Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - I Met a Girl Beneath an Underpass. I Never Should Have Taken Her Home

Episode Date: June 3, 2026

After picking up his old friend from prison, the narrator takes a shortcut beneath an overpass and finds a strange young woman waiting in the cold. What begins as a simple act of kindness soon turns into a night he may never fully escape. Are you still drinking that stale, store-bought coffee? Check out ⁠⁠NoSleepCoffee.com⁠⁠ to get 20% off fresh, same-day roasted coffee delivered straight to your door. Just use promo code NOSLEEP20 at checkout for 20% off your first order! Huge thanks to our sponsors: BetterHelp: Sign up now and get 10% off at ⁠betterhelp.com/dns⁠. Shopify: Sign up for your $1 per month trial today at shopify.com/dns. Author:  John Simpson * * * CONTENT DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content not limited to intense themes, strong language, and depictions of violence intended for adults. Parental guidance is strongly advised for children under the age of 18. Listener discretion is advised.  #drnosleep #scarystories #horrorstories #doctornosleep #creepypasta #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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under if I could avoid it. More than just the darkness. I think it was the smell. There was the usual odor of piss and rotten food that accumulates in such places. But there was something else too, something damp and putrid, like rotting fish guts. The river was half a mile away, but under there, it felt a lot closer. On the Friday that Joey was released from prison, however, I didn't have much choice. It was the quickest route. I picked Joey up at the bus station earlier that evening and was showing him the way to my apartment, where he'd be staying overnight. He had been incarcerated in the summer, and now it was February. Even with the coat I'd brought him, Joey wasn't dressed for the weather.

Taking the long way to avoid the overpass felt cruel, and admitting why felt even worse, especially to a man who'd just done six years in prison for something that started with me. I don't remember much about that night. I'd just turned 21, and Joey and I had both been drinking heavily. The rain had finally stopped. We'd just staggered out of a bar in search of someplace with a better vibe

when a pudgy guy with a shaved head had called me a slur, the kind of slur that sticks in your gut, no matter how buzzed you are. Joey started yelling, the stranger started yelling, and at some point I threw a punch at him. The stranger, whose name,

we learned during the trial was Gavin Derwent, raised his hands and mocked surrender. He was bigger than both of us put together and he knew it. But as he backed away, Joey gave him a parting push, and Gavin slipped. I'll never forget the sound that bastard skull made when it cracked against the sidewalk. No one in the bar heard the insult or witnessed the punch-eyed thrown. All anyone saw was the big guy raising his empty palms and Joey's life-changing shove. Joey's silence was the only reason why I was called as a witness at that terrible trial, rather than as a co-defendant. During one of the rare moments we had alone in his public defender's office,

I tried to thank him, but Joey just held up a hand and gave me a sad little smile. There'd be no point, he said, in both of us going to jail. At the time, there was no way we could have known how severely Gavin Derwent's condition would worsen, or how harsh the judge would be with Joey's sentencing. The letters, We'd exchanged hadn't prepared me for how much Joey's time behind bars had changed him. His skin had taken on an unhealthy yellow pallor, and even though he was only 27, there were already flecks of gray in his wiry brown hair. His green eyes still had the same daring sparkle that I remembered, but the joy had gone out. I wondered how I looked to him, with my scuffed-up

black boots, thrift store parka, and name tag that read Assistant Manager. I had won't wanted to be an English professor, but I'd dropped out during the trial. I'd drifted from one job to another until somehow I wound up here, renting a leaky one-bedroom apartment a few blocks away from the bus station. The streetlights came on, jolting me out of my reverie. Joey was still in the depths of some story, but I'd completely lost track of who was supposed to be kicking whose ass in the laundry room, or why. Was this how it was going to be from now on? We'd once been close as brothers, but it suddenly felt like we no longer had anything in common, apart from that one awful night. A frigid wind dragged snow clouds across the light-polluted sky. Whatever our

differences may have been, I walked a little closer to Joey as the overpass drew near. Oblivious to the sudden hush and queasy smell of the place, Joey concluded his story with a wild peal of laughter. Then he stopped dead. He squinted into the shadows. Joey called out. Are you all right? I don't know how he saw her, sitting so high up on the concrete slab beneath the gridworks. Her rose-colored tube top and tight black leggings would have left anyone shivering in the grim weather. But she barely seemed to notice the chill.

She'd even kicked off her high heels. There was something vulnerable and unsettling about those ten pink-nailed toes, poised so carelessly above so much trash and broken glass. When Joey repeated his question, she lifted her head from the crook of her arm and blinked down at us. Her thinness made her look young, but in the shadows it was difficult to tell. Joey snorted and said that nobody ended up in a place like this, dressed how she was. He jabbed his thumb toward me and said that his friend had a place right down the road where she could get something warm to drink and call somebody if she needed to.

