Snook - 8+ Hours of Horrifying TRUE Reddit Stories to Sleep To

Episode Date: September 27, 2026

Join the Patreon! For bonus videos, exclusive livestreams, discord and more! https://www.patreon.com/SnookYT⁠ This is 8+ Hours of Horrifying TRUE Reddit Stories to Sleep To! This is a compilation of some of the most horrifying, creepy, and scary reddit stories i have ever read.. I hope you enjoy! And let me know if you would like to see more videos like this in the future! Thank you all for listening! Make sure you rate the podcast 5 stars and follow! Thank you all so much for listening! Make sure to subscribe to the Patreon for early access videos and many more perks! ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.patreon.com/SnookYT⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Also! Go follow me on Spotify and Instagram! Yes, my voice is human. The channels subscriber goal is 1 million, so subscribe! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Hey, what's up guys and welcome back to the podcast. And today we're getting into some horrifying, true Reddit stories to fall asleep to. And oh boy, do I have a horrifying, scary and just downright terrifying compilation of some of the most just wild and insane and scary stories I have ever covered on my channel before. And so make sure to stick around. And if you enjoy this video, please rate the show five stars on Spotify. and follow me. It helps out so, so, so much. And if you'd like to get early access to this video

and also weekly bonus videos where I read some explicit and just wild confessions and stories that I can't put on Spotify, and also if you want exclusive live streams every single Thursday, where I hang out with you guys, chat, and read some explicit and just disgusting stories that are just wild and just hang out with you guys.

It's an all-around great time. Then check out my Patreon for, just $5 a month, you get all of that and more. And also you can't forget about the Discord server you get access to where you can hang out with me, chat, talk, and also the first 1,000 members get the founder's role on the Discord. So that is a huge benefit. And once they're gone, they're gone. So get there early. I think they are almost out. And anyways, please check out the Patreon. The link is in the first link in the description and the pinned comment. I can't wait to see over there. But anyways, without further ado, let's get into some horrifying true Reddit

stories to fall asleep to. My first Tinder experience ended with him in jail. This story is nowhere near as harrowing as some that I've read here, but when I found this subreddit, I knew I wanted to share this experience here. Three years ago, I tried Tinder for the first time. I was 25 at the time, and while most 25-year-old women have dabbled on Tinder or the like, I hadn't been single since I was 17. I met my ex while I was in high school. Six years later, we got married, had a baby, I was happy, but those last couple of years together, he had really begun to resent me in the family we had created together.

I fought to keep our relationship together, but the abuse became more frequent and more intense. It got to the point where I took our baby and fled the house in the middle of the night. My mind was scarred and my heart was raw. It was a really difficult time in my life. A couple of months after I left, I had a new home, a new job, and a renewed sense of life. I was starting to open up and could feel myself healing. I was, however, lonely. I was adjusting to shared custody and spent my weekends alone.

I didn't want to jump into any relationship, but I did want to experience some of the things my eight-year-old relationship hadn't allowed me. Joining Tinder felt fun. It was new and scary, and after so much trauma, it felt nice to have so much positive attention. My self-worth was low, so the cheap compliments and instant gratification of the app felt incredible. Who might have deserved their attention? Why would they choose to speak to me of all women? Not my healthiest coping mechanism, but I wanted to feel desirable. That's when I met Derek.

Derek was an unassuming average guy. He was cute enough, but not so. attractive that I felt self-conscious. Derek and I shared a few interests, craft beer, hiking, and he had a sense of humor that I liked. We agreed to meet up at a local restaurant. I was so nervous. My first date in eight years. I donned my cutest dress, got made up and headed out. As I waited in the restaurant, my palms were sweaty, my heart was fluttering, and I began to question myself. He arrived and everything was awkward at first. We ordered our first beers and started to break the ice. As soon as the buzz of the alcohol began to hit, our conversation took off.

We had relaxed in each other's company, and the rest of the day went smoothly. We joked about karaoke across town. He laughed about how he didn't like karaoke. I am a huge fan of karaoke. While no superstar, I have spent a good amount of time in choirs and can carry a tune well enough. One of my favorite rowdy weekend activities is going to that bar in Busting out some songs with the sweet taste of gin on my tongue.

I convinced him to go with me, and we left the restaurant. We sang into the night, taking shots, flirting, laughing. We ended the night in his truck, clumsily fumbling with each other's buttons and zippers, hearts racing with excitement. This had been what I needed. We texted back and forth more often, and soon we were talking about another date. I'd enjoyed our time together, and liked that I didn't feel a deep connection with him. It was fun, and that was it.

Because my heart wasn't tangled up in feelings, he felt safe. We decided for our second date that we would go tubing down a river that runs through our town. We had parked his orange truck at the end of the tubing run and took the tubes in my truck up river. We agreed that he would zip my truck key with his into a pocket on his shorts and that he would drop me off at my truck afterwards. Bright summer heat warmed our skin and the water felt crisp and fresh on our toes. The afternoon slipped past as we floated down the river. When we reached the bottom, we deflated our tubes and headed back to my truck. Only when Derek reached into his pocket, his face sank.

He looked at me and said, your key is gone. I laughed. Surely he was joking. He insisted this wasn't a joke. Gravity pulled at my stomach and I began to panic. This was the only copy of my truck key and I had taken it on the river. I felt foolish and worried about how to get a new key if we couldn't find it. The river was long.

we had been tubing for hours, we'd stopped at several places to swim. He offered to drive me at home, and I accepted. During the drive, we made a plan to meet up the next day to search for my key at some of the stops we had made. We spent the next afternoon combing our swimming holes for my key. Up and down, we swam, with very little hope that we would ever see my keys. We had to try, though, and we kept at it. From one spot to another, we drove, we swam, and we moved on.

At the very last place, we checked as the light of afternoon, faded into a hazy orange, something caught his eye. Underwater, near the shore, were my keys. We were elated and could not believe our luck. To celebrate, we went back to his place for some drinks. He drove me down a long wooded driveway, and at the very end was a shaded trailer. He told me that he was only renting a room here from an elderly couple, but they were on vacation, so we would be alone. We walked over the creaking porch and entered the trailer. Inside I could see the kitchen was messly. Not just a couple of dishes, but every surface was covered with mess. He ushered me a way to show me his room. It was small and not very clean either. Dirty clothes, mattress on the floor,

a rubber-made bin with some snacks like Doritos and cheap warm beer. We had sex, the yellow light of the trailer, accentuating the stains on the walls. Afterwards, the spark of fun I had felt when we first met had withered, and I felt gross. I decided that it would be a very last day. date. A week passed and we hardly texted. Our brief fling was ending and I didn't expect to see him again. My mind moved on to other things. The coming weekend, my friends were coming to town and I was excited. We made plans to go to karaoke together on Saturday night. When the day arrived, I was surprised to see a text from Derek on my phone. Are you going to karaoke tonight? It read. I responded that I was and he texted back that you'd be there. I thought you didn't like

karaoke, I asked him, and he said that he had been invited by a girl he worked with, and thought he should give me a heads up that he would be with a date in case I was there. I thanked him for taking the time to let me know, reassured him that I wouldn't be bothered at all, and said that I hoped he had a great date. Around 9.30 that night, my friends and I arrived at the bar, the dim lights and reflective foil stars and all too familiar scene. We got our drinks and picked a booth with a good view of the stage. I had a strange sensation, like someone was watching me. I turned my head, scanning the bar, and our eyes locked. Derek and his date were a few booths away, and he was watching us. He waved zealously with a big smile. His date turned around to look, and I managed an awkward

wave. I was absolutely fine with him being on a date, but I didn't want to advertise that we knew each other or make his day uncomfortable. My friends were all aware of the time we had spent together, my thoughts on the experience, and the texts he had sent me earlier. We were all thinking it was a bit odd that he would go out of his ways to interact with me in front of his date, but no harm, no foul. He was just being friendly. The evening carried on, and we had a great time, basking in the atmosphere, drinking in the songs and laughter.

A couple of hours in, we were sitting in our booth, when Derek stumbled over to our table of his date. He introduced her to as Kate, and plopped down beside me, pulling her down into our booth next to him. The strong smell of alcohol oozed off of them, and I could see they were hammered. It became obvious they had both had too much to drink, their eyes glazed and words slurred. Kate seemed really nice, despite her state, and she launched into a drunk story to the whole table. My friends and I were fairly uncomfortable and were unsure what was going on. Under the table, I felt Derek's sticky hand slide onto my thigh. His date was right there,

and I was stunned. Without making a scene, I suddenly removed his hand. and excused myself to get another drink. As I walked across the room, I could feel his eyes raking my back, and sure enough, when I turned around, he was watching. When I got back, Kate was slurring that her taxi had come. She and Derek exchanged a sloppy kiss and good nights, and then it was just us and Derek. Derek's mood shifted after that.

He was drunkenly unaware of how uncomfortable the table was, and we could tell he was brooding about his date having left without him. Derek turned his attention to me. He slung his heavy arm over my shoulder and leaned in, his sour breath managing to come together to form clumsy sentences. You're so cute. I love your laugh. I was rigid and just wanted him to leave.

When he got up to get another beer, my friends and I spoke about the situation. One of them remarking, You know you can do better than this, right? I said yes, as casual as this had been, I made a mistake. We came to the conclusion. it would be best if we ended the night early as we didn't see him leaving me alone. As a backup plan, if anything went south, we agreed that the girls would go to the bathroom and leave out the back door, while our male friend would distract him and slip away.

Derek arrived back at the table, sloshing his beer onto his front. He slurred, where are we going next? I hesitated, but my friend told him that we would be going all home. Derek said he would walk us there, and we politely declined. He was leaning up against a wall and barely holding himself up at this point. We asked him how he was going to get home, and if we could call him a cab. Derek drunkenly pouted that he could just come to my place with me. Trying to shut him down as politely as I could,

I told him that my child was there with a sitter, so I couldn't have him over. He didn't need to know that wasn't true. He refused to taxi and said he would just sleep in his truck. Since his eyelids were drooping and looking at the rest of his state, it seemed reasonable that he would be able to fall asleep. sleep in a truck, and we accepted that answer. As we started to leave, he stumbled after us. We stopped and reminded him that we were all going to bed. He argued again that he should just come with me. My friends and I locked eyes. It was time to engage our backup plan. The two girls and I excused

ourselves to the washroom while our friend distracted him. Slipping out the back door, the cool rush of night air hit us, and we hurried to the path that led to their hotel. Our friend caught up with us and said he had left Derek behind at the bar. We were all relieved to be out of there. and started to walk back to our hotel. One of the girls was sober and offered to drive me home when we got to the hotel and I accepted. A few minutes down the path, my phone began to ring. I looked at the caller ID and felt my stomach drop.

It was Derek. I turned the volume down and let it ring, and to my surprise, he left a voicemail. I turned on the speaker and played it out loud. Derek's voice sounded confused as his words melded together into the phone. Where are you guys? I thought we were all going to hang out. I don't understand.

We all glad he had left and agreed that this had been wild. That's when the phone rang again. Another voicemail popped up on my screen. In the dim light of the trail, I played the new voicemail aloud once more. His drunken speech was more intense this time, as he launched into how he didn't understand why I had left. I had heard his feelings, and he was in love with me. The tone of his voice shook me when I heard him say, I love you. There was something dark and heavy about it that left me feeling unsettled.

We were all creeped out, but happy to see the bright sign of the hotel ahead. We traveled the carpeted hallway to the room so my friend could grab her keys to take me home. As we entered the room, my phone began to ring again. This time, the voicemail sent shockwaves of fear through my body. Derek's voice had taken on an edge, as he repeated that he loved me, but he was actually really fucking mad at me for leaving him at the bar. He went on about how I could do that to him. He didn't know what he was going to do.

His voice shook with anger as he stumbled over himself expressing how I had betrayed him. The last thing he said before hanging up echoed in the hotel room. You know, I'm really starting to fucking hate you. This guy was unhinged and I was terrified. I was grateful this side of Derek hadn't shown up when we were alone in a secluded trailer. My friends gave me a hug and told me to call them if I needed anything and to keep them updated. My friend took me home and as I unlocked the door and stepped into the comfort of home I felt exhausted. It had not been the night out I expected, and Derek's erratic behavior had really freaked me out.

Fresh out of an abusive relationship, his actions at the bar, then the voicemails rang some all-too-familiar bells. That's when I saw the headlights. It was very late for anyone to be driving down my street. I peeked through the curtain. My blood ran cold, and I trembled. Sitting in the cab of his orange truck was Derek. Mind racing, I panicked. This dude could barely hold himself up when we left.

He was blackout obliterated. How did he drive across town to my house? How did he find me? I immediately remembered the other week when he dropped me off after his key was lost. How could I have been so stupid? I barely knew him. We had only met three times. Derek's face was stony and edged with rage.

As he sat in the dark cap staring at my house, he wasn't getting out. He was just staring. While I was on my hands and knees peeking out the window, all the lights were off inside. I was sure he couldn't see me. Then, the screen on my phone left. lit up. He was calling me again. I quickly hit it so he couldn't see the light. Handshaking, I played the voicemail as quietly as I could. Derek only said one thing this time, a phrase that sent terror shooting down my spine. In a drunken sing-song voice, almost taunting me, he quietly said,

Where are you? Click. I was terrified. Somehow I hadn't really considered I could be in danger, and chalked up all the fear to my past experiences. Surely I was overreacting, and it was my fault for reading too much into this. I shouldn't be this scared, and I don't want to make a scene. That last voicemail sealed the deal. I figured, even if I was overreacting, at the very least, he was a drunk driver. I called 911, and the dispatcher said someone would be there in a couple of minutes. As I peeked out of the window, I saw him get out of his truck.

He was done waiting. His heavy feet stumbled as they hit the pavement, and he looked around. Derek's voice cut through the night. He started yelling my name. The wild anger in his voice was tangible through the walls. And he just yelled into the street. Where are you? Derek started to stumble towards my house

when the flashing red and blue lights cascaded down the street, lighting up his face and highlighting every ounce of rage carved into his features. Two police cars pulled up, and the officers got out. I was still peeking out from inside my dark house and couldn't hear much of what he was happening. I watched them breathalize him, which he obviously failed. The officers inspected his truck. They all spoke for a while and one of the officers came to my door. I spoke to him about what had happened and he was very empathetic.

He said as unsettling as his actions had been, there wasn't much they could do without a direct threat. The officers let me know that they'd be taking him in for the night and he could be charged with drunk driving, but that he would be out tomorrow to make sure I kept my doors locked and stayed safe. The tow truck came to remove his orange truck from the road and I I could see him arguing. The officers weren't having any of it, and they turned him around to cuff him. As the handcuffs locked around his wrist, he yelled out one last time, looking directly at the window. I was peeking out. I know you're in there, my name. Why don't you come out to say goodnight? As quickly as my street had filled up, it was empty. The quiet shadows of the late night,

swallowing the earlier chaos into nothingness. Derek texted me the next afternoon. I'm very sorry about last night. I was in a bad place. I responded that his actions were unacceptable and how dare he show up at my house my child lives at, and that I'd prefer not to hear from him again. He apologized one last time, and I haven't heard from him since. Over the next few months, I would see him on a bike going to and from his workplace, so I know he lost his license. I was always wary that we would bump into each other, which thankfully never happened. I can only imagine how much angrier he was after that night lost him his license. I found out that he moved to mainland a while back, which was quite a relief for me,

and I no longer feel as on edge around town. So, Derek, let's never meet again. I came across an incredibly creepy family a while back. Okay, I never really post anything on Reddit, mostly just reading, so please excuse me. me if I do or say anything that isn't common courtesy here. In around 2018 to 2019, I, 25 female at the time was 18 or 19, and was living in Nebraska where I grew up. I lived in the largest city in Nebraska, but it was still essentially surrounded by corn and wheat fields. The city was expanding, so rich folks started building huge houses with giant properties on the edge of town as things

proceeded to grow. All of that being said, I had a good friend who's parents. parents' house was one of those big ones, right on the blurring line between the fields and the city. My friends and I were constantly hanging out at his place because it was fun. They had tons of property to ride four-by-fours on, a hot tub, a huge living room for us to watch sports and have reality TV binge sessions, etc. Plus, his parents were super cool, and we could drink out there as long as we stayed at the house. It was tons of fun, even though I was and am quite scared of the dark, so I would just not go outside after a certain time because there was little lighting and the nearest neighbor was about a mile away. I always felt a weird energy driving to and from his

place if it was late at night, but never had anything happened until one night. The drive out there was a long winding two-way road that had thick trees on both sides, and he passed one of the city's largest cemeteries on the way, barely any lighting, of course, besides the street lamps every once in a while, in very little traffic. It's all inherently a bit creepy, and I'll admit to having sped through the section of road many times to get through it as quickly as possible. This specific night was perfect spring weather, so I was driving with my windows down listening to music, and it was around 10 p.m. I was coming around one of the curves in the road when I had to essentially slam my brakes on. Right in front of me, in the middle of the road, maybe 50 yards away, was what looked

like a family. Again, picture a completely pitch black road with thick forest on both sides and only my headlights to show what's in front of me. This was a family of three, four, a tall, slim woman, an average height slash weight man, a child, short hair, but couldn't tell the gender based on the clothing and couldn't see their face, maybe around eight years old, and the mother was pushing a fucking stroller. Their clothes look normal, not tattered, but not nice. They also, They also were not carrying any kind of light source, meaning before I arrived behind them in my car, they've been walking in the pitch black. They're all facing away from me, walking completely silent in the middle of the street the same direction I was heading. I had turned my music down to hear if they were speaking, had music playing, etc.

They didn't. The hairs on my arms immediately stood up. I came to a stop in the road behind them, obviously, and just sat there for a moment to let them move. They seemed to be completely unaffected by me and didn't even turn their head slightly, nor did they attempt to move out of my way. I literally thought I was going insane or that I was dreaming. It was so surreal. Before I really had time to fully process and register what I was seeing and how truly strange it was,

they all, at the same time, stopped walking and very slowly turned to face my car. This scared the absolute shit out of me. I honestly didn't even give myself enough time to look at their faces as they turned. I immediately threw my car in reverse and sent it backwards for probably a full 20 seconds before flipping a U-turn, nearly running myself off the road and booking it the other direction. The only thing I remember noticing is that the stroller looked to be completely empty. This was the part that sticks in my mind the most. I've never felt terror like that in my life.

I checked my rearview mirror probably a thousand times before getting to a main road and never saw a glimpse of them. In fact, I never saw a glimpse of them ever again. I tried to ask my friend and his family about it, only to essentially feel like I was insane because of the way they looked at me. Every time I tell the story, I get one of three reactions.

They immediately think I'm fucking cuckoo, think I'm lying, or have had something sort of similar happened to them. I really don't care if no one believes me, honestly. It was, and still is, the creepiest thing to ever happen to me. I think about it all the time. It was either some weird ass family trying to scare the shit out of someone, a distraction for an attempted robbery slash

assault slash et cetera, or it was something more sinister. I'm going to tell myself for probably the rest of my life that it was the first option. The guy I met for coffee that called me for hours straight afterward. 200 plus texts later, I filed a police report. Hi, all. I've larked here from time to time and recently posted this in slash the girl's survival guide and got a lot of encouragement to post it here as well. I edited a little to add detail now that I'm not weeping into a glass of bourbon

while I'm typing about it. It may seem ridiculous, but writing about it is making it somewhat easier to deal with. Originally posted May 21st, 2018. I met a guy this weekend. We were at the same restaurant. He was with a wedding party. I was with family. Not connected to the wedding or couple in any way, just happened to be at the same restaurant where the wedding reception was being hosted. He was polite and respectful and offered me his number. I took it and decided to text him. We texted for a day or so and then made arrangements to get together for coffee. We got together in the middle of the day at a public place. I drove myself. I texted a friend and told her where I'd be in the guy's name. I figured,

I figured I was being overly cautious. The first three-fourths of the conversation was normal enough. We talked about work, schooling, basketball, etc. It turned out he was a lot younger than I thought he was. He's 22, I'm 35. He went from being kind of shy and very respectful to telling me a story about how the night after the wedding he came home and people were being crazy. I asked him what he meant and then he elaborated to tell me that he had walked into his bedroom

and lesbian girls I know were having sex on my bed, but he was a gentleman and didn't stick around to watch, and then locked eyes and asked, have you ever been in that kind of situation before? I said, well, I've lived in apartments, so I've heard people sometimes. And he pushed further and asked, no, but have you ever walked in on something like that? I said, no, that's a weird story to tell someone he just met

and changed the subject. He talked about himself a lot. He did ask me questions, but would interrupt me when I tried to answer and continue to talk about himself. Something felt odd. He was not acting like he was the night I met him. He leaned in over the table a lot and made a noticeable effort to lock eyes with me. I like eye contact, but it felt more like a stare down after a while. I could feel myself moving away the further he leaned in.

He started to talk about how he used to pick up girls, but he doesn't do that anymore because he realized that the girls he picked up at the bars were probably horrors who went there every weekend. Then he wanted to know if I drank, smoked, did drugs, did I ever party, where did I party, where did I like to go out to, do I see other men, etc., etc., almost no pauses, one question after the other. We talked for a few minutes more and he looked at his phone and said, the game I wanted to watch is going to start soon. Do you want to get out of here?

Turns out there was a basketball game on, and he wanted to come back to his place to watch it. I said no thanks. We just met, so I'm not comfortable with that. But maybe he, we can talk again soon. His face sort of changed and he said, I'm sorry, but I really thought you were going to come back with me. I told him I wasn't sure how we got that impression. I had not at any point said I would do that. He kept asking me to come back to his place and I kept saying no. He kept asking me, why not? I kept saying, I just met you. I'm not comfortable going back to your house. He said, fine let's go to the park then red flags and alarm bells were going off so i said no thanks i'm not interested he basically begged and said he'd even skip the game if i wanted him to i said no just go home we

just met for coffee it's not a big deal if we can't take it further today he didn't ask me to take a walk in the field behind the coffee shop looked at the ground and literally said i'll do anything you want just don't leave i said again i wasn't going to go anywhere else with a that day. Please just respect that and we'll talk later. I got into my car and as he was pulling away, he yelled at his car window at me. I'm going to do everything I can to change your mind. Come over. I sat and watched him leave because things just felt weird. I drove home and my phone was blowing up the whole time. He was texting and calling saying he was home and I should come over. Then he sent me a video of himself watching basketball on his couch alone. He started sending me messages saying he

could see a future with me, that I was the most beautiful woman he'd ever met, like it was horrible for such a beautiful woman to be single, and that he, quote, liked our chances to be together. The entire coffee date was 40 minutes max. He continues to ask me to come over. I said I was happy to meet him for coffee, but I told him I wasn't going to come over before I left and was not going to go back on what I said. Then the calls really started. 7.55.

8 o'clock, 802, 807, 811. He called and called over and over for the next several hours. I texted him after the first couple calls. He had sent me another text saying how beautiful and perfect I was and he wanted to date and travel together. And all I could think to say was, I'm sorry, I don't feel the same way about you. That you seem to feel about me.

I wish you well, take care. He said he didn't understand. Did that mean I didn't want to see him? again? So I replied with, I'm sorry for not being clear. No, I don't want to see you again. I'm sorry. I wish you well. Goodbye. The calls and texts kept coming. I told him one time to please stop. I had to turn off my phone. It kept vibrating so much. The texts were all about, what did I do wrong? Why don't you tell me so I can fix it and make this work between us? I am really a great guy and I like you so much. You owe it to me to tell me. If you tell me, then I'll stop bothering you.

but you have to tell me. I blocked his number. But my phone still logs call attempts from blocked numbers, so I could see he was still calling all night until 2 a.m. He called a few more times this morning and again this afternoon. I called my phone company this morning to check, and it turns out he had sent me over 200 text messages in that one day. That was the tipping point, and I decided to go to the police station

and at least talk to them and possibly report it as suspicious behavior or harassment. All I had was his first name, I'm pretty sure was a nickname and a phone number. The cops were really nice and took down all the info. He had never threatened me, but I had told him to stop and he wouldn't. They said that it was enough to be concerned. I showed them the text and the timing of the calls and they said it was definitely looked like obsessive and unstable behavior and it was good that I came in, even just to put it on record in case things got worse. I felt so bad for even going there, like it was stupid to have even gone to meet him, but I've had been on lots of coffee dates and no one has

ever done this kind of thing before. After I left the station, I got home and checked my phone, and I had three voicemails from unknown numbers. And it was him pleading for me to call him and tell him how to make it right. He doesn't understand why I blocked him. Did he message me too much? Was it a bad move to call me 80 times in a night? Why wouldn't I just talk to him? I recorded the voicemails and sent them into the police, along with screenshots of the messages and logs from my phone company. Now I'm low-key terrified of what will happen next. Will the cops call him? If they do,

will it make them mad? I'm pretty sure I didn't tell him anything about the area of the city I live in or where I work. And all he had was my phone number, no Facebook, or WhatsApp, or other socials. I consider changing my cell phone number, but I'm also hoping that he'll get to the point after a few days

of silence and just give up. I'm so shocked I don't even know what to do next. Update. May 22nd, 2018. He's been texting and calling me from random numbers all day. I've been taking screenshots and sending them into the police with my report number. It's been a long, exhausting day. I really want to change my number, but he keeps sending me stuff,

and I feel like it might be helpful to the police to figure out who he actually is. I've informed my family, friends, employer, cell phone provider, and building caretaker about this crazy pants and given everyone a description. I went out and bought a hundred-plus decibel alarm for the windows and doors in my apartment and installed them. I am in Canada, so I can't legally carry Mace, but I'm looking for alternatives. Mega update. Today he wrote me a very long-winded message, asking for another chance in begging forgiveness. He said, I was just overly excited to meet such a beautiful and well-endowed woman, and that he needed just one chance to show you my true worth, pleading and pleading for me to

reply and come meet him. And he signed his name at the bottom. I had heard it slightly wrong and didn't have the spelling in my phone. I went on Facebook and found his profile. He had zero security settings. He's not friends with anyone I know. I copied that link and set it off to the cops. I am torn between really hoping they can talk some sent into him and being terrified that if the police confront him that he will become even crazier. I would have slept easier if I'd change my number right away, but I might never have gotten his real name and profile if I had. I doubt the cops will do much until he starts threatening me. Now I'm torn. Do I change it and sleep better and I, or let him keep screaming into the silence while I collect more evidence. Is it worth it?

I keep thinking, all he has is my number. Update, May 28, 2018. The last contact I had for my coffee date was four-ish days ago when he called me at 12.56 a.m. on the 24th. He'd been texting me from the same number a few days earlier when he sent me the charming message about me being so well-endowed, so I'm pretty sure it was him. I'm admittedly feeling a little burnt out. I'm taking tomorrow off work to try and chill out. This has been a lot to handle along with work and life in general. I haven't really heard from the cops. I've gone back a couple of confirmations that they've added my screencaps and voicemail recordings

to the file, but nothing else. He hasn't been threatening me and his enthusiasm seems to be dying down, so I doubt I'll hear much unless things change. Here's hoping there aren't more reasons for the police to become more involved than just saying, thanks for the info, we've added it to your file. They have his names, pick, and Facebook. Facebook profile. I've blocked them on Facebook and hidden all my profile picks. I haven't gotten any friend requests on any of my social medias. I'm being cautious when I go out. The alarms are

helpful, both magnetic and glass break ones have been installed. At least if this dumb kid managed to figure out where I live and tried to get in, I would hear something and be able to get the fuck out. I slashed a hammer between my headboard and my mattress. It feels gross every time I get into bed and hear it tap lightly against the wall, but I'm glad it's there. Thanks for the concern. Everyone, I'm safe. Things are calming down. He knows how to reach me. I know how to send screen caps to the cops. That's about where our relationship is at right now. Update. March 17th, 2020. I haven't looked at this account since my last update and now that most of the world is under quarantine, it occurred to me to sign in and take a look.

First of all, many thanks to everyone who reached out to see if I'm okay. I'm totally okay. At the time, I was terribly freaked out and just wanted to not think about this whole thing anymore. I hope no one worried too much, and I'm sincerely sorry if you did. I'm glad that I made the initial post because I was so overwhelmed, it was really difficult to work through. Things are 100% better now, so thank you all for the support. I had a few weeks of silence after the last update, and then I got two or three calls from an odd number, a landline that I could do averse 411 lookup on. The address was from the area around the coffee shop where we met, and I recognized,

I recalled that he had told me that he lived a couple blocks over while he was trying to get me back to come over to his basement. I sent the screenshot of the calls and the address of the police email I had been given and made the choice to change my phone number. It was a giant P-I-T-A, but I absolutely slept better. I have been back to the restaurant twice and never saw him, and I'm never in the area where we met in the coffee. It still makes me nervous if I see someone who looks like him, but I try to remind myself that the way he acted means he would latch on. with a death grip to anyone who gave him the time of the day, so he's likely set his sights elsewhere now, which is, in its own way, kind of terrifying. I hope he figures his shit out and that other woman he encounters get treated better than I did. I hope you're all well and staying safe inside and safe.

Hearts. Some woman stood in my flat right next to the shower curtain. This happened a few years ago in my old one-person flat. I had a strange feeling that something wasn't right for a few days, like I was sure that food in the fridge was less than I put back the last time. I found pillows from my couch on the floor, stuff like that. I lived alone back then, so there wasn't anyone else with access to my flat. Or so I thought. Well, one night I woke up around one in the morning, sweating and even though I don't remember,

was sure I woke from a nightmare. Since I was drenched in sweat, I decided to take a shower, so I put my phone up in the bathroom for music, turned on the water, and enjoyed my shower. A few minutes in I heard the door move. I never close it, but it still never moves. I took a look at the shower curtain and saw I shadow against it, and a look at my phone confirmed someone was there, since I could clearly see a reflection on my screen that showed someone standing next to the shower curtain. It took me a lot not to scream and to keep acting like I didn't notice anything, while silently taking the shower head off the holding and turning the water all the way to hot.

I'm still kind of impressed of that quick thinking. Our water got really hot when you cranked it all the way to hot, and a few seconds later, steam was rising, and the water hurt my feet flowing to the drain. I turned around, ripped the shower current open, and held the shower head right at the person behind it. It was a woman who screamed in pain. I whacked her in the face with the shower head

and jumped out of the shower and ran to the door, taking the key out of the lock and locking it closed behind me. A little later she started to bang on the door, but the door didn't give. Thank God for German quality work. I called the cops and went to the kitchen to get my big kitchen knife just for safety. I felt like my throat was closing up when I saw it missing and realized there's only one place where it could possibly be right now. The police came and arrested the woman who turned out to have been a former person living in the flat

and was evicted after not paying rent. Seems she made a copy of the key and came into the flat when I was at work and sometimes at night. it's possible that what woke me up in the first place was her, and honestly, I don't even want to think about that. Ever since then, I always insist that the locks are changed when I move into a new place. Edit, since a lot of people ask, I found the knife later in the bathroom, so she definitely brought it with her and either the police disarmed her or she dropped it herself at any point. And then, I looked up. I'm a police officer in the southern U.S., in a suburban department of about 100,000th

officers. I work in a college town. I've been on about 10 years now. Made sergeant four years ago. But at the time of this story, I was just two years on. Working night shift patrol. I've been lucky that not a lot has affected me, mentally, anyway, during my career. I don't have kids. That's how it gets to you usually. You can build all the mental walls you want, but when you have an emotional connection with your kids and see something happen to kids, the walls mean nothing. Anyway, this one, stuck with me. It still makes my hair stand on end, especially when it rains. It was September, just after midnight. I get put on a call of shots fired. Now normally, these calls turn out to be either fireworks or perhaps a car backfiring, but mostly fireworks. So unless we get multiple calls

on it, or a confirmed gunman or someone confirmed wounded, we just send one unit. That night, it was me. The shots fired was reported around a college football stadium. This was during football season, so there were a bunch of really big white tents set up all around the parking lots for tailgators. I notified dispatch that I was on scene and started rolling through the parking lots, casting my spotlight here and there. It was raining, pretty heavily and hard to see. About halfway through the lots, my spotlight illuminated the silhouette of a man sitting in a folding chair under one of those big tents. I pulled closer and lit him up.

He notified dispatch that I was out with one in the parking lot. His back was to me. He appeared to be hunched forward as if his elbows were all on his knees and his head leaning forward. I walked towards him and started calling out to him. Can't remember exactly what I said, but something like,

Hey man, you okay? You heard anything strange? Can you come talk to me? He didn't move or answer. As I drew closer, I lit him up with my flashlight. I then noticed the outline of a shotgun on the pavement next to him. Combined with him not answering in the nature of the call, it was enough for me to break leather and have dispatch hold the channel.

I kept calling to him as I approached, asking him to show me his hands, etc. 30 feet, 20 feet, 10 feet. My handgun, Glock Model 22, has a streamlined TLR-1 light. on it, so I had him lit up. Six feet. Under the tent with him. Five feet. Four feet. I close on him. Come around to the front of them. Shotgun S-words are difficult. Often if they put the barrel under their chin, the blast from the barrel will blow the gun out from under the chin before the shot ever hits them. There was a guy in my hometown that succeeded in a shotgun S-word, only because he did it in front of a pond.

Put the barrel under his chin, pulled the trigger, only managed to blow his face off. Coroner said he probably ran around screaming through the hole that used to be his mouth before he drowned in the pond. This guy succeeded. Blew his head clean off. You do this job long enough, you noticed funny little details. His elbows were indeed resting on his knees. It was as though he blew his head off.

Set the shotgun on the ground next to him and then leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees to think about what had he done. About that time, I noticed that, even though I was under the tent with him, it felt like it was still raining. And then, I looked up. I'm the sole survivor of a roller coaster that couldn't be stopped for 12 hours.

Last year, I learned a lesson I will never forget. Trust your gut. I had the day off from work. I wanted to do something fun, but everyone I knew was busy. Makes sense. I mean, it was a Tuesday. I decided I'd just go to the amusement park by myself.

I've done it before and had a great time. I'm a bit of a thrill seeker. Well, not too much anymore. Going five miles over the speed limit is about all the excitement I want out of life anymore. I got to the park around 2 p.m. It was slow. Even for Tuesday, it gave me a sense of excitement because I knew I'd be able to ride a lot of rides without having to be there all day.

At the same time, it gave me a weird, uncanny feeling. All this space and not enough people to fill it up. I ignored the feeling and moved on. I don't know about you, but whenever I go to an amusement park, I like to work my way up to the really crazy rides. I'll just start small and finish off the day with my favorite. My favorite just happened to be called The Grim Reaper. It feels a little too on the nose, doesn't it?

It was 7.30 p.m. and the park closed at 8.30. I knew it was time to get in line for my final ride. I also made a new friend while there. We met staying in line at one of my first rides of the day. We decided after chatting the whole time in line that we'd hang out for the rest of the day. His name was Charlie. We agreed on every ride that day, except for the last. He wanted to end the night on the Mindbender, but after some convincing,

aka the Mindbender's line was way shorter while passing by, we decided to do the Grim Reaper last. We got in line for the Grim Reaper, and there was hardly anyone in line. It made sense, given that it was almost closing time. Do you think they will let us ride multiple times if the line stays down? Charlie said with his hands clasped excitedly in front of him. I just smiled at him and chuckled. Normally, I would have been excited too, but something in my gut felt so off.

For some reason, I didn't want to go out on one of my favorite rides. Maybe it was the five corn dogs I ate a couple hours earlier. I figured. I'm a very rational person. I wasn't the kind of person to let anxiety or worry rule over me. I always thought life was just what you made of it. When we got in line, there were about 60 people, give or take. The people in front of us did their ride, and 30 of us were left in line.

People started looking at the time and saying they were tired and just getting out of line. By the time it was our turn, only 19 people were in line. I knew the ride well enough to remember that it held 20 people, so if no one else got in line, they really might let us go multiple times. I really didn't want that, though. Honestly, I felt even more compelled to get out of line after all those others did too. I didn't want to seem lame to my new friend if I wanted to get off the coaster after one ride. The time came for us to get on the ride.

My heart was pounding faster than it ever had. I wondered if I was all worked up because I watched Final Destination 3 with a friend a couple weeks back. But I wasn't having visions of the terrible fate we would all face. I was just feeling off. I did everything in my power to get it to all make sense and not to worry. But nothing worked. I seriously considered just telling Charlie I didn't feel great after the last ride. But I finally found someone with my tasting roller coasters I didn't want to let them down.

We were towards the back of the line, so we didn't have much to say in where we sat. We ended up in the third car from the front. I was just happy we weren't in the front car. As you get on the Grim Reaper, it plays a cheesy little jingle. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. The Grim Reaper will find you dead or alive. With music in the background that always sounded so dumb.

in the past. I couldn't believe it was getting to me. Charlie even hummed along to it while grabbing my arm with happiness. We got in our seats and an employee came by and pulled down the metal bar restraint to secure us in our seats. It was the kind that strapped you individually over your shoulders. I'm on the chubbyer side, but I can always fit into coaster seats. I've never been told I couldn't go on a ride. I'm just sometimes a little snug. It's actually kind of nice because I kind of feel secure. As we got strapped in, I felt the plastic-coated metal hit my shoulders and chest. It should have given me a sense of comfort and safety, but I just felt trapped. The employee walked to the station as the infamous big button that starts the ride. He flashed all a thumbs up

and yelled, ready for the Reaper? Everyone raised their hands and let out an excited scream. Except for me, I let out a large sigh, counting none of the seconds, trying to imagine Charlie and I, once we were off the ride and how happy would be. The employee hit the button and we were off. The coaster shot out of the loading station like we were a bullet being shot out of a gun. After that, it started on a relatively slow ascent up to a point to a drop off a 60 degrees, a couple of twists and turns, a big loop, and some more twists and turns. About halfway through the ride, I was enjoying myself. I was just thinking about how the hard part was done, and I was safe. Just a little anxiety was all. We were rounding up our last bend when I sent,

of relief came over me. I could see the end of the ride. I was almost done, but the ride didn't start to slow down. Normally, the coaster starts to slowly come to a full stop, several hundred feet from the end, but it was still going. As we passed by the loading area, I saw the operators looked confused as we raced by. I noticed no one else was waiting in line. Someone screamed, one more time, and everyone on board gave an excited response. Everyone except for me. Charlie looked over at me and grabbed my wrist. Yes, I knew they would let us keep going. This is awesome.

