been out for a walk twice, so I just let the dogs into the fenced backyard for a quick tinkle if they needed. And with that, he said I would basically just hang out with the dogs for a few hours and

then leave for the night. As he pointed things out to me in his house, Greg was very friendly and enthusiastic, just like he had always been at the crisis center. He had a gray goatee and a wide smile with gapped teeth. He seemed a little dressed up to me, with his shiny collared shirt, But I thought that maybe he was just going to a fancy event. Now, just as I was wondering when Greg was actually going to leave, he asked if I'd like to see the upstairs of his house,

and this struck me as odd. But I figured, hey, he's just proud of his house. That's cool. So, I said, sure, and he led me up the carpeted stairs and down a dark hall. Then he opened his bedroom door, which had only been slightly cracked. He then walked into the room, turned around, and said, So this is my bedroom. His giant bed took up most of the room

and had a red velvet canopy. There was black lace all over on the curtains, the pillows, the comforter. The decor was like a French boudoir when the rest of the house was in the style of singletude. And most concerning of all, there were at least four candles that were, lit. He then proceeded to sit on his bed and smile at me expectantly, wagging his bushy eyebrows. I laughed incredulously, backing up a bit. I think I then said something like, um, you have the

wrong idea. To which he brought up some flirty comment he claimed he had overheard me say to a fellow volunteer I had a little crush on, something dumb like, I heard you like making out. Then he smiled and patted the bed next to him. My mouth fell open as I realized that because he overheard me say something that was maybe a little risque, he really thought I was open to some kind of dog-sitting fling. And not toot my own horn, but I was young and cute back then, and he was, well, not.

I thought he was rather beastly. He was older, and I had no way ever flirted with him. I wish I could say that I had some zinger to shut down his gross attempt at romance, but I was too shocked to do anything other than cross my arms over my chest and shake my head no. His face dropped, its Letterman-esque smile, right then and there. And then it was like a cold chill came into the room. Well, I better be going, he said. And then he looked at me with absolute darkness and disdain, barely to.

trying to conceal his disappointment. I could tell he was embarrassed, and I was too. He grumbled as he hastily blew out the candles, and then he started walking toward me in the bedroom door to leave. I quickly scooted out of the room before him, almost jumping down the stairs. Within minutes, Greg had grabbed his keys and left through the garage, closing it after him.

Before he left, he bitterly said to call him if I had any problems. when he was gone it was deathly silent except for the click of the dog's nails on the linoleum as they danced around me my heart was pounding i wanted to get out of there but i also wanted to make sure that the dogs were okay i did feel better with him out of the house and the next few hours passed uneventfully when it was about eight or nine i was ready to leave then i realized Greg had not left me with any kind of key. I checked the front door in hopes that it would be the kind

where you didn't need a key to lock it, but it was a regular deadbolt. I had a weird sinking feeling in my chest, so I went out the sliding glass door to the backyard and realized there was no egress that I could find. I called Greg. He sounded amused when he answered. Greg, you forgot to give me a key to lock up your house, I said, trying to sound calm.

almost joky. Oh, whoops, he replied, not sounding surprised at all, and he chuckled a bit. Maybe you can get through the garage, he suggested. Or, he continued, if that doesn't work, you can just sleep in my bed.

I just ignored that comment. He told me to call him back if I needed him to come home, and I assured him I would be fine. After that, I went to. went into the dark garage, turned on the light, and shut myself in so that the dogs would be in the house. I then opened the garage door and did that thing where you close it and run underneath it. Only, I hadn't done that maneuver in over a decade. And this was the newfangled safe version of a garage door that would detect an object underneath it and not close.

As the door bounced back up, I thought, fucking Greg knew that this would happen. I just knew it. my last memory is letting the golden retrievers who had been whining and scratching at the door into the garage with me after the garage door closed and hugging them as I began to cry I had had enough and I couldn't stop the tears and then try as I might I can't remember what happened next did I call Greg back did he come home did I call someone else did I just leave the door unlocked, despite my people-pleasing personality? I have tried and tried to remember, but it's almost like I blacked out after that moment in the garage.