The girl shook her head rapidly. It wasn't a good idea, she insisted. But Joey wasn't giving up. He flashed the movie star smile he'd always used to seal the deal when taking someone home from a bar or club. His teeth had yellowed and seemed to have been knocked out of position somehow, but the girl started moving. She stretched and blinked slowly, as though she'd evaluated us and came to some sort of

conclusion. With surprising grace, she slid down the concrete slab, brushed her hair out of her eyes, and slipped her heels back on. Through a smile that was more like a grimace, she told us that we could call her Eve. Joey draped the two small coat I'd given him around her shoulders. She flinched at his touch. We introduced ourselves, but even after we had resumed our walk, I couldn't relax. Joey had always been impulsive, but this sort of charity was out of character even for him, if charity was what it was. I kept thinking back to a topic Joey wrote about often in his letters.

summed up by the phrase, You have no idea how horny a man gets in prison. The idea that my friend's kindness might have ulterior motives made me uneasy, not only for the girl's sake, but also for joey's. I found myself scanning Eve's skin for track marks. And was that a cold sore in the corner of her pouty lips or something more? If she noticed my stairs, however, she gave no sign.

She walked a few feet back, as though she still hadn't made up her mind about it. I couldn't say I blamed her. The further we went, the more clear it became that my suspicions had been correct. After years of being Joey's wingman, I knew what it meant when he started breaking out the bad jokes and talking about his big plans for the future. Another gust of wind blew past. It was colder now that the sun had set.

I bundled my coat even tighter around myself. None of this was going how I'd expected, and I wondered how long I would have to play host to these two increasingly unwelcome guests. I held open the front door of my apartment building. Joey beckoned Eve inside. This time, she hesitated. Her eyes narrowed. She asked if we were sure about this. Joey told her to be our guest. I nodded and kept my opinion to myself. There was something lonesome about the echo of our footsteps on the staircase, and I found myself making conversation with Eve just to break the silence. I asked her if she lived nearby. I used to, she replied as we entered my apartment. Heating was expensive, but I was grateful

I had left the radiators running before I'd gone to pick up Joey. I'd never known my place to feel so warm and cozy, and I could feel the tension melt away from my old friend as he dropped his bag and collapsed onto the couch. He smiled up at me, comfortable, I supposed, for the first time in six years. For a second, it all felt worth it. Then he clapped to. Then he clapped to, his hands together and asked what I had to eat. Since there had been no time to go shopping after work, dinner was macaroni and cheese with a withered, diced up onion, a few slices of chorizo, and some freezer-burned peas. Joey sang the praises of the stuff with every forkful, but Eve hadn't touched a bite. She leaned awkwardly against the wall, observing a stain on my

linoleum floor. Joey told her that she really ought to eat something, to put some meat on those bones, as he put it. Eve laughed. There was a shrill and manic edge to the sound that I didn't like it all. She told Joey that eating really wasn't a good idea. She unstuck herself from the wall and began pacing around the tiny apartment, peering out the windows as though trying to distract herself from something. I gritted my teeth. I wanted this weird girl out of my apartment, and I thought I had just the way to do it. I held out my phone and asked if there was anyone she wanted to call. Eve shook her head. I was going to offer to pay for her ride home when Joey butted in. The night was still young, he objected, and didn't I have anything to drink around here.

The truth was that I didn't. After that last horrible bar crawl with Joey, I'd lost the taste for alcohol completely. He suggested I hopped down to the liquor store and buy a bottle of something to celebrate. Then he switched on my TV, padded the couch cushion beside him, and asked Eve if she'd like to hear the story of how he'd gotten arrested. I'd have enough of the pair of them. If getting laid by a sketchy stranger was how Joey wanted to spend his first night of freedom, I wasn't going to stand in his way. I let both of them know that I was going out for drinks, and I added, I wouldn't be back for a long while. Eve was still standing thoughtfully by the window, but I could feel her eyes boring into me as I went. When I turned to lock the door,

I saw her wipe the back of her hand across her mouth. though rubbing away a stain that was no longer there. I'd killed as much time as I could wandering up and down the sticky aisles of the corner store, but I soon got tired of the heavy-set owner's eyes glaring into the back of my skull. To convince him that I wasn't going to steal anything, I grabbed a bottle of the cheapest sparkling wine I could find, paid, and trudged back out into the winter night. Starting a business always sounds exciting until you realize how many little things you suddenly have to figure out.