He laid out on an excited yelp as we breached the climb to the drop. He was beaming with joy the whole rest of the lap. We passed by our loading area once again. But this time, the coaster operator had a couple other people staying with him. The operator who strapped us looked red and worried. As we were whipped by the employees for our third ride of the day, the other riders were divided. Some were still excited, screaming, Let's go one more time or best day ever, yeah.

Some people started to sound scared. Not everyone noticed the employees looking frazzled. I can promise you one thing. I noticed. We started going up the incline again. This was the slowest part of the ride. At around 10 miles an hour and slowing down a little as it reached its peak. This gave us the opportunities to take a breath or try to talk,

although it was only for a total of about 20 seconds. Are we stuck? I said nervously to Charlie. I'm sure we're fine. They're just a malfunction with the electrical system not activating the brakes or something. There's always a manual shut off. He was cut off and we went down the steep hill. We passed by yet again, this time with more people looking worried and someone standing

close to where the coaster would go by. He tried to yell at us as we went by, but we couldn't really understand them. Maybe something about them working on getting us off. This time, as we zoomed by, everyone was scared and starting to panic. I guess it didn't sink in for some people, what was happening until right now. We went around a fifth time, and everything remained the same. On the sixth time, we were at the peak and saw a fire truck coming into the parking lot. From the top of the incline, we had a perfect view of the parking lot, along with the side of a highway a little further out.

It took two more loops around the track by the time the fire department got to us. Not just them, but police officers and ambulances. It started to scare me. Why did they get ambulances? It is just protocol, or is there more to this? Someone came in a few minutes later with a big white board that they used to write messages to us. The ride was too loud when passing by them to hear anything, so this was their only way to talk to us. It must have been the 12th or 13th time around when the whiteboard read.

Trying to free you at peak. I knew they couldn't write a novel for us because you could only read so much while going by so fast, but come on, people, what is that supposed to mean? I think they just wanted to tell us that they were working on a way to get us down, but that didn't matter. We've been on this ride for nearly 30 minutes, and we felt sick, and our bodies hurt like crazy. A couple loops after that, we saw a fire truck trying to get underneath where the top of the ascent was. Luckily, there was a large space where the truck could pull right beside it. Unfortunately, at its peak, it's about 200 feet in the air.

It also doesn't have any emergency exits at the top like most coasters do. You'd think that would be a requirement, but what do I know? We saw the fire truck start to expand the ladder that comes out of the top, but it wasn't even close. We waited for the firefighters to try and figure out a solution to save us. As the audience below us was watching us like we were some kind of show, it was close to 45 minutes when the first death occurred. Then one more soon after. There was a skinnier guy in the car behind me. I heard him talking about trying to slip out of the seat restraint, which secured him to his seat.

The other guy he was with told him it was a bad idea. So did I. The next time he went up the ascent, he began violently wiggling and thrashing back and forth. to the point where people thought he was going to throw off the ride. He managed to wiggle about halfway out, right at the top. But well, it didn't end very well. His leg got caught on a part of the track and yanked the rest of his body out of the bar restraint. It sent his body crashing down towards the earth.

However, I think he was dead soon after. He was ripped out of his seat. I didn't see too much of it. The guy who was beside him led out an insane screech. Hearing that kind of agony as you were feeling the harsh effects of gravity hitting on your chest, while going down a steep hill was truly mortifying. The screech out of nowhere stopped. And more people screamed.

The man beside him had a heart attack. I could hear the symphony of moans and crying coming from the crowd watching us. I couldn't hear them before because of how loud the ride was, but they were terrified of what they saw. Police tried to escort them out of the park, but it didn't stop people from parking on the side of the road to watch and record on their phones. It made me feel disgusted. At around an hour on the ride, everyone stopped screaming or trying to talk to each other. It seemed like everyone accepted their fate. My nails were deeply embedded into Charlie's wrist.

I couldn't scream anymore did my throat feeling raw from the yelling. Even if I wanted to, I probably couldn't do it in my voice given out. I saw that I drew a little blood on Charlie, but he was too out of it to notice. He, along with a few other people, were incredibly sick. He threw up probably five times about this point and looked cross-eyed. Around that time, the electricity in the whole park shut down. All the lights, everything. I think they were hoping a hard reboot of this.

the whole park would stop the ride. The coaster didn't just rely on gravity, but also on a lot of help from motors and other electronic elements. It all turned off when we were on the straightway. Of course, it still didn't stop. I could hear someone yelling with frustration, not understanding how it could still be moving if it didn't have an electrical source. After two hours, they let some family members come into the loading area, which was a terrible idea. We're doing our best to keep cool and stay calm. Our family is watching us, zooming by them every two minutes, and absolutely screaming at us, made it so much worse. My mom was my first family member to show up. Don't get me wrong, I love my mom, but she was very stubborn and wanted something done, even though they had

already tried everything. Of course, it was just because she wanted me safe, but it was stressing me out. The firefighters put down a safety net underneath the ascent. It was still quite a jump if we could even get out unsuccessfully to land on it. It might be okay, but we're all a little scared from what happened before. It seemed like they put it out just in case someone tried to get out again. It didn't seem like it was the plan to have us all just jump out of that moving death machine. They weren't desperate enough at that point. We saw a large group of people passionately arguing and yelling at each other.

From what I could tell, it was made up by family members, firefighters, and some employees of the park. I'm sure, with lots of varying opinions. The ride was on hour three. When the coaster entered the loading area once again, I saw a woman run over to the control panel. A couple people ran over to her and told her to stop and not press the buttons. She was screaming her head off and wailing. It had been hard to understand people in the past while going by them,

but this was as clear as day. As we passed by, I could tell she was starting to break free from the grip of people holding her back. I wasn't too worried. Whatever button she was wanting to press, I'm sure. It wouldn't work since none of the others worked so far. We were about five seconds away from going down the descent when we heard a click come from all our seats. The woman hit the button that unlocked all her overhead seatbelts. Of course, the seatbelt button worked, but not the button to stop the ride.

A few people reacted fast enough to either jump out or snap it back over themselves before the ride went down. Others weren't so lucky. Three people managed to jump out but didn't survive the fall. Despite there now being a giant net to catch anyone who's dumb enough to try and get out that high, One person hit a support beam on the way down, and the other two landed wrong when they hit the net. Their bodies folded in an unnatural manner as they hit. All three died instantly. I would say around half of us that were left managed to get the seatbelt secured before going down the hill.

Everyone else had to hold on for dear life. And unfortunately, I was one of them. I felt my stomach started to drop as I reached up to grab the only thing that would keep me from becoming a part of the pavement below. The restraint wasn't completely useless at that point. I just had a good 12 inches in between my chest and the restraint. As I dug my fingers into the plastic, I hoped I would be fine. Then the ride dropped. I felt my butt lift off the seat I'd become so familiar with.

I tried to wrap my ankles around the floor of the coaster to keep the rest of my body from flying out. Charlie luckily got the restraint down, so he was trying to get his leg over mine and hold me down with his arm. After the longest five seconds of my life, I managed to pull it back down over my chest. I wasn't sure who else got theirs down, but I assumed from how scared a few of them sounded, it wasn't good. All I could think about and look at was the big loop coming up.

As we got closer, I could hear swearing from multiple passengers, including someone in front of me. She was violently pulling at the restraint, but it wasn't budging. I was hoping and praying that the centrifugal force would keep her in her seat. As we went down in the big loop, I closed my eyes. I knew they didn't want to see what was about to happen. I heard multiple people screaming and making horrendous cracking sounds. I don't have an exact number, but I would say only seven people were left.

I could see the two people in the very front row and Charlie beside me. I recall only hearing three other voices behind me at this point. At hour five, three more people died while on the ride. Two of them from a heart attack or something. The third person, well, he watched the person beside him suddenly die while going around one of the bends. He yelled at in anger and he, um, well, I'd actually rather not go into detail, but he died soon after. I saw the whole thing.

There were two people left in front of me and Charlie. At hour six, we saw a group of people bringing in what looked like another large net, except that it was in the loading area. The next time we looped around, they wrote something new on the big whiteboard. We were going to try and stop it manually. I had no clue what this meant, but by the look of the net, I was terrified. The next passed. There were people on both sides of the loading area.

On one side the net was wrapped around a large pole that had been somehow fastening into the concrete slab. I saw a large, similar pole on the other side, but the net wasn't yet attached. As we zoomed by, I could hear people trying to rush and hurry behind us. We ran around one of the turns, and I cranked my neck, looking to see what plan they had in mind. They were frantically trying to tie the other side of the net to the support beam that was freshly drilled into the ground.

I couldn't believe how stupid these people were. How on earth did they think this was a good idea? Was this a last-ditch attempt? I was yelling at them and telling them to say. stop, but of course they couldn't hear me. Even if they could, they wouldn't listen. They were desperate to get at least someone out of this alive. Maybe the owner of the park wanted all of us to die so that no one could publicly talk about the horrific things we went through. As we went past the last bend, the hundreds of people watching the spectacle cheered, clapped, and celebrated,

somehow not seeing any of the flaws with this terrible plan. We were on the straightaway, and my heart started to pound again. The few seconds before we hit the net felt like slow motion. I swore I could see everyone's face. They looked happy. I couldn't believe it. It made me upset because I knew. They're all about to be very disappointed. Finally, we hit the net.

Of course, it was no match for a giant metal contraption hitting it. The metal pole was ripped out of the concrete slab and smashed down right in between our car and the one behind us. As we headed for the incline, we tried to get the net that was attached itself to us off the coaster. Luckily, we were able to get it off of us. But no luck with the metal beam that was now awkwardly. lodged into the coaster. As we started going down, the whole ride started to shake violently. It felt like we were going to fly off the track. We made it to the first term, and I heard a loud

snap and two screams. The seven coaster cars behind others broke off, and the metal beam found its way underneath. As we turned, I watched in disbelief as the cars behind us all went flying off the tracks. At this point in the ride, it was about 50 feet off the ground, still enough to kill them. I wasn't fast enough to close my eyes since I had the whole thing. It went off the track like had wings and suddenly plummeted down into the earth. The screaming immediately stopped when the ride landed upside down. My imagination filled in the blanks and shuddered at the thought of the carnage below me. And then there were two.

We were hoping that somehow the ride would stop or slow down because we lost the back seven cars. I was not sure what the logic was, but we were desperate at this point. After another hour, it was not showing any signs of slowing down. Once we made it to hour eight, we accepted our fate. I was hoping that this would all be overshed. soon and we could just be done. I don't think either one of us thought we'd get off. We just hoped at this point that our deaths would be quick. Over the next couple hours, we noticed a piece of metal on the car ahead of us start to

wobble and loosen. I'm not sure if it was just the wearing tear of the ride going for so long or the whole net fiasco. It kept looking like it was about to come loose and we'd duck out of the way. We were imagining the worst possible outcome, thinking he'd fly off and decapitate one of us. Eventually it did come off, but it wasn't as dramatic moment like we think. We'd think of thought it would be. It was so much worse. Instead of coming all the way off, it only partially came off and started grinding loudly against the track. We heard an audible cringing sound from everybody watching below. The sound was horrendous. The thin strip of metal started to find its way underneath the car. Charlie was worried it would dislodge the coaster from its track like we saw

just hours before. He told me he was going to try and grab it. I begged him not to. After a few laps of me telling me to just leave it, he made up his mind and contorted his body to try and grab the sharp metal. I couldn't see his hand as he reached down for it, but I could see his face. Somehow, that made it worse. His expression quickly changed from focus to shocked in a matter of seconds. His face went blank. I heard screaming, but I had no clue what was going on. He lifted up his arm and, I don't think I'll ever be able to get the image of what used to be his arm out of my head. When he gripped the metal, it slipped and went deep into his forearm. I tried to do that. I tried to to grab his shoulder to calm him down, but to my shock he was calm. He was more silent at that

moment than he had been the whole day. He wouldn't even look at me. He was almost mesmerized by the side of his bloody disfigured arm. I felt lightheaded and had a ringing in my ears, watching the blood start to make its way down his entire body then to me in the floor of the coaster. It was making me feel sick watching the blood move around the car as he ran out on the twist and turns of the ride. Within minutes, Charlie looked like a ghost. I did my best to and wrap his arm up with shreds of my shirt, but it was completely pointless. I don't think an old t-shirt can help when you could see the bone. I tried to talk to him.

I tried to make him feel as comfortable as I could, but it was no use. He was fading in and out of consciousness. He began going up the ascent, and he finally looked over at me. I couldn't begin to explain all that I saw in his eyes. I could see the pain and sadness, but also the relief. He knew he was going to die, but I don't think he cared. He gave me a weak nod of the head and looked ahead when he went down. on the hill. I tried to keep a close eye on his lap, but it was honestly hard to look at him. I heard

him take a deep breath right before the loop. When we finished the loop, I looked over at him and, well, he was gone. I was now left alone in this death trap. I never imagined it could have gotten any worse, but having a dead body sitting next to you on a roller coaster is not something I would recommend. I was sitting in shock next to my dead friend for a couple hours. I was frozen in fear, not wanting to even think of a way out. After gaining some courage, I contemplated my next move. I came back into reality and realized the coaster was going just slightly slower. It wasn't significant, but if the loops were taking just slightly longer than before,

that damn piece of metal that killed Charlie must have made his way underneath and not derailed it, but slowed it down. I ended up taking off my shoes in Charlie's shoes. I had a plan that was probably dumb, but if I died, at least it would be in my hands. As I went by the loading area, the coaster started to slow down just before the ascent. I threw all four shoes right in front of the ride. A part of a shoe caught the truck in just the right spot. The ride was still.

I could feel the coaster almost pulsing, trying to move with all its might. I was sore. My shoulders were badly bruised by the shoulder restraints, repeatedly hitting me over and over again. My whole lower half aching from sitting in a hard seat for hours on hours. I took a deep breath and squeezed. in my gut like I never had before. I lit out a horrific yell as I forced my body out of the restraint that had been holding me down for at least 12 hours, around 360 times around the track. My heart was racing as I felt the coaster start to win the battles move again. I managed to squeeze

out just seconds before it took off. I was freed and jumped. Luckily, I just barely hit the net below. I also managed to hit the net, so I didn't hurt myself too badly. Nothing is worse than what the ride already did to me. I laid it on the net, looking up into the sky. In disbelief, I was still. I wasn't moving. It was almost making me feel motion sick not moving around. Like when you were reading a book in the car and you look up after an hour. Everything was blurry. I could barely hear the faint sound of people trying to get to me, but it was mostly just my ears ringing and my heart beating. After just a few minutes I was down. They immediately rushed me to the ER, where I stayed for three weeks. I sustained a broken rib, a broken collarbone, severe bruising, and a concussion

just to name a few, not to mention the mental trauma. I'm writing this as I'm feeling ready to finally tell my story. This is the first time I'm digging back into my memories and recollecting the whole experience. I've started to work through all of this with a therapist, and it's made me realize I need to get it all out of my system. Don't bother trying to find anything about the story. The owners of the park have done a suspiciously good job hiding it. It's another reason I want to get my story out there. They have completely scrubbed the internet of it somehow. Although talking with a professional has helped, there are still some sounds and images that I can just never completely get out of my head. If you take one thing from my story and say you should

trust yourself, even if you don't believe in a higher power or gut instincts, if you have a feeling, trust it, please. Pulled over by a weird cop. So this, this is a little bit of a weird cop. So this This was right back when 9-11 happened. I, female, 24 years old, was driving by myself across country to get to my son who was with my ex. I had been out of state taking care of a sick family member. It was the middle of the night in New Mexico and I saw police lights behind me. I was exhausted and annoyed because I hadn't been speeding or anything. There were not really any other cars on the road at the time and I was close to the exit for the hotel.

I had planned to stop at for the night. I pulled over and the cop came over to the driver's side, window, which in itself was weird because usually they came to the passenger window on busy roads, and this was a highway. So I give him all my stuff, and he just stared at me for the longest time. He walked to his car and then returned almost immediately. He told me to step outside the car. Okay, so I was worried at this point because I'd gotten tickets before, but being asked to step outside the car was not the norm. I did as he said, and he asked if I had been drinking. I said I hadn't and then I asked why he pulled me over. He said I was driving erratically, which was not true.

He then asked me if I was a terrorist, which was absurd. I was a young American white woman just driving, so there was really no reason for this question. It was weird and I was a veteran with an ID also. He gave me a walk, the line drunk driving test, which I passed and then said he needed to search my car to see if I had drugs. I thought about this for a minute because I knew my rights and all, but it was so late and I was so tired. I just didn't want to deal with all the BS of refusing, so I gave him the okay because I knew I didn't have anything in my car. So when he got to my truck, he opened up a small suitcase. I had that was my dancer's stripper stuff. He asked about it, and I told him I was a stripper. This really set him off, and he started screaming at me about

being a trash person. This pissed me off, and I started looking around at my situation. I was alone, for the most part, with this weird guy, and every once in a while, a car would pass. by but for the most part the roads were empty it was the middle of the night and I didn't have anything on myself to protect myself and he had a gun he told me then I needed to walk back into the tree line that was next to the road I stared at him and said no I demanded he called for backup and other officers come he was thrown off by this I said I wanted a female officer and I would no longer comply with anything he said and then I started trying to wave down cars when they did pass by he told me to calm down

wrote out a speeding ticket and let me go. I never paid the ticket and never heard a word about it. This was 20 years ago. At the time, I was really shaken and just forgot about it, but looking back, I don't think he was a real cop. Why I'm not a locksmith anymore. Locksmithing has been the trade of my family, for I don't even know how many generations.

I've been working as once since I was a kid, helping my father and my grandfather. I learned all the secrets and methods of the job, studied how to install, break, assemble, and disassemble all kinds of locks. I could easily disassemble the lock of a bank vault if given the right tools, money, and a legal permit. I have unlocked hundreds of doors and cars, installed hundreds of new locks, fabricated thousands of keys, and take pride in saying, I have never ever used my knowledge for criminal ends, as so many locksmiths in my region secretly do.

I have successfully and financially sustained myself and my family, with locksmithing for almost 30 years. And yet I'm closing my workshop tomorrow and already signing the documents to work with my wife in her bakery. The reason that made me quit locksmithing is simple. I can't do it anymore after my last job. I tried.

I really did. But after that fateful assignment six months ago, I realized that it's not for me anymore. Every time I open a stuck door, I have flashbacks. My heart starts racing and my eyes ache. I can once again see those curse angles. Don't get me wrong. I love locksmithing. It's the only thing I'm really good at. It's something that gives me great pride. I'd even started teaching my daughter on the basics and she enjoys

it as much as I do. It'll be hard telling everyone I'm quitting. Telling my wife, my daughter, my clients, my friends, none of them will understand and for their own sake it must remain that way. I've already told my dad. He was incredulous when I said I'd be quitting the craft. He was not only my most important mentor, but my inspiration and role model. His body is not even a husk of what he once was, but his mind is still sharp. I knew from the start that this would be the hardest conversation of all, so I decided it should be also the first. I approached him in his bed in our living room, where it's easier for us to take care of him since he can't climb stairs or live alone anymore, and I told him about everything. Father went from disapproving to fully supporting me.

but he also said something that I considered. No one but him must know. Ultimately, I decided not to follow his counsel for the first time since forever. We locksmiths know how to deal with stuff we're not supposed to see. Our work is about locking places. Sometimes this is about keeping things in and sometimes about keeping things out. Locksmithing is almost synonymous with security and privacy, but it's hard to keep something so perspective changing.

to yourself. So I decided to write it down. One day, maybe I'll have enough courage to share it to my family or even the world. I don't know. I've not even decided what fake story I will be using to explain my abandonment of the locksmithing business to all my former clients and acquaintances. Well, let's go back to the beginning. Six months ago, I was called by Greg Becker to unlock a locked door in his property. Now, Greg Becker has never been a popular or particularly well-respected man. He is in his late 70s, and since I was a child, I heard rumors about his weird oculus practices. Obstantiated rumors, though, I thought, until Greg called me urgently at 2 a.m., saying he needed help getting into his house. I was already sleeping, and the phone woke me up.

I tried to dissuade him, saying my prices in the graveyard hours were exorbitantly higher than daytime hours, but the old man was adamant, claiming it was an emergency. I dressed up, packed my tools, apologized for my wife for leaving in the middle of the night like this, entered my pickup and drove to his property. Well, old Greg Becker had a pretty house, albeit a big rustic. It was located at the edge of town, almost in the rural zone. I parked my vehicle there and exited it. Greg Becker was on his porch carrying a lamplight,

yet I could clearly see that the door of his house was open. I angrily questioned him why he didn't call me to tell me he had already found a way in, but he evasively replied that he actually needed me. me for something else. More often than not, that means trouble, so I was already going back to my car when he offered a thousand bucks. That was what I made an entire week of hard work, so I couldn't refuse. I followed Greg cautiously through the overgrown grass to a barn located a couple hundred yards behind his house. If the old man's house was rustic, then the bar was outright decrepit. The wooden structure seemed like it had been there for decades without any repairs or restorations.

There was no paint, and the whole thing was falling apart. He pointed the lamp light at the entrance of the barn, and I immediately saw how it stood out from the rest of the building. It looked more like the entrance to a bank vault than a quasi-abandoned barn. Hell, I had seen bank vaults that were easier to break into than that barn. I tried questioning him what it was, but Greg refused answering me. I said it would be easier to break the wall, which has already fallen apart, but he reminded me about the $1,000.

dollars. Well, beggars can't be choosers. I asked if he could at least bring me something I could sit on as this would take a while. This time he complied, and a few minutes later, I'd already set up my stuff on the ground and was working. It wasn't easy. It was dark and I was sleepy. I asked for a coffee, and Greg simply left me there and disappeared into his house. At first, I thought he was just making one for me, but after 40 minutes, I realized the jerk ass had probably gone to sleep. that door had 100 different locks one fucking hundred different locks that meant that the crazy old man had to carry 100 different keys the more i thought about it the lessons it all made the door was clearly new impeccably clean even if everything around it was old and falling apart after a handful of

hours the sun was rising yet i had only unlocked five locks whoever built that door was either a perfectionist or a psychopath or both. Greg Becker appeared wearing pajamas and carrying two cups of steamy coffee. I asked him where the fuck he was and he just casually said he went for a nap. I was furious by that point, so I stood up and told him that. If he wanted someone to open that door, he needed to at least show some fucking respect. The old man sneered to me and just said $5,000. I was starting to doubt him, so I demanded that he paid me half first.

Greg went inside the house and came back with an envelope full of money. I started working back on the door right away. The worst part was not the unending locks, the disrespectful client, the mysteries around the entrance were the scolding hot sun on the sky. It was the maddening boredom of it all. Becker refused to talk to me because he said the job demanded discretion. There was no sound whatsoever, and my phone had no signal. I didn't even know how he managed to call me there.

I hadn't picked a signal ever since my car drove into that street. I didn't even have a watch, so the sole indicator of the time was the position of the sun. Around two in the afternoon, I unlocked 17 locks. Greg Becker appeared to check on my progress, and I told him I was starving, that I needed to go home to rest of the billet. Greg wasn't happy, but he said that he needed me, so he just asked that I was back before midnight. I went home, my wife was pissed, but after I'd shown her the money,

she reluctantly agreed to let me keep working on Becker's door. I didn't sleep well that afternoon. I kept having these weird dreams about Becker, years younger, carrying lots of bloody plastic bags into the barn. In the end of the dream, I saw myself opening the door only for him to appear behind me and beat me to death with a baseball bat. The nightmares were unnerving, but I attributed them to stress. At 6 p.m. I was back on Greg Becker's property,

but that time I brought 20 hours of downloaded podcast. Greg handed me a cup of coffee, his lamp light, instead he'd check up on me on the morning. I started working again. On the first night, the experience was stressful, but that night it was somehow dreadful. I kept having this irrational instinct that made me check behind my back all the time. And considering his property was his house, his barn, and a big, dark, endless, open field of overgrown grass and nothingness, there wasn't even a moon that night. I kept working on the door, promising myself I wouldn't work here after the sunset. I unlocked another lock. That was number 21. I heard the house door opening. Becker was coming towards me, carrying two cups

of coffee. Something was wrong. The sun was already shining. I had unlocked 32 of the locks. Had my automatic mode fully taken over? I looked at my phone. I'd only listened to three hours. Something was very wrong. I felt like this barn was wrong. I felt like this barn was wrong. wrong. This door, it was evil somehow. Becker handed me a cup of copy, and I refused. I had this feeling that he wasn't trustworthy. He simply smiled and went back into his house. I continued my work, but even more than during the night, I was feeling watched. When I unlocked the 46th lock, around two in the afternoon, I heard a loud scream coming from inside the barn, and almost broke one of my tools due to the fright. Enough was enough. I went to Becker's.

backer's house and knocked on the door. He came out that smug smile on his face. I told him about the scream and asked what the hell was going on. He told me that I should go home, eat something, and rest a little bit until tomorrow, as I had been working for more than 10 hours. I went back home, unlocked my own door, and then I was back on the barn. Greg was running towards me, carrying a baseball bat. I woke up screaming, covered in sweat. My wife asked me what was going on. What happened, and I told her about my nightmare. What really freaked me out was not remembering when exactly I lay down to sleep. She said that ever since I started this job for Greg Becker,

I had been acting strangely like something was bothering me. I replied that something was indeed bothering me, but I couldn't figure out what it was yet. She said that I should stop, that I should give the man his money back and forget all about all this. And I agreed with her, but somehow I couldn't stop now. Even before the sun rose, I had already packed my stuff and was driving to Greg property. This time I promised myself things would be different. I would end the job, get my money,

and never pick up a call from Becker again. I went towards the barn door and started working on it immediately, putting on my earphones and listening to my context I downloaded. It was only after Becker appeared carrying two cups of coffee that I realized I had left my phone in the car. And that meant that the voices I was listening to were, I quickly removed my earphones and looked around, horrified. The door. The voices were coming from behind the door. Becker approached me and asked if I was okay. I tried to fake a smile and answer that I was, but my head was slowly shaking and my forehead was sweating so much that no matter what I said,

he'd know the answer was a blatant no. He then chuckled and went back inside his home. I decided that I didn't care at all for him or his weird antics, but I needed to open that door. I had already done 60 of the locks. Around three in the afternoon he asked if I wanted something to eat. I didn't hear him coming, but I didn't care. I just shouted for him to leave me alone and went back to my work.

71 I muttered. At 9 p.m. the sun had already set, and I was starving and thirsty and needed to go to the bathroom. But I couldn't stop. Not when I was this close. They agreed with me. Everyone was rooting for me to unlock the door. Becker once again appeared. He wasn't smiling this time and didn't have his usual smugness.

He looked concerned and asked what was on my hands. It was then that I knew. noticed that my hands were covered in a thick black liquid, a liquid that was coming from all the locks. I screamed and asked with all my lungs, why the hell was he doing to me? Becker ran away towards the house, screaming he would call 911, and I started working again. Seventy-nine. And then I smashed his head with a baseball bat. 82. And then I started working again on the door. I needed to open that door. I needed to open that door. 85. The sun rose. I'd eaten something, not sure what.

Maybe there was something on the old man's kitchen. I didn't know. Still don't. 95. Midday. There was blood everywhere. Leaking from the door, I think. Greg Becker brought me a cup of coffee.

I think it was him at least. 98. 99. 100. The door opened. Slowly. My eyes started bleeding and I saw something. It wasn't in the barn.

I saw strange, nonsensical version of my house, my father, my wife, my kids, all of them made of weird, strange angles. None of them living. Mere objects, animated, four-dimensional beings. In fact, none of the angles in anything made sense. They all were straight and curved at the same time, and then I saw something on the sky, a bean of incomprehensible utmost darkness. They, whatever it was, started talking, my ears started bleeding. They told me about the world, a world of false geometry of darkness, death and suffering, a world where extreme violence was the solution to all mathematical questions.

They asked me for my eyes. I was about to gouge them out when I saw Greg Becker, years younger, carrying a plastic bag, a plastic bag full of human organs. I looked around. I was dehydrated, hungry, covered in sweat, clearly. having a heat stroke. My head was aching like hell. I fell to the floor, and when I picked myself up, I saw what was really behind the door. There were several bodies, all of them mutilated, the limbs broken or outright missing and arranged in strange, bizarre, geometric shapes. One of them was that

of Greg Becker. I closed the door, and immediately all the locks locked themselves again. I went back to my car, and then I went home. Luckily, my wife wasn't home, and no one saw that I was covered in blood, so I burnt my clothes and took a very long shower. My family questioned me where the hell I had been. I was officially missing for days. The police had even gone to Becker's property to look for me. As I told my wife I had gone there before my disappearance. Greg Becker was found dead due to natural causes. He didn't have a barn in his property. And yet, if the barn wasn't real, why did Greg Becker give me $2,000? When the police arrived to his house, the door was unlocked.

Moving to a nicer neighborhood turned into a nightmare. Last year, my fiancé and my mom passed away, one right after the other. After they died, I obviously fell into a deep depression. Though I thought I was pulling off the whole I'm fine thing, my friends could clearly see through it. A close friend almost demanded I move in with her and get out of the apartment I shared with my fiancé for 10 years. She wanted me to get a fresh start, and while I didn't think I was ready to move on, the idea of not living alone was appealing. Plus, her apartment is much nicer neighborhood than the one I was currently living in,

so I agreed. Living with her has been fantastic. Our schedules are opposite. Me on days, her on night, so we both get alone time, but we also have at least one day a week off together so we can hang out. Moving has also allowed me to be able to walk to work as it's so close. I thought that would be a godsend until my 10-minute walk. caused a two-month-long nightmare. I decided to sit in the park that's between my apartment and my job

one evening after work. As I'm sitting there, a man approached me. I saw his face first. He was almost handsome, if not a little rough-looking. Even though I live in an urban area with a high homeless population, it didn't occur to me this man was anything but a mildly handsome 40-something guy, so I smiled and looked back down at my phone expecting him to walk on by me. Nope. He asked me time it was. When I looked up to tell him, I noticed all the stuff he was carrying. It was so random. A kid's shockboard with nonsense all over it, a paper bag full of old magazines and paperwork, and a steel shelf that at one point would have held CDs. I then noticed he wasn't wearing shoes and his hands were filthy. Needless to say, it finally dawned on me that this was not going to be a

normal encounter. He started talking nonstop, some of it nonsense, but some coherent. All of it's fucking crazy. Of the parts I could follow, he told me he'd just been released from prison and he was looking for a tattoo shot because he wanted to get fuck the DOC, the Department of Corrections, and 34, the number of DOC violations he had while in prison, tattooed on him and he wanted the DOC to pay for it. He then noticed a button I had on my bag that had the logo for a local gay bar on it. He told me he had gone there one night and went home with a guy. Then he looked me up and down and said, but young ladies are my problem. I gathered my stuff and left immediately. Now, I love this apartment, but it has its drawbacks, which become glaringly obvious after this encounter. The apartment

is on the first floor. I love it because you can walk out the sliding glass doors, one in the living room, and one in the bedroom, right onto an awesome gated patio that has tables and grills for barbecue, and so it's awesome in the summer. I now hate it because it's right on the street, and the fencing is clearly very easy to scale. On one very early morning, around 5 a.m., I hear a man scream, What the fuck are you doing? So loud and so close, it woke me up from a dead sleep, and I legitimately thought it was coming from in my bedroom. As it turned out, it was coming from outside. A neighbor had been leaving for work and discovered a man, the man from the park, sleeping against my sliding glass door. The dude got scared off, my neighbor checked on me, and once I calmed down,

I chalked it up to a fucked up coincidence. Two weeks later, I was sleeping, and at some point this man came on the patio and was now tapping on my sliding glass door. I honestly just laid there, frozen in fear, until he escalated to full-blown kicking the glass. I turned the light on to grab my phone and he took off. I called the police, and then they came over to take the report

and to look at the footage from the cameras in my building. The footage confirmed it was the man from the park. and more disturbingly, the footage from the hallway cameras showed that on more than one occasion, he had slipped in the building behind a resident and sat in the lobby for several hours. At one point, going down the hallway and trying my doorknob and my neighbor's doorknob to see if they were locked. He even went so far as to hide in the little mailbox room when he saw my roommate coming in from work. The police think he either followed me from the park where I just happened to notice me at one point

when I was on the patio. It's been a few weeks and I haven't seen him and no one has reported seeing him in or around the building. My roommate brought me pepper spray and my kind of kooky outblee wheel meaning neighbor who has made it very clear he's retired military and a bit of a gun nut. He checks on me nightly so I'm not as freaked out as I could be, but still crazy fucking guy from the park. Let's not meet again. Am I the asshole for believing my daughter over a grown man? Originally posted on November 30th, 2023. I don't know if I watched too many crime shows or if I'm just paranoid, so I've come here to ask.

Last week, I made chicken niochi soup. When it was almost done, I started helping my daughter with a school project. She got us both a bowl, and a few seconds later, my boyfriend runs into the room with a bowl and tells me to eat the bowl he has. I told him it was all the same, and he insisted that he wanted mine because it had more chicken. Thinking back now,

I don't know how he would know that considering my daughter dished it out. My daughter took the bowl he gave me and said she would eat it. He yanked it out of her hand and said, no, it's for mom. I took the bowl and he went to the living room. I continued doing my daughter's project

and told her not to eat the soup. 20-ish minutes later, I walked into the kitchen to, pour the soups out and he was still eating his. He asked why we didn't eat any and I said the cat got into it while we were waiting for it to cool down. He screamed, what? Was it your bowl? Cats can't eat that? I told him it was only a lick, but he has been stressed out watching the cat like a hawk, obsessive even. His reaction was very weird. These accidents all happened before the soup incident over the span of six months. It wasn't one after another in a short period of

time. Since then, my emergency money has gone missing. I keep money hidden just in case. I lost my older sister because she wasn't able to escape a dangerous situation, and I literally swore on her grave I would never be in that position. After the soup incident, I went to get my money and it was gone. It was hidden, and I changed the location every few months. I asked my daughter if maybe she found it and that if she took it, I wouldn't be mad because I knew she couldn't have spent it. She said no. A few hours later, she tells me she forgot, but the other day, her and my boyfriend got pulled over, and she saw my pink wallet in his glove box. I did not tell her which wallet was, or that it was in a wallet. I decided to ask him if he found it by accident. He asked me why I was hiding a large amount of

money. You know, you could never leave me and laughed. He has never said anything like that before. I told him it was my daughter's Christmas. He said, no, he didn't find the money, but could use his credit card for gifts. I didn't tell him about my daughter, seen my wallet in his car. Now, here are a few other things that have happened in the past few months that seemed random at the time, but now they don't. I have a severe allergy to latex. One day, we were about to have intimate time, and I glanced at the mirror we have by our bed and saw the condom wrapper was a different color. I stopped him because it wasn't latex free, and he said it was a mistake and just an older one he had. We had been dating for her.

over two years and he knows how serious my allergy is. My epipen that I keep in my room is missing and I didn't realize it. I didn't realize it was missing until I was searching for my money. Another odd thing is one day he was following me down the stairs while I was carrying laundry and he kicked the back of my leg and I fell. He said he had slipped but the stairs are wood and he was wearing his steel toe boots. At the time, I thought it was an accident. Am I overthinking this? My anxiety has been at an all-time high. Do I watch too much true crime? Here is why I think I might be the asshole. We have a good relationship. He loves my daughter like she is his. We split all shared bills and we both pull our own weight around the apartment. We don't fight. He is never so much

has raised his voice at me. We are paycheck to paycheck, but bills are paid. I thought about going to my mom's house for a few days and asking him when I can get there when I'm safe about the money, but I don't have any money to do that now. She is on a fixed income and can't help. I feel stupid for being scared. Last night, I decided to check his car for my wallet, and he caught me. I asked him for my money back, and he tried playing dumb. I told him my daughter sought there. He told me she was lying. I told him I never told her about the money or the wallet. He said he was a grown man and kids lie all the time. I asked him once more for the money and he said, quote, I'm not giving you money to leave me. I waited until he was in the shower to grab my cat and my daughter and we left.

I can't take my cat with us to the shelter and the DV shelters are full. I was able to get us a night at a cheap motel. This exact situation is why I had money saved. I did everything right and now I'm screwed. I feel like I just blew up my entire life. Yes, I'm using a burner account and reading all the comments that I can. And now let's get into some of the top comments. Someone says, I would not be at all surprised if he took out a life insurance policy on you. And I agree because this is very concerning. I mean, it seems like he tried to do something extreme multiple times, kicking your

leg while walking down the stairs, being super weird about the soup and also the latex thing. Very, very concerning. And also the EpiPen being missing. That is very concerning. Someone else says, run immediately. And luckily, the OP did. Someone else says, once is an anomaly. Twice is a coincidence.

Three times is a pattern. Document everything. Get your money and your papers and valuables to someone you trust and get yourself and your daughter out safely. You are not being paranoid and you need to trust your instincts. Someone else says, not the asshole and oh God, run away. I mean, the red flags are so obvious here, it almost seems made up, like a television script.