I don't know, maybe my brain is protecting me from something. I don't know if I saw Greg after that again. I honestly just can't remember. He suddenly died of a heart attack a few years later, which I found out through mutual volunteer friends on Facebook. I got an ugly pit in my stomach when I heard the news, but I also felt kind of angry seeing everyone praising him on his Facebook wall. I kept picturing him patting the bed in his bedroom with that creepy smirk on his face.

I am genuinely glad he helped all of the people that he did, but I was a naive young woman who was doing him a favor, and I didn't expect nor deserve to have him make that kind of advance on me. I also now realize he probably didn't need a sitter at all and just set the whole thing up to try and get lucky. When I rebuffed him, I reckon he went and sat in an arpies.

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Go to DripDrop.com and use promo code meat, M-E-E-T. That's DripDrop.com promo code meat for 20% off. Stock up now at dripdrop.com and use promo code meat. This happened to me around May of 2011. For some background, I was born and raised in Anchorage, Alaska, and had decided to start my undergraduate studies in a small college town in Montana. Due to many financial pitfalls, my family and I decided that having me move back home and go to school locally would be our best bet. So when the academic year

wrapped up, my mom flew down to Montana to meet me for our road trip through Canada before re-entering the U.S. on the Alaskan side. Of course, since I had intended to live in Montana for four years. There was a lot of junk in my car weighing it down, so I wasn't keen on speeding through unfamiliar roadways. The first day or so was great. My mom and I kept stopping here and there to do some shopping in a few of the larger Canadian cities as we were passing through. Overall, we made a point of traveling mostly during daylight hours, and during the early morning and evenings, I usually drove. My mom had eye surgery about a year before all of this, so her eyesight wasn't the greatest at night. On the third night of our road trip, I was driving

us to our hotel in Dawson City in Yukon. Things were going fine, but we were a bit behind schedule, and it was getting dark faster than I would have liked. Somewhere after Stewart Crossing, we ended up having this absolute asshole tailgate us with their high beams on. I was annoyed because I was already going nearly 10 kilometers over the speed limit, so I moved to the side and waited for the person to go around me. I would like to point out that this was a single lane, two-way road with nearly no traffic. Even though I was trying to get out of the way and wait for this dickhead to go around us, they didn't.

they just mimicked my movements and stayed right behind me, even as I almost pulled off the road. I began feeling this heavy, cold feeling in the pit of my gut, and my mom started to panic. As I said before, the woman is as blind as a bat in the dark, and I was having a fairly hard time making out anything in the mirrors with this dumb person blinding me with their high beams. I couldn't even tell what the make and model was,

it was very hard to see. This continued for a while, so I dropped down to the speed limit. This was my way of putting my foot down, and I figured if this person wanted a speed, they could just figure it out and go around me. The tailgating and the high beaming continued, though. Even as other people passed and flashed their high beams at this person,

they persisted. We were maybe 10 or so kilometers outside of Arlington, when things escalated. As we were getting closer to civilization, my mom told me to just speed up and lose them. The driver then suddenly sped up as if they sensed I was actively fleeing, and they attempted to ram us from the rear driver's side.

It honestly felt like sheer luck that they missed. While all of this was happening, my mom was attempting to get a call through to emergency services, but neither of our phones had any signal. By then, I was easily surpassing the speed limit by at least 20. The vehicle behind me, then revved its engine,

zipped around us, and suddenly slammed on its brakes. I slammed on my brakes in response and nearly lost control as I drove almost entirely off the road. My mom was screaming hysterically from the passenger seat, but I barely noticed at the time. As I was focused on the SUV in front of us, I could make out several figures in the car. But all I saw was red as I shifted into reverse, hit the gas,

shifted back into drive, and sped forward. I narrowly missed the back of their SUV and the escape. After that, I kept speeding. The vehicle was still following us, but they were hanging further back. As we pulled into Arlington, they disappeared on some side street. My mom and I debated going to the police, but instead we stopped at the first place with lights on, a hotel, and my mom ran in to use the phone.