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If you have questions or concerns about your gambling or someone close to you, please contact Connects Ontario at 1-866-531-2,600 to speak to an advisor. Free of charge. BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with Eye Gaming Ontario. When I looked up at my apartment, a wave of unease settled over me. I noticed that the lights were out. I crept up the stairs like a thief and turned the key in the lock just as quietly. As I pressed my ear against the door, I tried to figure out what exactly I was so frightened of.

The only answer was more silence from the other side. The doorknob barely squeaked as I crossed the threshold. For reasons I couldn't explain, I was hesitant to flip on the light switch. I set the sparkling wine on the counter and strained my eyes, struggling to identify shapes in the dark. There was nothing peaceful or calm about the stillness of the place. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Almost reluctantly, I tiptoed to my half-open bedroom door. The dim streetlight glow, seeping in from outside, illuminated my tangled bed sheets,

a heap of dirty laundry on the floor, the jumble of cables and unread books on my nightstand. But no eve. No, Joey. Had they gone out somewhere? I was about to step inside and change into my pajama pants when I heard dripping from the shower. Leaks were nothing new in that slummy apartment, but this was different. It was less rhythmic, heavier somehow. I crossed the hall and nudged the bathroom door open with the tip of my foot. Hinges creaked behind me. A slender silhouette stood in my bedroom doorway. In the split second before it charged, I caught a flash of pale gray green eyes in the dark.

My pursuer ran on all fours, beast-like, with a guttural moan that made my skin crawl. I stumbled down the hallway as fast as I could, vaulted over the couch, and slammed the front door behind me. My shaking hands struggled to fit the key in the lock. As I finally twisted the deadbolt into position, something flung its body against a flimsy wood. There was a thick rust-like smell in the air, one that reminded me of the juice in the bottom of meat packets left out to spoil. Another slam. The door splintered around the hinges. I'd barrel down the stairs as fast as my legs could carry me. I didn't stop until I came crashing through the door of the corner store. The owner reached for something beneath the counter and kept it at the ready throughout my plea for help.

When I finally ran out of air and out of words, he slid off of his stool, turned off the lights, and lowered the store's security shutters. It was only after the place was completely locked down that he passed me a phone and told me to call the police. There was no sound apart from the hum of the refrigerators and my own. heavy breaths. The store owner lumbered back to his stool and sat calmly, as though something like this happened every other Tuesday. I leaned on the sticky counter, listening for the sound of sirens. Instead, I saw a shadow moving on the other side of the security gate, knuckles wrapped gently against it. I'm hurt, please, can I come inside? Eve's voice sent a shiver down my spine. I made eye contact with the store owner, silently begging him not to respond.

He shifted on his stool, something glinted in his hand, a nickel-plated pistol. I know you're in there. Won't you help me? Those three soft knocks repeated. Then, If you open up now, it'll be helper quick, I promise. There was a low rumble beneath Eve's words that reminded me of the moan I'd heard in the hallway. Neither of us budged. Flashing red and blue lights appeared through the gaps and the shutters. The figure outside was gone.

The cops found Joey with his head, not covered. quite all the way severed. He'd been hung upside down in my shower. Like a bottle being poured down the drain, I overheard one officer say. It was unclear where all of the blood had gone. Eve's whereabouts, too, were a mystery. She didn't appear in the footage provided by the store's security cameras, nor was any trace of her presence found at my apartment. The detective seemed to suspect that I'd made her up as some sort of cover story, but they didn't seem too concerned. After they got wind of Joey's criminal past, I could feel their interest in his case begin to fade. The sky was brightening by the time my interrogation ended. I had work in less than

two hours. I scarfed down a greasy breakfast and about 10 cups of coffee at a diner a few blocks over from the station, then climbed aboard the bus that would take me to copies and more. The officers had assured me that their forensics crew would be finished by mid-afternoon. They also promised that a squad car would stake out my building overnight, in case this Eve person comes back. The more night turned to day, however, the less real the whole thing seemed. After I finished my shift, I staggered to the nearest library, collapsed into an out-of-the-way chair, and slept like the dead until close. The thought of going back to the place where my oldest friend had been strung up like a piece of meat in a butcher shop made me shiver, but wandering those poorly-lit

streets after dark somehow seemed even worse. I eventually caught a bus home. As the clouds overhead shifted from pink to purple, I burst through the front door of my apartment. I stalked from room to room, switching on lights, checking inside closets and beneath the furniture. I wasn't sure what I was looking for, or even if I wanted to find it. The bathroom was the last room I checked. The cleaning crew must have left recently. The air reeked of bleach, cigarette smoke, and someone's cheap, unfamiliar cologne. There was no trace of what had happened to Joey, but if I closed my eyes, I could still hear that awful dripping. Night had fallen, but sleep was the furthest thing from my mind. I went to my bedroom and pulled up the blinds. In the squad car across the street,

two clean-shaven officers grimly returned my wave. My doors were locked, and my apartment was under police protection. So what was I afraid of? I tossed and turned on top of my mattress. Time stretched like silly putty. A fly buzzed around the water-stained ceiling. What had Eve been doing beneath that underpass? I wondered. And why hadn't she appeared on the corner store surveillance cameras? The digital clock read 1.41 a.m.