If this is real, run away from that murderer you live with. Someone else says, NTA, you were smart to trust your gun run. Safe men are not concerned whether you have money to leave them. This almost sounds like he has a special interest in your daughter and is playing the part of the perfect boyfriend so that you do not start expressing your concerns slash misgivings about him to your mom slash family

who could block his adoption process of your daughter after your accidental passing. He's actively and flippantly risking your life, often in the most sneaky slash black-handed ways, hiding the EpiPen and emergency fun, hoping you wouldn't notice until it was too late, and showing a considerable lack of concern for your own well-being. If my boyfriend had kicked me down the stairs,

he would have either scrambled to catch me or flown down those damn stairs to make sure I was okay. Please take the time tonight to write out in bullet points every questionable event slash close call you can remember, including the ones listed above. With approximate dates, so you A, have a retrospect timeline to share with your counselors slash therapists slash other professionals who may be helping you navigate the aftermath of this slash B can see yourself the list of reasons while you'll never go back and stop questioning your decision. And in my opinion, it's very clear that the OP is in a bad situation.

in the OP post, an update four days later. Let's get into it. My post got a lot of attention and my account was shadow band for a few days. I was able to appeal and get my account back because I'm not a bot or some AI. Now, for the update. The day after we left,

he sent me a picture of my ebby pen and tried telling me it was in my nightstand the whole time. I tore that room apart looking for it so I know for 100% fact it was not there. He took it. He tried getting me to come back

telling me I scared myself stupid and watched too many true crime TV. Something didn't feel right, so I told him to put my money and EpiPen in the mailbox. He went back and forth and he denied having my money. He then said, quote, if we broke up, you and Maria, my daughter, are no longer allowed in my apartment and will be treated like trespassers and sent me a picture of his target practice sheets. And holy shit, that is deeply concerning. And if you guys don't know, target practice sheets for shooting guns and that's how you, you know, practice shooting.

And that is, you know, him alluding to shooting them, which is absolutely horrific. She continues saying, I went to the police about my money and was told it was a civil issue. I was upset but wanted the rest of my stuff. So I asked for an escort. Yesterday, I finally got an escort into the apartment with a cop and my landlord. He destroyed everything of my daughters and he ruined the laptop charger I used. for work. No EpiPen. My daughter's medication and backup medical supplies were ruined. Our landlord let me off the lease without having to pay an early termination fee, which is great considering I have

no money. Motels are expensive. I don't want to get rid of our cat. All shelters are full, and this is scary as shit. I'm sorry this is a shitty updates, but I know people wanted it. And I mean, that's great that the landlord let her off without having to pay the early termination fee. That's really awesome. But geez, this is horrific. The boyfriend destroyed everything of theirs. And now the daughter doesn't have medication. The OP doesn't have their ebbie pen or their charger.

And oh my God, this guy is a monster. The OP's ex-boyfriend, I assume. And let's get into some of the top comments on this. Someone says, I don't understand how the theft of cash is a civil matter. You should be able to press charges for theft, and it looks like a decent amount. Property damage, vandalism, and maybe other things. Destroying medications might come under child endangerment. By sending pictures of your epipen, he's proven that he has it and is keeping it from you.

That might count for something, too. Don't know the laws where you are, but if they don't charge him with something, it's bullshit. Push the police to do something as he's obviously a danger. If your name was on the lease, then it wasn't his. apartment he couldn't have made a clear threat than treated like trespassers and you can't be a trespasser in your own home i'm so glad you're out and safe i was worried for you and your daughter i hope you find somewhere safe to stay with your mom or a friend while you get things together maybe your mom or friend could look after the cat if you could get into a shelter but above all keep yourself safe don't

let them know where you're staying if you can help it this will get better someone else says Wow, he probably wanted to kill you. He is a psychopath. And then the OP post, an update six days later. And let's get into it. My original post got a lot of attention, but then my account got shadow banned and was temporarily removed. I just updated five days ago,

but this will be my final updates because there's nothing anyone can do. I was encouraged to go back to the police station after my last update. On Saturday, December 9th, I went back again. again. This time I printed out the threatening text messages that included the target practice sheets he sent. I explained in detail about the, quote, accidents proving he was trying to hurt me. And I even had my landlord put in writing that he believed our lives were in danger after seeing everything I was showing the police and let me leave the lease early. I brought in the destroyed medical supplies and medications. The police said they had already talked to him and said he didn't do any

of it. He told them my daughter probably destroyed her stuff because she is quote special ed. She has very mild ass burgers but doesn't destroy things. Since it was his word against mine, they believed him. I didn't have proof he stole the money or that it even existed in the first place. I was told the EpiPen was my responsibility and they won't do anything if it's lost. I was told to let it go and acted like I was bothering the police with my quote petty civil issues. I am so defeated and angry. My daughter isn't going to have gifts for Christmas because I have to save for a new deposit on my apartment. We've been staying in motels while I was reaching out to DV resources.

I can't get help without a restraining order slash police report. Every place is out of funds. He's getting away with everything and I'm so glad we got out because there's no doubt in my mind he would have gotten away with my murder. I know this sounds like my last update, but that is what happened. nothing new. No justice, no repercussions for him. He gets to stay in the apartment. My landlord offered me another unit across town, but I can't afford to move in. This exact situation is why I had money stashed away because no one has ever cared about me slash us, and I knew that.

There's nothing else I can do. And then the OP gives us an update 18 days later with a chilling title, titled, I Thought We Are Safe, and the Update reads as follows. A lot of people wanted an update, so here it is. On Christmas, he slashed my tires knowing I would have to pay out of pocket to replace them, which I don't have. Today, he threw a heavy patio chair through the window of the place we are staying at to let me know he knew where we were, and I was asked to leave for everyone's safety, except my daughter and I aren't safe. I walked in the sleet slash snow with my daughter and our cat, and I felt vulnerable and like open prey, so he came back to the police station to sit in the lobby until morning.

Shelters are still full, and I now have to disclose that he is dangerous anywhere we go. Police couldn't find him, but I know he has to be close. I don't know what his end game is. And now let's get into some top comment. Someone says, hey, O.P., I'm a caseworker at a women's DV shelter. I understand all these shelters are at capacity right now, but you can also go to your local department of social services. They might be able to put you up somewhere.

When a person enters shelter, caseworkers like me, notify the DSS from their county of origin because DSS are the ones paying for their shelter stay. When you go to them to explain, you're facing an imminent threat from your ex and have experienced a DV incident within the last 120 days. but cannot find shelter, they can sometimes take the funding they'd have used to pay for the shelter stay and put it towards a hotel.

Hotels are more expensive than shelters, so they'll be reluctant to do it long term if they do agree, but it's worth exploring as an option. Someone else asked, saying, Can police direct you to a DV shelter? And the OP said, these shelters here are full,

so we are just sitting in the police station lobby. We are at least safe and warm, so I'm grateful for that. And then someone asked, on donations and the op says donations aren't allowed here and my post could get removed because of it. I'm trying to stay awake and really just venting. I'm so frustrated that he keeps getting away with this shit. Someone else says, do you know how he keeps finding you?

Have you checked for trackers? The OP responded saying, I honestly have no idea. He's supposed to have a new girlfriend too, so I don't know why he's messing with me and destroying property. Someone else said, reset your phone to factory settings. the OP says, I got a cheap burner after he left. He doesn't have my number, nor have I used to call anyone, so I don't know how he is still tracking me. Someone else says, you said he sent you a photo of the EpiPen after you left.

How did he communicate that with you? And the OP responded saying, he sent it through my email before I blocked it. And then the OP makes another update four days later, titled, I found the air tag in the cat carrier. Oh my God. And the post reads as follows. I checked everywhere I could think of and still couldn't figure out how he was tracking us. I blocked him on everything,

including email, after he sent me pictures of his target practice sheets among other things. I got a cheap burner phone. My daughter was out of school for winter break, so he didn't follow her or anything. I checked my car for a tracker. Still, nothing.

I do not have an iPhone, so I couldn't check whatever app a air tag is. attached to. My cat is harness trained and wears a collar, but there was no tracker. Until today, I decided to feel up. Sorry, the only way I could describe it. The carrier. I ran my fingers over every inch of it and felt a bump on the bottom soft side. There was no new stitching or obvious cut. He had to use a seam ripper along the stitching. It was undetectable and I almost missed it. He had to have had help because I've never seen him sew anything.

Probably the same person who is letting him hide now. If his excuse for the air tag was to track my cat, he would have had to put it on his collar or harness because that is what he would wear when we go on walks slash car rides. My cat would never go in his carrier unless I was planning on leaving for more than a few days. I have no idea how long it has been there, nor do I know how far the tracker works, but now we aren't safe where we are again.

I feel disgusting and I feel like hunted prey. This is so unnerving and I'm so uncomfortable. Who the fuck was I living with? And then one of the top comments on this update says he had helped sewing that tracker into the cat carrier. Time to check every piece of clothing, every jacket lining, every plush toy, every stitch of everything you own and utilize the digital tools other commenters have mentioned

to ping any nearby trackers. The car has so many places to conceal a tracker, behind interior panels, in the headliner, under the center console, taped to the underside of the bumper, the cat carrier, may not be the only one. And then the OP makes an update six days later titled, I finally got the restraining order. I'm hoping this update will make everyone as happy as it makes me. I was finally granted the restraining order. And we get the keys to our new apartment on the 11th, a place I can afford my. monthly and comes partially furnished. It's in a super safe area right by my daughter's school.

There is security. We will spend our time living in our car until then. And of course, it has to be snowing, but we are together and we have our kitty. This nightmare is almost over. And then the OP gives us an update one month later, titled, A Restraining Order didn't stop him. This morning, he found me. I've been sick as hell, so after I dropped my daughter off at school, I went straight home. I didn't drive around to make sure no one is following me. I messed up. He broke my nose and shattered my orbital bone. He is in jail.

Sorry for this update, y'all. God, that is just so disheartening after the restraining order post because the OP seemed in very good spirits and then they made this post. The ex-boyfriend found her and like she said, broke her nose and shattered her orbital bone. So, so horrible. And then people under this say, you did not mess up.

He did. And someone else says, this is not your fault. It is in no way, shape, or form your fault. It is entirely his fault because he is an abuser. I hope he stays in jail, but you need to protect yourself in the likely event he is released. Can you get connected with DV resources in your or another community? And the OP responded saying, I'm sure his mom will bail him out. Why can't he just move on?

He took my money and my peace. What more can he take until he is satisfied? And God, you can just tell how, you know, drained the O.P is. They have nothing left and they have nothing left to give. It's so, so horrible. And then the OPE makes a comment saying, Staying in the hospital for the night, I was pretty sick before this happened.

My daughter is with a friend for the night. My landlord fixed the door as best he could and told me my cat wasn't in the apartment, so I'm worried sick. I thought this was over. I'm so, so, so tired. God, that is just so horrible. Another commenter says, please pull your daughter out of her school

and leave the state ASAP. And the OP response saying, I so wish I could do this, but we just moved into her new place. I should have just stayed with my mom. She lives in another state, but I didn't want to disrupt my daughter's life too much. I have $3 to my name,

so I can't leave. And then the OP makes an update two days later titled Not Being Able to Move Even if my life depends on it And the update reads as follows I know the importance of having money saved And I live within my means

How many of us is one disaster away from losing everything A fire, job loss, A bank screw up, a late paycheck, illness Or someone stealing from you? I had money saved because I knew that Any one of those things could happen And I wouldn't have anyone who could help me. and it did.

Two months ago, my ex tried poisoning me and stole the money I had saved. It's been hell since. I was able to break my lease and leave. I went to my mom's over Christmas break, but I came back because I didn't want to disrupt my daughter's schooling, and I underestimated my ex. I was able to get an apartment through DV services very quickly, which was a miracle.

I know how hard it is to find housing and then try to come up with all the deposits a new place needs. I did it. The cards fell in my favor, but then I fucked up. On Friday, I took my daughter to school and wasn't diligent. I will usually drive around to make sure I'm not being followed. To be honest, I started feeling crazy, paranoid, and angry. I was wasting gas.

Plus, I have pneumonia and strep that I haven't been able to pay for the antibiotics, so I just went home to my bed. He found me and broke my nose, shattered my orbital bone, and I have a concussion. I have a restraining order, and he was arrested. I shared this on another sub and everyone telling me to move, leave, run, except I can't do that. It's hard trying to explain that to people for the first time because it sounds like excuses, like I like living in fear or something. I can't pull money out of thin air.

My credit card is maxed. I contacted DV services at the hospital and because I just got help, I can't get it again. The thing I didn't know about abuse of men is that they don't just move on or stop. There are DV shelters, but they are full. I wish people would understand that. I know how serious this is, but money doesn't grow on trees, even if a life depends on it. And then some people in the comments under this update say,

Will your parents really not help you? In the OP response, saying, I only have my mom who lives out of state. She is on fixed income so she can't help me. We would stay with her, but at this point, I'm out of luck and nothing worth a damn to sell. someone else says you need to disappear and the opi responds saying honestly how i'm not going to get anywhere on foot and then the opi makes another update 11 days later titled he was with me to get to my daughter

it all makes sense now if you need more context please read my past posts in my first post i said how we had a normal relationship and he was never abusive controlling never raise his voice The money that he ended up stealing was money I had hidden since before he even moved in. I was not hiding money to get away from him. I was not afraid of him. I lost my sister to DV and swore I'd never have that happen to me only to end up in that exact situation. We don't have this spectacular love that was filled of insane chemistry,

nowhere near a quote, love of my life situation, which is why I was so confused by how desperate he got. after he got arrested, his mom went on social media rant because I, quote, got her baby locked up and knew we were sleeping in my car so was telling her followers that if they find me to call her. Very bold and insane. One of my ex's friends saw this and commented, quote, I don't know if you should be sticking up for him. He needs serious help. I don't know how I caught it before it was deleted, but I reached out to him on my fake Facebook. Every time they were drinking, he would talk about her and then laugh it off. It made his friends uncomfortable, but they chalked it up to the booze. Two weeks ago, when my daughter came to see me in the hospital, she was distraught.

It made sense because I looked like hell, but she kept repeating over and over, asking me why he did this to me. I think there was more to this, and I'm frightened to my core. Remember, he stole my EpiPen and money, but he also destroyed almost everything of hers, and I didn't understand it because she has nothing to do with the breakup. Why did he destroy her medicine? Why did he destroy her clothes? Fucking why? Don't abusers threaten their victim into not saying anything

or something is going to happen to someone slash something they love? I'm sick to my stomach even riding this out. I don't know where to go from here. How do I even begin a conversation about this with her? We are safe. I'm not worried about him finding us because he is still. in jail, which is great because I'm out of money. He wasn't desperate and crazy because he was losing me. I think it was because of her. And then let's get into some top comments on this. Someone says

he raged out because his plan to kill you and take your daughter didn't work out for him. He destroyed her possessions because he was so infatuated with her. And when he realized that wasn't happening, he lost control. Take care of yourself and I hope you never seem again. And then someone replies to that, commenters saying, Good Lord, I hope like hell he didn't do anything to her. My heart breaks for you both. Please stay safe and please keep checking in with us. I know you have thousands of people out here rooting for you and your daughter.

If you live in Washington State, you guys could stay with me. I have a two-bedroom. I wish you both well. Bless you. And then the OP makes an update five days later. and it is a short and chilling post titled, My ex is getting bailed out tomorrow. I'm so angry and scared.

I wish I had faith in the justice system and with cops because they are supposed to protect, right? Except that isn't always the case. I'm tired of being hurt and I'm tired of being scared. Anxiety is on 100. It's exhausting, fearing my daughter and I's life. And then the OP makes another update eight days later titled, How Can I Feel Savor at Home?

I know a lot of people are following my post and will be disappointed in hearing that my ex was bailed out. I'm still healing from when he broke my nose and shattered my orbital bone. I know a restraining order is just a piece of paper because he ignored it when I was attacked and the police aren't going to save me. For security, I only have a doorbar that slides under the knob.

I don't have a ring camera, and I can't buy a pew-pue-pue, until I have extra funds. He made me sell it a year ago because he was, quote, uncomfortable with it being in the house. Another red flag I missed. My question is what I can do to feel safer that doesn't require money. Every night, my daughter and I push the couch in front of the door,

but I'm worried that if there is a fire, we can't get out. I have myself worried sick to the point of painful stomach ulcers. I tried talking to my nearest neighbor, but when I started explaining my situation and how it would be great if she could let me know if she sees anyone around my apartment, she got weirded out, which I get. Just looking for some peace of mind. Will that ever exist in my life again? And then someone makes a comment under this post saying,

I volunteered most of my life in some way or another with women's shelters. This cost a little money. One thing we would recommend that is not commonly known or talked about is a life alert. I've fallen and can't get up. If you get in a situation with your abuser, they will think, to take a phone, but it takes time to get a call placed. Life Alert gives you a pendant you can wear under your shirt. They'll contact someone immediately by touching a button that's hidden. I have set these accounts up before and told the company that if that button is pushed, they need to call

police immediately because the reason it was pushed is that an abuser has shown up and the account holder is in extreme danger. They have your address and may now have GPS and can hear what's happening or free. Talk to a few neighbors you trust that if they hear your car alarm go off to immediately call the police and let them know you need help right now. It's a bat signal and you need help. Sleep with your car keys on the nightstand. Weapons that seem like normal items, hand weights, a decorative rock, a solid baseball bat, a cast iron pan. They live in a certain place strategically placed throughout your house and you know exactly where they are even in the dark. Very your routine. It's inconvenient and tiring, but it helps.

Very your lighting. Borrow timer plugs or purchase a few. Switch it up often. Always park in front of a camera view. At work, the grocery store, etc. Meditation. Being able to think clearly and in the moment is super important. Practice calming your mind, so if you have a problem, you have the skill in place to stay calm and work your way out. It's also useful to heal. Ask neighbors with cameras to include your house in the line of sight of their cameras and really cheap. Dollar tree.

Window and door alarms, they are loud and at least let you know something is happening. Also, bells like the Christmas ones that hand on doorknobs can be placed on the back of interior doors. Fake cameras are also available. Have one pointed at any entrance point, windows and doors inside. It might make them think twice if you break the window and see something. it. Motion-activated singing toys can be useful around doors or in a hallway you would not go into at night, only if you don't have pets. Please go talk to your local DV shelter. They may be able to get you a camera, give you personal alarms, and offer a multitude of advice and resources. And then

the OP makes another update one week later titled, Am I the Asshole, or Was This Just a Mistake? I know this is all I post about, and if you want more context, you can read, my past posts. I feel like I need to tell someone what is happening so that it makes me feel real and that I'm not just upset and crazy for nothing. My ex got out on bail last week. My daughter and I already left the new apartment we had moved into after he attacked me. My daughter's school knows about my situation and knows I have a restraining order. Today, my daughter got a call from the front office at school. The secretary told her that the pickup car had changed from mine to a new car. She was being told this

so that when the school let out, she wouldn't get upset when she didn't see my car. The new car is the same one as my exes. It is a rare car slash color, and she told me she knew it was his car. She didn't say anything to the secretary or a teacher because she was instantly scared. It breaks my heart that she was in fear

because she thought he had got me and was going to get her. She was given the message hours before school let out, so she spent all that time worrying. The last 10 minutes of the day is when the kids can use the bathroom and clean up. She started crying in front of her whole class, and when the bell rang,

she refused to leave the classroom. I was in the carpool line when I got the call from the teacher. I've never seen her so upset and that is saying a lot because she was so upset when she visited me in the hospital. Face beat red, hyperventilating, snot everywhere.

She had cried so hard she got. a nosebleed. After they told me what happened, I was livid. It all sounded like bullshit because the secretary never should have relayed the message without talking to me first, since she said it was a mail on the phone. As soon as the secretary looked my daughter up to find out which room to call, she should have seen the message I thought I was saying, no one should ever pick her up at me. No information should ever be released. Quote, he was never in contact with her, so it's not that big of a deal. It was a mistake, is what they told me.

All he had to give her was her full name and what grade she was in to get a message to her. They said that to me with a straight face while the bruises he gave me were very visible, proving he is a violent man. I'm so fucking angry. She told me she knew I didn't get a new car because as much as I try to hide it from her, she knows I'm broke. She thought she was going to have to go with him. She has been so traumatized and I don't know what to do. She wants to switch to e-learning, but since it's not a medical reason and not a school-wide restriction, I would have to pay to rent the laptop, which I obviously can't.

The school is calling it an innocent mistake and didn't even apologize. I know I'm the only one responsible for my daughter and I's safety, but damn, if people could stop jeopardizing it like it's nothing and then acting like I'm the asshole for me and upset because it was a mistake. He wasn't there after school, but he could have. And then the OP went silent for three and a half weeks straight. And everyone was very concerned and worried. This is the longest break the OPE has taken in a long, long time,

although the OPE finally comes back with an update titled, Finally Safe. And the post reads as follows. I've had a few people asking, so I wanted to update. I can now confidently say that my dog, daughter, Kat and I are safe and will continue to be from here on out. I can start rebuilding without fear, and I'm not okay, but we are safe. And then the OP makes an update three weeks later titled,

I've spent the last four months running for my life. I just want to say that if anyone is going through something similar to me, you can vent to me. This is something you have to experience to understand how hard it is. I know there are DV resources, but they are extremely limited. I had someone on here checking in with me, and when I explained what was going on, I was asked, why aren't you stable yet? And it kind of took me off guard.

Only a few people knew I was pregnant through this. I left my home with basically nothing and went to a hotel and he found me. I went to another hotel, and he found me. I went to a safe house for two nights where I was asked to leave because my actually was dangerous, slept in my car with my daughter, went to my mom's out of state, came back to my home state because that is where DV resources helped with an apartment. He followed me back to my apartment from my daughter's school. I was hospitalized when he broke my nose, shattered my orbital bone, and gave me a concussion. I had to leave that apartment, back to hotels and sleeping in my car,

and finally back to my mom's. So much money feels wasted. I have the opportunity to, to be added on to her new lease, but it's a bigger unit and requires a first slash last deposit, impossible unless I rob a bank. The pet deposit is already paid. But I only have until the first, or we are back to living in the car because we have exceeded our visitation days. A year lease where my rent would only be $500 a month. Utilities may be $150. I'd be saving so much money and be able to rebuild my life. we would all have our own rooms which means privacy even though we are all female

privacy is precious I haven't slept in a bed since the hotel beds but even then it wasn't my bed it's been my car hotel bed or the couch even when we are briefly in our new place I still slept on the couch when it pushed against the front door

I know all my posts are about the same thing one thing after another and yes it is exhausting and repetitive but think about how I feel. I'm desperate for stability and I can't get it because he took so much for me. It wasn't until I was out of our house and away from him for me to see how much power he had over my life.

It's embarrassing. Even if I have to go back to living in my car, I'll still be around to talk and I'll still be optimistic because I deserve good things to happen to me that aren't only in my dreams. And then the OP went silent for about a month, but then we finally got an update, although it was not good news, titled, The Vet Gave My Abuser My Location.

I want to say this was a genuine mistake and not done with malicious intent, but I still need to vent about it. Just like my daughter's school letting my abuser give her a message. This was an accident, but accidents put my life in danger, and I'm exhausted. I post about my situation a lot, and despite a few users thinking my ex would find my Reddit, I'm not worried about that. However, I am terrified of him knowing where I am. He has gone through a restraining order.

Police don't scare him. And when he got slash gets arrested, he will just get bailed out. I knew the only way I could live a normal life was getting as far away from him as possible. So I took my daughter and my cat and moved in with my mom a few states away. I was 100% confident

that he didn't know where I was because they never met. We were actually estranged for a few years before my ex and I even got together. I started feeling safe. I stopped jumping when I heard loud trucks. I was starting to get comfortable even though not a lot of time had passed. A few days ago, my cat's back legs stopped working and he lost control of his bodily fluids. I was working, but my mom rushed him to the ER vet. There were questions she couldn't answer. or so, they asked if he was chipped. He is, but I changed my number a few times lately, so one of the two numbers was out of service, so they called the second one. I forgot to remove his number.

I know this is my fault. The vet called him to get information, and he didn't give any information and hung up on them. The receptionist said he called back about five minutes later and said, quote, I know she doesn't have money. Tell her, I'll save her cat if she comes home. Jesus. He knows how much my cat means to me. He found me the first time I left because his mom helped him sew an air tag into the lining of the cat carrier. He knew if I was to ever leave him, I wouldn't leave my cat. One time, my ex threw him out of the house to hurt me while I was at work and he refused to leave the porch. My ex then tried squirting him with a water bottle and when that didn't work, he sprayed him with the hose. He basically,

got waterboarded and still would not leave. He is my sole cat. When I got to the vet and they told me what happened, I had one of the worst panic attacks I've had in a while. I've had my cat for 10 years and he has never gotten sick or injured. He has a UTI and a fractured foot from falling. The vet thinks he probably got his foot hurt first and that led to the UTI since he wasn't using the litter box.

I noticed he was slightly limping a few days ago and I couldn't get him into the vet yet. The UTI developed quickly. I was naive in thinking the vet would save a pet's life, even if the owner can't pay up front, but it isn't like a human going into the ER. I've spent so much money in time trying to get away from my ex while also trying to live a normal safe life for my daughter. Once again, something happens and he now knows the city we are in. I'm not running again because I can't. I don't think you'll drive up here because, like I said, I'm a few states away, but man, did this bring back my paranoia and irrational fear?

I changed the chip information, but the damage is done. I was a fucking idiot for not doing it sooner. This is my fault. I'm so damn tired. And then let's get into some comments. Someone says, why did they use the microchip to get your number? Did your mom not have your most recent number to give them or something? Could you not be reached at work yet?

That's just weird to me. And the O.P. Respond saying, My mom was flustered because she knew the ER vet was going to be expensive and knew I couldn't pay, but she couldn't answer any questions because she didn't know. Didn't know how old he was or if he had his shots. I can't take my phone into my work building, and she didn't know the manager's phone number. I was able to pay partial with scratch pay, but not all, which is heartbreaking. A broken heart and frustrating anger is what I feel too.

Someone else comments saying, I just don't understand why the vet would go through the trouble of scanning the chip and calling the numbers on there instead of just asking your mom for your number. Seems like a lot of grief could have been avoided in the clinic had to do more work to call a company and get the phone numbers. And the OP responded saying, I've had to change my number over six times in a three-month time span. My mom didn't know it off the top of her head. Someone else comments saying,

If you are communicating with your mom, it would be in her phone. If it changes so often, the last number in her phone would be more accurate than a microchip, which is less likely to be updated. This is very strange. And the OP response saying, I was at work. I cannot have my personal phone on me and my cat was having a medical emergency. My mom didn't know how old my cat was or if he had had his shots.

They had a lot of questions. She had no answer to. so they scan the chip to get information. And then the OP makes an update a few days later, titled, quote, I can't wait until she is 18. Today, my daughter Z told me that this summer was the worst summer of her life. I agree with her. Every single day, she has walked to the library with me

so I could work my full-time job until I can pay for home internet in the air condition is a huge plus. She keeps herself busy helping the librarian, or she reads, but I know it isn't what she wants to be doing. Zee told me she misses her old life back home. She misses good meals and being able to get whatever snacks she wants at a grocery store. She misses making her bed. We are still sleeping on glorified dog beds on the floor.

She misses riding her bike. She misses our cat who recently passed and I do too. I miss it all too. She then says, Tim, my ex, didn't hurt you until after we left. left, and that is why he got mad. If we go back and promise not to leave, can we? I never told her about the accidents that were happening that made me leave.

I had to explain how he hid my epipen and started using the condoms I was allergic to. I told her about him poisoning my soup. I told her about the money he stole. I'm ashamed to admit that if he was just hurting me, I would go back. Everything is so fucking hard, and it feels. feels like it'll take years to rebuild and give my daughter the life she deserves. Except he wasn't just hurting me. He was after her. I had to tell her that after we left, one of his friends told me how he would talk about her, how obsessed he was, and how he was waiting until she was 18. Having to

answer her questions, quote, why would he like me like that? He is way too old. Quote, he knew me when I was a little girl. He was like my dad. Quote, I'm not. I'm not. a woman yet like you. It was so hard. It was a very mature and emotional conversation. No amount of money would ever make me go back. I'm sharing this as a frustrated event, but also in case there is someone who's being hurt but doesn't want to leave because it feels like you can't. Your kids are going to be mad. It's going to be fucking hard. Impossible some days. There's nowhere near enough help that you will need. Losing everything is devastating. I won't say it gets better because I don't believe it will anytime soon, but I do know it won't get worse. There's nothing worse

than living with someone who is hurting you or even worse. Hurting your kids. And then the OP doesn't make a post for a few months and comes back with a devastating update titled, My Mom is Gone. I don't know why I'm posting this and I can't believe I'm typing this, but my mom died. My mom died. My mom died. My mom died. No matter how many times I say it, it doesn't look like real words. I don't know if I thought she was going to live forever or if I thought I was going to be first, but to say I'm shocked is an understatement.

It feels illegal. She committed S-word late Friday slash early. Saturday morning, but I didn't find her until Sunday night. I was working all weekend, and I'm grateful my daughter wasn't home, and that she wasn't with me when I found her. We lived together. My mom was my best friend. My, Z and I have been living in her car the past few days. I can't be inside until crime scene cleaners come. I never thought I'd ever say that in my entire life. I didn't know she was struggling, and I just can't comprehend how not okay she must have been. I can't stop thinking about the bond we had and how in sync we were, but how can I say that now?

I didn't see it. I failed. I begged the EMTs to tell me what hospital she was going to, even though I knew it was too late. In the past two years, I've lost my sister, my grandma, my aunt, two good friends, a miscarriage, my sole cat, and now my mom. I really hope it's not possible to die from a broken heart because I need to be here for Z. I'm sorry this post is all over the place. I have so much more to say, but for now, everything feels heavy. I don't know if I believe in the afterlife or anything,

but I can physically feel that there is less love for me on earth. How is she just gone? I keep looking at my phone, waiting for her to text me to come pick her up from the hospital. just waiting and um holy shit is genuinely one of the most devastating reddit threads i have ever read through and um then the opi makes it an update a few months later titled concluded am i the asshole for believing my daughter over a grown man on november 23rd 23 i made a post-questioning whether or not I was the asshole for believing my daughter. I was ignorant and naive for second guessing myself. I've posted updates since my OG post, but here is a little TLDR of everything that

has happened since I left. He hunted us like animals and he had helped doing so. I had to break two different apartment leases after he found us. He went through restraining orders. I was hospitalized twice after he got violent. We slept in the car on and off for weeks. We slept in the car on and off for weeks after leaving, was asked to leave shelters for the safety of everyone else. I eventually had to flee the state after he started targeting my daughter at her school. My mom and cat died. In March of this year, my daughter got merced down to the bone in her left foot and had to amputate it. She bravely testified against him and some of the things that emerged were things she hit from me. He is a monster. She is probably going to have to do e-learning again this year, but this time it

isn't because I'm scared he's going to find her. He stole my safety nets and I haven't been able to recover. On July 6th, our apartment flooded and is a total loss. We lost everything we had. He completely ruined me, but knowing he is going to sit in rot in prison in Indiana for the next 12 years brings me so much peace. Last month, he was sentenced and justice was actually served. I know my situation isn't unique. And I know firsthand how hard it is to leave and stay away.

I should not have made excuses for the red flags and I should have left sooner. I still get messages from women saying they would never leave their partner for their kids. Although no one in his real life believes he belongs there and thinks I'm the horrible one who, quote, ruined his life. I am not the asshole. And that is one of the final posts the OP has ever made regarding the original post and situation. But can you, I've never. read a more depressing Reddit thread before. The OP just had nothing ever going right for her.

The OP's ex-boyfriend or abuser chased her down everywhere she went. And then when she finally got some steady time, something else happened with him. And then something else happened. Sure. Her apartment got flooded. Her mom died. Her cat died. Her daughter got Mursa and had to have her foot amputated.

Truly so horrific. I guess if the O. is watching please reach out and I can hopefully maybe you know help you out a little bit if you're still in that situation and possibly give you a donation of some sort and I hope the opi is in a better space now and I hope they have continued to recover I hope the opi and her daughter are in a better and safer environment now and hopefully on the upward trajectory because it seems like they were just going down and down and down forever and I just hope that they finally have some good graces and good luck in their life.

But wow, that was about a two-year saga of just some of the most horrific posts I have ever read. Some of the most horrific posts and updates I've ever read. I mean, all throughout it, I'm just like, this is going to get better. And it never did. I hope the O.P.'s abuser wroughts in prison for the rest of his life. And I'm glad he finally got the justice he deserves. and I hope the O.P. and her daughter are doing much, much better now. But, God, that was truly one of the most disturbing threads I have ever read.

Crazy Beauty Queen Stocker. This is a long story, as it's been over five years in the making. I've actually posted this story before, but there are some really good internet slews here on Reddit, and they were able to figure out ex-beauty Queen's identity. and mine too. I don't really care if I give up my identity but didn't want it to be on my actual account, so I deleted it a while back.

The catalyst for me to repose it today on a throwaway is that it's cathartic. Last week, yet another court date for ex-beauty Queenstocker came and went. We've been expecting things to proceed with her entering a plea of guilty or not guilty, but no such luck. All we got was another vague reason

as to why she's not ready and a new court date issued months from now. There have been many court dates since she had been arrested. It's been over 18 months since she's been arrested for her continued stalking and harassment, and she still wants to drag things on, to seemingly try and stay relevant in our lives. As an aside, the amount of court resources in taxpayers' money that's wasted is actually really astounding.

Anyway, on to the story. To recap, my husband dated a beauty queen title holder of a well-known pageant before me. They broke up long before we met. She was a status quo blonde, very tall, and knockout in her day. In my opinion, this is somewhat important to the story, I guess. But while she was a dazzling pageant winner on the outside, on the inside, no boy. She could be charming and beautiful if she needed you. but mostly she treated people around her terribly, including my husband, and he eventually broke it off with her.

But she never went away. She would continue to call an email repeatedly, even after my husband and I met. If anything, her calls increased. She would call over and over again, day and night, even after my husband, then boyfriend, blocked her number. She would ask for money and threaten to go to the police claiming he abused her if he didn't give it to her. He obviously did not give her the money. This made her very upset. The threats increased and became more malicious.

But when that didn't work, she would switch tactics and try and sweetly ask him for help with certain projects she was trying to get off the ground or more accurately have him do the work for her and she'd take the credit with the promise that if he did just this one last thing for her, she would go away. He did not reply. So she would go back to be malicious. Any tactic for attention or for what she really wanted, money. My husband was terrified.

Because, of course, while he never did anything to her, it would be her word over his and he was terrified of ruining his reputation and career. We unfortunately ended up at an event she also attended. She had been waiting for us to arrive and had placed herself near the entrance of the event. As we walked in, she stood across the room, looking me up and down, laughing and whispering into the ear of her date, making a point to try and make me uncomfortable. But that was okay.

She was easily ignored until she ambushed me as I came out of the bathroom. She had been clearly waiting for a moment I was alone. She towered over me. She is very tall. I had no intention of having it out with her, and as I hurriedly walked to find my husband, but she kept pace beside me, hunched over, so she was at my eye level.

I'm 5'5. Her head turned towards my. She was like a caricature of herself, as she ambled beside me, smiling maniacly. Where's your man? She hissed in her heavy accent. Her eyes were black. She looked like out of a Tim Burton movie, hunched over with that crazy demonic smile.

Watch your back, pug, she added, grinning. She liked to call me names like pug because I own pugs, and I guess she thought this was an insult. What I didn't know then was, while I was in the bathroom, she had walked over to my husband and had thrown her arm around him while he was in mid-conversation with someone. and introduced herself to the man he was talking to, as if she and my husband were together. My husband unwrapped herself from her clutches and told her to beat it. She then beeline and waited for me to come out of the washroom. We stopped going at the parties.

The last time we ran into her was at a funeral for a mutual friend. She followed me around at the wake. As my husband, boyfriend at the time, was talking to the man's widow, I was talking to a friend and his wife. She walked right up and stood with us, joining us mid-conversation as if she were part of the group. It was unnerving, but also just bizarre. It was a funeral, and I did not want a scene. I silently picked up my glass of wine off the bar and walked away,

leaving her with a couple I'd been speaking to, and her staring at me with a smirk on her face. All in all, annoying, but manageable. However, the emails, calls never stopped. She would call my husband over and over day and night, even though he had a long blocked her number. She would drive by. I found my car keyed one night after I left it outside, but obviously I couldn't prove it's her. But enough was enough.

My husband had a lawyer send a cease and desist. After the first, she called him from a private number. He answered and she said, Hi, it's me in a sing-song voice, like they were the best of friends, and he had just sent her a lawyer's letter ordering her to stay away from him and his family. He said nothing and hung up. Another season desist was sent, then a third. Nothing would make her go away.

She did not actually think my husband was capable of not wanting to be with her, because, you know, her beauty. Eventually, though, she got pissed that he was not giving in. So she decided to take this rage to the internet. I knew that because she was absolutely checking out my social media, but I don't really use it much, so I don't. didn't care. However, she created a fake Twitter account and tweeted, Husband's name is a fraud, and tagged his colleagues, friends, investors, family members,

every single person she could think of to try and ruin his reputation and career. On New Year's Eve, she posted on my Instagram account at exactly 1201 a.m. Happy New Year's Scud. Social media settings were all put to private. We went to the police arms with the emails threatening to give her money or she would go to the police. She was charged with two counts of harassment and a restraining order was put into place. To our shock, the next day after her arrest, our phones were buzzing. This story had made front page news, clearly a slow news day. Her day in court came right before COVID.

We arrived to the courthouse and sat down. She walked in. We were shocked by her appearance. Actually, shocked is an understatement. She was unrecognizable from her former self. Gone was the. statue-esque, dazzling blonde. She had apparently shaved her head and was wearing a short ratty-brown wig. She had gained about 80 pounds, give or take, and was now sort of hunched. With her height and

new girth, she looked like a linebacker. To add to her new look, she wore a bulky brown's men's over coat and a scarf tied over her wig, like a boobushka. My immediate thought was, her outside now matches her inside, but it was her eyes that I noticed the most. About a year earlier, we had shown a photo of her to our kids so that if she ever had approached them, they knew to run. At the time, my son, who was young, commented that she had mean eyes from the mouth of babes.