I waited in the car trembling from the rush. I was so anxious since I wasn't sure if that SUV was still prowling around or not. When we got back home, we agreed to not share this experience with my dad. He's already controlling and paranoid enough as it is. I'm glad that my mom and I made it out of there. But if things had gone even slightly differently, it's possible I might not even be here to share this story with all of you. This took place when I was in high school.

I had to walk to and from school every day because I lived too far out to catch the bus. There was an alley that I usually took as a shortcut so I wouldn't have to walk all the way around the block. It saved time and I never felt unsafe. But I had stopped using it for a while. My mom had been recently stopped by a man out there while she was alone. He asked for directions and then asked her to get into his car to help him find the street that he needed. She didn't and she got home safe, but the whole thing rattled me so I avoided the alley until one day. I was tired and I didn't feel like taking the long way home.

It was a short alley that ran between a couple of houses. Nothing ever happened to me as I walked through there before, so I thought that it would be fine. I had barely entered the alley when I heard a car behind me on the street, and something in me knew to look back. There was a van with an older man inside, and he was slowing his vehicle down.

He was staring straight at me, but I kept walking. I was trying to act normal, but something was off. My gut was screaming at me to turn around, go back the long way and get somewhere public where other people could see me. But I didn't. I didn't want to appear paranoid or dramatic. Plus, I figured maybe he'd just drive by.

I also thought I might have been overthinking it. But still, the way that his eyes followed me made my skin crawl, and there was something in me screaming that something was about to go down. Then I had this thought Get your phone out, pretend you're on a call So I did just that

I held it up to my ear and started fake talking But my phone didn't have any minutes on it I couldn't actually call anyone That made me panic even more What if something were to happen I was still walking pretending to talk When I heard the van coming down the alley My stomach dropped

all I could think about was my mom's story, how that guy tried to lure her into his car. I thought about the weird vibe she got and the wrongness of it all. Now I was living it, and I was alone, and I was just a child at the time. The van crept up next to me and slowed down. He stopped right beside me, looked me up and down, and then asked if I could help him find a street. I said I didn't know street names. He then continued to just stare at me silently.

It was like he was thinking, measuring, calculating. It was like he was weighing the pros and cons. He looked at me, then at my phone. I was frozen. Every part of me was screaming. Don't run, don't blink, don't even breathe. I was frozen solid in my mind completely blanked. I suppose the cons outweighed the prose

because finally, after what felt like an eternity, he drove away. As soon as he turned out the other end of the alley, I ran all the way home without stopping. I looked over my shoulder the whole way. I told my mother what happened, and she accused me of making up the whole story just for attention. The next day, she had her boyfriend walk me to school. When nothing happened, she doubled down and called me an attention-seeking liar.

She said that I was just trying to copy her. She had no idea how scared I was, as a young teenage girl. She never even believed me. Later on, after I moved away, I kept hearing stories. Women and children were being taken up the streets and broad daylight. They were here one day and gone the next. I don't doubt that if I hadn't pulled my phone out and made it look like I at least had a witness listening, I would have been one of them.

to this day I still wonder what would have happened if I hadn't pretended to make that call and no matter how long it's been thinking about it still makes me feel cold I think it always will I worked briefly as a psych tech a few years ago the clinic was a

nice place to work. Most of the staff were the same age, earlier in their careers, and friends with each other. I didn't think any of us planned to stay there for very long. I think we were just there because we wanted experience on our resumes. To be honest, I never loved the business model. The best way I can describe it is that it felt like a subscription service. The place wasn't really helping people create individualized plans for how to treat their issues. It just wanted to sign them up for continued care forever, two appointments per month and bundled packages and everyone pretended it was fine. Ginny was one of the nurses there. She was nice and we got along. One day Jenny and I left work early so that we could go to marshals and buy holiday

decorations. I still had a work call to make, but my manager said, I could do that later from home. We could make work calls through a nap. I didn't have a car back then, so Ginny drove us, and she was going to take me home afterward. After we picked out decorations, we got to the checkout line. The line was long, and the wait was going to take at least half an hour. I figured that it was a good time to make the call that I still had to make. So I asked Ginny if I could take care of that in her car while she waited in line. She said that would be okay and gave me her keys.