With my stomach growling, I made my way to the kitchen. There was nothing in the fridge, except for the leftovers of Joey's tossed together macaroni and cheese. And I couldn't bring myself to eat that. Not now. I prepared myself a peanut butter sandwich and a glass of milk instead. I was taking it back to the bedroom when something made me look toward the front door. Its handle was turning. The movement was slow and soft, as though

whoever was out there wanted to make as little noise as possible. But there was no mistaking what was happening. I hurried to look through the peephole, but something was covering it. I dashed to my bedroom window. The officers were still parked outside. One was eating a foot-long sandwich. The other appeared to be telling a joke. I tried to calm myself. The door was. door was locked, and that would buy me enough time to get their attention. In the main room, I heard the unmistakable click of a deadbolt sliding free. Panicking, I blocked the entrance to my room with my bed and everything else I could find. Footsteps crossed the squeaky living room floor.

Whoever was outside gave the door a gentle push. When it didn't open, they appeared to give up and walk away. The officers down below still hadn't looked up. When neither jumping nor waving worked, I unlatched the window. I was planning to scream or maybe even throw something to the way. at their cruiser if nothing else worked, but the sight of an upside-down face on the other side of the glass stopped me in my tracks. Rather than try to break down the door, Eve had crawled onto the roof to get at me by an easier way. Her pink nails reached to slide up the screen. There was no emotion

that I could recognize in those pale green eyes, except maybe the blind joy of a crocodile as it prepares to feed. The window pane flew upward with a crash. I scrambled over the insane barricade I'd built, and for the second time in less than 48 hours, I was running for my life. Old Miss Morales peaked out from behind her door chain. I screeched at her to lock up and not let anyone in until dawn. The officers got moving as soon as they saw me. They warned me to wait by the cruiser. Then they sprinted upstairs before I could finish my story, or my warning. With a heart full of foreboding, I stared at the golden-lit windows of my apartment. The pair moved tensely from room to room with their service weapons drawn, clearing the place. Five minutes later,

They were standing perplexed in my living room, and I knew that they had found no sign of Eve. I glanced nervously from left to right. Between the lateness of the hour and the icy wind, the streets were deserted. Apart from the click-clack of a pair of high heels on the sidewalk behind me, the blood rushed from my face. I panicked, tugging at the door of the cruiser. To my surprise, it was open. I slipped inside and slammed down the locks. I had seen the speed of Eve's reflexes.

I didn't understand why she hadn't run me down. The one sickening possibility that occurred to me, as I waited, trapped in the passenger seat of the empty cruiser, was that she enjoyed the hunt as much as the feast at its end. She tapped on the glass, her expression unchanged. There's nowhere you can go to escape from me, Eve whispered. Let me in. The officers had left the building and were running toward the cruiser, shouting and waving their arms.

Eve backed into the alley behind her so quickly that the shadows seemed to have swallowed her up. I only went back to my apartment once, in the middle of the day, to move out. Breaking my lease and starting over wiped out what was left of my savings, but doing anything else felt like a death sentence. I left a note for the next tenant on the top of the cabinets, where I figured my lazy landlord wouldn't bother to clean. On it, I wrote my name and number, as well as a warning not to allow strangers inside. It eased my conscience, at least, and freed me to begin the long, hard work of forgetting.

I picked up extra shifts at work and avoided any place with ties to Joey's memory. I even joined an amateur volleyball team. By summer, I was starting to feel like myself again, until I received a call from a soft-spoken, older gentleman named Luke Holleran. He explained he'd been renting my former apartment since his divorce. He'd found my note, but that wasn't why he called. Luke said that he met a pretty girl near the underpass the night before. I could hear the wink in his voice as he explained that she had asked about me, wanting to know

how I was and where I was living these days. Luke hadn't known how to answer her, but had agreed to pass on a message. It was, he admitted, a little odd. I haven't forgotten you, she'd said, and I never will. Thanks for tuning in. If you enjoyed the story, be sure to follow or subscribe and share the show with a fellow horror fan. I'll see you in the next one. Thank you.