Maybe it was that she had changed so much physically overall, but her dark eyes had narrowed into deep black slits. As she scanned the courtroom and saw us in court, she would turn around every so often to look back at us and glare. She would then whisper in her lawyer's ear and laugh as if

she were having a grand time. She had a pair of big, round, cheap sunglasses that she would put on and take off intermittently. When she addressed the judge, she put them on, and he asked her to remove them. You thought she was putting on a brave face and treating it all like a joke, but we are about to find out that getting arrested wouldn't slow her down. The restraining order didn't seem to face her at all, if anything, it angered her more. From then on, every day, night and day, she would post from multiple fake social media accounts, posting photos of myself of my husband.

She would put up my husband's photo with a caption, pedophile or other terrible names that included racist and transphobic comments and captions. To give you a slight idea, she posted altered pictures of my husband, Photoshop to look like he was wearing heavy makeup and referring to himself as a pre-op transgender. She posted altered and unflattering photos of myself. She called me old, ugly. Those are the G-rated ones. Listen, I am no beauty queen myself.

The name calling, while obsessive and gross, wasn't what bothered me most. Although I'm not going to lie, seeing hundreds of photos of myself on her fake Twitter account calling me ugly and obsessively pointed out every single perceived flaw did succeed in getting me down at times. Why did I keep looking? Because it was like in a glimpse into her unraveling and unraveling mind, just in case it was a clue of what she was capable of thinking or doing next, because it wasn't her insulting post that faced me.

What bothered me most were the sinister captions. Keep an eye on your kids because I'll be watching. Or why don't you plant some flowers in your front yard? Or be good to your kids because you never know what could happen. How is your Eber Eid's order? She would post pictures of me with an arrow directed to my head, which I perceived to be a gun to my head. She posted pictures of my husband's workplace,

which she was not allowed to be within two blocks of in accordance to the restraining order. But the police said that this could just be a picture she took from the internet. sigh. She posted a gothic Christy quotes like every killer is usually someone you know well or your end is near.

Her Twitter profile banner picture was taken from a movie poster and said stalker like she was in on the joke. We called the police again, but they said there wasn't anything they could do since she didn't explicitly tag us. I took screenshots of everything.

Many of her posts were nonsensical, but most were photos posted of us on this fake account. All altered with derogatory were ominous captions, but we couldn't get her shut down. I became anxious any time my kids were outside shooting hoops in the driveway. My elderly mother wouldn't take the baby out in the stroller, she was too scared. It affected all of our lives. Life became dramatic. Ex-beauty queen would taunt us with Catch Me If You Can. She posted close-ups of her dog's genitals or a piece of her dog's

shit with my name beside it. The implication obvious. It bothered me now. She had a dog. since I don't think someone like her was capable of caring for anything living. Then the call started back up. This time to our homeline. Yes, we still have a home phone, lull. Bitch, and then a hang-up. Carmel gets you. And then weird chant like calls, as if she was reciting a spell.

Sure enough, she posted photos of a pentagram and candles as some sort of altar in the caption, Ring, Ring. Finally, the police asked us to come in and give video statements. We gave them a drive containing thousands. of screenshots of posts she had made. They arrested her again and charged her with two more counts of criminal harassment. My husband is angry at this point, but as a mama bear, I just wanted to get this over with. She mentioned the kids frequently and ominously many times in her online rants, also calling them rude names, which I won't repeat here because there are the things that

upset me the most. The judge also issued a social media ban for her. By the time she was re-arrested for the second time. Her fake Twitter account, which was literally mostly insults or references to my family, had 16,000 tweets in a three-month period. She has no followers, so they were just to herself. The P-sites, I have been continuously being tagged on stop. Things quieted down tremendously, but I still get follow requests that I believe are her. But at this point, we are all on edge. I kid you not. I felt weird walking into my kitchen tonight to make a sandwich, feeling creeped out that she was outside watching. I put nothing past her, as nothing is more dangerous than a desperate woman who has nothing to lose,

which, by the way, was one of the quotes she posted. I don't know what is wrong with her, I believe. From whatever research, she is a malignant non-orcist. Perhaps some of other mental issues at play here, but I can say she was a terrible person long before she decided to try and make our lives miserable. Crazy Beauty Queen turns stalker? I would love nothing more than to never meet again. But if going to court helps you stay away from us forever, then bring it.

As an aside, I wanted to mention that we heard from a reliable source that after my husband broke up with her, she allegedly became known to police for other reasons. While my husband dodged a bullet regarding her threats to go to the police saying he abused her, apparently other men have not been so lucky. Since I can't post pictures, I'll leave you with one of her posts. One that may not make much sense, but to us, it was a statement to let you us know. She enjoys this drawn-out court process. Many of her posts are in her native language, so this is translated.

Violent woman and the cruelest never answer questions. They like to continue the misunderstanding indefinitely, so I seek to contact people only in order to torment them. My cruelty is my last attachment to the world and my last chick. You dropped your wallet. It's 1115 at night, and my wallet is a minute. my purse. A little backstory. When I was 19, I lived with my mom in a ranch-style house on a road that backed up to a large field. On the other side was the main highway. About half a mile down from me was a loony farmer, and about mile on the other side of me was pretty much a crack house. I guess someone

used to live there, but it was run down. I'll say that crackheads were pretty quiet. Other than those two houses, we were isolated. At the time, I was working full time and going to school full-time. One of my classes ended at 10.30 p.m. I often wouldn't get home that day of the week until about 11.15-ish. I was driving home one night, and I noticed some guy walking down the road. He had a yellow shirt and track pants. I remember his outfit because it was stupid. It wasn't weird to see people walking down my road because of the whole crack house thing, but I instinctively looked over at him when I drove past. He turned and smiled and waved, which freaked me the fuck out. So I sped the half mile home and pulled into the driveway.

weirded out. I made sure all the doors and windows were secure and then sat on the couch to be a paranoid freak and wait to make sure the dude walked past my house. Except he didn't. And there was another guy with him, dressed in darker clothes. They actually walked up my driveway and started playing around with my car, testing the handles and stuff. In my hurry, I forgot to grab my phone for my car, so I was kind of worried that's what they were after, until the guy in yellow started approaching my door. I'm freaking out, so I go and wake my mom up. She's bleary, and I'm trying to explain the situation when we both hear the doorknob turn very slowly. Good thing it was deadbolted.

She got out of the bed, walked to the door, and then yellow shirt knocked. I perched up on the couch so I could get a good look at him and his friend, still in the driveway. The porch light was on because of the sensor. Yeah? My mom said. You dropped her wallet. I told my mom that I had my wallet. was in my purse, so she calmly told him that she had her wallet, and it was too late to be

knocking on people's doors. I remember perfectly what he said next, even though this was about six years ago. Okay. I'm not a bad guy, just so you know. We were all pretty still. No one moved. Not even the guy at the door, not even when the porch light went off. Then he tried to handle again. My mom told me to call the cops so she could get the gun, and I told her I didn't have my phone. So she walked to the kitchen to grab hers from the charger. She handed me the phone and walked to the bathroom, stared out the window into the backyard. Then she went to her room to grab her Ruger. I was talking to the cops and explaining the situation all while watching the two guys,

explaining that there were two suspicious guys at her door when my mom came back out and said, one in our backyard too, which explained why she had looked out the bathroom window. window. She glimpsed him from the kitchen and went to get a more discreet look. My mom walked back over to the door with her gun and loudly said, if he tries to handle again, I'm just going to open the door and shoot him. Fuck knows why she said that instead of waiting for the cops to arrive, but the guys took off down the road. I told her and she rushed at the bathroom, where the guy apparently in the backyard saw his friend running down the road and sprinted off too.

They were going in the direction of the crack house. The cops searched her house in our yard and went to the drug house, where they found five dudes hanging around. One was the yellow shirt guy, and I'm assuming his friends were with them. They did get arrested and nothing weird like that ever happened again, but I was on edge for a while. I still make sure the doors are locked at all times every day, even though I live in a much nicer area now. Anyway, sorry it was a bit anticlimatic. The dudes got caught. Either way, weird guys who told me, you found my wallet. Let's not meet. I'm confident I would have become a missing person's case. I apologize in advance since I'm not a good writer, but I'll do my best to share my experience.

To better paint the picture, here's a description of myself at the time of this incident, three years ago. 5-5, 26-year-old woman, medium-length, bleached blonde hair, curvy, 175 pounds, wearing black high waisted tights and a pink crop top. Three years ago, I was walking home late at night from my friend's house. It was dark and at the time I lived in a rough part of a large city. I've had many sketchy situations that I've always got myself out of, so I guess I felt sort of invincible like nothing truly scary could happen to me. When I walk alone, I always stay very alert and aware of my surroundings for my own safety just in case.

About halfway home in roughly 10 minutes to my apartment, I noticed a van started tailing me. I was used to this since in my city it's very common for a young woman in a rough area to be proposition for sex. It's embarrassing how desensitized to this I was. I did my usual and crossed the road so that I'd be walking beside the traffic heading in the other direction. I wasn't scared, just annoyed. The van then turned down a side street, then back onto the road I was on and pulled up to me. At this point, I still wasn't scared. Again, this has happened so many times that it never mattered if I was wearing something that showed more skin, or if I was wearing a winter coat zip from just below my chin all the way down to my ankles, the area is notorious for that type of activity.

I decided to be firm and told the person sternly, I'm not interested. I noticed there were two men in the van. They looked almost identical and may have been twins or brothers. Both men had a very, very dark complexion, dark eyes and short dark hair. The van didn't move. I was super annoyed and crossed the road again to get away. At this point, I figured this would be enough for them to stop following me. They didn't. They kept circling back every time I crossed the road. I've never had to put that much effort into getting a horny pervert to leave me alone, so this is when I started feeling unsafe. They zip by me at the speed the traffic was flowing in, and I yelled it for them to fuck off. I thought it finally worked. It had been three minutes, and I hadn't seen the van, so I thought I was in the clear.

Just in case I pulled my phone out and was getting ready to call my sister that I lived with. Just then, the van pulled up to me very quickly, and before I even blink, one of the men jumped out of the van, opened the back door and approached me quickly in an aggressive manner, as if he was about to scoop me up and throw me to the vehicle. The traffic in that area is very inconsistent. It was dead, and I imagine that is what they were waiting for. Just as the man was about to place his hands on me, I told him to my phone and said, You were being filled in my live video chat.

I gave my friends your license plate number, and the police have been notified. I was so scared, but I didn't let that show. I stayed as calm as I could. The man paused like he was considering it. I was just bluffing or telling the truth, so I tilted the phone more as if to give the fake audience a better look at him. He then jumped into the van and they sped off. I have never been the same since that night.

I'm afraid of walking alone now even in the daytime. Stay safe out there. Two creeps in a van? Let's not ever meet. I hope karma find. you both soon. I accidentally discovered an online shrine. I recently received a friend request that reminded me of this story, so I'm going to share it here. This happened after I went to university, so I was 18. I made an effort to make friends after I moved onto campus and ended up with a few

groups to hang out with, including a new girlfriend and plenty of people from my classes that I liked well enough. There was one class before lunch where it was traditional for people to go to the cafeteria afterwards to eat in pairs or threes. I wasn't very discerning about who I'd have lunch with, because I got on fine with most people from the class, and we are all trying to make an effort to be social, so when one girl, Lily asked if I wanted to eat lunch together after class, I didn't have any reason not to go. We talked about school and that kind of thing, nothing noteworthy, but she did ask me to get lunch with her again the next week. It became a pattern, and there wasn't exactly a way to start saying no suddenly. It was fine, but it did mean I lost the chance to eat lunch

with anyone else on those days. In hindsight, I suppose that was the point. One day in class, I asked someone if I could add them on social media. This happened in front of Lily. I saw her face jerked towards me from a couple of seats over. It was such a sharp reaction that it was hard to ignore and I still remember it. By the time I got home later that day, Lily had sent me a friend request. No friends in common. Don't know how she knew my last name. I was a bit surprised, but I guess she'd just dug through the university's social media pages and found me through there. It gave me a bad feeling, but surely it was fine.

She ended up messaging me a lot and commenting on anything I posted. I told myself that she was just awkward and we became friends, if not close, unknown worse people. She still always got me to go eat lunch with her after our one shared class. other than that, we rarely spent time together in person. I saw around sometimes, but I never went out of my way to hang out with her, so it was mostly online messaging and seeing each other in group settings. Coincidentally, my girlfriend was also called Lily. This was something that clearly bothered Lily, not my girlfriend, who couldn't have found

it less interesting as a common name. She occasionally hinted that she wanted my girlfriend to pick a different name or joked about her not suiting it. She clearly didn't like my girlfriend at all, and I had no idea why. It was hard to ignore by this point. Lily was starting to unsubbly hint that she had a crush on me. I tried not to address it because, what was I going to say? I've never known what to do when a friend makes it pass at me.

I was also not interested in the least, even ignoring the weird stuff she pulled. Lily was not my type at all. She tended to dress and act in a way somewhere between a 50s housewife and one of those adults who was still obsessed with Disney princesses, if you can picture that. Things took an uncomfortable turn on the day of our last chair. class of the year. Instead of asking me to lunch like she usually did, Lily asked if I'd go for a walk with her. Again, I didn't exactly know how to refuse, so I said, all right. Our campus was bordered by a large patch of woodland. Lily led me into the woods and the sounds of our fellow students slowly faded away. She sat down on the log and I joined her. She started talking about how she was going

to miss me over the summer. I tried plus adding her, but I didn't want to be there, especially because she seemed almost on the verge of tears. I think I tried to try to. to make an excuse about having plans with my girlfriend, but before I could leave, Lily chose to kiss me without warning. It was uncomfortable to say the least. I got out of there and was happy to think I wouldn't see her for a while. I came back to university after the summer, moving into a house with my friends. Without going off topic, there was some serious issues in my friend group. A lot of petty arguing and worse. I broke up with my girlfriend around the start of the school year as well, and basically the whole mess made me re-contextualized things with Lily

because it suddenly didn't seem as bad. That said, I didn't want to be alone with her. We mostly talked online. She was still constantly messaging me after all. One upside of everything was that I started dating a boy. Lily was not pleased to hear the news. I think she hoped to sneak in after I broke up with my girlfriend, but as I said before, that was never going to happen.

There wasn't a big gap between my breakup and this new relationship, so she must have thought that she missed her chance to be with me. This is where the story gets bad. At this time, I was fairly active on Tumblr. I occasionally talked about my life and mostly reblogged photos and stuff. I was on there one day when something odd happened. One of the blogs I followed had received an ask with some phrases I recognized. It took a second to register that it was taken from my about page.

That made me freeze. I read the message properly. Someone was asking this completely random person to analyze a section of text from my page, asking for their opinion on the type of person who would write it. I cannot stress how messed up it was to see people talking about me like I was a character in a book. They were trying to study. The reply was basically, I don't know, sorry. But the important thing was that the question had it been anonymous.

It linked to someone's blog. Obviously, I wanted to know who had taken such a bizarre interest in me. As far as I knew, no one in real life other than my boyfriend knew about my page. Well, no prizes for guessing who was behind it. What I found was like a shrine. She was using a fake name, but I recognized Lily all over that thing. It was all this cutesy pink and red page. There were a few posts about her interest, but most of the content was focused on her primary interest.

Me. Most of the posts were about me. There were accounts of things I'd done recently. He told me about such and such. He went to a nightclub recently, etc. As well as references to things from as far back as I'd known her, it was clear she'd been keeping tabs on me, both online and offline, gathering up every scrap of information she could about my life

in hoarding it here in her collection. She talked about us eating lunch together and how special our dates had been to her as if it was anything more than acquaintances getting food after class. She talked about the time she had forcibly kissed me in the woods, but she wrote it as if it had been mutual. She quoted lyrics from my favorite song and talked about how she'd always been there for me,

no matter who else came into my life, lots of references to loving me just the way he is, which answered another mystery about an anonymous love letter I'd received earlier that year with the same wording. It got worse. There were a lot of posts about my boyfriend as well. Those weren't so nice. They got vicious, talking about how he didn't deserve me. He didn't know what he had. If she was with me, she'd be jealous of anyone else who came near me. So my boyfriend not being a jealous person meant he didn't love me. It was angry and hateful. I didn't like to think about that sort of person who could write so obsessively being fixated on me.

One thing that didn't make sense at first was that the blog also made plenty of references to Lily's best friend Stephen. She had never mentioned this person to me. Her post talked a lot about Stephen and how a great friend he was, and how much fun they had together, how he looked out for her, etc. I was trying to work out whether this was an online friend when one specific post made it all click. She had posted a photo and captioned it, Stephen sent this to me.

He knew I'd like it and love it, or something like that. The problem was the post was taken. from my own page. I hadn't sent it to her. She took it from my page and then claimed this fictional best friend or her shared it with her because in her head she'd split me into two people. In her messed up fantasy life, I was both the perfect best friend who was always looking out for her and her soulmate who was bound to end up with her when I finally got over my sweet, kind boyfriend and all the other easy girls I hung out with that she made dozens of posts complaining about. Who was she complaining to?

Lily had an audience. She asked open questions about me and her relationship with me and got messages back from her followers, people who took what she said at face value. I saw a bunch of random people agreeing with the stalker that my boyfriend didn't deserve me. And we were bound to break up soon so I could be with Lily. The person I was clearly supposed to be with. She had this fake fan fiction version of my life up for anyone to share their opinion on,

and she'd made herself out to be the hero of it all. I went maybe a month back into the page history. I'd not look at everything that was there. It was too much. So I'm not sure how long this had been going on. I sent Lily a message confronting her about the blog. She said nothing. And I cannot stress how weird it was to have found pages and pages dedicated to me.

With her talking about how she was in love with me and would make sure we ended up together, slamming my boyfriend, and building a fantasy life with two different versions of me in it, as she clearly believed to be real, then acting like it hadn't happened. She said nothing. She didn't address it. She just changed the subject even after I pushed,

and it was like she hasn't even registered what I said. I've never seen anything else like it. She deleted the page, of course, or at least changed the name and hit it, so I never found it again. It wasn't the end, though. I wasn't going to hang out with her anymore, but we were still shoved together in classes,

and she had actually started to, actually kind of scare me with what she might do next. I'm kind of a paranoid person, and knowing someone was obsessively keeping track of me for who knows how long freaked me out. The next thing she pulled was trying to seduce my boyfriend. It was an absolutely useless attempt that only made him uncomfortable. He told me about it right away. What was her plan there?

Did she hope to tell me he cheated and wait for me to break up with him? Why would I want her after that? Well, that didn't work out for her. She tried hitting on three of my other friends. None of them took the bait. She ended up dating one of my former housemates for a while, but made sure to send me messages while they were together, letting me know she'd rather be with me. No thanks. Lily made sure to stay in my life the whole time I was at university.

There was a time when I tried to pull away from her and she ended up starting rumors about me and damaging a career opportunity I'd put a lot of work into. I don't know what else she did behind my back, but it made me realize it was safer to let her think she was part of my life while ignoring her rather than doing something that would come. cause her to get angry. After I graduated, Lily still wanted to spend time together, but I knew I don't have to now. I make excuses about work and barely talk to her after that point. I almost entirely stopped posting on social media that I knew she knew about. Of course, she didn't give up that easily. She tried to start conversations, asked me to meet up with her, attempts I usually ignored. I didn't like to think she was still tracking me online, but she probably was. I don't know, but she'd occasionally referenced things I mentioned online somewhere. Somewhere she shouldn't

have known about. The last time we had a real conversation, she sent me a message out of nowhere. We hadn't spoken at all in months, and we hadn't talked about anything serious and much longer than that. Thinking about the conversation still makes my skin crawl, but I'll summarize what happened. At first, she asked me some questions about how long I knew I was queer. I told her some basic stuff, the kind of thing I'd tell anyone who asked. Then she changed the subject. She started talking about how would I feel about her if she was a boy, about wanting to be a boy for me. The messages quickly became fetish-stick. She went into plenty of detail about fantasy she had of the two of us.

Again, we were not friends at this point. We'd never been especially close, at least not from my perspective. And we had barely spoken for years. I can't imagine sending messages like that to even a close friend, let alone someone you barely know. I tried telling her not to pull this crap with me, but she decided to change tactics. She sent a photo of herself, followed by a bunch of messages,

maybe four or five a minute, way too fast for me to reply before the next one arrived, basically quoting back what I told her about myself in my past earlier. She was telling me these things as if they had happened to her. She was role-playing as me. The worst part was that she seemed to believe it was real, that those things actually had happened to her. Even when she was quoting me word-for-word, things I'd told her only hours before were now her life. It was like she was trying to absorb my history to take it over to make my life part of

her. Yeah, I didn't talk to her again after that. I ignored future attempts she made to talk to me, and I eventually silently deleted her from the inactive social media, which was her only real way of contacting me. I really thought she might finally move on. A few days ago, she sent me a friend request. It's sitting there unanswered, but because I know if I delete it, she'll only send another one. Lily and I met nearly 12 years ago. This story is just the highlights, and even then and it's only the stuff I know about for sure. A lot happened behind my back. I know it did.

So, girl who spent 12 years obsessing over me, fetishizing me, stalking me, and harassing me, let's not meet again. The fantasy life you built for the two of us in your head is the only place you'll be seeing me anytime soon. I was a kid, home alone, and a fake Girl Scout cookie salesman wouldn't leave. Years ago, when I was 11 years old, I was staying home alone with only my little brother who was seven.

At that time, it was only about 9 p.m. dark and pouring rain. We were reading in our room, right next to the front door with a big window in open blinds. That's when I hear the front doorbell ring followed by knocking. I thought my parents had arrived. Strange, though, that they didn't use the garage or their keys. I looked outside to see their car. Nothing but rain. As I approached the door, I hear a man's voice.

voice that was not my father's yelled through the torrent. Would you like some cookies? We're selling Girl Scout cookies. I'm shocked at this, considering the weather and time of day. Saying nothing, I checked the peephole and peer through the side window, only to see it was not a father with his girl as I expected. My heart dropped. Standing there was just a fully grown man maybe in his late 50s,

no box of cookies in sight, soaking on my doorstep. I can remember the gut-wrenching feeling of having to check the locks while he was right on the other side. For sure, he heard this. The two locks were the only thing separated myself and brother from a potential monster. He continued to knock and mention his cookies. As I had considered calling the cops, that's when I remembered the blinds were open in my room where my brother was, with the light on. As I turned the corner into the doorway, I see the man carefully peering into her window, possibly eyeing my brother, distracted in his book. My heart was pounding, now as I began to panic. In a move that took all of my willpower, I quickly turned off the lights

and ran over to the window to close the blinds, in full view of the man. As fast as I could, I double-checked all the locks in the house, closed all the blinds, and told my brother to go hang out in one of the big closets in the interior of the house, no windows. I didn't tell him what was going on, so he wouldn't be frightened. And for some reason, I never did call the cops or my parents. I just waited in the hallway until he left. Still thinking about it gives me shivers that so many things could have just gone wrong that night. My worst fear since is a stranger getting to the unlocked door before I do. I am never exploring ever again.

Now this is something I really want to talk about to be sure that everyone is cautious and stays level-headed at all times. Now for context, I lived in the middle of nowhere in Canada. It was an old town that had quite a few abandoned buildings due to the absence of residence. Me and many friends were tired of the lack of entertainment options for us, so what we did was explore these abandoned buildings. Prior to the experience I am about to talk about, we never had anything too crazy happened to us. Occasionally we would see a small bit of blood-like liquid, and we did see a pentagram on the ground from someone who went to a house previously, but nothing too bad, until the last time I had gone exploring abandoned buildings. Now, when I was younger, I used to go to a daycare that was part of mental hospital, weird combination I know. It closed down to the lack of patience and lack of children at the daycare.

I decided to go back there with my friends a few years ago. For context, I was 15 when this happened. Most of my friends were the same age. When we did get there, it was rather cliche. There was fog, but it was rather dark, and there was a light drizzle of rain. We went to the man gate, which was padlock shut. We decided to help each other hop over it and made a ton of noise. We were laughing and giggling the whole time, unsuspecting.

of what was to come. We looked around the small play-play slash park with flashlights we had on our person. Even with our somewhat powerful flashlights, our visibility was rather limited. We decided to enter the decaying building. Glass and dirt crunched under our feet as we stepped into the daycare section of the complex. There were still old Legos, woodchips from previous furniture, old torn dolls and toys strewn about. The further we walked around the daycare section, we naturally became more and more silent until all we could hear was the crunch of the dirt under our feet. I found some crayons in a plastic container in the corner of the room. I walked over to pick them up when all of a sudden we heard a loud crash coming from behind a metal door,

leading to the psych ward part of the building. My friends and I all looked at each other. As a whole, we are a group of five. Most of them were very bold and cocky. We all looked at each other when my friend Brian suggested we go and look to see where the sound came from. Personally, I was not too fond of the idea. But with my group of friends, there was no way anyone was going to decline such a thing. We all stacked up on the door and opened it.

It was rusted to the floor and we heaved to get it open. As we walked in, the metallic smells and must became stronger, with a hint of something else, which I couldn't put my finger on at that moment. We walked in. Our flashlights pointed in every direction with Brian leading the group. The hallways were tight into the left and right, were the occasional metal doorway, some with doors open. I felt slight, colostrophobic, and it felt a little hard to breathe.

As we continued, Brian shone his flashlight into a room and recoiled. We all stopped walking as Brian slowly entered the room. What is it? I asked him. I thought I saw someone here. It seems all fine now. To be honest, I thought he was just messing with us to increase our anxiety, but looking back, I think he was completely honest. He walked back out of the room and we continued walking deeper into the psych ward when another friend swiftly told us to stop.

We came to a halt and all listened. In the distance ahead of us, we heard these subtle pitter patter of footsteps echo through the hallway. We all looked at each other, fear in our eyes. Brian continued walking towards his sounds. We considered turning back for a second without Brian, wondering if some ghost or something was in the building. But we couldn't do that to him. The closer we got, the more I felt like I was being. watched when finally we entered a room on the right which had the smell of rotting meat in front of us

was a dead deer its innards were spilled all over the floor staining the concrete a friend of mine had a very weak stomach and vomited all over the floor that's when we heard whispering from somewhere brian shown his flashlight to the corner of the room where a man with short hair was standing with his head down he wore a bright green t-shirt stained with what i assume was blood and torn beige pants. He did not have any socks and his feet seemed damaged. He was twitching sporadically and continued to mumble even after we saw him. We stared at him for a solid 30 seconds before he made his first true movement. He looked up at us with a haunting grin that sent shivers down our spine. You guys hear for a feast? He said each word with varying inflection and energy. This kicked us

over the edge and we bolted out of the room all the way back to the daycare center. The door was still open and we decided to try and slam it shut, but the rust and pure weight of the door almost kept it open. It took three of us pulling with all our strength to close it. And just before we did, I could see the silhouette of the man watching us, his white teeth being the only other human feature I could see. As we sat behind the metal door catching our breath for a second, all looking at each other for confirmation that we all just saw the same thing. After a little bit of a labored breathing from each of us, we heard a light tapping on the door. That's when it decided. that it was time to leave. We booked it, out of the vicinity, completely and ran home.

A year after we visited that spot, police went back to do a routine search of the area and found the man. It was stated that this guy used to go to the psych ward before it closed down. He escaped the facility he was transferred to and lived off the wildlife around the complex. When the cops brought him in, he had a series of diseases and sickness from eating raw meat. His mental condition was much worse than before. There are future rumors that he did kill someone in the forest while searching for food, but nothing has ever been confirmed. In the end, guys, be careful, especially in dangerous areas such as abandoned buildings,

and creepy dude, let's not meet. Lost dog signs keep appearing in my neighborhood, but the thing in the picture isn't a dog. I live in the middle of nowhere, Great Plains, aka northwestern South Dakota. It's not the worst place to live, I guess, if you like corn, but as you can imagine, not a lot goes on up here. Not much changes in my static little world. When something new emerges from the monotony, I take notice, as in the case of the sign I saw about three years ago. It was a Friday night in the late October.

I was driving home from a party at around 10 p.m. I just reached the most isolated portion of my drive, a winding forest road that has more dear than cars using it on any given day. One of my headlights illuminated a flyer posted to the trunk of an elm tree. As I passed by, I saw the words lost dog, along with a photo, presumably of the animal in question. Now, the location of the flyer was already strange enough to give me a pause, but from my brief glimpse, the photo was even stranger. Maybe I was tired from a long day, or maybe the printer had messed up that particular flyer, but the picture hadn't looked like a dog at all, more so like a random assortment of shapes.

Like I said, not much happens in my town, and the flyer was probably the most interesting thing that had seen all month. There was a turnout just after the elm. So I slowed down, pulled over, and stopped my car. I grabbed the flashlight I always kept in my console and got out to take a look. The flyer was even strange or up close. For one thing, there was no contact information, and the reward seemed exorbitant for another. The photo itself was also bizarre. Do you remember that AI-generated image shared on Twitter a couple years back with a kid?

caption, name one thing in this photo. That's what the so-called dog reminded me of. A bunch of colors and shapes that looked like they should have been recognizable, but weren't. It had a short description of the dog beneath the photo. John, Shepard Mix, white coat brown hood, blue eyes, $10,000. Weird name for a dog. I chalked it up to an art piece, which helped dispel some of the unease that had begun to build in me upon staring at the photo. A part of me wanted to take the flyer, but I didn't want to be selfish with the artist's work, so I contended myself with the photo. Just as I slipped my phone back into my pocket, the sound of snapping twigs made me start. Maybe the deer want to look at the art too, I thought, shining my flashlight into the trees.

I waited for a moment, scanning the forest with bated breath. But even though it sounded like there was an animal right behind me, I saw nothing. I returned to my car after that and continued home. The next day, I gave my buddy Erica a call, hoping to catch him for drinks at our favorite brewery. Halfway through the call, I remember the photo I'd taken of the lost dog flyer and opened my photo gallery so I could send it to him. To my disappointment, the photograph I'd taken was completely black. Either I'd had my thumb over the lens or the photo had somehow gotten corrupted. It was a little strange, but I'd never been very very very. very tech savvy, so I dismissed it to a glitch and told Eric where to look if he was ever

returning to town from that direction. As it turned out, I didn't have to wait until my next out-of-town drive to see that flyer again. The following evening, Eric and I were walking back to our cars from the brewery. Across the street, stapled to a telephone pole, I noticed a familiar flyer, and quickly pulled him over to point over the artwork. I was all smiles as I showed him, excited that someone was using our town as a canvas for their project. and even more excited that I've been one of the first to notice it. The flyer was just as devoid of information as the first and featured the same abstract mess of shapes for its dog.

Eric's always been more cultured than myself, more inclined to be interested in art history and that sort of thing, so I was interested to hear his take on the piece. When I turned to get his reaction, though, he looked more unsettled than amused. What up? I asked him. Instead of answering, he just shook his head. No, man, you'll think I'm crazy.

I tried passing him a little bit more. But when it became clear that he wasn't going to divulge the source of his apprehension, I let it go. Before I continued towards my car, I pulled out my phone and snapped a photo of my shoes, which showed up in my photo gallery without issue. Then I pointed my phone at the flyer, aimed and pressed the capture button. And nothing. Again, the photograph was completely black. When I got home that night, I went down a rabbit hole,

anti-surveillance patterns, aka designs created for the express purpose of confusing cameras and facial recognition technology. Apparently, anti-surveillance fashion is already a big thing in some parts of the world. So it's likely that the Lost Dog artist used one of these patterns in their piece explaining why I can't get a good photo of the flyer. It didn't explain Eric's reaction, though. I fell asleep wondering if my friend was seen something that I wasn't. For the next few days, more lost dog signs continued to appear around town. Never in high traffic areas or obvious places. I found one behind the bleachers at the community soccer field

and another tucked behind a different flyer on a public bulletin board. Whoever this artist was, there were no bankruptcy. They seemed more keen to set up an Easter egg hunt than to make a bold public statement. On the following Saturday, while on a hike, I was surprised to find a found dog sign taped to a picnic table and a quiet clearing off on the main path. I was pleased at the site.

I was starting to think that the art project was meant to encourage the residents of a town to better appreciate their surroundings, and that my attention to detail was paying off as a result. Even more pleasing was the fact that this sign had a phone number to call on it. The sign had no picture, just the words found dog John, along with the number. Out of curiosity, I gave it a call. After three rings, someone picked up. I said nothing at first, wondering if I was about to speak to the artist themselves or simply hear some kind of pre-recorded message.

After a moment, I heard a very strange voice. Looking for a dog? It said. There was some kind of heavy filter on the voice. It was kind of staticy and guttural and seemed like it had been pitched down considerably. In a strange way, it reminded me of a large dog growling. Yeah, I'm looking for John. What's the word? asked the voice.

The word, I thought. looking over paper in front of me and trying to remember the exact phrase of the lost dog flyer. Presumably, there was some kind of key phrase I had missed. Shepard, I guessed, and the person on the other end on the phone hung up. I tried calling back, but they didn't answer again. I put my phone away, disappointed, and took a seat up top the picnic bench. The sun was beginning to set and a cool breeze had begun to sweep in from the north, whistling as it's wound its way through the trees.

I lowered my eyes from the pink and orange sky, staring into the tree line at the far end of the clearing. There was an animal peeking out through the brush. It was difficult to tell what exactly it was at such a distance, but it looked like a coyote, which my state has no shortage of. It was standing eerily still. I raised my hand slightly and waved at the creature as I joked to myself. And then the thing stood up on two legs. It wasn't an animal at all, I realized, but a person, clad, had.

head to toe in black and wearing a dog mask over their face. The person turned their back to me and walked deeper into the trees. Needless to say, that was not comforting thing to witness. I left quickly after that, half jogging back to my car and glancing over my shoulder every few minutes. If I'd seen a person in a dog mask trapezing through the forest a week ago, I would have laughed. I would have assumed they were some kind of larper, rare as those might be in rural South Dakota. After my strange phone call, though, the sightings felt more ominous than funny.

Was that person I'd just been on a call with? If so, had they seriously just been standing there waiting for someone to see if they're found dog flyer? The next day, as I visited my usual weekend haunts, I realized that the lost dog signs have been torn down. I guess that the art project had reached its end, even though it seemed like a remarkably short run. I was disappointed that nothing more had come from it, and that I would have never get in answers regarding who was behind the flyers, but I probably would have moved on with my life and forgotten all about it if it weren't for the visitor I received that night. It was around midnight. I was at home playing video games and trying not to think about work in the morning when I got a text from Eric. Oddly enough,

he asked if I would come over, and it was such an uncharacteristic request that I figured there was something wrong. I said yes, and he showed up at my door 20 minutes later. He looked like a wreck, his hair was disheveled, his eyes were red, and his whole demeanor was nervous and fidgety. When he walked up into my house, he held his phone in one hand and a rolled-up piece of paper in the other. You're not going to believe me, man. You're going to think I'm crazy. He said after declining both my offers for a glass of water and for a seat on my couch, I assured him that he could trust me, that I would take his word seriously.

After a moment, he unrolled the piece of paper in his hands to reveal one of the lost, flyers this is me he said I was taken aback what you you made the signs no he tapped on the picture in the center of the flyer this is a photo of me I looked back and forth between his face and the flyer I squinted today unfocused my eyes I looked at the photo from different angles no matter what I did the dog in question didn't resemble a human being in the slightest much less the familiar face of my friend I gave what was probably a very awkward laugh. Okay. Okay, man. You got me. Very funny. Instead of breaking character and laughing along with me,

Eric unlocked his phone and opened Instagram. Once in the app, he navigated to his profile and clicked on his most recent post, which was a selfie from last year. He held up his phone next to the flyer. It's hard to tell, but I swear to God, if this is me. It's my last photo with a filter on it, to break it down into shapes. You see this white part, the circle and the rectangle under it. That's my face and neck. And in these dots, the little blue ones here and here, those are my eyes. And the brown part up here is my hair. I swear, I thought I was losing it, but everything lines up. I took the flyer and phoned from his hands and tried to line up the shapes. I might have been the power of suggestion, but the more I looked between them, the more I started

to see the match. Also, he's continued. Since you showed me this flyer, I've been hearing all sorts of weird shit outside my house at night. I keep hearing these sounds like, I don't know, an animal or something. I thought a family of raccoons moved in, but it doesn't sound like raccoons. Have you checked for tracks? Yeah, but, you know, we've got a grass lawn right up to the porch. I see indents, but it's not like I can't see marks. Eric shook his head. Last night, I could have sworn I heard people talking. But I couldn't tell you a thing that was said. Maybe these flyers had me paranoid. I thought about the person I'd seen on my hike, whether or not it was really an altered

photo of Eric and the Flyers. There was an undoubtedly something strange going on. in our town. I was quickly starting to regret wishing for some more excitement. Tell you what, I said. I've got some extra trail cams. How about tomorrow morning, on my way to work, I stopped by you and set some up. I'd like to get to the bottom of this as well. Eric accepted my offer and left to my house a little calmer than he'd entered it. Just for the hell of it, before I went to sleep, I tried giving the number on the found dog flyer one more call. This time, I got an intercept message telling me that the number had been disconnected or was no longer in service. The next morning I went to Eric's house's plan. I rang the doorbell and waited.

When he didn't answer, I tried knocking instead, still no answer. I waited for a total of 10 minutes outside his front door knocking and sending him a few texts. I didn't immediately panic as my friend was notorious for sleeping in and showing up to late events. I left him a voicemail stating that I had to leave for work but would check in on him in the evening. It was only when I finished my workday and saw that my messages remained unread that I started to worry. I called his neighbor and asked her if she'd seen him. And when she said no, I asked her to do a wellness check of her own. Luckily, she had a spare key, and so I accompanied her to Eric's house.

We didn't find Eric inside, nor did we find any signs of a struggle, but we found everything else. His keys, wallet, phone, even his shoes. It was that discovery that made me realize I had to get the authorities involved. Though I had never spoken to police before in all the years I'd lived here, I drove down to the station and reported my friend missing. It's been three years since Eric disappeared. In all this time, I haven't received any word from him, nor have the police been able to make any breakthroughs.