I had never made work calls outside of work before and I completely forgot that I needed to take notes but I didn't realize that until I was already on the phone that put me in a bit of an awkward situation but I said something along the lines of hold on just give me a minute I need to find a pen no I probably shouldn't have done this but I just decided to look through Ginny's compartments

I opened the box between the drivers and passenger seat to see if there was anything I could use to write my notes. Ginny had some things that I could use in there. She had a little notebook and some pens, and I rudely helped myself to her notebook, without permission and decided to explain that I needed to use it when she got back to the car. I didn't think it was a big deal,

and I figured we'd laugh it off together. Thinking back on this, I would not even think about doing this today. I overstepped my boundaries by both opening the complaint, apartment, and opening a private notebook. I opened it and started flipping through it to find the first blank page. As I flipped, I saw that each page had a name and address and some notes next to it. The names looked familiar at first, but I didn't think that they were patients. That wouldn't have made sense, because Ginny had no reason to keep a notebook like that, but the more

I flipped through it, the clearer it became. Yes, they were all patients from our clinic. Every single one. It had their addresses and descriptions of their houses. It said things like Blue House or House with the Basketball hoop. My jaw must have dropped. I couldn't think of any reason why someone would need to have those kinds of notes, and I still don't. I put the notebook back, closed the box, and put my phone on speaker. I finished my call using the Notes app on my phone, then waited quietly for Ginny to come back. I never told anyone about this, but I truly can't think of any reason

why a nurse would need to keep notes like that. This has been going on for two years, but there is a beginning and an ending. It all started when I wanted to further my education and get a bachelor's and information system. To give you a little bit of info about myself, to help paint the picture, I'm a 26-year-old female. I'm 4'8, and I look way younger than I am. At the beginning of my studies, my current boyfriend and I had broken up, so I told myself it would be best for me to stay single until I

finished school. I turned to the internet after my breakup, however, as many do, just looking for some company, I guess. I had found this one group on Facebook, where I felt like I belonged. I got along well with everyone, and I loved to flirt in the group. That was where I met him. We'll call him Kemper. Like many others before, I began flirting with him relatively quickly and even developed a little crush on him. Things began innocently. I flirted and he flirted back within the group. He seemed very mysterious, though, and I think that's what drew me to him. He didn't have a profile picture, at least not of himself, and he never told me his age or what he even looked like. After a few weeks of flirting, another woman in the group had mentioned that it was

his birthday. I knew I wanted to do something for him, but I was pretty limited on what I could do. Now, before I get any heat for this, just know, I had never sent any unsolicited, topless pictures to a man before. Not until that day. In the picture, I wrote, Happy Birthday Kemper, before sending it off to him on Facebook Messenger. That impulsive decision has changed my life over the past two years,

but there's no going back now. Within a week of talking with Kemper non-stop, he was already telling me that he loved me. He was working as a truck driver, but at the time he broke his knee. So he was out of commission for a few months. This allowed him to talk to me as much as possible. During this time, I was working as a delivery driver for DoorDash.

It was a good job for me since it was easier for me to make my own schedule, as I wasn't done with school just yet. The first few months were great. We would talk constantly over the phone and through Messenger. Also, let me point out that this relationship between me and Kemper was long distance. Even though we were talking a lot, I remember the first fight we ever had.

But even before then, I could see red flags slapping me in the face at every turn. Our first fight was because I was texting him while driving. He flipped his lid and totally went crazy on me. It was very unexpected and it made me cry. I can't tell you how many times I tried to apologize and tell him that it wouldn't happen again. After that incident, I was blown away by how easily something so little could make him do a complete 180. Months went by and our fights continued and they happened more frequently.