I'm not sure if I should be happy or sad. On one hand, I'm grateful for the ambiguity. Who knows, maybe Eric eloped to the Bahamas with a gorgeous woman and is happily living out his days by the shore as we speak. On the other hand, the events leading up to his disappearance seem to point to something more sinister. Eric is a good friend of mine and a good man besides, and I pray that wherever he is now, he's all right. The years have gone by in a blink. This town has always been oppressively unexciting, even more so now than the one guy, who could kick my ass in billards, has dropped off the face of the earth.

Not much changes in my static little world, but when something new emerges from the monotony, I take notice as in the case of this sign I saw last night. It was early in the morning, and I was taking the old forest road back into town from my friend's party. Same emptiness, same stretch of road. It might have been the exact same elm, too. In any case, as I drove in silence, a lost dog sign caught my eye. Posted against a tree at the edge of the road, it read, John, Shepherd Mix, White, coat,

brown hood brown eyes 10,000 dollars beneath the text was a photo though abstract and blocky i couldn't help but note a striking similarity between it and the last photo of myself i posted online i think there's someone living in my shed title says it all but it also doesn't say anything lately i've been noticing something off about home like there's something else there with me My wife and our two dogs, but I have not been able to put my finger on it until today. For some context, I live in a duplex. We share this property with another guy in his mid-20s. He has his own house, and we have ours, but we share the laundry room that leads to our respective backyards that are separated by a fence.

This all started about two months ago when the guy sent me a text. Hey man, just a heads up. Someone stole my bike out of the sunroom. This is extra creepy because to get to our son-slash-launchy room, You would need to hop the brick fence surrounded by shrubby trees and then hurled the bike over, unless the thief had the most massive pair of balls ever and walked it out through one of our front doors when we weren't home. Either way, I didn't feel right and made more of an effort to keep the door locked. Fast forward to a couple of weeks ago.

I let my dogs into the backyard and one of them starts sniffing at the shed. No big deal. The lizards are coming out with it heating up. They probably just chase one under the door. I finally got them to come in but didn't give it much thought. I hardly ever go into that shed. Nothing wrong with it. It's just kind of out of the way and I'm not really a hangout in the shed type of guy.

So we generally use it for storage, suitcases, furniture that doesn't fit slash match the house, camping stuff, you know, boring suburban shit. You probably enter it maybe three times a year. After the 18th day in a row of my dogs being curious about the shed, I decided to give it. a little look-see to see if maybe there was a Komodo dragon or something in there, since they wouldn't let this and go. Nope. No Komoto. But what I did find literally made me piss myself just a little bit. Just a few drops. Inside this shed was the bike that my neighbor had stolen a little while back. My first thought was, oh fuck, my wife is a klepto, but quickly ruled that out. She doesn't even like to bike.

Then I was briefly worried that my neighbor thought that I was the thief. I mean, it's in my shed. I don't know how to explain that if he found out. Plus, I wanted to give him his bike back. I kept looking around and found one of our sleeping bags unraveled but balled up behind a box. Inside of it was what looked like to be around $20 in change in singles. There was also a bag for garbage and had lots of food wrappers inside. Eventually, my brain accepted what it was all.

ultimately denying at first and put two and two together. Someone, I don't know, is living in my shed, or at least was. Maybe my dog spooked them off, or maybe they sleep there every night and leave during the day. If they weren't coming back, why would they leave the change? I left everything how I found it and was thinking about what I should do next. Whoever did it must have gotten in through the spare set of keys I keep hidden in my backyard. I locked up and brought them inside with me tonight. Hopefully, whoever it is gets the message and moves on. I'm going to install cameras tomorrow. I'll keep you guys updated if anything more happens. Please hope for the best and as this person isn't a lunatic. Possible murderer slash serial killer encounter in Maine.

Not really sure how to begin this and my title may make more sense after reading my experience. I'll try to be as brief slash concise as possible. Summer of 2004. My family was supposed to vacation and when West Jet first took flight in 1996. The vibes were a bit different. People thought denim on denim was peak fashion. Inline skates were everywhere and two out of three women rocked the Rachel. While those things stayed in the 90s, one thing that hasn't is that fuzzy feeling you get when West Jet welcomes you on board. Here's to West Jetting since 96. Travel back in time with us and actually travel with us at westjet.com slash 30 years. Cannae bunk port main.

My father was stuck in meeting, so he was going to come up from Manhattan a few days after us. My mom wanted to drive up, super annoying to me at the time. We didn't have a choice, and my brother, sister and I loaded it into the car and started the drive. I was about 14 at the time. Drive was uneventful, but there were various delays and we ended up getting in a lot later than originally planned.

Because of this, the owners of the house we were renting from had turned in for the night, and we weren't able to get a hold of them to get the keys. Sounds like horrible planning, but apparently they were pretty strict about the time frame to pick up the keys. My mom, on Faze, decided she wanted lobster, so we went to one of our favorite spots. She called my dad to see if you could make us reservations at a hotel in Kennebunkport from New York City while we ate. We were enjoying the lobster while a guy came up and started chatting with my mom.

I figured it was just a friendly, local-making conversation. During this, my dad calls my mom, and my mom excuses herself to speak to him. Apparently, all hotels were booked for the nights, go figure. High to vacation season in Kenbunkport. The plan was for us to drive to the nearest town and just find somewhere to stay until we could pick up the keys for our vacation home. Apparently, the local had been listening into my mom's conversation and came back over once she got off the phone. I want to say, there was nothing outwardly off about him. He was preppy, clean cut, unassuming, and fit in with the clientele.

He told my mommy he had a big home with a big guest house. We were more than welcome to stay at, and his wife wouldn't mind. Immediately, my reaction was, F that. No way in the world I was staying in a random dude's house in creepy Maine in the dark. No offense to anyone from Maine, but the streets get creepy. My mom, doing her due diligence, determined this guy was left. legit. Said he was in finance. My mom was an investment banker, and they chatted it enough for my mom to determine he wasn't totally full of it. I called my dad hysterical. He said I was overreacting

and that I need to get out of the city more and accept that sometimes people are just nice. So my brother, sister and I got into her car and followed him back to his house. The guest house was really nice, fully furnished, but the beds were oddly placed. The guest house had two bedrooms, And instead of the beds being located in the middle-slash-centered, imagine a symmetrical room layout, they're right under the window in each room. Just seemed kind of out of place. Anyway, fast forward. We're all getting ready to go to bed.

My mom hears a knock on the door and it's the guy. He said he was just checking in to make sure we all got settled. Cool. Nice thing to do. About 30 minutes later, he comes back to check in again. At this point, my mom was like, thanks. We're good. We will stop by the house in the morning to say thank you, etc.

Fast forward another 30 to 45 minutes. I can't sleep. I'm terrified. We hear this rustling, which is odd because the guest house was nowhere around trees or close proximity to bushes that might cause such a noise. At this point, I see my mom wide awake and look up at the window, like motioning towards the window with her eyes. Let me add, none of the windows had curtains.

The guy said it's because his wife was in the process of redecorating. When I looked up, there was a male figure, just standing. I thought I was going to have a heart attack. I don't know how long he was there for. When he walked away, my mom waited a bit and then told us to get our stuff together. She wasn't messing around. We had my dad out on the phone at this point. He was pretty much flipping out at my mom about something, but I didn't hear what.

My mom said she was going to put our stuff in the car and to follow her out. This was around 2 a.m. When we got into the car, we pulled around to the front of the main house, so my mom could return the key and say thanks and get the fuck out of there. However, when we got to the front, all the lights were off. Not just all lights, but it looked like no one had been home. Porch light, table lamp and front windows, everything black. Also, the two cars were gone, the locals car,

and what we presumed to be his wife's car. After seeing this, my mom at this point, pretty unsettled, said we were leaving and we proceeded to drive the gate. The gate at the end of the driveway had been deadbolted or padlocked, shut from the inside. It wasn't a super strong gate, so my dad said, Revit, we were in a big SUV and just get out of there. We drove straight back to New York City, not speaking the entire time. We have never returned back to Maine, and my parents refused to speak about it. I asked a family member one night about it when he was drunk and all he said was, they didn't tell you? The actual owners of that house were on vacation. I'm assuming my mom or

dad followed up with local authorities and figured that out, but never told us. I don't know who that man was, or what was planned that evening. I was curious as to whether there were any known serial killers or murderers who were in the area at that time, whether traveling through, et cetera. Sorry for the long post, just trying to be thorough. Open the door. Please, come out. This story happened a few years ago. I was in my early 20s and was studying Paris, France. I was going home from uni.

I usually took a short bus ride and walked the rest of the way. That day, I felt slightly uncomfortable. I could sense some guy looking intensely at me. I was used to unpleasant, unsolicited gazes, but this time his gaze felt beastly. It's hard to explain why, but I felt like a prey being stalked. I decided to get off the bus a few stops early. I wanted to avoid him and didn't want him to see where I usually got off.

Like I learned in the movies, I waited until someone else pressed the stop button and waited until the last moment to stand up and leave. I didn't notice him getting off the bus. Just as I was feeling the relief of having escape an uncomfortable situation, I looked over my shoulder, and there he was, a few meters behind. I had the distressing feeling his eye had just looked away the moment I turned. I walked into a shop, took my phone, and pretended to be taken a call. When I couldn't see him anymore, I exited and made my way at home as fast as I could.

I kept looking back in the busy street. I zigzagged, crossed the street at every cross. Finally, I believed that him getting off at the same stop as was just a coincidence. When I reached my building, I looked back one last time, and there he was. His alarming gaze on me, smirking. I ran up to my apartment, climbing the stairs four at a time. I reached the top floor, squeezed through my door, locked it, and froze. My intercom was ringing.

Don't ask me why I picked it up. I regretted it at the moment I did. I could hear the opposite, flat intercom ringing as well. He had pressed all the buttons one by one, hoping someone would open. But now, he knew my name. Gabrielle. Oh shit, I felt like a deer in the headlights. Frozen.

Open the door. Please, said a pleading voice. I just want to talk to you. Somehow I couldn't move or speak. Come to the window, he added. Look at me. You'll see I'm not a bad guy. Something clicked.

He wanted to locate my apartment in the building. I was not going to make that mistake. I hung up in shock. I waited by the door without moving for what seemed like hours. When I finally managed to calm myself, I called my long-distance boyfriend. Call the police, he said immediately. Why didn't I call the police? I don't know.

Today it would have been the first thing I would do. The fear of making a big deal out of something not important, perhaps. What an idiot I was. I called my best friend instead. I didn't want to feel alone. I told her all about it and after a while I felt better, safe. We started laughing. Suddenly the intercom rang again. Two hours had passed since I'd come home. I answered. Gabrielle, said the voice, open. Please. I still remember the chills I felt. He was still there. He was there all this time. I was silent. Hedrified. He was silent, but I could sense his trepidation.

Gabriel, let me in. I'm so thirsty, he said. Just give me a glass of water. This broke the tension. I hung up. Curled up in a corner, literally in recovery position, terrified. I waited. I was too scared to make a sound.

I knew he couldn't hear me from the hall, but I was scared to even breathe. The intercom rang again. And again, I didn't answer this time. I crouched the sofa and fell, sleeping exhaustion, I heard the intercom ring one more time in the middle of the night. I woke up in the morning afraid to leave my apartment. I called my dad who came to pick me up. There was no one in the hall, but there was a note in my mailbox.

Gabrielle, I'm a nice guy. You should have opened to me. We immediately went to the nearest police station. The police listened and, of course, told me that I should not hesitate to call them. My dad called a locksmith to install digit code on the building door the same day and wrote a message to each of my neighbors asking to not open the door to anyone they didn't expect. He sat in the cafe in front of my building with two friends every evening for more than a week. We never saw the stalker again. After this episode, I used a different route to and from uni every day. I kept my phone tightly in my hand and looked back every few meters. Today I am still observing of my surroundings. I never answered the door if I am not expecting someone.

So, people, if you ever find yourself in any kind of uncomfortable situation, call the police. Don't be an idiot like me. Be safe, everyone. That's where your body will be within half an hour. I was raised in a fairly strict but loving Christian household in a Bible Belt section of the states. My parents weren't at all unreasonable in their rules and were well-intentioned, but I broke a few along the way like most teenagers do. The summer before I started college, I began a relationship with a slightly older guy. I knew him from high school, and he was attending to college I would soon be at.

Johnny was a cat. She was exceptionally handsome, had been on the football team, and was on a full academic scholarship. Funny, talented, and very personable. There was little to not like about him. We bonded over our teetotalism and love of pranking. The best part, he had his own apartment at the college, which was a four-hour drive from my parents. house. I could easily sneak up there under the guise of visiting one of my other friends or spending the night at a local girlfriend's house. My parents didn't even know I had a boyfriend. Now, I'd just

turned 18, was enjoying my rebellious streak and newfound freedom, but I was still happily lived under my parents' guidance and rules for a large part. They always encouraged me to be a free thinker and to ultimately figure out my own morals and values, and I ended up much like them, because they're honestly that awesome. My mom wisely encouraged me not to just sleep with anyone and it was something I actually held to quite strongly. So while I had no qualms having sleepovers with my good boyfriend, I was intent of not having sex with him. He took it pretty well and seemed to respect my decision. One week, smack dab in the middle of summer, I had three days off in a row at work. I drive up to see Johnny was in order and I began my travel early in the

morning. He was excited to see me and we had a great day. Nerf gun wars, reading Stephen King, making out, we went out for dinner and returned for a night of shenanigans, or so, I thought. Upon entering his apartment, Johnny produced a box of condoms. He had tried this before, so I wasn't faced and adamantly told him I wasn't happening. The events that unfolded following this seemingly unimportant interactions still haunted me to the day. Johnny's smile disappeared and his eyes went cold. Hauntingly cold. I was sitting at his dining room table with my back against the wall. He was standing at the other end of the small table. You make me sick. I'm sick of you. You play me. All you do is play me. We were serial pranksters and sarcastic in every sense of the word,

while his countenance made my skin crawl I knew he was joking. I had known Johnny for years after all. I've thought about this for a long time and you're dead. I'm not doing this anymore. You make me so sick. I hate you and you're dead. He was unnervingly calm and his voice portrayed a slight hint of anger I'd never heard before. I noticed him clenching his fist, popped out veins tracing up his arm. For the first time in our entire relationship, I felt unsafe with him. He held my gaze unblinking. His second floor apartment was on campus.

It was summer. I had seen nobody else in the building, no other cars in the parking lot, even if I could get past him, which I couldn't. My two options were unlocking the balcony door and jumping, or racing 15 feet down the hallway to the dead bolted front door, which opened inwardly and getting down a flat of stairs. Either scenario led to an empty parking lot. I would have to get to my car or run into the woods nearby. While athletic, I had no chance against him physically. I focused on him. Half of me just knew he was kidding. He had to be. He would break into laughter any second now and he would return to our beautiful day.

He continued talking. I can't repeat what he said. It was too graphic and specific to our location to write out in a public forum. He detailed the S.A. he had in store for me. If I survived, I'd be strangled in the nearby woods that carted off and dumped at a secluded spot we had explored together. He motioned to some bags he had on his counter. That's where your body will be within an hour. I had enough. His plan was too well thought out to be impromptu.

I'm small, but I'm stubborn, and would fight to do the death if I had to. I also have a wicked straight face when I need to. It was my turn to hold his gaze with all the ferocity I could muster. I stood up and said the first thing that came to mind. I'm still proud of the unflinching calm I presented. Inside, I was begging God not to let me die. You're real funny. I almost believed you for a second.

Wouldn't you have worked anyways? Because what I was going to tell you before all that happened is my dad asked me to come home tonight. He needs help first thing in the morning with the garden for my mom's birthday because Kyle, my brother, heard his back and I told him I'd call him as soon as I was on the road within half an hour. It was a lie, and not a particularly good one, but the delivery was convincing. I dangled my phone in his face and told him he could explain to my dad why I wasn't coming home tonight if he wanted me to stay. Johnny's mouth was agape as he stared at me. I was just kidding, he mumbled.

Fist still clenched. See ya, I chirped, pushing bastum. My gamble paid off. I grabbed my purse and shuffled down the hallway. I could feel his eyes burning through me in the electric energy in the room as I internally screamed at myself to move slowly. The deadbolt disengaged. I walked down and fought every urge to run down the stairs. I was too far from my car if he chased me to beat him, and I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me scared.

I walked the entire length of the car park. I've always had a habit of parking as far out as possible. Next to the woods, he told me he would murder me in. I knew he was watching me the entire time. I could feel his eyes follow my every movement. As I drove out past his apartment, I saw his shadow in the balcony window. I waved. He stared. I drove a few miles to the nearest Walmart. It was only eight and the sun was just starting to set. People milled through the park and not blissfully unaware of what I'd just gone through.

I collapsed onto my steering wheel and broke down, bawling my eyes out. Then I drove the four hours back home. Stupidly, I didn't know how to process what happened and banished it to the recesses of my mind. I spent the next few years avoiding Johnny. The few times I thought about it, I blame myself for being so naive. I finally told my mom four years after the fact and was able to, process through it. So, possible murderer, ex-boyfriend who thankfully now lives about 10,000 miles away from me, let's not meet again. The blood-curdling scream that woke me up at 3 a.m.

It was Christmas time. My wife and I were staying at her childhood home where her mother now lived all alone. Well, not if you include the cats. Meow. The house was on a quiet cul-de-sac in the suburbs. If you're picturing freshly mowed lawns, American flags, and empty sidewalks, you're picturing it right. It's a single-story home with an attached garage out front. The garage has two doorways, apart from the electric garage, of course. One leads to the garden and backyard. This had an old doggy door from their days with old deer Macs, Rip Max, that they covered with a piece of nailed in wood. That it old days made me slightly uncomfortable before, but I figured it had been that way for a year so, what's the worst that could happen? The second door leads to the kitchen.

Hollow core. It could stop a mouse, but not much else. Definitely not something that wanted it in or someone. We are asleep in my wife's childhood bedroom at the front of the house. 3 a.m. I was in that deep, dark, recess of sleep. You know, you're in the diving bell, and you're submerged hundreds of meters below the surface in black water protected from the real world by miles of nothingness. Then I heard it. The scream. What are you doing? It was my mother-in-law's voice echoing down the hallway, to me, lost in a sea of sleep. It sounded like a jet engine roaring past my eardrum. I bolted up. What happened next happened in a matter of seconds. But about that scream, even though I was dead asleep, I heard enough of it to sense an urgency behind it. This wasn't an, oh, you scared me

to have a scream. This was different, and I knew it. Not consciously, but my lizard brain, that piece we retained from our primitive ancestors knew something was wrong. I watch and read a fair amount of true crime and this scream awakened that horrible fear. The one that says, this can't really be happening to me, can it? Honestly, in that second of the night, it sounded like someone was about to be murdered. You ever wonder if you're a fighter flight type of individual? I always have, and I came to know something about myself after this night. I'm a fighter. I leaped out of my bed, growled. Yes, growled. in the manliest voice I could muster.

I'm going to kill you, motherfucker, and took off running. I tore open the bedroom door and ran into the hallway. There, at the end, I saw my mother-in-law, nightgown on, look of utter shock on her face, standing still. We make eye contact as I continue towards her. Then she turns her head, looks directly into the kitchen.

I hurry past her and round the corner into the kitchen. The hollow corridor is obliterated, shards everywhere. I look through the open frame and see the, the electric garage door is open. I push ahead. As I run into the garage, I hear it. The sound of someone hopping into a running car just out of view, just as I make it onto the driveway. I see a car peeling out from the sidewalk adjacent to the house. But the adrenaline is still pumping, and who am I to say no to adrenaline? So like an idiot, I run, barefoot, after the car. I give a good go, but I'm no Michael Johnson, and even he couldn't catch a speeding car. It soon vanishes

down the street, and I'm left all alone. The police showed up within three minutes, which I have to say makes me feel a lot more at ease with my mother-in-law living there. They took our statements, my mother-in-law said she heard a voice, or noise, and the hollow core door being kicked in, and walked into the kitchen where she encountered the burglar, a small framed woman. The police theorized she was working as part of a team. Her job was to squeeze through the doggie door, kicking the hollow core and open the electric garage door for her accomplice. According to the police, the burglars most likely thought nobody was home. Fortunately, my mother-in-law must have caught her off guard and scared her, in addition to my manly growling, of course. But it feels good to know that

everyone was safe, and to learn that, I guess, I've got a little fight in me. And for the record, we bought the heaviest goddamn wooden door you've ever seen to replace that hollow core. I'd like to see a mouse try and get through that. alone with my old dog. Although it doesn't seem like it, this happened quite a while back, probably over 10 years ago. I was in the later years of high school and was home alone. My parents were at a wedding that required them to stay at a hotel, and my brother worked a night shift. At that time, my family lived in a very well-known East Coast city in a blue-collar neighborhood that was starting to take a nose dive. As a teenager, I was a bit of a loner. I wasn't a nerd or anything. I was a big

dude. He had friends and went on dates, but I'm a natural introvert, so I cherish the rare alone time that I got. This weekend, I was looking forward to engaging in my normal empty house routine. Play some PlayStation on the big screen TV, then order a late takeout dinner, pizza or Chinese, and pig out while watching some Dragon Ball Z. Then around 2 a.m. fall asleep on the couch with my old dog Cecil. Cecil was a beagle who was as old as the hills and had been in our family about eight years. He was quiet and peaceful and spent his time begging for food and sleeping. Unlike most Beagle, Cecil never howled or barked. He was more content to rest his head on your lap and spend the night there. Anyway, back to the story. It's approximately 1 a.m. I just finished the last

slice of pizza and was dozing off on the couch when I hear a bang coming from the back alleyway. I didn't think much of it. Anyone who has lived in a city knows noises happen at all moments of the night. Cecil's head popped up out off my lap and the hair on his back stood up. He was always a bit skittish, so I calmed him down and started dozing off again. Not more than two minutes later, I hear another bang, and Cecil did something I never seen him do before. He leapt off the couch and ran like the wind towards the door leading to the basement, barking and grounding like a dog twice his size. The look on his face reminded me of a German Shepherd canine unit.

I'd never seen him like that before, which got my adrenaline pumping. Through the dog's barking, I could now make a persistent banging. There was a seldom used door in the basement that led to our back alleyway. It was old and rusted and was hard to open, even with the key, and it made a lot of noise. I suddenly realized that someone was trying to break into my house through my basement door. Quick little bit of context for anyone who hasn't lived in a bad neighborhood. If someone tries to get into your house and moves on after they realize the door is locked, they want your stuff. If someone is persistently trying to get into your house despite the door being locked,

Well, they want you. Knowing this, I rush upstairs to grab the heavy wood baseball bat that I keep under my bed for situations like this. Then I head down to my basement. I probably should have ran, but I was a macho teenager with a tough guy complex, and plus I had nowhere to go. While I'm heading down the stairs to my basement, Cecil blows past me with the speed ingression of a dog half his age. Suddenly, I hear a man's voice say, oh fuck, in the banging stopped. I didn't call the cops or anything else, which was probably the dumbest thing I'd ever done. I just sat up for the rest of the night with a bat in my hand.

My brother came home that morning and I told him what had happened. We went to the basement door to take a look, and when we gave it a tug to open it, the whole door fell off. The psycho was one good shove away from getting in my house, but old Cecil scared him off. I'm pretty sure that lazy, fattled dog saved my life. When I tell this story to people, they dismissed his actions as a dog doing what a dog was supposed to do.

But when I tell you that Cecil never barked or moved that fast in his life, you can take that to the bank. It was almost like he knew the urgency, like he knew that door was going to give. A few years back, we had to have him put down because he just had no will to live anymore. Before the injection, I got a moment alone with him. I thanked him one last time for his friendship

and for what he did that night. At this point, I was a grown man with a wife and kids. I'm convinced none of that would have happened without old Cecil. Thanks, pal. I miss you. Being left alone at a house in the middle of the Mojave Desert. Back around 1992, I was in high school at the time. I was a sophomore, and unlike most of my friends in school,

I didn't work the typical high school jobs like McDonald's, Taco Bell, some retail job in the middle of the mall, or work at the local grocery store. I was very good with my hands and worked jobs like construction, demolition, flooring, and auto mechanics. All of my contacts I worked under the table as I started working on some of these jobs at 14. It was beneficial for both of us as I was only called in when needed, and I was the guy willing to only work evenings and weekends. One of my contracts worked doing remodeling projects like at restaurants, bars, retail shops, and typical commercial projects that we could only work after hours. Like I said, that worked out for both of us because I went to school and would sometimes work after school or weekends.

For this one contact, it wasn't uncommon for him to leave me alone at a site and have a list of things. things for me to do alone, mostly demolition work. I did this while the other crew was doing the installation or remodeling work. I was the kid but had their respect because I did what I was supposed to do and did the work of a man without complaints. I got paid good and in one night I could make more than my friends did working all week at McDonald's. This one instance, I got a call from the guy I worked for and he said he had a project for me. And if I could work the following Saturday. I said, yeah, sure. He said, be sure to bring food. and lots to drink as there was nothing nearby. I used to have a small cooler and fill it up with

drinks like Coke, Gatorator, or whatever, plus chips and a couple sandwiches. Back then I could eat a whole pizza by myself and burn it all off. He picked me up that Saturday morning as they didn't have a car or license yet, so he would pick me up and drive me to the sites for work and leave me alone there. I rarely worked with his other crews as they were the more skilled labor guys. I was just the tear out kid. Here's the part that was my major downfall of the story. I didn't pay attention to where we were going. I was too busy to talk to him and think we were talking about cars. You see, at the time, my goal was to save up enough money to buy an old muscle car and rebuild it. It took a long time to arrive to the site. As we drove up, it was in the middle of nowhere.

Now, you may not think California has places like this, but back in the early 1990s out in the Mohave Desert, yes, it was big plots of land and homes, more than a few city blocks apart. I knew we left the highway and went down a few other two-lane highways for a long distance. I remember he asked me about my drinks and he pulled out a brand new jug of water that he had in his truck that looked like it had been there a while and told me to take it with me just in case. He said that the water of the house I would be working out was off. As we pull up to the property, he is a hurry to drop off tools and get to the other work site. So I hurry up and help him with things like breaker bars, shovels, pry bar, hammer,

broom, several big trash bins, and a small tool bag that I often had with me. He tells me that he will be back to pick me up at about 5 to 6 p.m. As there's no electricity to the site either, plus it should only take me till then to do what I needed to do. That was always his way of saying, I'm only paying you till this time, so you better get everything done by then. It was never too outrageous and we would always have a good understanding on time and tasks. He drove away and I am on his property all alone.

I walk into the house. It's mostly empty. My job was to remove all remaining furniture, contents, and appliances. Remove all the flooring, gut the kitchen and bathrooms, and remove all the wood paneling. This project was going to be like what we now call it flip. They were going to fix it up and sell it. Almost immediately I get kind of spooked by the place. It was very odd. Now mind you, I am used to being on sites alone working all night. This was the daytime on a Saturday and bright outside. However, the house was old. dark, musty, and kind of cool inside the kind of cool that gives you goosebumps. To add to the spoof factor, the house let me describe what I remember about the house. Imagine walking back in time to the 1960s or earlier, dark green carpet that I looked at mag matted down broccoli, pine wood

everywhere that had a darker stain to it. The wood paneling wasn't the kind used in the 1980s sheet paneling, but actual board paneling tunged and groove. Old window curtains that all looked like someone's grandma made, avocado, green sink, stove top, oven, and the stuff that was left behind like old furniture and a closet full of old stuffed animals that looked to be about 30 years old. The style of this house was like an old western ranch as there were wagon wheels inside and outside the house. An old battery powered radio but only could get a few stations but was just happy for the noise. I started removing all the junk from the house and as I normally did on a project, if there wasn't a dumpster on site, I made a trash pile. I tore up all the floor and

next. To my delight, everything seemed to come up with ease and it was a rip. Cut and toss. I took a big demo hammered to the kitchen and tore apart in less than an hour. I ended up using that big jug of water that my boss had given me to wash my hands and face periodically, but by late noon, as most you know, the desert, the dryness, also starts to take moisture from you, especially if you're working in it. So by late afternoon, I am down to my last drink and I had already ate everything I bought. No worries, I thought the guys should be here in a couple hours to pick me up. As the time gets closer for them to arrive, I'm all done with my tasks. I even sweep the entire place and is now ready for the rehab crew to get to work making this place look modern.

The time of year I was out here, it wasn't a typical hot desert day, but you know in the desert, as soon as the sun goes down, it starts to cool rapidly. I had a flannel shirt, but that wasn't enough and it was starting to get dark. This was the time before cell phones were common and, well, there was no electricity. electricity, water, and phone service to the house. I climbed up to get on the roof of the house to get a better look to see if I can see something in the distance. It looked like miles down. I saw a smaller road that was a dirt road led to and a few homes, but those homes were all in the dark. My first thought was hiked down to the neighbor's house and asked them to use the phone. The nearest house, no one was home, and this home also looked abandoned. If you remember, in the early 90s was the start of a decline of the

economy in recession, so it wasn't uncommon for a lot of foreclosed homes and a track of homes. A lot of those I worked on at the time. I started to think about my options as darkness fast approached. One was to stay at the house until morning, to hike with the little water I had a few miles in the dark Mojave night, three, wait until early morning and hike out of there to some sort of civilization. It also suddenly occurred to me that no one knew where I was except my boss. I don't know if he told anyone else where I was, and certainly my family would have missed me until maybe Sunday night, but I didn't even tell them I was going to work there. They knew me and how much I would work to save up for my car had they never worried about me not coming home. As full darkness was all around me, it was amazing, looking out at the night sky, and lucky for me, the moon was bright.

I didn't have a flashlight or any way to make a fire. Even though I tried, I was going to make a small bonfire out of broken up construction debris as the temperatures started to fall probably down to the sun. the low 40s. My only option was go back inside the empty creepy house that somehow seemed to even more creepy sitting alone in the dark. At about 8 p.m., the batteries on my radio, which was my only source of little light, and noise started to die. I grabbed my old wooded chair and sit in the living room of this house facing the door. I'm starting to hear wind, odd noises which I assume are animals in the distance, and what sounds like leaves cracking under feet. I'm starting to shiver from the cold, so I set off on trying to start a fire in the fireplace.

Imagine like Tom Hanks and Castaway trying to make a fire. At least this is keeping my mind of my situation. Sitting in this living room next to the fireplace, the house seemed even more darker than it should have. Mind you, in the daytime, the inside seemed dark, so with only the moonlight I was pretty much sitting in complete darkness. My mind starts to playing tricks on me. I am seeing shadows moving outside and inside the house.

I'm also starting to hear someone talking like whispers or something. I get up from my chair and yell out, Hello. And just as I do, I hear something fall from the other side of the house. I run over the door and go outside again. At least in the moonlight, I can see better, but often in distance I hear noises and see movement but can't make it out.

I have my pile of tools by the edge of the house ready for when my boss picks me up, so I run over there and grab Big Daddy. It was my big, heavy pry bar that I used in demo. I was ready to defend myself for who or what was out there. I have to keep moving because my first. undershirt and flannel shirt wasn't enough to keep me warm. The wind was also starting to pick up in for as far as I could see no lights around me. I didn't want to try and make it up on the house again

out of fear of falling in the dark, but I get up on top of the gate just to try and gain a little bit of altitude to see if I see some house lights or nearby or car lights. My mind went to these stories that circled around at the time about how people would come up to the Mojave Desert and bury bodies, how there were Satanist groups out here, and how people would go missing for no reason out here. Every noise had me on edge and every shadow had my heart pounding. Now I knew no one was inside the house, but I swear I would hear noises from inside. I held it up on the front porch, looking in the living room window, expecting to see someone out at any moment. By around 11 p.m. I look at my watch, thinking this is going to be a long night, as all this stuff only happened since

it got dark. I don't know how I'm going to make it another six hours till daybreak. I start thinking the moment it gets to be daybreak, like the moment light starts to appear on the horizon, I'm going to take the little water I had left and walk east. I knew going east I would eventually make it somewhere. The dirt road I was off of, I knew that direction led to a paved road. Closer to midnight, I am wide awake. My eyes are fixed on the dirt road thinking that any time now a car would come down it, and maybe they can call for help for me. I remember casually turning to look back into the house as all this time I keep hearing noises but telling myself maybe a rat or some animal. I see a shadow of a person move from the kitchen to down the hall. I jump up from sitting

down and was like, that is not an animal. That's a human. I start back in my way out of the front porch, towards the pile, and trip over debris and fall down on the ground. I get up, but fall again. It was like something pushed me down, or my imagination. But all of a sudden, these bright lights are coming closer to me as I am laying on the ground. I jump up and into my boss. He's looking at me like, what the heck are he doing? I was just so glad to see him. I wasn't mad or anything. Just asked him what happened. He said they'd be sorry, but he thought the other crew was coming to get me, and they thought he was coming. So no one actually came. He said it wasn't until later in the evening he asked the other crew leader about how far along I got, and he said I didn't go get

him. Well, it took him almost two hours from where they were working to come get me. He felt really bad and told me he was going to pay me for the entire time I was out there. He also grabbed a can of coke from his cooler and asked me if I was thirsty, and I drank that all in one gulp. Once we got back towards civilization, he went through a fast food drive-thru, and I ate like I had never ate before. As he was driving me home, I asked him about the house. I told him how creepy it was. He said he didn't have any information on the house only, just what we were supposed to do. After that, I made sure to always keep extra batteries, flashlight, and double the amount of liquid. The night I learned to not sneak out.

To start this off, I'd like to give a bit of context. This happened four years ago. I'm a girl, and at the time this happened, I was 12 going on 13 in just a month or two. The friend I mentioned in the story was 14 at the time. The friend, Sally, who I was staying with that night, 14 female, was quite a bit older than me. At least at the time, the two-year age gap was quite big. At 12 to 13 years old, I was about to start my second year of middle school, whereas

as Sally should have been about to begin her sophomore year of high school. I met her in the beginning of my first year at a new school. She was older than the other kids in our grade and was considered one of the popular kids. I think that was what drew me to her first. We became fast friends and before we knew it, we were spending every single weekend together. Seriously, every single weekend. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. It was your typical Friday night. We called carpooled to her family's apartment after school. I've always been a picky eater, so when her family had dinner, I didn't eat with them. I just snacked on the Pop-Tart that I'd stowed away in my backpack in case they ordered something that I wouldn't eat. Something to note is that her family was pretty

religious. I wouldn't go as far to say they were fanatics, but they didn't allow their kids to watch horror movies or anything that was rated PG-13 or older. It didn't stem from the desire to protect them from something inappropriate. Sally's mother had an irrational fear that scary movies had satanic messages. We asked to watch The Purge, and her mom obviously said no. After some negotiating, she agreed to let us watch Hunger Games instead. After the movie, Sally and I went to hang out in her room. She put on some music, and being the age we were, we gave each other some makeovers. By the end of it, we were looking much older than just 12 and 14. This part of the night is where things started to seem off to me. Sally wasn't the most positive influence, despite being my best friend at the time. She was

manipulative and got off on putting me down. She had a habit of talking to men online and lying about her age. Sally showed me some text between her and the man she was talking to. I can't give you the exact recount of them, but they consisted of him trying to convince her to meet up with him and just the usual thing you'd expect from a creep online. According to him, he was 19, tall, and blonde with soulful blue eyes. Once I saw the text, I asked if she had a picture of him. Something like that didn't sit right with me after seeing the messages. She showed me what he looked like, and he was very clearly not 19. This man was at least 40, and looked like he lived in his mother's basement. Then we got a call from him. Sally answered without hesitation. When I heard the voice

on the other end of the call, I felt like I was going to be sick. You're so pretty. Why did you come meet me? He asked. Sally said that she couldn't because she was spending the night with a friend. The mention of that sparked his interest, and then he proceeded to try and ask both to meet him. Sally, lacking any common sense, said yes. Thus begun her plan for us to sneak out, mock 15 blocks to meet him in a deserted McDonald's parking lot. I didn't want to go. I was raised on stories of what happened to teen girls who meet random men from the internet in person. But after adamant pleading from Sally that she didn't feel safe going by herself,

I agreed. We took our phones with us for the walk. I had a kitchen knife stuffed in my bra in case something were to happen and I needed to defend myself. The route we had to take to get there didn't have very many street lamps and there weren't any houses. We were surrounded by trees on both sides of us. When we got to the parking lot, the only car parked nearby was a black beat-up 2,000 Toyota Corolla. The car was still running when we got there and from what we could tell there was more than one person inside. The man from the picture got out of the front seat and left the door open behind him before approaching us. I turned my flash on so I could see, and he was obviously on something. I can't tell you what kind of drug it was for the life of me, but his eyes were so wide

they looked like they were about a pop out of his head. He was jittery and kept twitching. I became very conscious of how big he was, maybe six to and around 280 pounds. For reference, my friend of and I did not look our ages, even without makeup. I'm about 5'2. My friend was pretty tall, probably around 5'6 to 5.7. We were both significantly smaller than him. The man reached out for us and caught my friend by the arm. I went to get my knife as quickly as I could, and that's when I saw his friends getting out of the car. He invited us back to his car and offered us booze and drugs, but after seeing my knife, then I was ready to call the police, he released my friend. I took Sally's arm and ran faster than I ever had in my entire life.

We took the long way home to avoid them finding out where she lived in case they were following us. Once we got there, her family was still sound asleep. We locked all the doors, closed the blinds, and blocked them on everything. There wouldn't be any sleeping that night. We were constantly peeking out the windows into our dismay. The same Toyota was circling around her apartment building. Not once, not twice, but three times. I never mentioned any of this to my parents out of fear of getting grounded or in trouble.

I'm 16 now, and they still have no clue. I still get nervous when I see a car similar to the one from that night. As for Sally, her parents never found out either. We agreed to never speak about it again. Thankfully, she moved into a new house just a few weeks after that happened. Safe to say, Sally and I haven't spoken three years. She was pissed at me for ruining her night. and our friendship didn't last long after that.

We had a pretty bad falling out, but looking back on it now, it was definitely for the better. So to Sally, thank you for teaching me a very valuable lesson and making me realize that some people are best just left alone. And to the man and his friends who tried to prey upon two young girls, let's not ever fucking meet again. People can be absolutely creepy. Hi, I'm a 24-year-old lad living in the UK.

I work as a pharmacist at a hospital and I usually do night shifts. My workplace is just a few lots away from home, so I just walk every night. A few months ago, while I was on my way to work at around midnight, a car stopped in front of me and rolled down his window. The guy inside was wearing a scrub suit, so I'm assuming he's a nurse. Have dark hair, chubby, and it's probably around my age. Hey, where are you heading? Let me drive you to work. I politely declined.

The guy looked harmless and I guess being polite wouldn't hurt. He looked pretty normal, but there's something in his eyes that unsettles me. He didn't go away after that and kept insisting to drive me to work. That's when I snapped and told him that I was waiting for my boyfriend, which isn't true because my boyfriend is in the U.S. miles away from me. He seemed to believe in it and just drove away. Days have passed when I got a chat request. I tried to check the profile and saw that it was the creepy lad,

offering to ride me to work. How he got my name? I have no idea. I didn't pay his chat any attention and just went on with my pretty busy life. Two days after that, I got another message from him saying, you were smiling earlier. You look cute. After reading that message, it felt like I had been splashed with an ice cold bucket of water. Was he at the hospital? I don't want to know. I told him to stay away from me and eff off. Days have passed and I've almost forgotten about this guy when I saw him, staying on the hallway looking at me while I was exiting the room doing rounds. He tried to approach but I beeline my way to the other hallway and went back to the pharmacy.

That's when I started freaking out and told my boyfriend. He advised me to just drive to work instead of walking and I did right after that night. I also blocked him to avoid any unwanted future creepy messages So far, I haven't seen them in months, and I want to keep it that way. So to the creepy lad who kept on insisting in driving me to work and stalked me at work, let's not meet again. Don't tell strangers who follow you home your name. Longtime lurker of the subreddit, and this is my first time posting anything.

I've been wanting to share the story ever since I first started reading everyone's stories, so here it goes. This took place when I, 26 female, was about the story. 16. My aunt was in town visiting and we were coming back from the grocery store. We were driving back to my mom's house. My parents are divorced and she lived way out in the country. Like it's a 10-minute drive from anywhere. We pull up our driveway and a red car pulls him behind us. My aunt and I stay in the car and the man approaches the driver's side door. I can't rightly tell you why he looked like a creep, but he looked like a creep. Very pasty skin, eyes that were staring too hard, just overall

weird. He claims he is lost and looking for his way to a fitness center in the town next over. The exact fitness center that is about a minute away from where the grocery store is, i.e. the opposite direction of where he just came from. Super odd, but I give him directions. He thanks me, but continues to stare at me. He asks if we know each other and I reply, no. He gives me his name and I again repeat no. I do not. A couple seconds of awkward staring and he just asked what my name is. Well, being an idiot and feeling anxious, I tell him. That was a He confirms we don't know each other. Oh, really? And heads back to his car and we watch him leave. My aunt and I agree he was just very strange, but shake it off and take the groceries in.

From where we parked, do you have to take a little windy path up behind the house to the back door? My aunt goes outside to grab the rest of the groceries and I settle on the couch in the living room and look outside. Red car in the driveway. My aunt comes upstairs and said the guy was almost to our door and claimed he forgot the directions. My aunt currently told him right left right and told them to leave. The directions were truly that simple when following the main roads. I'm freaked, she's freaked, but we never see him again. A month passes and I'm chilling on my dad's and posted something like, I'm bored at my dad's house.

Who wants to chill on Facebook? Guys always set your page to private. Several minutes later, I get a message from the same guy asking if I wanted him to come over. I'm home alone and understandably terrified. I immediately block him and tell my dad, who goes to one of his cop friends to see if they know anything about this guy. Well, this man was kicked out of a local university for stocking, and had two other counts of stocking on top of that, and a restraining order. Yikes. Another month goes by, and I'm in study hall with a friend, and he's telling me about this guy

who was stalking his older sister. I don't remember the specific details, but it was definitely the story of someone being stalked. The craziest part was this stalker almost drove this girl's brother off the road in an attempt to get him to pull over. Once pulled over, the stalker jumped out and was making his way to my friend's vehicle when my friend noped right out of there. I'm sure you guessed it, but the stalker and the creep I ran into were the same person. So creepy, pasty, stalker dude, let's not meet. Edit to add slash update. Following me posting this, I decided to reach out to my friend whose sister was socked. He asked if I had heard about last summer and apparently he was arrested for attempting to kidnap three different women within an hour, failing on all attempts

in almost running over the last woman's father who was with her at the time. I confirmed it via news article. I'm still pretty floored by it all. Psycho Uber. A few weeks ago, me, 23 female, and a friend 24F, planned to go to an event together. Since we only had free time after work, we decided to get an Uber so we wouldn't take too long to arrive and could enjoy more. The first half the ride was really normal. Seemed like a normal, polite dude, but as soon as we got to the highway, his attitude changed. He seemed a lot more irritated. Me and my friend didn't pay much attention, though, and kept chatting between us. Our attention was drawn when he started shouting with another driver. He turned to us and said he was going to pull over. I tried objecting, but he ignored and

pulled over anyway. He reached out for the glove compartment and pulled a gun. Important to note that guns are illegal in my country. We were just watching this unfolded with holded breath. breaths. And when the other guy drove away, we let out a side of relief, but then we were still stuck in a car with a crazy man with a gun. After that, he went back to driving and apologized to us, saying that the guy was tailgating him. I let out and, uh, oh, got it. He kept talking. That guy is lucky that you two girls are here, or else I would have followed him and shot him in the face. Sleazy idiot. I look over to my friend. She's still in shock and paralyzed. I'm in shock too, but trying to keep my cool because the last thing I want to is to get him annoyed at us.

If he was willing to shoot that guy for tailgating, I don't want to know what he would do to us if I said the wrong thing. No, it's okay, I understand. I say trying to appease him. These guys need to get caught a lesson, he continued. While I just agreed with my head, I did that before you know. You just trapped the guy in an empty street, and when he leaves the car, bang! Did he just admit to murder?

was the only thing running through my mind, but I managed to keep calm and just agreed with him the rest of the way. He did deliver us in the right place with no more incidents. I waited a few weeks to report, since he had my home address and would it be hard to figure out who reported him. Nobody showed up in my home with a gun, at least until now.

And Uber has answered my report saying that they started an investigation. Hope this guy doesn't do this to anyone else. Also, English is not my first language, so forgive me. if there's any mistake. I was planning to rob you. I'm not sure if this story belongs here because I can't decide if I would have any issue

meeting this person again, but I reckon any normal sane person wouldn't. This happened to me in Tempe, Arizona, not far away from Mill Avenue, where all the bars are at. I was out bar hopping with a group of friends one weekend, having a good time and had gotten pretty wasted. I have this terrible habit of wandering off

and getting lost when I drink, and this particular night I had managed to get myself into a very dumb situation. After wandering down streets for almost an hour, I started to realize I was very lost, and to make things worse, my phone was out of battery. At some point, I decided I would just walk back to my friend's house, which I knew was somewhere north of area we were bar hopping. I should mention I am severely incompetent when it comes to directions and navigating in a city, so I didn't realize I was a solid seven to eight miles away from my friend's place. As I was stumbling confidently along the empty roads at 2 a.m., a sedan,

suddenly pulls off the road in front of me aggressively, almost blocking my path. Somewhat startled, I looked towards the driver's seat and see a rather large and mean-looking black man staring me down. In situations like this, most people have one of two reactions. They either become scared and defensive or angry and aggressive. I, on the other hand, am an insane person and was just drunk enough to have no sense of the danger I was in. I should mention, I am your typical privileged suburban white boy, not particularly threatening or big. I proceeded to wave at the guy saying, Hey man, what's good?

I am not completely sure, but I think I was probably smiling too. I specifically remember the face he made. It was a sort of confused and conflicted look, as if I were trying to ask him what year it was. He paused for a second and asked me, something, but I couldn't understand what he said. I said something like, huh?

He then asked me, where are you going? I told him I was trying to walk to my friend's place, but I have no idea where I am. After another pause, he told me to get in. Without thinking, I walked over to the passenger side and hopped in. Pretty dumb, right? Well, at the time, it seems like a good idea. Once I got in, I was able to get a better look at the guy.

He was covered in tats and was wearing your typical thug attire. I also noticed his arm was all bandaged. Oh, and he had a pistol tucked into his shorts. And again, for some reason, none of those fazed me at the time. He asked me where my friend's place was, and I gave him directions. I'm pretty sociable and talkative while I drink, so I immediately started chatting with the guy casually. I don't remember exactly what we talked about, but eventually he started telling me that he had just gotten out of the hospital after being treated for a gunshot wound on his arm, and his girl just broke up with him because of it. Apparently, she didn't like that he was in a gang and getting into gunfights, go figure.

He then told me that he was a real pissed off about her and about getting shot and he was driving around looking for someone else to rob when he found me, and that he has served time for robbery in the past. At that point, my drunken brain started to connect the dots, and I thought about the roughly $200 I had in my wallet at that very moment. But instead of freaking out, I just said something like, damn, man, that's rough. He also told me that he really wanted to be a rapper and was trying to get his music career started.

I tried to be supportive, telling him to go for it. About 10 to 15 minutes later, he pulled up at my friend's place. Now, this is when I should have gotten out of the car and told the armed man thanks for the ride. But again, I'm an insane person and felt like I owed him one for taking me all the way here, so I asked if he wanted to come in and smoke some weed. He said he was down. At this point, my friends had already been back for a while.

We're all wondering what happened to me. As you might expect, they were awfully surprised when I showed up with a strange black dude who I now knew was a gang member, who had debated robbing me at gunpoint. What the dude did next sort of sketched everyone out, though. My buddy lives in a house with a few other people. His room is at the end of the hallway, and that's where they all were listening to music. He also has a huge safe in his closet that is visible as soon as you walk in the room. I didn't realize it, but my new friend had brought his gun inside with him.

And shortly after entering the room, after everyone said what's up, he took his gun out of his waistband and put it down right on top of the safe in front of everyone. It seemed like a really odd thing to do, but it was a lot better than what he could have done. I feel like it was a sort of show of respect, like he wanted to show that he wasn't going to it. Luckily, I have super chill friends, so they acted cool, and we're about to roll up a blunt, so a few minutes later we all went out back to smoke leaving the gun in his room. The dude chilled with us for a while longer and actually seemed to get along with some of my friends who had a similar interest in music. He then picked up his gun off the safe and left with that

incident. Looking back, I realized that could have gone much, much worse, especially since my buddy had a lot of cash in that safe, and he could have easily robbed us at gunpoint at any time. I like to think that although he was a criminal and a gang member, he was also just a guy going through a hard time and a little kindness and marijuana prevented that night from going very bad. Am I crazy? I'm the stalker. TV shows movies usually depict abductors driving white or black vans. I didn't realize this until I decided to buy a white 1994 Dodge Ram cargo van to haul some of the gear I needed for work. While driving it, I've been pulled over by cops and searched three times for no reason, but that is another story.

The point is, some people see vans as suspicious. One day, while returning home, a woman pushing a stroller stared at me for a long time while I drove along my home street. We have speed bumps, and I had a lot of expensive, delicate gear in the van, so how is driving very slow. She stared at me, wide-eyed the entire time, so I smiled at her, like a friendly neighbor does. she was staring so intently, she almost walked the stroller right off the edge of the curb. I thought it was funny and almost forgot about it. A week later, our HOA email, Thread heats up when a resident sends out a notice that his wife and toddler were being stalked by a man in a white van.

Fearing a pitchfork and torch mob, mistaking me for the creeper, I replied to all, saying I live in the neighborhood and also drive a white van. I even provided my license plate number and home address. Big mistake. Jokingly, I added that I also witnessed a suspicious person in the neighborhood, a woman with a stroller who was staring at me for so long and hard and made me uncomfortable. I provided the date and time of the incident to see if their alleged stalker was actually me. It was. Dude got triggered. He started sending email after email, C-Cing everyone on the list, telling me he can read between

the lines of what I was saying. His accusations became more and more ludicrous, and turned into personal attacks. Several neighbors on the email list replied that he was behaving badly. The emails eventually stopped, but things got even weirder. On several occasions, while out walking my dog, a 10-ish-year-old girl, would come up out of her house, run over to me, awkwardly chat me up about my dog, and give me strangely intimate details of her life.

I wondered why this child was talking to strangers, but thought maybe she would just knew me from the neighborhood, so I politely played along. Then one day the girl shows up at my house. She said that she was angry because her dad wouldn't let her have a dog like mine, so she wanted to visit my dog for a while. I told her I needed to talk to her parents before I could ever let her visit my home like this. She said okay and left and I never saw her anymore.

I have two daughters and one of their friends told me the girl who is chatting me up is the daughter of the triggered dude from the HOA email list. He'd been sending her out to talk to me and taking pictures. My daughter's friend was friends with this bait girl. The poor girl's dad was making his own daughter uncomfortable, which is why she confided in her friend. The dad was sending her daughter out to chat with me so he could accuse me of, I don't know what. One detail I forgot to mention. I have dash cams in all of my vehicles and CCTV monitoring my front door, so the initial incident with the wife as well as the girl coming to the door were recorded.

I emailed the trigger dude and kindly offered him copies of the video. the videos of each incident. I also told him I was concerned that his daughter was behaving inappropriately towards strangers. Apparently this scuttled his plan and as I never talked to him again. Creepy kid who tried to get my five-year-old to walk off with him at the park today. Okay, this... Don't you wish you could just hit skip on the worst parts of your life? You know the same way you can skip an ad? I get it. I'm Siaia and I live in Ice Cove. I'm, I live in Ice Cove. I've made some questionable decisions that didn't end up the way I planned.

And today, I'm still figuring it out. Somehow things usually get worse before they get better. Apparently, that's how I roll. So bundle up and come along for the bumpy ride. Stream a new episode of North of North Tuesdays on CBC Gem. It just happened today and it really messed with me. I've been thinking about it all day long and all evening. I took my five-year-old son and three-month-old daughter to the playground today

to meet a friend and her daughter. It's got regular playground equipment, a huge parking lot, and a big grassy area, and trees surrounding the play area. On the other side of the trees is some sort of development thing they're working on.

The area this school is in is pretty rural. It's just a bunch of twisty roads and random buildings. I've never thought about it or notice this until today. We get to the park and meet up with my friend.

Another mom that we know is there with her two girls too. The only other people there is a dad with a little girl and a boy that looked to be somewhere between 10 and 12. So the moms are all sitting, chatting, playing with my adorable daughter, having a good time. The kids are playing together.

Everything is good. Eventually, all the kids from our group kind of wander off through the playground doing their own thing. The seesaws are in a shady area. Next to them is a big stretch of grass. Then the trees with the semi-developed area behind that. My son wants to see-saw, but nobody wants to do it with them. I get up to go help him, and the 10-ish-year-old boy comes over and says, hi.

Do you want me to play with him? Which was a little strange that he asked me and not my son, but I just said, sure, bud, go ahead. So he gets on the other side and starts sysawing with him. His demeanor was so strange. He didn't smile. His voice was completely flat. He didn't say a word to my son.

He just seesawed with him. My son was oblivious and chatted away at him. After a few minutes, I started walking back to my bench, and I hear the boy start talking with my son. Okay, so maybe he's shy around grownups. I sit down and start talking to my friends, and the dad walks near us to probably go up to his car and say, hey, it was really sweet for your son to offer to play with mine and smile at him.

He looks at me and goes, he's not my son. I don't know who he is. He walked over and asked if I wanted him to play with blank daughter's name, and then just kind of followed us around until you guys got here. He sort of laughed like, weird, right? And shook his head. I got a very uneasy feeling in my stomach and looked over to the seesaws.

They're gone. I jump up, hand my daughter to my friend, and run in that direction, yelling my son's name. I see them walking, almost to the trees. The trees are not close. I'd guess a football field or so away from the play area. I got this awful feeling and ran as fast as I could yelling my son's name. He turned around and started trying to walk to me, and the little boy grabs his arm and tries to pull him towards the trees. He gets upset and starts saying,

Hey, let go with me. Now, usually this is not a quality about my son that brings me anything but trouble, but he does not like to be grabbed, pushed, or pulled, and he has ADHD, so when he gets frustrated, it usually comes out in aggressive ways. I was so thankful for this today. He starts punching the boy and headbunning him like a little crazy person. The boy lets go as I get to them and runs to the trees. My friends are finally realizing something is going on,

so they're standing at the edge of the play area looking confused. My son is crying. I'm shaking. I don't know what the fuck just happened. I asked my son where he was going and he said his friend wanted to take him to see Ryan from Ryan Toys reviews. It's his favorite YouTube channel and he talks about it nonstop. He told the boy about Ryan and apparently the boy told him that he knew where Ryan lived and did my son want to go visit and play? So of course my son said yes. I don't know what the intention was. It was a kid. I don't understand why he would lie to my son, why he would lie to my son, why he would. wanted him to go into the woods why he was so weird maybe it was innocent but i just don't think it was edit just so everyone knows i did call the police and report it this morning i don't know how much good it did they listened and asked me questions but they didn't want me to come make a formal statement or anything i'm going to call the school tomorrow too beware of small towns in Florida. This is a long time ago, late 90s. When I was 19, I moved from Oregon to Florida to be with my boyfriend at the time. Don't ever do that. I was thinking, white sand beaches and Mickey Mouse,

but instead I got the swamps, bugs, and dirt roads. It was a huge shock to the system. We lived in this stinky little town called Hawthorne just outside of Gainesville. Don't ever go there. Very small, one-stop light in four stores. Dollar, General, Steve's Market, Eckerd's Pharmacy, and Sunny's BBC. Whoopi. Anyway, I got a job at the now defunct Eckerds in the middle of town. It was next to the grocery store, so everyone's shopped there. After about three months or so of working there, I walked in to start my shift one day

when the manager pulled me into his office. He laid out on his desk was about 30 to 40 open letters, all addressed by hand, to me. Do you know this person? my manager asked, no. Read one. So I picked the cheerful yellow one inside were two handwritten letters and a magazine cut of a woman with long blonde hair, just like me. As the Eckerd manager watched on, I read the letter. I skipped around a lot of confusion, desperately trying to find out why I'm in this room. From what I read, it was mostly someone imagining what spending time with me would be like a lot of it was s word in nature there were descriptions and comments about my hair washing

it smelling it and something about the moonlight i a few sentences were highlighted others were underlined my first thought was am i getting fired do you know this david eldrod hair i said yes i think so the tall lanky guy with thick glasses and frizzy dark blonde hair the regular who comes in a couple times a week to pick up diet coke and medication for his mom mom, late 20s and obviously socially or mentally challenged. On rare occasions, he would make small talk as I rang up his soda. Once or twice, he would linger at my registered or stare at me, but I figured he was just trying to adjust his eyes or had some poor social cues, harmless compared to some of the other people I had met in Florida, so I didn't pay him any mind. Until that day in the Eckert's office,

I knew he wrote the letters because of the strange encounter two weeks earlier. While working, he came up behind me and touched or caressed my hair. I had to remove it from his hands and he apologized. Weird, but no harm, I went back to work. After telling me my manager this, he informed me that the customer was going to be banned from the store and I was being sent home while they worked out the details. What details? Confused, I walked out of the store and drove home strange. Two hours after I got home from my non-shift at work, there's a knock at my door. I look out the windows and see what resembles a SWAT team. What the fuck? I saw men in tactical gear with large weapons, two men dressed in suits and several uniformed

cops, and what seemed like slow motion at the time I opened the door. A female officer holds up a fewly odd familiar letters. Can we come in and talk to you about these? Realizing everyone in town has read the letters I wanted to pass the fuck out. I don't even know the guy. We have a seat on my couch and she began to speak. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my boyfriend shooting me dirty looks from the bedroom. The female officer mentions getting the letters from Eckers and attempting to issue a trespassing notice. They wanted to speak to him directly, she says, because her whole department is aware of

David. The officers confronted him at his residence and attempted to evoke the trespassing notice from Eckerd's store. Apparently, he was not happy about this. He insisted for over 45 minutes how this was. was all a big mistake, and I wanted to talk to him. He was so combative and persistent, they decided to pursue stalking charges. Stocking charges? She continues, you need to be aware that David killed and partially dismembered his mother when he was 12 years old. He was released from a juvenile

psychiatric facility less than four years ago. Diet Coke. We found disturbing materials at his home. She continued, We believe he's been stalking you. My mind kept wandering. It's my mom's favorite drink. David was arrested the next day for stalking after he was found in the Eckert's parking lot, but the last official word was he went back to the psychiatric hospital, at least temporarily. I didn't have the chance to read the letters and fold before they were entered into some vault of evidence, nor did they explain what they found at his house, so I never had the complete picture of what was happening. My boyfriend at the time was a huge dick about the whole thing, so I moved back to Oregon a week later.

Besides, who wants to hang around when Norman Bates is fixated on you? Almost gave a serial killer a car ride. So a little background here. My father was in the army for 21 years, retired, moved to a very small town in central Florida. He got bored after a couple of years, and even though we didn't need the money between his retirement, what my mom was making at a bookkeeper slash tax prep,

he wanted to go back to work. He started working at various gas stations. In it being a small town, the owners wouldn't care if I came there and helped him out with stocking the coolers or even running the register, as long as I didn't sell any beer or smokes. This all took place in the late 80s and early 90s. The actual store I'm going to tell took place in 1990, and I remember the date well, because it was shortly after my birthday and being 15 in Florida. I just got my learner's permit. My dad would let me drive him to and from work, just to get some experience on the road, both a day and a night. I was sitting in my usual spot at a table that was set up along the windows, book in hand, feet propped up, and a mountain dew on the table along with some snacks. I would generally spend most

of the evening that way, reading books, getting up to run the register slash stock with a cooler at different times. I remember glancing up because something caught my attention that was unusual, and I realized that a lady was walking up a parking lot from the direction of the interstate. The gas station was right on I-75. This in itself was really strange because where we were located, you didn't get many people walking and definitely not walking from the direction of the interstate. I figured she had broken down somewhere. It was coming to use the phone to call for a tow truck or something.

I was completely wrong. She came into the store, looked around for a few minutes, and I remember getting just a strange and creepy feeling about her. She walked up to the counter and started telling my dad a story about how she had gotten stranded and needed a ride up to the next big town up north from us. Ocala was the town. This is important. My dad lets her know that he's working,

and there's no way that he can take her. She turns and looks at me. While she is looking away from him, my dad catches my eye and subtly shakes his head no. I was confused for a second. But then she turns back to my dad and points at me, asking if I can take her. My dad responded back that I only had a learner's permit,

and I wouldn't be able to drive her anywhere and then drive back. Normally I would have done it even though it was legal because I'd done it a few times before already. I didn't argue with my dad that since this was completely out of character for him, he was normally chatty with the customers, but for whatever reason, he was almost curt and dismissive with her. Turns out he had a bad vibe about her from the minute he had seen her walking up the drive. Well, she cusses him out for a minute, and he basically tells her to get out of the store. She slammed the door open. I thought the glass was going to break from how hard she slammed.

it, and then she stalks out of the store and down the driveway. I keep an eye on her and continue to watch as she makes her way back up the interstate and then starts up on the northbound on the ramp. Almost a year passes, and I'm in my bedroom, less than a week before my 16th birthday. I hear my dad yelling from the living room. Son, get your ass in here and look at this. I quickly run to the living room and see my dad pointing at the TV. I look at the mugshot of the. of the lady up on the screen, and I immediately remember the lady who had been in the store.

Turns out, I almost gave a ride to Aileen Wernos, who was later convicted of being a serial killer and then later put to death. Still have nightmares about what could have happened. That time I accidentally dated a sociopath. It has taken me many years to tell this story out of both fear and embarrassment. I share this today as more than simply therapy for myself,

but as a warning to all people. Be careful who you meet on social media. In 2018, my ex-husband and I at the end of a very tumultuous marriage. He and I had been polyamorous for about three years before I met this guy. His name was Jez. I met Jez on OkCupid.

I was 28 and he was 42. We hit it off very quickly. After a few weeks of talking, I agreed to meet up with him at a restaurant close to my house. We sat and talked for a few hours before I invited him over to meet my husband. Things went very well, and they seemed to get along so Jez and I started dating. This guy completely swept me off my feet. Jez was sweet and caring.

He enthusiastically listened to every little thing on my mind, engaged, and validated me. Over and over again, he absolutely revered me for my strength and wisdom. He practically worshipped me for all that I was and all I was becoming. He showered me with gifts, flowers, and random good deeds just to make me feel safe, wanted, and cared for. I had never been in a relationship that quite felt like that. It was wonderful. It was as though we had been looking for each other for years.

After the first few weeks, he had a meltdown over my polyamorous nature. He, quote, pulled the plug because he said he was already falling for me and couldn't handle sharing me. I stood my ground and accepted this boundary in that fact that I would have to love. let him go. I left that night, sad, but confident that I'd done the right thing for the both of us. The next week, he sent me flowers in a car to my workplace, begging for another chance and reassuring me that he would rather try than not and end up regretting it, even though it was scary. He wanted to take this journey with me. We continued dating, and it was just as wonderful. Long nights we spent awake talking, sharing, laughing, love-making, and planning.

We went places and did things that I always wanted to do. Then, in the deep, we did the day. deepest, most intimate moments, when we would just sit in silence, he would grip my hand to his face in solidarity and astonished asking, where I've been all this time. Our time together was effortless. We fit together like puzzle pieces. By August of 2018, my marriage had ended, by no fault of Jezzes. By October, my husband had moved out. I was on lease at a time and knew I couldn't afford the plates on my own, so finding a roommate was essential. I had no support system to fall back on, anyone else, I know, needed a place at the time, so Jez offered to move in. Even then, I was hesitant. We'd only been together for about four months, and I knew everything always changes

when you move in with a partner. Despite my hesitation, I agreed. He was wonderful to me. How bad could it be? I was not prepared for the change that was to come. It was literally like night and day. Jez suddenly became a different person. He was extremely controlling, jealous, and lazy, nothing like the person I thought I had met. And the way he treated me progressively got worse and worse. Hanging out with friends became a burden, if not impossible, because he would blow up my phone, guilty me about leaving him alone or not involving him in some way. Yet when I tried to, it was also treated as a burden and inconvenience as he would huff and puff and puff his way through even the concept of leaving space for anyone but ourselves.

In December of 2018, we attended my work a Christmas party. I'd give him the option whether he wanted to go or not. It was really neither here nor there for maybe, especially, because I had already learned that he really didn't do well if he felt pressured into social situations. I opened the invitation to him because it expressed to me over and over that it was important for him that he was involved in my social life. For the full month, he knew about it. He insisted that he wasn't going.

I took it as him being introverted and didn't push the issue. I let him know that I would make sure he felt welcome if he decided to go, but not to feel obligated. I was surprised when he changed his mind at the last minute and insisted on going, and even more stunned when we went and he actively acted as though he did not want to be there. Everyone there was incredibly welcoming and included him in the festivities and conversations. However, he still practically grumbled the entire night about. the entire thing, mumbling insults and critiquing every little part of the party under his breath,

as though being there was absolutely awful to have to endure. No one really seemed to notice the low whispering insults and gripes. At one point, after a couple of glasses of wine, my direct manager leaned in to Jez and started praising him. She and I were very close, therefore she was intimately familiar with what I had gone through with my ex-husband. I'm so, so happy she has you. She bleated through wine happy. You've been absolutely transformative for her. It's so nice to see her finally happy and appreciated. Without missing a beat,

Jez grimaced at the comment and quickly snapped back. You don't fucking know me. I honestly didn't believe my ears. It was one of those moments where time stops and you just know you couldn't have heard that correctly. I sat brewing on it for a minute before another lighthearted interaction with Jez prompted him to suddenly snap at me through great teeth.

Stop it. This triggered me and I lost it. I pulled him outside and asked him what his problem was. I called out his behavior and told him if he was going to act that way, then he could just leave. That if he didn't want to be there, he should have stayed home. He ended up giving a sort of half-assed apology and we went back inside and finished the party. I remember the drive home that night, staring out the dark window at nothing in particular, in worried silence.

I might have messed up. was my only thought through the entire drive. This all started out slow, of course, like waving me away or invalidating my experiences and ideas due to my age, that I was dramatizing my experiences because I was young, etc. The man who, not six months prior, had validated me, my trauma and experiences to the ends of the earth, now every time I started a story or tried to share anything,

even trying to plan out meals for the week, he would openly show annoyance, as though I was violating his time and attention. Before I knew it, he was snapping at me over every little thing. If I asked how his day was or talked about my day, I would aggressively shut it down. Why do you always ask me that? I don't want to talk shop at home. I really don't care about your work. It's work.

Before I knew it, I couldn't even bring him a plate of breakfast without being snapped at. It was as though he was testing me. When Jez and I first started dating, he flat out refused to talk about most of his exes. He refused to name them or discuss any of the issues or lessons learned. They, quote, didn't matter. He would claim. They weren't in his life for a reason. It was the same reasoning he also used in reference to my more recent exes, talking about them.

Including my now ex-husband may as well have become off-limits. Anytime I brought up either of our exes, he would become incredibly agitated, belittling, and just overall very aggressive. I took this as both an age gap. issue, as I have a tendency to dwell, as well as insecurity and a threat to the life he was trying to build. However, after he moved in, and this hot button topic had been established several times, he would bring up his exes in how they looked, telling me on more than one occasion. Would have never dated me back in the day, in that I was lucky he lowered his standards.

I didn't even really know what to say to this. I would laugh it off and shove it in my back pocket. noted. And then started bringing up my looks and accusing me of catfishing him. I'd stopped taking care of myself due to the isolation, had also put on some weight, so most of my clothes that I once felt great in no longer fit. And since Jez had also been dishonest with me about his financial position, he was always needing extra money here and there, leaving me broke almost all of the time. A horrible tragedy happened that following summer.

While Jess and I were together, I received notice that a good friend I went to art school with asked himself in the head while tripping on LSD. Our whole class was devastated. He was, without contest, the best photographer of our class and one of the most kind-hearted individuals I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Also, as someone who is very familiar with LSD, I was rocked. Jez, however, was far from supportive. He pretty much immediately shrugged it off.

That's life. I guess that's what he gets for fucking around with LSD. I was baffled at such an unsympathetic response, and even more later, when Jed started to interrogate me about my relationship with this guy, asking when the last time it was that I had even talked to this friend. You don't even know this guy anymore. Who cares? I broke up with him the first time after he called me at work raging. I was busy, so I wasn't able to answer right away. Once I was finally able to answer, I was met with intense anger. It was storming and one of my dogs was having an anxiety attack due to the storm and separation anxiety. This wasn't the first time, and he was well aware that she needed in those moments. Why the fuck aren't you answering your calls?

You answer when I call you. I don't care where you are. He went on for a few minutes, calling me a shitty girlfriend and laying into me over my sudden distance and lack of communication while I was at work. At this point, I was done and I lost it. I tore into him over everything, especially causing me. problems for me at work. That being in my life is a privilege and if he's going to wake up every day acting like he hates me, then I don't know what on earth he's even doing with me. I told him that I expected him to get his things and leave. He was always threatening to go back to his old roommates

or there was still room. I didn't want him there. When I got home, we could coordinate times for him to come and get the rest. He flat refused, suddenly victimizing himself, claiming he had nowhere to go. How dare you make me fall in love with you? How dare you make me meet your father and then dump me? My manager and her husband ended up following me home that evening because she was concerned for my safety and had offered to let me stay with her for a few days. I would never forget the scene I walked into. Like Theon Greyjoy begging for his life.

My boss stood next to me, watching as this 42-year-old man crawled on his knees before me, begging for mercy and communication. at one point, wrapping his arms around my legs, crying into them. I can't believe this is happening. She's the love of my life, you know that? He cried to my boss. I couldn't believe what I was witnessing. This was the antithesis of the heartless person I've been spending my days with.

I shook them off and went back to the house, gathering enough of my things to get them through the next few days, as well as any and all valuables I could think of. It took a few days, but after about a week, week, Jez started blowing out my phone. Apology after apology. Suddenly, he was the man I met again, full of humility and self-awareness. He acknowledged the awful way he had treated me and sent me walls and walls of well-thought-out messages, psycho-analyzing his own behavior, where it comes from, and the ways he knows and needs to change. I took him back. Like a dumb, desperate girl. I took him back. It wasn't long into this second round that he started to guilt me over the breakup.

My panic had damaged his relationship with the people in my life, and he made sure that I knew it was my responsibility to fix it. It wasn't long after this that my car ended up breaking down at a gas station close to home. It was a very nice couple in the vehicle next to me that came to my rescue and checked things out under my hood. The gentleman turned out to be a mechanic for a living, so he had a pretty good theory about what could it potentially be going on. By this time, I'd already attempted to contact Jess to let him know what was going on and where I was.

It wasn't long till he got off of work. So he told me to sit tight and he would be there shortly. Meanwhile, this sweet couple stayed put and kept me company while I waited. Jez barreled in about 15 minutes later, completely ignoring the couple that had helped me. Touching base. The gentleman handed me a slip of paper with a name and phone number on it, reviewing what he thought was going on with my car, before Jez butted in. cutting him off i said she's fine he snapped i could see the woman out of the corner of my eye slink away at this comment and get into the passenger seat of their car i could feel the sudden tension

like maybe she's been here before the gentleman didn't move and shifted his attention to me as jess walked into the store i could see he was clearly concerned are you okay he asked in a low almost whisper you don't have to answer that but if you need anything he looked down at the number in my hand and nodded to it. Seriously. With that, he got into the driver's seat of his car and drove away. I've thought about that couple countless times since that night. Everything went right back to the way it was before, as though the initial breakup never even happened.

The same eggshells, the same belittling. If anything, it was worse, because I had permanently damaged our relationship. If I had not just been so dramatic, if I didn't run away from everything, then maybe he wouldn't have to work so hard for respect in my life. One night we got into an argument. I don't even remember what it was about, but I had to be up early for work the next morning, so I paused the argument in order to get some sleep. When I went to lay down, I heard the TV turn on. I have a soundbar so the volume can get pretty loud. Jez proceeded to turn the volume up, and up, and up. far past any volume i ever pushed those same speakers to even for parties the very walls were reverberating with the sound of the tv at astronomical volumes

jess then started laughing hysterically it was a laughter manic with anger as though something might be funny on tv but he might also jump through a window right now i remember laying in bed absolutely horrified at what was happening i knew things had gone bad but now i was scared i got out of bed and asked him to turn it down To which he responded, scoffing, I'll watch TV if I fucking want to, and turn it up even louder. I felt like I was in a horror movie. I started crying at this point, begging him to please, please just let me sleep. He started mocking me and calling names for crying. Oh wow, poor baby is crying again. That's your card, isn't it? Crying.

This caused the fight to start again, and he started screaming at me, followed me to my bedroom, where he suddenly punched the door, not two inches from my head. His eyes were black and he looked me in my eye, sending the clear, unsympathetic, and hostile message that was a warning next time he would miss. My whole system had shut down at this point, and I sunk to the floor in a panic attack. My ex-husband had issues with violence. Jez knew that. All our rentals prior to that, one had holes in walls and doors peppered throughout our unit

due to my ex-husband's inability to handle his own motions, but he never hit me. or even came close to it. I crumpled to the ground feeling powerless, trapped and afraid. As my thoughts continued to race, he continued to berate and mock my panic state. Most of our argument from that night was a blur, but ended abruptly once he threatened to put my social security number on the dark web. At this point, all that was left in me was to fight. I blacked out and went ballistic, screaming out of him to get out.

I felt rabid and dangerous as I screamed like a banshee for him to leave my home. It was over, and I was ending at that. second. I contacted my landlord and explained what had been going on. Jez would also end up contacting her, weaving his own tail that I was moving out and tried to have the lease transferred into his name. Luckily, since I was several steps ahead of him, my landlord didn't fall for it and contacted me immediately. She personally came and changed my locks for me, gave me the personal contact of a police officer close by in case he showed up again, and took half of my route off for the next month. I'm forever grateful to her for these simple acts of kindness that are above and beyond

anything I would ever expect from my landlord. It took weeks for him to stop messaging me. The only reason I didn't block him was out of fear that he would show up at my house. Though I had contacts for protection, I knew I'd rather get a daily apology video than have to deal with him on my doorstep. So they persisted. For a while. The same act from before, the love bombing, the promises, grasping at straws, trying to find the weak spot where I'd let him back in, but I ignored it. I continued for weeks before he finally gave up. He bowed out gracefully, stating boldly that he will always love me. I left him on red. The illusion was destroyed. It took me several years to pick up the pieces. If my divorce wasn't enough, this definitely

made me lose trust in myself. I still don't understand what the end game was. was. In one of our last discussions, I asked him desperately, what happened to the guy fell in love with? Jez looked at me, dead in the eye, smirked and said, that guy doesn't exist. I told you what I had to tell you in order to get you away from that fucking asshole husband of yours. You're just stupid and fell for it. Jez, let's not meet ever again. Something strange happened to me in Mount Rainer National Park. Pictures included. I wanted to pose this here to maybe get some feedback on something that happened while camping

in my Mount Rainier National Park yesterday. The circumstances around what happened are very foggy, as I have very limited recollection of what happened as everything happened in a haze. But pictures that definitely proved that something, whatever it was, did in fact happen. Let me give some context. I, 23M, went to a van life, meet up in Umankla, Washington over the weekend. The city is close by Mount Rainier National Park. And because I had already made the trip, I figured I might as well camp overnight nearby

the park and a dispersed camping spot in the forest. I bought some ingredients to make some carneasada tacos, downloaded some movies, and was ready for a nice cozy evening in my van, something which I'd do on most weekends in various campsites around the state. I hiked around the campsite, which was very nice, save for the large amounts of trash, which was littered about which made me really sad. The trail led to two fire pits not too far from where I had parked and ended at a quiet riverbank. It seemed like it was a spot that local teams might go to drink or smoke weed.