At one point, he mentioned how cool it would be to have an app where we could see other's locations. In my naivety, I did a quick search and found an app called Life 360. We both downloaded the app, and then he was able to see everywhere that I was going. At first, I thought it was a neat idea, to say the least. I thought it was cool to follow him around and see everywhere that he went. I thought it made me feel closer and more connected to him. That's what I used it for. He, however, wanted to do it. He, however, wanted to use it for different reasons. I learned over time how controlling, manipulative, and outright psychotic he was. He would argue about things, and even when I got mad, he would somehow turn things around

on me and make me feel like I was the bad guy. The first time we broke up was a shit show. He had broken up with me in the group, just because I had flirted with another guy, and he didn't like it. He was telling the other guys in the group how much of a whore I was and how they could have me. He even threatened to give out my address to the guys in the group so that they could come to my house. My friend, whom we'll call Aussie, was also a member of the group, and he could tell how upset I was in the group comments when this happened, so he messaged me personally for the first time. Now, let me tell you, I don't know what it is, but it seems like I attract monsters. Monster is the best way to describe both Kemper and Aussie. They are both well-off men who essentially

have the world at their fingertips. Before I go into more detail about Aussie, I just want to recount a few incidents with Kemper to give a better understanding of what kind of man he is. There was another occurrence where Kemper and I were fighting, seemingly over nothing, and I was driving home after a long day of work and school. Kemper suddenly blurted out, I wish you would just run off the road and into a ditch and die. I was speechless. Tears welled up in my eyes,

and driving became harder because I couldn't even see. So he almost got his wish. I had to stop at the Dollar General in my town just to compose myself. I couldn't breathe. I was wheezing. The man that I thought I was in love with was wishing that I would die. If he hated me that much, why was he keeping me around? I just wanted to curl up into a ball at that moment and disappear.

I didn't want to go home, but I also didn't want to stay parked at the Dollar General. I was at a loss for what to do. A while later, I told my mom and dad, what he did. They were ready to get their pitchforks and essentially reenact the Salem witch trials because of him. And ever since then, they haven't liked him. In another incident, he and I were talking about meeting each other, and he told me that we would need the menopause act in place. Basically, that's something that he made up since he didn't want to have sex and the off chance that we got pregnant. He told me that if I ever got pregnant, he told me that if I ever got

pregnant, he would make me have a maternity test to make sure it was his, and if it was, he would make me abort the child. He was adamant about not having kids, but I want them, so of course I was really upset, and he made me cry again. Making me cry has been a common occurrence with him over the last two years. Another fight broke out between us on another night, Kemper loves to drink beer, and he said that beer was his best friend and that beer would never disappoint him like I did. During this particular late-night phone call, turned argument, he was extremely drunk, and he was threatening to kill himself. I just couldn't take the argument, so I bid him a good evening and let that be that, and I hung up. I received a bunch

of texts after that, saying all sorts of things, but one really stood out. He said, If I kill myself tonight, it will be because you made me do it. Now, I didn't see that until the next morning, but you can imagine how panicked I was. My heart sank. He was just so good at making me feel like crap and so good at manipulating, lying, and controlling me. It was just becoming way too much. It was more than anyone should have to deal with, no matter how much you love someone.

The following day I begged him to get help for his drinking, his depression and his suicidal behavior, but he refused. And being so far from him, there was only so much that I could do. During our time together, I got two jobs besides the Door Dash gig. They were both part-time, and the first one was at Walgreens. On my very first day on the job, I was doing certifications, and Kemper was blowing up my phone the whole time. He was telling me that I didn't need another job,

and he was saying that I wouldn't have enough time for him if I was working so much. He even said he was going to need to find someone else to replace the time that I had spent with him while also keeping me around, and I just couldn't take it. So I quit. I recently had a talk with him about how I was going to be graduating soon,

and I said that I wanted to find a job at a hospital working normal hours with better pay. He didn't like that, though. He ended up starting another fight. I wound up meeting a guy at a gas station when Kemper and I had been fighting and were broken up. The guy that I met told me that he was a cop. He seemed nice.