There was even a log bench with the words 420 painted colorfully on its seat. I wasn't sure how recently people had been there and there were open, half-drink cans around the fire pits, which seemed cold. I wasn't quite sure if this meant anything in the moment, but it was a bit on the warmer side, outside at around 70 degrees. I decided that it likely was an active camp and stayed. The spot wasn't terribly isolated. Every 30 minutes or so, someone would drive by to claim other campsites down the lonely fire road, some trucks and even an RV. People like me looking to spend time out of nature and who don't want to shell out the

extra cash for a campsite. After exploring the area, I went back to my van to start making dinner. I used the satellite communicator to check in with my friends and family as they didn't have any services deep into the forest. The sun was sudden as I sat down to eat my tacos. I left my doors open to let the airflow, and the cool breeze felt amazing. But after eating, and when it was quiet, I started noticing a sound in the distance. They sounded like gunshots, really, almost like cannon shots.

Deep, rhythmic booms echoing in the valley every few seconds. What accompanied these sounds was a very distant, yet closer noise of a chainsaw in the distance. Now, neither of these noises are very uncommon to hear when camping on fire. roads, to be honest. People in Washington love their guns. It wouldn't be unheard of for someone to use a chainsaw to cut down larger trunks into firewood. Summer fireband be damned. I also saw some campers start to leave, including an RV, which was particularly unusual. Finding a campsite for an RV can be hard, but it is especially hard to find one at night. The rule is to always find camp before the sun sets. In the sun had only just disappeared from the sky. Something spooked them

and I wondered if it would be wise to follow their lead. However, I had unwashed dishes on the counter and I was in no mood to move. And so I didn't. I did, however, triple check that all my doors and windows were locked before drifting to sleep. That night can only be described as hazy and disorienting. I have very little memory of anything that happened, but the evidence that something had most definitely happened was very evident. I remember being awake in the pitch black of night, struggling to breathe.

Not choking. My lungs were filling with air, but I remember. I remember the feeling of drowning. I remember the pleading desperation for air. I remember trying to see with my sight being wholly consumed by the darkness in front of me. I have a memory of trying to punch out a window to no avail. I remember making my way to the side door of my van

to open the door to breathe. And then I woke up in bed and the sun was in the sky. I would have chalked this up to a really bad dream, but the damage around me was evident. There was definitely a struggle. Some of my window blinds were sliced and ruined. One of my windows had scratch marks from the inside. even the air vent on my ceiling was obliterated from the inside.

I didn't think I was ever capable of this, and the van was well ventilated, so I am unsure as to why I would have trouble breathing in the first place. My carbon monoxide detector was silent, and the van was well ventilated after cooking. I have no idea what possibly could have caused me to do this and ruin my lovely van. I saw no indication of any kind of forced entry, and all the damage was done from the inside by me trying to get out of, I guess. My knuckles were very sore. As were my feet as I probably hit them hard on the various cabinets in the van on my way out.

A pole I used to prop up my canopy was strangely out of place in the middle of the floor and broken at the ends. I've never had any form of night terrors or sleepwalking before this. Except for one incident, also near Mount Rainier National Park. A few months ago, my friends and I were driving through Unumclaw trying to find a camping spot we might be able to post up at. It was nighttime already, and as I said before, finding camp at night can be pretty difficult we were driving down the same road i had taken from our recent trip and we had gotten a tip from a local about a mountain which had some good dispersed camping we were tired and hungry and just wanted to start setting up camp we passed a few spots mostly mud and rock

none too level and none too appealing we decided to pick the least muddy spot we could find and i helped them set up their tents it was one of my first trips in my van and i was excited to test it out as we were setting up camp we heard the wind blowing ominously through the trees, causing them to creak loudly, threatening us with a fall. In this particular area of the mountain was very unleveled in the most unsettling way. So we thus refer to this campsite as the ominous slant. When we slept that night, a few things of note happened. My friend Melissa claims to have heard squeaking noises as if someone were wearing a latex body suit. She referred to the sound as the happy gimper. Kurt, her boyfriend, swears he heard a bear that night. However,

the worst of it was when, in the middle of the night, they both heard me yell bloody murder from my van. Kurt rushed out of the tent, tripping a few times in his haste, and rushed over to the swing open the door. But I was asleep. He asked what was wrong, and he thought that someone was attacking me. I had no idea what he was talking about. I have no memory at all of any nightmares preceding it or anything. I have no idea what any of this means. I've been on many trips in the van since with different people, but in nothing like this has ever happened anywhere else. It has only happened when I've been in Mount Rainier National Park. To be honest, thinking about the feeling of drowning in darkness

makes me feel very much not want to revisit the subject anytime soon. So I don't believe I'll be visiting the park anytime in the near future for camping either. I was attacked, but I don't remember anything about it. Let me start by saying the story I'm about the share happened almost exactly four years ago. There are a lot of things I do not remember, so some of the information was told to me by others out to the fact.

That being said, everything is true and really did happen to me. I apologize ahead of time, as I know it will be quite lengthy. In 2020, during the pandemic, I had just moved into a really cool old second floor apartment on my town square. It was the first time I think I'd ever lived completely alone my entire life, and I was truly in love with the place. One day in late July, I had left to go shopping and had locked my apartment, something of my mother had practically pounded into me from my childhood.

I never left my doors and windows unlocked. When I got home from shopping, I noticed a few things weren't where I thought I had left them, and I mentioned this to my cousin Michelle. I told her I thought someone might have been in my apartment while I was gone. After discussing it with her, we came to the conclusion that I must have just forgotten that I had moved the item as myself and didn't think about it again. A couple nights later, I was up watching scary movies until about two in the morning when I decided to get ready for bed.

I remember walking into my bathroom to change into PJs and do my nightly routine. That is the last thing I remember until I woke up the next day. When I got out of bed, I immediately noticed something wrong with the clothes I had on. They were those PJ shorts that had the drawstrings around the waist. I always tied the drawstrings to make them fit, but when I stood up, the drawstrings looked like they had broken. They were still tied and were practically falling off of me. I told myself I must have moved around a lot of my sleep, and the string must have snapped or something. I headed to the bathroom for my morning routine.

When I walked by my bathroom mirror, I turned to look at myself and I didn't see anything wrong, but I felt really weird. Out of sorts, I guess you'd say. Even more so than usual after I first wake up. This longer I was awake, the stranger I started to feel. I noticed I had a headache and my vision was kind of blurry. I went to grab my phone from my nightstand to check what time it was, but I guess I'd forgotten to charge it before going to bed because my phone was dead.

I took my phone to the living room and found the charger and plugged in. I stood there and waited for my phone to come on. When it finally did come back on, it was completely shocked to find out it was 4 o'clock in the afternoon. This was highly unusual for me because no matter what time I go to bed, I usually wake up around 7 or 8 in the morning. This is when I began feeling slightly panicked. Like I said, this was not normal for me.

I began rubbing my face in my hands, and that's when I felt something was wrong on my face. I ran back to the bathroom mirror. This time when I looked into the mirror, I discovered my vision was so blurry that I couldn't even see my face, no matter how close I got to the mirror. It looks like a dense fog, or like when you take a super hot shower and the mirror fogs over,

except that I had not run any hot water at all. This is when I realized something was very, very wrong with me. I was disoriented and confused. I walked back into my living room to check and see if my phone had charged enough so I could call a family member or a friend to come over. The phone was only at 5% but I decided I'd just keep it plugged in and try to call Michelle or my son. I picked the phone up and then stared at it.

I could not remember how to use my phone to call or text anyone. I knew that I knew how to use my phone, but for some reason I did not have the ability. I was beginning to get very upset and scared. But most of all frustrated because I knew that I knew how to use this phone, but my brain would not register that I did at all. Soon after this, a flood of messages and missed calls came through, and I was finally able to text a friend and told them I was having some sort of an emergency, and I needed to contact my sister to get someone to my apartment ASAP. My sister lives in an independent living facility because she was born with the CP and could not walk. She relies on a wheelchair to get around. I knew she would not be able to physically help me, but could get a hold of my son.

I was becoming more confused the longer I was awake. My sister had gotten a hold of my son and he was on his way. I thought I should probably go downstairs to unlock the door to the stairway, but I was feeling so strange and off balance that I sat on the steps and inched my way down. Unlocked the door. It was already unlocked and in my confusion, I actually locked the door. I went back upstairs the way I went down by sitting and inching my way back up. Soon I received a call from my son, telling me the door was locked and he could not get inside

so I had to repeat the entire process all over again. I opened the door of my son, along with his girlfriend, and my seven-month-year-old granddaughter, took one look at me and his eyes widened and shocking, he said, Jesus Christ, mother, what happened to your face? I had no idea what he was talking about. I went back to the bathroom, mirror, and discovered a horrific sight. I had a goose egg in the middle of my forehead the size of a tennis ball, and my right eye was completely swollen shut, and it had one hell of a black eye. My left eye was partially swollen

as well. It certainly explained why I slept for 14 hours straight. All the confusion, the headache and blurry vision I was experiencing. I informed my son of everything that I had done that I remembered since going to bed the night before, but I did leave out the fact that the drawstring of my shorts had been broken. Michelle also showed up and told me I needed to go to the ER and get checked out as we kept discovering other injuries on me besides just the goose egg and black eye. I had bruises in the shape of large fingerprints on my upper arms. They were not my own. I am tiny, five foot tall and only weigh about 117 pounds. It sort of looked like someone had been standing in front of me, facing me, and had grabbed my arms to shake me or something. Then we noticed I had

red marks around both my wrists and both of my ankles. I also had rugburn type injuries on my shins and knees. I was very confused still, and I have absolutely no memory of what took place in those 14 hours I was sleeping. It's just a nothingness, a black hole in my memory, even when I try to remember now, which I don't force, but do think about on occasion, I was taken to the local hospital's ER, which is really nothing more than a glorified band-aid station. The nurse practitioner on call kept asking me what happened, even though I kept telling her, I had no idea. Maybe I fell or something. She then asked if I was in a relationship with someone and I informed her I was single. It was not seen anyone at the time. She did not believe me and had the nurse called the police.

I was confused. So I get why she didn't believe me, but then I said, well, if you don't remember what happened, there's not much I can do, but I can tell you with 100% certainty that you did not cause these injuries. Someone did this to you. The police never came in to talk to me and I was discharged into the care of Michelle. I couldn't be left alone due to my condition, so I was arranged that I would be staying the night with Michelle and my Aunt K. I was told if I started getting nauseated or began vomiting or my confusion and headache got worse to call an ambulance immediately. That's what ended up happening about two hours later. I was horribly dizzy and I had tried to eat something because by the time it had been over 24 hours since I

had eaten anything. They got me something to eat and I began hallucinating. At first, it was just auditory hallucinations. I was sitting with my aunt on her bed watching TV when all of a sudden I noticed at the movie we were watching had a completely different dialogue. I didn't remember it being in this particular movie. Then the characters in the movie began directly speaking to me. I don't remember what they were saying and I kept glancing between the TV into my aunt to see if she was hearing the same thing I was. I was totally aware that I was hallucinating, but I had absolutely no control over it. Then the paranoia started. My daughter called to check on me. She lives in a different town and even though I was on the phone with her, I was convinced she, along with several other family members,

who were all outside of the house talking about me. That's when I started vomiting and my cousin called 911. When the ambulance showed up, the police also showed up, and they were talking to my cousin. When they asked me what hospital I wanted to go to, I told them the name in my cousin, who knew me very well, knew I would never ask to go to this particular hospital, a story for another time. However, because I seemed with it enough to the paramedics and I kept insisting that is where I wanted to go, That's where they had to take me. I wish now that they had listened to her.

Because it was incredibly late at night, and the hospital I was taken to was 25 minutes away, no one in my family met me at the hospital. And the hospital did not even try to call my family for information. I don't remember what I did, or what I said to anyone after that. I was so confused and hallucinating that it must have been bad as I was committed to the hospital's psych floor

over a traumatic brain injury for 11 days. 11. Also, another story for another time. Maybe I'll write a part two to this because it's also incredibly long. I still, to this day, have no recollection of what happened to me, but I really don't want to remember. Seen as all the medical professionals and my own health care providers who saw my injuries say that I had to have been attacked by someone, and scary to think of all the possibilities.

Was someone actually hiding in my house that night without me knowing? Could have been one of the carnival workers I saw walking around the town square earlier that day? Worse yet. Was it someone I know and still having my life now? I'm not sure which is worse, not knowing at all or having the memories of it forever. If you've ever read this entire post, thank you. I've also been very reluctant to share this story, but I also find writing out all the details I do. Remember to be very therapeutic in a way.

A former coworker is using burner numbers to harass my husband in acting obsessive. Originally posted to R-slash RBI in the post reads as follows. I know this is long, but I would really appreciate anyone who takes the time to read this. In late November of last year, my husband, Paul, was tasked with training a new hire named Frank, who was brought in from outside the company. Paul does not usually lead training. However, Frank's supervisor was overwhelmed during the last quarter. Frank worked at Paul's office for a little over a month.

Frank seemed friendly at first. I'll believe an excessive texter. Even Paul's boss, Frank's future boss's boss, complained that they received social messages from Frank during non-work hours. Sometimes Frank's messages would be incoherent and needier if he did not receive an immediate reply, followed by multiple question marks. My husband addressed this with Frank during his training, and for the most part, the messages became infrequent.

After Frank was placed at his branch, the messages submitted. excited. In early January, Paul's boss asked if he could discuss a work matter with Frank because whose direct report was on vacation. Later that day, Frank sent Paul a message that said, Babe. Paul thought perhaps Frank had accidentally texted the wrong person. Paul didn't respond. Frank sent more messages regarding work. And when Paul didn't immediately reply, Frank made a S word suggestive comment, and I can't say S word, but it's kind of intimate and freaky. He made a freaky suggestive comment. Paul responded, quote, stop making things weird. Frank apologized, but then added, you're hot though. My husband told him, you need to stop. This is not a line I want

to cross with you. Frank then said something along the lines of he was available if Paul wanted him. Paul said, quote, I'm a happily married man. To which Frank replied, that's what all men say. Paul again told Frank to stop. I had previously met Frank when I visited. I had previously met Frank when I visited in my husband's office. Paul has pictures of me on his desk. His orientation and marital status were not ambiguous when Frank sent those messages. Paul told me what happened as soon as he arrived home from work. I said he should screenshot the messages and report them to HR. However, Paul felt so uncomfortable with the messages, he deleted them. Paul assumed Frank was drunk, and once of clear mind, he would be embarrassed and forget that it happened.

Over the next few days, Paul received between two to three messages daily from Frank. They were about work. However, towards the end of the week, Frank became apologetic and told Paul he had hoped they could still be friends. Paul has only briefly known this person, has never hung out with him outside the office, nor has he engaged in social texts. Paul has not answered any of Frank's messages since the first time he told him to stop. A couple of things occurred to me over the next week. A week after Frank was placed at his new branch, Paul received messages from an iCloud account.

They said, Hey, sexy. And when Paul didn't reply, they were followed by question marks. Paul immediately blocked the account, assuming it was a scammer. In the last few months, Paul received frequent texts from unknown numbers with local area codes that addressed him by name.

Paul thought they were all from roboscams. I realized that this start. to around the time Frank began his training. When I visited my husband's office, Frank barely acknowledged me when we were introduced. That night, I joked with my husband that during my visit, Frank was like a shadow and seemed to appear every time I turned around. After a week of unanswered texts, Frank again apologized and asked if Paul could call him. He had called Paul's office earlier to see if he was there.

Subsequently, Paul contacted his assistant managers slash coworkers in after. asked them not to share a schedule with anyone who calls. Frank messaged that he would stop texting and was sorry if he bothered Paul. Later in the night, Paul started to receive messages from an unknown number with a local area code. The first message said, Hey, remember me? I, Star 6-7, the number from my phone to see if it was a computer or actual phone line. When I called, it rang twice and then went to voicemail. The person never stated their name, and the texts were incoherent.

The texter asked, are you trying to end my career? They claimed to be a former employee, and then they said they previously dated Paul. We have been together for two decades, and I'm the only person Paul has ever dated. The messages continuously baited Paul to call the number to find out who is texting him. Finally, they said, quote, you used to be sweet. Paul didn't block the number immediately because he wanted to see if the person would incriminate themselves.

Paul received 20 plus messages throughout the night. He never responded to any of them, and the number is now blocked. He paid a small fee to look up the number and found that it belongs to envoy. The person used a VOIP to text.

Paul tried to look up a VOIP registry online. Paul reported the anonymous number to the FTC with the text. text logs. He took screenshots of all the undeleted messages between him and Paul and the anonymous number. Paul also called local law enforcement. He knew they wouldn't be able to do anything because no direct threat was made. They told him to keep the number blocked. Paul paid service to retrieve the text he deleted that came directly from Frank's number, but it was unsuccessful.

ICloud backup was not activated. The next week at work, one of Paul's assistant managers approached him. They followed Frank on Facebook and were alarmed, by his posts. The day after Paul received the text from an unknown number, Frank made similar posts online and added, quote, with me, you're either ride or die or dead. Paul compiled all of the information he had and shared it with his boss and company HR. Over the next few weeks, Paul continued to receive text from Frank, sometimes one a week, or once every other week.

After a month-long investigation, HR touched base that their legal department found several red flags. However, they can't disclose info because of confidentiality. Nor were they going to fire Frank. Paul has been away on business for the past two weeks, and I have been home alone. Paul told me he received texts from Frank that asked how his business trip was going. Just to reiterate, Paul hasn't responded to Frank's messages since he told him to stop, which was over a month ago. Last time I saw, I had several missed calls from Paul around midnight. When I called him back, I could tell he was worried. Same as before, he started to receive text from a different number with a local area code.

They said, quote, I miss you. Why do you hate me? The number called him consecutively for an hour. Paul had to turn on the do not disturb option. The following text messages he received were explicit and some referenced me. For the most part, I feel safe at home. We have a PO box and an unlisted street address. There are exterior and interior cameras at all entry points around our home.

Also, our neighborhood has 24-hour security. However, I'm worried sick every time Paul leaves the house. We've wanted to start a family for a very long time now, but have struggled with infertility. Unfortunately, this past month, I suffered another miscarriage. This person has added unnecessary stress to our lives. Last night, I was shaking and could not sleep. Any advice on how to find out where these texts are coming from or how to handle harassment

would be much appreciated. Paul and I already discussed going to the police once he returns home. And then the OP makes a quick edit saying more info. We were definitely frustrated with HR's response. My husband was told legal would review all of the information he shared. He spoke to them on the phone several times, hour-long conversations. They asked if he felt safe, and he said frankly, no. Things escalated in such a short period.

They took certain precautions, i.e., he was never in the building alone. He didn't work past sunset. He parked towards the front. And security made sure cameras are facing the parking lot. They seemed supportive at first. However, the investigation took a month and they told my husband there wasn't enough to fire Frank. The HR rep did say she was surprised by legal's resources. She didn't realize how much they have access to,

and that they have found several red flags. But they are unable to share what they found, or when slash if, Frank would be disciplined. Everything was treated like it was supposed to go back to normal, even though it doesn't seem like it was discussed with Frank, nor did it stop. I used hyphins for Paul and Frank because I tried to leave out identifying info.

I slipped up with typing out, and at one point to use Frank's real name, which I corrected. I doubt he'd find this post, but this whole situation has me exercising precaution, And okay, before we move on to the top comments, I just have to say it is beyond ridiculous that Frank is not fired. So the company knows that Frank is dangerous enough to Paul or weird enough to Paul, that they have Paul park in the front of the parking lot and they have them not working past sunset and never in the building alone. They have all these precautions, but they're just not firing the guy instead of just like, you know what I'm saying?

Like that is just so ridiculous the company is putting all of these precautions in place. Like you can't stay in the building alone. He doesn't work past sunset. He parks towards the front. And security made sure the cameras are facing the parking lot. Like they did all those precautions, but they're just not going to fire him. Like what? Like what are they waiting for?

Something bad to happen? I just think that is mind-blowing how the company realizes he's weird enough or dangerous enough to do all those precautions, but also not fire him. That is ridiculous. That is actually crazy. I'm like they didn't find enough, they didn't find enough info or whatever to fire him. What do you mean? I mean, they had all those precautions and they didn't fire him.

That is just beyond mind-blowing. But let's get into some of the top comments. Someone says, it sounds like Paul and his boss need to go back to HR and let them know their lack of action is unacceptable and is creating a toxic work environment. This is beyond just being not okay. And I absolutely agree.

And the O.P. Respond saying, he has been forwarding every message to HR, but has not heard back from them in over two weeks. To his knowledge, he does not think the company has addressed the situation with Frank after the first complaint was filed. And then someone else responds saying, you need to talk to a lawyer to see if you can get a restraining order and to push HR into taking action.

They are there to protect the company, not the workers. You need to tip these scales to make having him their a liability or have it cost more to have him there than what it would cost to replace him. Now, tell them that you believe their inaction in this case has caused an unsafe working environment, toxic workplace, and has encouraged the ongoing harassment that has taken place. Obviously, depending where you are located, will change how seriously they take it, but it's another report you can log with your evidence. And I mean, like, this is just insane how the HR is just like,

just being like, yeah, it is what it is. Another commenter says, Beyond getting HR to get their shit together, a restraining order might be a good idea. It might be a good idea to make a post in the legal advice subreddit for more detail on what sort of action to take since this is outright harassment

and borderline stalking. Weirdly, my partner is also named Paul and we've had a similar problem in the past, so reading parts of this feels a little surreal. I hope things get better for the both of you. And then the OP says, thank you so much for your suggestion. I'm sorry they,

experience something similar. And then the OP makes an edit saying I posted an update with more info. Thank you to everyone who took the time to read and answer. I received a lot of helpful information. And now let's get into that update. Thank you to everyone who took the time to read my original post and offer suggestions and support. I have received a lot of helpful advice and I'm so appreciative. There were a few details I left out because of length, but I tried to answer them in the comments. My husband is still away on this business trip, but we'll be returning home tonight. Paul does plan to get a new phone number once he returns home. We discussed filing for an order of protection.

One source of comfort is that we have a PO box in our street address we rent is not available online. With a restraining order, we would have to disclose our address. We're weighing the pros and the cons. My husband and I spoke this morning, and he filled me in on a few new details. His boss called him last night after he sent screenshots of the text from the VOIP. They have a great working relationship, and she disclosed a few things that she wasn't necessarily supposed to share. Legal was not able to link the VOIP texts and calls to Frank. There have been two separate numbers that we know of that have been used to harass my husband.

Paul used Spelgo to look up the information, and both numbers are owned by the company Envoy. My husband's boss suggested that the next time he receives a phone call from the VOIP number to answer and record the conversation. I don't know if he should do that. If anyone knows how to search VOIP numbers so we can connect them to Frank, that would be a huge help. After Frank was placed at his new office last December, he has repeatedly asked to transfer back to my husband's branch. Paul is well regarded within his company and next in line for a promotion. During Frank's training, he would often make comments about. how alike they were. Paul thought Frank was referring to their similar background and business.

However, I searched online and Frank might have lied about some of his previous work experience. Physically, personality-wise, and familial background, they are very different. I don't think the harassment is just based on attraction. There have been several messages where Frank calls my husband, his friend and mentor, which is bizarre because they only work together for five weeks. There were a few comments about Paul deleting the initial text from Frank. I was also frustrated by his decision, but I understand why. Paul had a rough childhood, and his first instinct is to avoid conflict.

The text made him feel so uncomfortable, he didn't want to open the messages and see them. He had hoped that they could forget and had happened. However, the situation escalated. To be clear, those were the only inappropriate text sent directly from Frank's number. His subsequent messages say things like, hey haven't heard from you in a while hey how's it going the text from v oip are explicit there are similarities in verbiage and format from frank's texts facebook posts and the v oip texts i did do some research on frank i searched our state's court dockets and found that he was arrested for a DUI a month before he

started working at the company paul's boss had previously complained that frank was repeatedly messaging her about when his background check would be completed when he was hired. She thought it was suspicious, but nothing was flagged. At one point during training, Frank texted a coworker from a random number. The coworker asked if it was an alternative contact, and Frank explained that it was his smartwatch. When everything happened, I tried to find as much info as possible. When I googled his primary number, nothing came up.

However, the co-worker shared the smartwatch number, which is listed online as Frank's primary contact for the past two decades. It also shows several numbers attached to Frank's name, and it is noted next to one of them that it is VOIP. There were previous addresses linked to Frank's phone number. According to one address, a Frank L. Smith and a Frank L. Miller lived at the same residence with the same people. I looked up both of those names, and they have different birth dates within a few years of each other.

I was curious because Frank had told my husband he was divorced, and I thought perhaps he had changed his last name. Frank L. Smith had the same birth date as the court docket I found. The biggest thing my husband's boss told him was Frank recently asked for an out-of-state transfer which is currently being processed but not certain. Paul has mixed feelings about this. He first felt relieved but then frustrated that the company's approach

was to make Frank someone else's problem. And it doesn't guarantee that it will stop. And unfortunately, that is the last update we have ever received. from the O.P., but I just find it extremely, extremely upsetting that he's still working for the company. It's ridiculous that instead of firing him, which is deserved it, they're just like, go to another state, go to another branch that will deal with you. I mean, that's just crazy that he was like freaky and sending so many freaky texts and harassing him. And I just think it's ridiculous that they didn't fire him over that. And instead, they just had to make their

employee uncomfortable and have to fear for his safety. And same with his wife. His wife said he was shaking or she was shaking with fear at night because her husband would leave. I mean, that is so sad that this guy was able to just harass the O.P.'s husband and get no repercussions for it. I mean, I do really wonder what happened to him because, I mean, he's probably not going to stop this behavior. He's probably going to go do that to somebody else. I mean, it's very, very odd and very weird and I think it's ridiculous that the company did not fire him but yeah we have not received an update since then so I assume everything is good and fine and I hope so because you know the op and her husband need a break why I'm scared of homeless people to clarify I'm a 16 year old

female who lives in a very very small town and this happened three months ago every morning I'd go out to our yard and drink coffee and watch the sunrise one morning a guy with 30 dirty brown hair and a dirty face came walking by. He waved at me while I sat there, of course. I didn't want to be rude, so of course I waved back. This continued for about three weeks until one afternoon, while I was playing with my dogs outside and saw him just standing there, watching me. Of course I waved, but I never saw him this time of day.

He waved and then just walked away. I didn't think much of it because I was stupid. Then the morning I'll never forget ever. I was sitting outside and as he always walked by, but as I waved at him he came to my gate. I froze. We started small talk and slowly I started to get up, scared. He told me to wait and I stupidly waited.

My dog started barking at him and he said, agitated. Your dogs are very mean. When I tried to get in, they wanted to bite me. I stood there and wanted to cry. Then he told me, I'd rather stay safe and keep by my pets. And I should you not, he pulled out a fucking rat from his pocket, a dead one. I ran, and since I've never went outside during those times. So creepy homeless guy, let's not meet ever again.

Man waited for me after my friend shift. I, female 23, staying with my friend, also F23, for a couple of weeks in the town I grew up in. She works at a restaurant. Without giving too many details about the location, it's a plaza with a river nearby, a movie theater restaurants and boutiques. We entered through the parking garage, which has three stories, both elevators and stairs. This is important. She had a six-hour shift, so I decided to do some shopping, listen to music, and walk around before eating at the restaurant my friend works at. I was sitting

at the bar on the corner alone, listening to music. A bigger man approached me. He had a security guard beanie on that was incredibly durny and added it up. He was muttering, and his eyes were barely open. What I got from his muttering out was, are you, I like your, is anyone sitting? But keep in mind, it was incredibly muttered. I'm just guessing what he was trying to say. All of this said while he was switching back and forth between looking into my eyes and staring at my chest. I told him multiple times I couldn't understand what he said. After a bit of back and forth, I put the headphones back around my neck and he left me alone. I told my friend about what happened immediately.

I tried to shake it off, hoping it was just an isolated incident. If this is where the story ended, I wouldn't be writing this, unfortunately. About an hour later or so, I see someone approach the bar to my left out of the corner of my eye, and I felt their eyes on me. I didn't look, but somehow I knew it was. him. My heart started beating really fast. I texted my friend and told her I felt really sketched out. I wanted to believe that I was misreading things and was just letting anxiety get the best of me, but I couldn't shake that feeling. 30 minutes or so later, she gets off. As we walked towards

the parking garage stairs to get to our car, I saw him sitting on a bench waiting for me. The benches aren't super close to the elevators, they're closer to the restaurant, if anything. The second I spotted him, my blood ran cold. He saw us walking towards the stairs to the parking garage and started running towards us. I was face to face with him by the time we got to the top of the stairs. We booked it back to the restaurant and used the employee elevator to get to her car. And an employee escorted us to the car as well. The employee told us there are a lot of cases of homeless people who walk around the restaurant, so I presume he was homeless and just walking in and out of restaurants until he saw me. I'm incredibly thankful I trusted my gut and that I saw him. I don't know what

would have happened to us if I didn't see him at first, but I don't want to find out. To this stranger, let's not meet. Online fan turned stalker. I've never posted to the subreddit before, but after working with authorities, I feel safe enough to share my story. For context, I, female 20, started an only fan's account over the summer to support myself through school, and things are great until I post my Amazon wish list. Amazon doesn't release your address to people who gift you items, but third-party sellers can. And that's where I went wrong.

By the way, not trying to promote it here. This is very frightening story, and I felt like it should be shared. In late July, I got a puppy. One night, around 2 a.m., I took him outside to go to the bathroom. While he was doing his business, I noticed a car parked outside my family home. I saw a figure in the car and could tell they were looking at me, but I couldn't make out their face because it was pitch black outside. Feeling a bit uneasy, I picked up my puppy to take him back inside,

and when I started to move, the car parked in my driveway. I sprinted back inside and locked the door, but they never approached my house. The next morning, I went to check the mail. There was an envelope address to my OF name with $20 in it, but no note. I was currently still at home with my parents who had no idea about my OF account, so I didn't mention it to them. A week later, I moved back to my college town to get ready to start school. At this time, I'd stop posting for the time being until I could figure out how they got my

address. I've watched enough crime shows to know there's a possibility I could be in day, I live in a duplex with a gated parking lot for reference. One morning I was planning on vlogging my trip to Target because I was planning on starting a YouTube channel in the near future since O.F. felt unsafe. When I got to my car, it had been ransacked and my vlogging camera was missing. I know. It's my fault for leaving in the car, but I was using it the night before, and since I live in a gated area, I didn't think I would be unsafe. It wasn't in plain sight either. I had hidden it in my glove box. I used that camera to fill my content, and the SD card that was in there had all of my own.

unreleased photos and videos. I know they stole it just for the SD card. Anyways, this is where the story gets weird. There are cameras outside in the parking lot, so we were able to watch this person break into my car and find the camera, and they didn't touch any of these seven other cars on the lot. They knew which car was mine, which suggests they had been watching me for a bit. After they got the camera, they walked around the duplex until stopping near my window. My bedroom faces an outside street, and my blinds are broken, so it's very easy to see in. I have a curtain, but it doesn't cover my window all the way. This person watched me sleep for an hour or so.

I have no idea why they didn't try to break in, but thank God they didn't. This person then sold the camera to a pawn shop, and since I knew the serial number, the police were able to find it. However, my SD card was missing. I believe the police are still trying to track them down, but I have broken my lease and moved to a new place, so hopefully that will keep me safe. Hey guy who terrorized me at my home, an apartment, and stole my camera,

Let's not meet. I was on someone's kill list. After high school many years ago, I was in a bad place. My guardian had kicked me out after graduation. She didn't help me find a place to stay, so I lived in my car for a couple of months. I met some heavy metal dudes at work one day. I'd seen them around town, and all my other friends knew who they were. Everyone loved them.

We became friends after a couple of months, and they offered me to move in with them. I agreed. Looking back now, I wish I'd just stayed in my car. My two main roommates were brothers named Andrew and Zeth. They were in a band. They also believed in the occult and anything of the sort. I never really believed in that stuff, but I'm not one to tell someone that they should believe.

They had let me live with them rent-free for several months, so it was out of complain. Being the only female in a house full of young men, I was always looking over my shoulder. You never know who you can trust. Turns out, I was right to worry. Over time, their friends started to stay with us for longer periods of time, sometimes weeks. Their friends were another group of brothers that they had gone to school with.

There were five brothers in total, but only two stayed with us consistently. The younger brother, Mark, was very polite. He cleaned up after himself and always helped with the household chores. The other brother, Adam, had a laundry list of mental problems. He had apparently done some bad drugs back in the day, and it had developed into what seemed like a psychosis of the religious sort. He had done time in prison for assaulting a woman with a Bible. He would often look you in the eyes and tell you, he could see how you would die. Once he told me that I was possessed by a demon and I needed my soul cleansed. Everyone in the house knew he had these problems, but he was their friend. They helped him through the hard times and gave him a place to stay. Otherwise, he would have been on the streets.

I was always on guard around him after the things he told me. No one else seemed to be as concerned as I was. They should have been. One day I was sleeping in my phone rang. It was my boss. He asked if I could come into work an hour early. It was only 12 p.m. I was broke and had nothing better to do, so I said yes. I got up and began getting ready to leave. I walked down to the living room to see Mark and Andrews sitting on the couch while Adam sat on the floor by the TV. He was watching scripture videos on YouTube, some real end-of-day shit. That was fairly common, so I went about my business.

I said goodbye and left for work. My shift at work was almost complete. When the phone rang, my boss answered, handed the phone to me and said, for you. I was just a cashier, so I assumed there was a friend that couldn't reach me on my phone. I answered the phone and heard a man's voice that I didn't recognize. Hi, this is Detective Williams. Something happened at your apartment today, and we need you to come to your station to talk about it. I left immediately.

I'd assumed one of the brothers had been arrested for drug dealing or something. I was very wrong. I got to the station and was buzzed in. An officer escorted me to a small, cold room with a camera. He gave me a bottle of water and left me by myself for about 30 minutes. My mind was racing, thinking about what could have happened. He came back in and informed me that Adam had stabbed and killed Andrew at around 1 p.m. I was shocked.

I just left the house an hour before it happened and everything seemed fine. I asked if there had been a fight. The detective informed me that there hadn't been a fight, and it seemed to have happened out of nowhere. I gave my statement to the police and left with nowhere to go. Still in shock and confused out of my mind. Our apartment was a crime scene, so I went to another friend's house to watch the news report, since the police wouldn't give me any information on the case.

Over the next couple of days, the information began to be released. Adam had it just stabbed the injury once, not twice, but he had stabbed him over and over and nearly decapitated him. After the murder, he ran down the road, still holding the murder weapon. He called 911 and informed them what he had done. I watched the news, a report in horror. We had known he was unstable, but this? He had fully confessed to the brutal murder and provided police with his notebooks.

He had apparently been planning to murder all of his brothers, my roommates, and me. He thought we were possessed by demons, and this was the only way to free us. Luckily, none of his other intended victims were there that day. Mark, unfortunately, witnessed the murder, but he luckily escaped. If I hadn't gotten that call for my boss, I wouldn't be alive today. So, to the man who bruised. brutally murdered my friend and wanted to murder me. Let's never meet again.

I was almost cooked alive. When I was 10, my parents and I went to visit my grandmother for spring break. My cousin also came to visit and we decided we wanted to go to the YMCA for the day. My grandmother dropped us off and said she would come and pick us up in four hours. On that day, the YMCA was empty. There were a couple of adults in the exercise room, but that's it. We went to the basketball court, and after two hours of playing tag and shooting baskets, we were bored.

I've never been the biggest fan of swimming, but this YMCA had a pretty cool pool, so we changed into our bathing suits and headed in there. The pool was empty except for the lifeguard. We played a bunch of games and swam laps, but after about an hour, there wasn't much left to do and there was no one except us to hang out with to keep things interesting. So we decided to play a game of seeing how long we could hold our breath underwater. We stood in the shallow end near the clock on the wall so we could time ourselves. Instead of fully submerging, we just took our heads face down in the water.

We did this a couple of times and I was winning. On our last round, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I figured it was my cousin giving up and telling me that I won. But instead it was a lifeguard who told me to knock it off or she was going to have to ask us to leave the pool. Since we were tired of being in the pool, we figured we'd get out, get dressed, and go back to the basketball court until my grandmother picked us up. We only had an hour left anyways, and the water was freezing. As we got out, the lifeguard stopped us and asked if we wanted to go into the sauna to a warm

and dry off. The sign said 18 years or older. So, of course, we were super excited that she allowed us to do that. She walked us to the sauna and locked the door. The door was glass and the interior was made of entirely out of wood. Inside, above the door, there was a clock, probably to help make sure you were not in there for an unsafe amount of time? The lifeguard stand was adjacent to the sauna,

but if you looked out the door, you could clearly see it. She followed us in and went over to the thermometer, encased in plastic, and unlocked it so she could crank up the heat. I figured that she must have to turn it on each time, so I didn't think anything of it. Both my cousin and I were very short girls, and so we couldn't see the temperature that was printed on the thermometer knob,

but I know she was turned up the heat. Then she left and shut the door behind her. I thought I saw her lock the door too, but I thought to myself, why would she lock the door when we might want to get out? I checked the clock and decided we should get out in 10 or 15 minutes. It was already pretty warm in the sauna, but now the room was blazing. It felt nice because I was so cold from the pool. After about 15 minutes, it was starting to get a little bit too hot, and my cousin agreed

that we should leave so we can get dressed. I wanted to turn the knob on the door, but it wasn't budging. I thought maybe it was jammed, so I shook it, but it still wasn't opening, and then I let my cousin try. She couldn't get it open either. We figured the lifeguard would be back in a couple of minutes, so we sat back down and waited. The room was getting hotter now, too, and I really wanted to leave. I got up and started banging on the door and shaking slash twisting the knob trying to get the lifeguard's attention. My cousin got up and joined me.