I gave him my Snapchat when he asked for it. I didn't think anything of it. I was genuinely curious to see what kind of pictures he would post or what kind of things he would send me. He sent some very indecent photos exposing himself, so I ended up blocking him. I was honest with Kemper about what happened and he said that he couldn't trust me I wasn't even interested at dating or flirting with this guy

I was just being friendly but sometimes guys take friendliness the wrong way so then Kemper told me I needed to build trust back up because of the incident with a cop and each fight after that Kemper kept telling me how much of a whore that he thought I was he even told me the reason why he thought I deleted life 360. He said it was probably because I was going off at night with other men, but the real reason why I deleted Life 360 was because I needed to gain some control back in my life, and I wanted some privacy back. Now, let's get back to Aussie. He's 49. Kemper is 48.

Aussie and I began talking the first time Kemper and I broke up. He was there from me as a concerned friend and messaged me asking me what was going on. I spilled everything to him, and he acted like a best friend. He was easy to talk to. He even began opening up to me about his troubled upbringing. We wound up talking about everything, and things began to escalate into sexual topics. He started telling me about his fantasies, which I guess I somewhat shared with him, but not so much. After a month or so of talking, he began to tell me that he loved me,

but only as a friend. Now, I knew better than that, and it made me uncomfortable knowing that someone I've only talked to a handful of times, which those conversations mostly consisted of sex talk, would tell me that they loved me. And a majority of the time, we would just exchange gifts and a few voice clips.

Over time, I felt, bad talking to this guy. But he was a comfort to me when Kemper and I had broken up. However, our conversations went from semi-normal to weird. It's also worth mentioning that, just like Kemper, he too didn't have a profile picture. But he would post pictures of himself to the Facebook group page, so at least I knew what he looked like, and he was handsome. After talking with him for a while, he would send me other pictures which seemed to be newer pictures that looked nothing like the ones

he had posted in the group. I didn't make a fuss of it though. I just assumed the pictures in the group were older pictures. One day, he had told me that he was getting a haircut and I was trying to be polite and asked for a picture to see the new haircut.

Days later, he finally sent me a picture, but I wasn't sure who the person in the picture was. it looked absolutely nothing like the previous pictures he had sent after that I assumed I was being catfished but it didn't really matter to me because looks don't really matter

a lot of the messages I received from him after that were about how he wanted to quote unquote braid me he started referring to himself as Mr. Wolf and told me that he wanted to steal me away from Kemper marry me and get me pregnant he told me we would have a beautiful child and he said that he was very well off

so he could have more children and we'd have a great life he was also talking about some women in the Facebook group that we were in and women in general he was saying women who cheat or flirt with other men behind their husband's backs need to be taken care of

this wasn't exactly what he said but I'm trying to keep it clean He told me that he knows high-end people and that he's good friends with the governor so he can find all kinds of information about someone if he really needs to. Everything he told me is truly scary to say the least, especially if it's all true,

and my gut is telling me that it is. That is just one of the many reasons I began distancing myself from him. He's currently in the process of having a lawsuit settled in which he's gaining a large amount of money that he really doesn't need. One day he began sending me pictures of this piece of property

with a large multi-million dollar home on it. The place had a cellar, and he told me how he could convert the cellar into a dungeon and keep me there as a play toy. I live in the South Gulf, and Aussie has many friends in my area. He wants me to meet a few of his friends,

and he asked me to join him, for a few weeks of traveling to meet some of them after his lawsuit is settled. That's a big no for me, though. Both Kemper and Aussies scare me in ways that I can't explain. So for now, let's just say let's not meet. This happened about two years ago during my second year at university when I was 20. For context, I'm French, so if anything seems strange about how I described my uni experience, that's why. At the time, I lived in a government-owned apartment building and a unit on the third floor.

My direct neighbor was my younger sister who was studying at the same university. Something I should mention that's important to the story is that I'm disabled. My right leg has been useless ever since an accident I had when I was 13. I also suffer from debilitating chronic pain to a degree that keeps me bedridden and nonverbal unless I take a twice a day dosage of a prescribed morphine. All of these details are important, so bear with me. When I take my medication, I'm able to leave my bed. On the worst days, I have to either use a wheelchair or a cane to get around.

which wasn't great living on the third floor of a building with no elevator. On top of that, as you might guess, morphine is a very strong pain medication. It screws with your visual and hearing perception. It makes you sleepy and dizzy, lessens your reflexes, numbs your nervous system, makes you paranoid. Well, you get the idea. At the time, I had only been taking morphine for less than six months, after 10 years of various other pain medications, and I was still dealing with the side effects in full force. Most of them are gone now, but back then, that meant that I was mainly experiencing

auditory hallucination, sleepiness, dizziness, and poor reflexes. At that point, I had gotten used to hearing stuff that wasn't there. Mostly clapping noises, clicking noises, small things, ultimately. I never hallucinated human voices or anything like that. One night, I had gone out to the city center to meet with friends. This was a rare occasion for me, and I do mean rare. I didn't go out more than once every two months or so for multiple reasons that my friends, bless them, understood perfectly.

Being on morphine means no drinking, so that takes half of the fun of going out to the bar, out of the equation from the start. Despite the very useful nature of the meds, I was still in a tremendous amount of pain if I stood for more than a couple of minutes, which I was sure to do a lot of at the bar, plus walking back from the bus stop to my building. But I went anyway.

For a few days, there had been rumors going around about a group that was going around kidnapping people from the university. I remember two girls had disappeared already, and it was suspected that a blue van was the vehicle they were using. Those reports were circulating on our majors group chat and on the university group chat as well. The main details were shared each time, but my friends and I were skeptical,

mostly about the blue van, because we didn't believe the van would still be running around since the information had spread so widely. We were even hearing about it on Facebook. Not that I was thinking about any of that as I came back from the bar, though. At around midnight I was heading back home. It was early, but I was in a lot of pain, and the bus stopped running half past midnight.

Missing the last bus would have meant waking up my sister and having her pick me up at the tram station, since I would have been physically unable to do the 20-minute walk required to get to our building. So I got onto the bus, and only three people were on board, and none of them got off at my bus stop. Bear in mind, I was in an extreme amount. of pain to the point that my vision was blurring, and I was swaying a bit from side to side, so I was trying to minimize the weight being put on my leg. On top of that, I had just taken a fast-working morphine dose to help me get through the five-minute walk back to my building. Unlike my usual twice-a-day high dosage, these fast-working pills were being taken at my

discretion whenever I needed quick relief. The downside of that pill is that it basically knocks you out for 30 minutes. You get so sleepy you can barely keep your eyes opened and you essentially are high for about 20 minutes before passing out. So I got off the bus. On my right, there was a parking lot in front of a bakery with a bunch of cars. That was normal because there where a lot of government-owned student flats around that block, and that was where most of them parked, so I wasn't concerned. The road that I took to get to my building was straight from where the bus dropped me off. My building was to the right, and there were a couple of parking spots in front of it, and a wheelchair slope leading up to a magnetic door. A magnetic student ID is needed

to open the door, then a key to the specified door to your building. As I walked past the parking lot, I saw movement in the corner of my eye, but since I was halfway out of it from pain and meds, I didn't turn to look at it. I heard some noise, but I just assumed I was hallucinating, so I kept walking. But then I noticed the streetlights reflecting on a car window. I'm not sure why that made me turn around, but it made my brain start catching on to stuff. So I glanced to the side And I saw an old beat-up white car

Low to the ground And the driver's seat was a man who appeared to be in his mid-50s Although the neighborhood primarily housed students The thing that gave me pause Was the fact that there was someone awake In the front seat of the car At one in the morning But again I was so out of it

I didn't question it I didn't even stop walking because at that point my only thoughts were you're almost there, you're almost done dealing with this pain. All my attention and focus were on getting back home safely because of the debilitating pain.

I walked past the small roundabout to my left, still going straight when I heard a car start. I don't know why that was the thing that slapped me in the face, but suddenly I was worried. My heart was beating fast, which was probably half because of the meds

and half because of my fear. But also, I was well aware that morphine tends to make me paranoid, so I tried to keep myself calm. I then saw headlights coming from behind me, drawing a long shadow in front of me. In a second, I ran through the calculations. I was still about 300 meters from the building,

about 1,000 feet for those in the U.S. After the trek, I still needed to get my idea, out to open the slow automatic magnetic door. I couldn't run to get there faster. I could barely walk. I was all alone, with no residential building close enough to hear a scream. That was when I began to panic, and I was right to do so. The car caught up to me and slowed down to my walking speed. I noticed that the man wasn't alone in the car anymore. Someone was in the passenger seat, and there was movement in the back. I didn't turn my head because I had. I didn't turn my head because I

I was trying to pretend that I didn't notice them slowing down. I had my earbuds in with no music, as I didn't turn my music back on after the bus ride. I just kept walking, hoping that they'd just leave me alone. I was trying to walk faster, but I was in so much pain that a few tears rolled down my cheeks. I could hear that they were calling for my attention, but not what they were saying specifically.

Finally, I saw the lane going up to my building, so I took my backpack off and shoved my hands in my front pocket I was fumbling because my nervous response was shit thanks to the meds I couldn't feel my fingers and I was shaking and of course I couldn't find my ID at that point I was close to a panic attack

my heart was beating too fast and I felt like I was close to fainting from the combined terror and pain I turned to face the wheelchair slope when I saw from the corner of my eyes the car stopped abruptly right next to the slope and then the door whipped open. I don't know how I did it as I was close to painting

but I managed to somehow run the last 10 feet to the door. I then slapped my ID that I miraculously found on the reader yelling at the door to open faster. I could hear people approaching quickly from behind me. Right when the door finally opened I was able to. slip in. I got inside and slammed it shut behind me. Then I heard the men run into the door with a loud noise. They were cursing and yelling at me. I didn't stick around to hear what they had to say. I just kept fumbling around trying to get my keys out to head up to my unit. But once I had the main door

closed behind me, I dropped to the floor and had the worst panic attack of my life. When I managed to pull myself back together and painstakingly climbed the three flights of stairs I crawled into my sister's flat. We left our doors open for each other for precisely these types of circumstances. I woke her up and told her the whole story. She later told me that I was deathly pale, so much so that I scared her and she offered to share her single bed with me that night. I accepted. I was too messed up to refuse. The worst part is, that isn't the end of the story. story. My sister went out to the bars a lot more than I did, and she was able-bodied and dropped dead gorgeous. Three weeks later, she called me in the middle of the night, as she was

coming back from the bar. She had seen the exact car I described in the parking lot at the bus stop. She didn't stop to see if there was anyone inside. She reacted and sprinted to our building. Of course, she was a lot faster than my drugged, disabled ass, so she made it to the where I was waiting for her, having opened it from the inside, just as the car stopped in the lane. After that, we left a note on our flat complexes door to explain everything to other people and posted about it on every university group chat that we knew of. We also contacted the police who helpfully told us that they could do nothing without catching them in the act, but they said that they would probably send someone to patrol, as our report matched other reports they had

gotten that sparked the rumors about the blue van in the first place. In the following year that it took to finish my degree, neither my sister nor I saw those men or their car again, but we still hear from people sharing the same kind of story from other parts of the city. As far as we can tell, these men are still active, and two years later, I'm still messed up about it. Stick around after the music for your extended version of this week's episode. If you want to get access, go to patreon.com forward slash let's not meet podcast. To sign up and support the show today, you'll get access to add free versions of all of the episodes at a higher bit rate, plus bonus stories in those extensions with stories you won't hear anywhere else.

Again, that's patreon.com forward slash let's not me podcast. Be sure to check out the new episode. of my other podcasts like Odd Trails and the Old Time Radiocast at Cryptic County Podcasts.com or wherever you get your podcasts and follow me on Twitch at twitch.tv.tv slash Cryptic County. This week you have heard dog sitting turned dastardly by Maid for Mordor. Yukon Highway Stalker by Louis Please. I pretended to be on my phone by Kim Kim. My co-worker kept a really weird notebook by Alyssa L-C-S-W.

Just can't get away from them. by Blondie B 96, and finally The College Kid Kidnappers by Mako. 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 of the message boards online. If you have a story to share, send it to Let's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com. We'll see you next week.

Everybody, stay safe. My mom passed away when I was 15.