We started screaming at the top of our lungs for her to let us out, but she just stayed. I don't think there's any way that she couldn't have noticed or heard two little girls banging and kicking the door and screaming. Now we had been in there for about 25 minutes. It was so hot in the sauna that it hurt to breathe. It felt like my lungs were on fire. My eyes and skin were burning. We sat back down and put our towels over our heads because they were still a little damp and it made it easier to breathe. I was so worried about my cousin as she is a couple of years younger than me. I looked at the clock and saw that we've been in there for 35 minutes. I got up and walked to the door again and saw the lifeguard still just staring straight ahead.

Again, I tried to get our attention by screaming that we needed it out and banging on the door as hard as I could, but still nothing. I was starting to get pretty dizzy, so I went to go sit back down, but the wooden seats on the sauna were burned my skin. My towel was completely dry, so I put it underneath me to sit on. My hair was also dry, but I wrapped it across my face to cover my nose, and I squinted my eyes so that they didn't burn as bad, but I could still watch if anyone walked past the door. It helped a little bit.

My cousin was laying face down with the towel over her head, not moving or saying anything, so I nudged her to make sure that she was still okay. She was, but I could tell her that we really needed to get out of there soon because she seemed a little bit disoriented. It had been 45 minutes now, and I was extremely nauseous. There was no way that the lifeguard would forget that we were in there. I thought she would have to come back soon, but there was this little voice in my head telling me

that maybe she purposely locked us in there. Finally, a man walked past the door towards the pool, but for some reason I just couldn't get up. My whole body was on fire and I felt so dizzy. Luckily, this man wasn't going to the pool. He wanted to be let into the sauna and came back with the lifeguard. I saw them walking this way and immediately jumped up to grab my cousin. I knew now that for sure she had locked us in there because she pulled out her keys to unlock the door and let the man in.

I didn't want to take any chances of us being trapped in there any longer, so as the man was trying to walk in, I was trying to shove our way out. As we were going out, the lifeguard started trying to shut the door and push us back in. The man was clearly confused about what was going on and said, I think they want out. The lifeguard let out a sigh and opened the door fully as we ran as fast as we could into the changing room. room. We only had about 10 minutes before a grandmother was supposed to pick us up. We were both so shaken by what just happened that we didn't say anything to each other as we got dressed on the car ride home. When we got back to the house, my parents were making us dinner. I told them the story of what just happened. They thought that I must have been exaggerating and they didn't believe me.

I truly think that woman was going to let us cook alive in there. The only bit of doubt that I have is what would have happened if we actually died? She obviously would have gotten the blame. What was her endgame? I'm 21 now and I think about this interaction all the time and when I'm in small spaces or I get too warm, I still have panic attacks. No one believes this story and I get it. It's pretty absurd.

I'm not sure if I'm allowed to ask for opinions, but do you think that this could have been some crazy misunderstanding or do you think that she really just left us in there to die? And why? So, to the lifeguard at the YMCA, please, let's not meet again. I dodged being murdered by my psychotic roommate just by a hair with real news articles. I'm a 36-year-old female in Sweden. I have worked in mental health care for the last 18 years, mainly with people with psychotic illnesses

like schizophrenia. I was working at a group home for nine years, and were very close with my coworkers there, especially two females. The last few years I worked there, another female started working there. Let's call her M. And the four of us grew very close. She was very timid, shy, friendly,

and we got along well. She was however often on long-term sick leave because of her own mental health issues, so we didn't meet much at work. But she always showed up at our after-work dinner, so we continued to stay in touch even when she wasn't well enough to work full time. She told us that she had a history

of schizophrenia herself, just like the patients we were treating. But that she was medicated and hadn't had any psychotic episodes for years. Since I have an education in psychiatry and a long experience with schizophrenia, I have no judgment towards people suffering from the illness, and I didn't bother me being friends with someone who had a diagnosis like that. And even after what I will tell you, I still feel the same way. In the summer of 2003, I had moved on to work at a new place, also within mental health, but this time forensic psychiatry, like a halfway house for mentally ill murderers, etc. The four of us stayed in touch and still met every now and then for dinner parties. M. told us that she had been evicted from her apartment because of an incident where she had

accidentally entered her neighbor's apartment in the middle of the night. She told us that in the huge apartment complex, the doors all look exactly the same, and then she simply walked in the wrong door by accident, and that the neighbors had created a scene out of pure drama and reported her to the police. I somehow felt that while that sounded out of proportion to evict someone just for that, perhaps the landlord took the kind of action because he judged her base on the medical history, and I felt bad for her. I questioned her if something else happened, and she claimed that it didn't, and that was the full story. In Sweden, it's very difficult to get a contract for an apartment when you have gotten evicted.

you pretty much get blacklisted. Em asked me if she could move in with me, since she was literally on the street, literally homeless. I said, of course you can. I've always gotten myself into uncomfortable situations by saying yes instead of thinking about myself, and I had no idea how severe the situation would get when I said yes to M.

I live in a pretty small apartment. It's one bedroom that pretty much only fits a bed and a desk, a living room that fits a couch and a TV, no room for an extra bed, a small kitchen and a small bathroom. I have two cats. We decided that M was going to live in the living room and I offered her to throw my couch out so she could have a bed there. And she said that she was fine with sleeping on the couch since it's comfortable enough. I insisted on giving her a bed, but she declined. There's a door between the living room and a bedroom, but between the living room and hallway, there's just an open arts, so she wouldn't have total privacy.

I hung up a thick velvet curtain covering the arch so it at least gave her the sense of a door and more privacy than nothing. There's another door from my bedroom to the kitchen, so I have two doors to my bedroom. I have to have one of them open at night since my cats wants to go in and out. And they also have their litter boxes in the bathroom and food and water in the kitchen. I naturally kept the kitchen door open and not the living door open, since that's where M lived and we wanted to keep our privacy somehow. She wasn't working at this time because she was on one of her long-term sick leaves.

While I was working shifts, so sometimes I had to get up at 6 a.m. And sometimes I didn't get home to like 11 p.m. I have really severe insomnia and need to combine Zolpm, which is Ambien slash Still Noct, with Largian, which is Prometazine. And even with this, I still wake up easily. I told her that I would appreciate if she could try to stay quiet those nights when I have to get up at 6 a.m. But that it's fine if she's loud when I'm off work

or when I do the evening shifts. She was a heavy smoker and a coffee drinker, so I bought her a coffee machine. Yeah, I know I'm a weirdo who don't drink coffee very often so I didn't have one, to make her enjoy her living situation more. The coffee machine and the sink is placed right outside my bedroom door. The kitchen is very small.

So the first night together, I had to get up at 6 for my shift. As usual, I had a hard time falling asleep. M had been up several times that night to go out to smoke, and I woke up every time. At 5 a.m., she started making coffee, and since it's literally outside my bedroom door, I got wide awake from the sounds of it. I asked her in the nicest way possible why she was up this early, asking if she had any plans today. I mean, she's on sick leave. Why not sleep at 5 a.m. if you can.

And she just said that she couldn't sleep. I said, oh, I'm sorry. I would just appreciate if he could wait. with making your coffee till 6 a.m. since I really need this last hour of sleep because of work. Adding to why I need my sleep is that I have epilepsy that gets really bad when I don't get enough sleep. I usually get a lot of seizures when I don't get at least four hours of sleep. I knew that I'd probably get seizures at work now, meaning that this day would be both stressful and potentially dangerous for me since there's a huge risk that I fall asleep and hurt myself. And it's not a good

thing to get cramps and seizures among mentally unstable criminal clients who you're supposed to care for. I know that it's an ideal situation to work in that field with my condition, and I can inform you all that I did quit after only six months. She said that she really wanted coffee with her cigarettes, but that she would want to try the wait next time I have to work. I accepted it and went on with my day, but things didn't get better. She continued to wake me up early in the morning and through the nights, and continued to promise to stop, but insisted that she really wanted coffee with her cigarettes. I suggested making the coffee the night before, or drinking iced coffee, or Coke instead, but she didn't want to. I may add that she demanded

for me to be silent at 10 p.m. because that's when she wanted to sleep, and I respected that. She used to get these moments of binge eating, where she would empty my fridge and pantry from everything I had. I remember this one time, when I had a box. bought a big loaf of bread and she texted me 30 minutes after I left the apartment saying, Hey, I'm sorry, I ate your loaf of bread. I'll buy it back once I get the money. Like an entire loaf of bread in 30 minutes. I told her when she moved in to feel at home and what's mine is yours, so I couldn't really get mad, but it started to annoy me for two reasons. It was getting kind of expensive since it was such huge amounts and it was always an inconvenient times of the day.

Like after an evening shift when the store was closed and I came home hungry and she had emptied the kitchen from everything I'd bought the same day. M had long, black hair. That was everywhere. All over the sink, the floor, the bathtub. I'm no clean freak, but I think anyone could understand that this isn't the nicest thing to step in or see everywhere in your house. She also left her fingernails and toenails on the bathroom floor. It was also pee drops on the toilet seat every time she had been to the toilet.

I saw a silverfish on my bathroom floor. Never ever seen one before. And they eat hair and skin and nails. So I figured this fella probably enjoyed life because of the new dirty condition my bathroom was in. At first, I didn't want to say it straight out because I thought it would hurt her and I didn't want to make her uncomfortable. So I just put a broom and shovel in the bathroom to imply that we needed to sweep the floor more often. This didn't seem to work. So after a while, I told her in the nicest way possible with a smile on my face.

Do you think we could try to clean the floor? the bathroom more often? We tend to lose some hair when we brush it off, and I'm afraid we might get pests. I saw a silverfish the other day. I don't want it to get worse. I always make sure to say we instead of you, so she wouldn't feel attacked. She promised to think about it, but never changed. I started dating a guy and was head over heels for him. He was also in a roommate situation, so we had a tough time getting any alone time. I asked Em if there's any chance that we could get one night to ourselves every now and then in the apartment, and that she, of course, would get the apartment to herself as well. She didn't like the idea and claim that she had nowhere to go.

No friends or family. Now, I wasn't asking her to leave the apartment for 24 hours, just a few hours, so we could get just some quality time together. She could just go to the library or take a walk or whatever. I was at work for eight to ten hours five days a week, so she got a lot herself. One of my old coworkers realized that this was really tearing at my mood to never get any time for myself, and I started feeling really suffocated. She offered that Em could stay the night at her place. After all, they were friends, too. Em said they didn't want to bother her, but we told her that she didn't. They're friends. She's more than welcome, and I really just want one night to myself and my guy. I didn't understand why she made such a big deal over leaving me in the apartment for just one

night. She eventually accepted and spent the night there. I spent the night away the next week so she could get more alone time too. When I came home the next morning from my night away, I saw that my cat's water bowl was completely dried out. There was no spill on the floor and it looked like it had been wiped out with a towel or paper. I had filled it to the brim just the night before. I asked her how this was possible and she said that the cats must have tipped it out. But there was nothing on the floor like I said. My cats are overly social and usually cuddle up with strangers after just a few minutes. I noticed that the cats withdrew from her more and more over time.

In the last couple of weeks, they never left my bedroom except from when they ate or used the litter box. It seemed like they were scared of her, which I couldn't figure out since she was so timid. I had this old saucepan from the 60s that meant a lot to me. You probably wonder how a saucepan can mean a lot to someone, but it's my grandmother's, and it's the only thing I have that belongs to her. My mother used to cook for me with it when I was little, so it has a great nostalgic value to me. She burnt it one day and made no attempt to clean it.

She just left it on the stove and went out to smoke. I found it ruined and cried. She didn't even say I'm sorry. She also broke dishes several times and didn't bother to replace them or apologize. This added to my frustration with her naturally. It had been probably gone two months now, and she kept waking me up at night, kept binge eating my food, never cleaned, never left the house,

scared my cats, and ruined my things. I realized she stole my prescripted sleeping pills, lots of them as well, and I only get one per night, not more or less, and as you already know, I really need them. I had 20 of them in my nightstand when I left for work. When I came home, they were gone. She denied, which is pretty hilarious since no one else could have been there. My frustration was getting heavy. The summer heat was strong, and I felt locked up in my tiny bedroom with my two cats, never getting any time to myself, never any alone time with the guy I was dating, except for once every 14th day. My apartment was messy, and she was stealing from me, etc.

Out of nowhere, my old elementary school classmate texted me on Facebook, asking me how I know am. He had seen that I had posted on Facebook that we are roommates now. I told him that we were old coworkers and that she needed a place to stay because she got evicted. He said, I know. Do you know why she was evicted? Yeah, she accidentally went into her neighbor's apartment. He said, that's not the full story.

She broke in and snuck up to their sleeping baby with a knife in her hand. But luckily, the father woke up and wrestled her down and managed to save the baby. I felt sick to my stomach. Could this be true? It would certainly explain why she was evicted, but it just sounded so horrible and she is such a timid, nice girl. I had so many questions. But my friend had the full police report. Apparently the couple that Emma had broken into was his ex-girlfriend and her family. It seemed that M had a psychosis during the break-in, but those parts

weren't public. It was however clear to me that she'd been lying to me about what had happened and about how long she had been mentally stable. I started getting quite paranoid now, and I was already frustrated with everything and really wanted her to move. out. We did, however, have a contract that she had 30 days notice. I knew that if I asked her in a harsh way, it would mean 30 days of chaos until she moves out, so I wanted to handle this as nicely as I could. I started looking for cheap hostels for her that I could suggest to her so she wouldn't be on the streets. I sat down with her and told her that I loved living with her and I feel really horrible for this, but I just missed my alone time that the apartment

is too small for two people. I said it wasn't personal. and that I wouldn't want to live with anyone right now, that I wished it would have worked out, that I am really sorry and hope you were made friends. She looked crushed and said that it wasn't possible. I showed her the hostel I found and said that I understood that it wasn't the ultimate situation, but I really needed her to move out because I felt suffocated, and also the summer heat was making it, though, to always have the door to the bedroom closed, and that it was tough for me to not get my sleep, etc.

She was okay. She was going to try to move out, but not. until 30 days had passed, and I said, of course. The first night after our talk, she got up and made her coffee at 2.30 a.m. I nearly had a mental breakdown. I was going to get up at 6 and couldn't go back to sleep. I asked her in the morning for probably the 10th time to not make coffee until I get up, but she didn't even answer me.

She just sat in the sofa and stared out the window. I said, M? And she just kept staring. I was freaked out but left for work. She kept being weird, kept me. making no mess, kept waking me up, kept eating my food, and all I could think about was the incident with her and the baby in the knife. I eventually got so pissed off about being woken up by the coffee maker, so I plugged it out and stored it in my attic, which she had no access to.

It may be childish, but I was getting so tired at this moment. My sleeping pills were stolen, and I was starting to feel like Edward Norton in the beginning of Fight Club. Well, the next night I woke up at 4 a.m. by her making coffee in a saucepan. Not my grandmother's saucepan, though that one was ruined. I tried talking to her again, explaining the situation, but she just stared and didn't reply. Me being frustrated and on the tipping point took the saucepan and stored it in the attic as well. I know I know, but I was going crazy and just wanted her to stop with these nightly coffee routines and get the hint. The third night, I had the guy I was dating, sleeping at her place because I was getting really paranoid now.

over her weird behavior. Not speaking with me, just staring into space. I woke up from my very light snooze by him poking me. He whispered, look, in the doorway. M was just standing, silently, staring at us. This was like a scene from a horror movie with her long black hair over her face. I kid you not. I didn't say anything at first because I wanted to know if she just stood there for a second doing something by the door, but I realized after a while that she was actually just standing, like, staring at us. It reminded me of the ending of paranormal activity when Katie just stares at Micah in the final scene. So I sat up and said,

What are you doing? But before I could finish the sentence, she slammed the door shut, and I heard the sound of something metal falling on the floor and her running into the living room. I yelled out, You need to leave and started crying hysterically. because this was turning it into a fucking nightmare. Of course I didn't go back to sleep, and I was really happy that I had company that night.

I just kept asking myself, had she done this before, stared at me in my sleep? The next day when I got out of bed, I opened the door, and she had slammed shut and saw a kitchen knife on the floor. So that was the metal sound I had heard before she ran off. I took all my knives and locked in the attic as well. I then asked a friend of mine to come to my house and be here when I tell her that she has to move out of her.

immediately. That I can't wait 30 days. 27 days. During the conversation, I really tried to stay calm. I know she has a mental illness. I know she means no harm, even though I was so frustrated I couldn't hate her. I was mostly scared and tired. She, however, didn't even answer when I talked to her. She just kept staring out the window. She left the apartment and sent me a text and said, saying that I was disrespectful for bringing a friend over to her place. Nighttime came and I thought this would be a quiet night finally. No coffee maker or sauce pans. But at 3 a.m. I woke up by her burning dry coffee powder in a frying pan. At this moment, I just felt terrified of her. Her face was dead. Her eyes were black. I suspected that she had gone into a psychosis. I stopped the fire and just ran off into the

living room in silence. I knew she had an appointment with her psychiatrist the next day, and while she was away, I packed all her things. I then sent her a text telling her, her that she needed to pick them up and give me the keys back and that I will give her money for a hostel to the upcoming 26 days. She didn't reply. The guy I was seen came to keep me company in case she would fight about it. She didn't. She left the keys without looking at us and left. Our co-workers who were friends with us both told me that she moved in with the guy she was dating and she stayed there for a few weeks till she somehow amazingly got an apartment of her own. She started working again and I was really happy to hear this. She seemed to be a little bit of

seemed to do well. Then in January of this year, one of our old co-workers told me that M had called her and told her that everything must burn, that she had a baby that she must save, and other delusional stuff. She had called 112, Swedish emergency number like 911 about this, but they hadn't taken it seriously. M had then proceeded to burn her entire apartment down because the voices in her head was telling her that she has to burn everything to save her friends and family.

Her neighbors had tried to rescue her from the fire, but she had fought them off and ran back in and poured liquor on the fire to make it burn more. She was arrested and sentenced last week for aggravated arson. She will serve her time in a mental institution slash prison for a long time, possibly forever. What's ironic is that she will probably be in the facility where I used to work, and end up where she used to work herself. My old coworker was a witness at the trial, and apparently she had stopped taking her medication, because she thought it made her feel numb,

and she thought she was stable enough to function without it. Apparently not. She had also stopped taking her medication the last few weeks when she stayed at my house, so when she stared blankly into space, she was going into psychosis. When she stared at me with a knife in her hand, when she burned the frying pan that last night, it's disturbing to think about what would have happened to me in my cats if she would have stayed, or if I would have been a heavy sleeper.

I also think about what would have happened to that baby that she snuck into before she was evicted. And yeah, I know, it's crazy that I didn't just throw her out by then. It was complicated. The reason why I haven't been able to talk about with my friends is because they sympathize with her and have minimized my experience, and they think that I make a bigger deal out of it, and I believe it has been. I sort of understand it since they have never seen the darkness in her eyes, and I saw those last couple of days. Update, May 16th. I just remembered some other things that I wanted to add it to the post.

There were several times when I was going to work early in the morning, as she occupied the bathroom by taking long baths. I patiently tried to wait till the last minute before knocking and asking her if she could get up and get back in after I had gotten ready and left her work. Just another thing that added to my frustration. I felt really ill one time when she was staying there. I didn't know at the time what it was, but I woke up early in the morning one day. feeling very nauseated. On my way to the bathroom, I literally shit myself and threw up at the same

time. It takes like 10 seconds to get to the bathroom so you can imagine how bad it was when I didn't even make it, LMAO. At a really high fever and kept throwing up and shitting myself all morning and anyone who has been this ill would understand that you want the bathroom to yourself. Actually, I think it's pretty understandable that you'd want to be completely alone when you're this ill. My head was spinning and I was nearly hallucinating from the high fevers. One random thing I laugh about today is that it was Eurovision Week, and for some reason the flute solo from Naldova's song was stuck on repeat in my head when I was in and out of fever dreams. I have a hard time listening to it today, ha ha.

Anyway, working in healthcare, I also have a natural instinct of not wanting to spread infections, so my first thought was that besides wanting to be alone, I didn't want to risk giving whatever this was to M. So I begged her the moment I noticed I was ill to please leave for her own sake. could barely speak because it made me throw up that easily. Our friend in common had asked her to water her plants that week, so she had the keys to her place and could have been alone there. Em refused to leave, and I swear if I had the energy to slip out of the window and fall to my death, I would have, but I couldn't. I was half sitting slash half laying on the toilet with a bucket in my lap, my head sort of resting in the bucket of puke because I couldn't hold it up

of the high fever, and I just begged through whispers for her to leave, so she wouldn't be ill. I told her, what if you get sick soon to? We can't share the toilet. I'll be here all day. You just go to her place before it's too late, please. Eventually she left. Pissed at me. It turned out at a severe case of food poisoning and I was well again after two days, but my God, the fact that she refused to leave is something I felt I had to add to the story because it made me so frustrated too. I also went through her conversations and saw me asking her how long the door had been closed. That reminded me, that she used to shut my cats inside my bedroom while I was away at work or whatever. So they couldn't eat, drink, or use the litter boxes.

She claimed she'd just recently closed it because she was trying to sleep, but I remember she did it in the middle of the day one time the last few days too. A stranger knocked on my door for 20 minutes. Last night, my 22F husband, 25M, woke me up at around 1150 to tell me that someone has been knocking on our door and ringing our apartment doorbell for about 10 minutes on and off. He woke me so I could possibly ID the person. Once I looked out our upstairs apartment window, I saw the man walking to his car in our apartment parking lot

across the street from our unit. He was wearing blue jeans and a gray t-shirt. He was a medium build, possibly 30-year-old blonde man. He wasn't covering his face or anything, but the thing is he was carrying what looked like resistance bands or ropes. He sat in his car for about three minutes, while I was on the phone with Dispatch, then he came back to our door and knocked hard for another few minutes. Dispatch advised me that the police were on their way, and they hung up.

I started videoing the vehicle. I read out the tag number and make and model, and just watched as he put his car park in reverse over and over again. Out of seemingly nowhere, he backed out of the parking lot and started rushing away, but not before the officer arrived and pulled him over. My downstairs neighbor knocked on my door and told me that he had been peering into her little children's windows and was pounding on her door as well. She said that her husband had left only one minute before he started knocking at her door. She said he saw her children through our window, and that's why he continued knocking. Our doors are right next to one another, so he probably didn't know what door he wanted

open. He was watching us as well through our upstairs windows, so I turned out all the lights and out and shut the blinds while I call dispatch. The police never contacted us for a statement. I've reached out to dispatch with an update and I'm waiting to see if any action was taken. We're keeping our eyes peeled to see if he's been following us. I'm replacing my porch light bulbs with motion detectors and putting bars in our windows into our attacks. My neighbor and our families are panicked to say the least. He was outside for about 25 to 30 minutes. To the knocking man with bad intentions, let's not meet.

Update. I am trained in firearm usage and now live in a state where I can open carry and the background check is really quick. We are going this weekend to get a firearm. My husband will be taking some classes as he came from somewhere where owning a gun is illegal, so he's never handled one. I'm still waiting on a call from the responding officer. I have his badge number and names, so if they don't reach out to me today or tonight, he might work third shift. I will call the subsidization. If they don't do anything, I will go ahead and make his suspicious person say, case for the paper trail. We had no odd encounters last night. However, while I was looking at the video I took, I remember that car. I was walking my dog at 8 p.m. a week ago for him to pee, and this car was driving really slow through the parking lot and parked a few spots down from where I was letting my dog sniff. They just sat there with the car running. When I tell you, my ears started ringing

and I got an awful feeling. I'm not joking. I turned around and went home, didn't give my dog the to pee and shut every door and window. I think this man has been stalking out our apartment building, me and my neighbors. I think he wanted to get in where those children are. I'll update more when I have new information. Update number two. It's been a week since the incident. I called dispatch today because I never received a follow-up from the responding officer. A sergeant from the PD called me back to give me more information. He said that they pulled the man over, ran him to make sure there were no warrants and asked him what he was doing. He told the officer that he was meeting up with an acquaintance. The officer let him go with no further questions. Not only that,

the responding officer is also a sergeant. I almost lost my mind. The sergeant I spoke to today stated that he should have looked into it more. It was obviously an attempt at burglarely, sexually motivated and or with an intent to commit a felony. The responding officer supposed to call me tonight when he gets on duty. I'm livid, honestly. Zero due diligence for this case, but there's not even a case, no case number, just a documented police contact. I'll give more info when I have it. Final update. The officer finally called me. Here's how the conversation went. Hello? I answered grogly. It was well past midnight. Hello, miss. I was told you might have some questions about an incident a few nights ago.

Yes, about Thursday. I wanted to know what that man told you he was doing, you know. He was looking in windows and carrying potential restraints. I'm not sure if that was relayed to you. I stopped him, ran his tags, and he told me that he was meeting up with a guy from a dating

app. He seemed forthcoming and opened with his motive for being there. Meeting up with... Wait. He was meeting up with someone by looking in windows, knocking on two different doors for 20 minutes. I was shocked and still not fully awake. Like I said, he seemed forthcoming and honest with me. So was Jeffrey Dahmer was the first thing that came to mind. With resistance bands like workout bands, he had

lots of belongings in his car, so he probably just had them in there. Right, but bringing them to a hookup, knocking on multiple doors, he saw the little girls through the window. He waited until my neighbor's husband left until knocking. That's on tape officer. I checked in with the apartment management after the incident. Well, I'm familiar with his individual, and I've been doing drive-thrus of your complex to make sure he doesn't come back. I haven't seen anything. If you don't have any more questions, I'll let you go, ma'am. Doesn't make sense to me, but thank you. Goodbye, and I hung up. I don't have much else to say. I just feel so icky about that conversation. Nothing new has come out of the situation. I haven't seen the man or the car. My mind is just

blown at the lack of follow-up or due diligence. I live in a suburb. It's not a busy one either. The PD has a small jurisdiction. Guess I'll have to just protect myself. My friend turned out to be an internet predator. This is a long story, so sit back. To give you some background, I'm from a city in the northeast of Scotland in the UK. What happened here didn't just affect me, but also two close friends who for the purposes of the story we will call Debbie and Joe. We all used to work for a Virgin Megastore. I started there back in 2003. Debbie joined in 2006 and Joe joined us in 2007.

The entire staff of the store, for the best part, were all close friends. We are all music and movie nerds, so shared the same interest and sense of humor, etc. Every year, over the Christmas period, we would take on temporary staff as extra help for the volume of customers we would get during that time of year. In 2007, one of our attempts was Rory. This is his real name. Most of us hit it off with him brilliantly. Young guy seemed really passionate about music, especially Pink Floyd, which was a big win with Joe, who is one of the greatest guitarist I've ever met,

and myself who grew up on Pink Floyd through my parents. Plus, Rory was a budding filmmaker and his love of movies seemed to match his love of music, so we would have a lot of chat about and became friends very quickly. It was rare to keep in touch with the work temp's post the Christmas period, but Rory was an exception. He didn't live in the same city as the rest of us, but kept plenty of contact through text and social media, and would come through the city and hang out from time to time. Moving forward to Christmas Time 2008, by this point Virgin Megastore had become Zavi Entertainment. Remember them?

And Rory came to back to work with us as a temp, and particularly with me. I ran the stock room in the store, which was the big, busiest place at Christmas time, and had a history of not great people to help for how much work would need done. So I was happy to get to be working with someone I knew who'd work hard, and that I could have banter with. He could be a bit annoying trying to force different live versions of the same Pink Floyd song you'd found on the internet. As I said, I love Pink Floyd, but I love a lot of music. Nevertheless, I just figured, ah, he's young and he's passionate, but he's cool. Around this time, he started to put together a self-made Pink Floyd documentary, which he interviewed me and Joe

4. And to be honest, he did a fucking great job, given the limited tools that he had. Zavi closed in February 2009 due to the global credit crunch at the time. All the Zavi staff and Rory kept in touch. We'd all become very close working there, like I said. Fast forward to summer 2010. We had a Zavi reunion night out, which Rory organized. Most of us that still lived in same city, managed to make it along. Joe had moved to Glasgow at this point. Was a really fun night out and Rory stayed at my place. I should point out at this point, Rory was preparing to go to America for a second year working as a camp counselor for Camp America at Camp Wigwam and Maine, Ohio. Since Zavvy closed, I'd gotten a new job doing the same thing at another entertainment retail store

and that Christmas. Rory came into work. There was a temporary, which I was initially fine with. Moving into 2011, and Rory starts to raise red flags, although at the time I didn't see it clearly. He claimed that while in America, he'd gotten a new job helping with editing and camera work on the show Burn Notice. At the time, I was like, oh wow, that's cool, man, well done. It didn't seem unbelievable given a, I knew he had a talent in filmmaking. To coincide with this, he claimed that he was working for Camp American Florida, which is what led to him working on burn notice, where it was at the time filmed. Then where he was back in Scotland, in 2011, it was time for another Zavvy reunion, which Rory had to be in charge of,

which bothered me as he technically didn't work there when he closed, and like I said, was only a temp. I got sickened with him posting constantly on Facebook about essentially what just some old friends going to the pub. Again, I was just like, yeah, he's young and he's excited. He's harmless, though. Then another red flag was raised. Rory and another friend who shared an interest in filmmaking were talking about doing a film in the city. They spent the whole day looking at locations. And afterwards, when I spoke to Rory, he was like, yeah, we're going to do this, this and this, making it sound like they had some exciting ideas.

Then when I spoke to my other friend about it, he told me, all Rory did for the whole day was asked me about my favorite directors. It was a complete waste of time. made me think, ah, he's young and excitable and has a tendency to exaggerate, but he's harmless. Move into 2012. Debbie, who I mentioned at the start of the story, became a closer figure in his life. Debbie is a nearly six-foot-tall blonde bombshell, at the time one of the nicest people you could ever meet with an amazing sense of humor. We became super close when we worked together, but was always totally platonic. I always looked at her in a more sibling way.

She would come around to my place for dinner and to watch movies, and I knew all her close friends and a few family members. Herself and Rory went to the Simona a few times and hung out afterwards. Absolutely nothing wrong with that. For now. Move on to Christmas time. Rory is back as a attempt for the third year in a row, and by this time he has started to annoy the other staff.

Whilst on lunch, he'd sit and brag about all the TV shows he worked on during his summers in the States, burn notice, criminal minds, and the wire. Unfortunately, I didn't hear about this at the time, because people knew I was friendly with them. They didn't want to seem like they were talking shit about him. As the staff in this job also got along famously, on a personal note, talking with him at work became a bit weird. He started talking to me in a really smug and condescending tone,

which, given that I'm six years older than the dude, and had a hand in him getting his temp jobs every year, and thought I was his friend. didn't appreciate it. Then around the same time there's another Zavi night out due, Rory, Debbie, Joe, who was visiting from Glasgow, myself, and a few others. The day before, this said get together, keeping in mind I'm pissed about how Rory is behaving, I get a text from him saying, Hey man, the plan for the night out tomorrow is to go to the pub quiz, your favorite. Now, I don't go to pub quizzes for tedious personal reasons and all these friends knew this. So Rory was essentially

implying the rest of the guys had planned to go to something I wouldn't go to, which I didn't, as I well's super pissed off about that text. I kept quiet about it from the others, even though I should have known how devious he was because as it turns out, those guys didn't go to the pub quiz, and there was no intention to. The next day, Joe comes into the shop to speak to me since I'd miss the night out. Whole time I'm talking to him, Rory is standing next to him in a defensive stance answering everything I asked Joe, like he was his fucking spokesperson, which was infuriating because I was at work. I couldn't lose my shit and Joe was happy to go lucky. He didn't even notice what Rory was doing. Rory was obsessed with Joe because of his talents as a guitar player

to the points of it becoming unhealthy. It was around this time that Debbie started to sense I was having a problem with Rory. And it was true. Contact with him would trigger me to get anxious or angry because I knew there was something amiss, but Debbie and Joe were constantly just fooled by his false charm, and that's why I kept tolerating him because I loved these guys and didn't want to be the cause of drama. In early 2013, Rory makes out his dad had a life-threatening stroke, which he survives but leaves him incredibly disabled. This subsequently turns out to be a lie and a tool to get sympathy from Debbie and Joe. Moving forward to 2014, Joe moves back to town from Glasgow into Debbie's spare room. And this is where Rory really starts to phase me out from the group,

despite having recently hung out with me and me having put him up at my place, which I had done several times over the years at this point. He takes Debbie, Joe, and another ex-Zavi friend to three different price gigs around the country. Initially, I was super pissed, but in hindsight, I am relieved. It was Rory that paid for all. the tickets for those gigs, which was another red flag. Have to point out that when he wasn't working with me as a temp over Christmas or in America over the summer working for Camp America and various TV shows, he was making out he was a freelance photographer and video editor, which would be fine, but he didn't have a website,

a Facebook page, or anything else as far as I could see to contact him to do said work. Taking that into account and the fact he's throwing cash to go to concerts around the UK, I was concerned about where his money was coming from. Following the Prince gigs, I had blocked him on social media, as his posts and comments on other people's posts were just annoying, constantly undermining people on what they're saying or arguing with folks having a different opinion to him. Debbie took issue with me blocking him and stuck up for him.

With hindsight, she'd been groomed by him and had rose-tinted glasses on when looking at him. I caved and got back in touch with him, even though I know now I should have walked away from them all. But like I said before, I dearly loved Debbie and Joe and didn't want to lose their friendship. Even though I knew deep down, there was something bad about Rory. Throughout 2014, Debbie and Rory got super close. Anyone that didn't know them seeing Facebook pics would think they were a couple. Over the next two years, my contact with those guys started to drift.

Rory would come around to my place for a bit and then would leave and be like, I'm a way up to Darling Debbie's. I would invite you, but you're not one of the three of me. A lot of the time he wasn't actually going there, it would turn out. He even came to my place to stay the night once, saying he needed to catch a flight to the States in the morning to a video editing job. Then it would turn out he was just going back to the village he lived in at his mom's house. Eventually I walked away, quietly.

I took Debbie, Joe and Rory off of the news feed and hid any Facebook posts I made hidden from them. I figured if I see any of them in the street, I'll be polite and just get away. ASAP. I started to investigate Rory's claims about his time in America. I relayed them all to a friend and his flatmate, who himself had lived in America for a long time. They both told me, nah, man, there's no way he could be doing all that shit. Which is true. If you go to America to work for Camp America, that's all you're allowed to do. And with a bit of research, I found that Camp Rory actually worked at, proving he never did Camp America work in Florida. During this time, I had

friends who would still follow him on Facebook out of intrigue they would ask me where is his money coming from rory was going to stadium and arena concerts around the uk at least once a week some of these gigs cost as much as 200 euro a ticket not to mention travel costs and accommodation i knew something was up i knew he wasn't involved in drugs he would claim he made money from youtube but his channel barely had any subscriptions and plus all his vids were of copyrighted material so there was no way he was making any money from that way. I did wonder if he was making money from editing. He was avoiding paying tax. That's the only thing I could think of. Believe me, if I could have afforded a private detective to investigate this guy, I would have. During all this time, Debbie and Joe are hanging out with

and posting how great he is on, et cetera, on Facebook. Despite the fact that I found Rory had a second Facebook account where his profile pick was of him and Debbie. This was a secret account. And I took a screenshot and showed Debbie, but she was just like, oh, isn't that his American account? Sorry, Debbie, but you know, you're really fucking stupid. Now, let's fast forward to October 2018. By this point, I've severed contact with Rory completely. Missed Debbie's wedding the previous year with Rory was a bridesman. Haven't seen Joe in a good while either. I'm back at work after lunch for about five minutes. Then my friend who is on her lunch and in the staff room comes running through to where I am. Hey, hey, have you? Have you?

heard Roy was in court, which in itself was initially shocking. I was like, what for tax evasion or copyright infringement? No, she said, for making videos of little kids. Between January and November 2017, he was pretending to be a girl online using YouTube and O'Magle to groom young boys. I shall leave links to newspaper reports once I was told what he'd done. I was in an adrenaline-fueled rage for about 17 hours. Just so pissed off that I've been right. He was a bad guy, but I just couldn't prove it. I knew my friends had been duped, not to mention all those poor kids that got abused by him.

As for his expendable income, I really think he was selling the videos he was making on the dark web for Bitcoin profit. He was the first person ever to mention the dark net to me, but in a way of like, oh, never go to the dark net. He pled guilty and got three years and nine months, along with a five-year S-harm prevention order, and will be on the S-offenders register for the rest of his life. Thanks for listening. I'm still in touch with Joe, although he's a super busy guy these days. Debbie, unfortunately, I'm not in touch with now. I know she was mortified by the revelations, but she's happily married, so I'm just glad she saw the truth eventually, even though it took something so heinous to do so.

I've always been afraid of our garbage disposal, but I trusted my wife. My wife has insomnia and does chores when she can't sleep. It's been that way for so long that I've stopped noticing. Usually, I don't even wake up. But a few nights in a row, she started running the garbage disposal a lot. Off and on, throughout the night, sometimes for a minute or two. Of course, I couldn't sleep through that, so late one night I went downstairs to check on her. She was in her PJs and bent over the sink, staring at her.

into the drain. She was leaning in so close that some of her hair had piled up in the bottom of the sink. You lose something, I asked. She gasped and snapped up when she heard me. You scared me, she said. She did look jumpy, which made me uneasy, too. I saw that she was holding something and asked her what it was. Nothing, a slice of turkey, she said guiltily. She had balled it up into a gray pink blob from squeezing it so hard. It doesn't go into the garbage disposal, I said. I didn't know what else. to say. Right, she said. Sorry, I'm half asleep. She dropped it into the trash under the sink. There was a pack of sliced turkey on the counter, already half eaten. Why did we have it? I was the one who ate lunch meat, but I hated turkey. I didn't remember telling her to pick up any.

Hungry? she asked. She had seen where I was looking. No, I said. My body had gone cold. Something felt seriously wrong here. She nonchalantly turned around and put the lunch meat back in the fridge. Then, with her back still facing me, she said, actually, I did lose something in the sink. A gemstone stone in my ring. She turned around and shrugged. I'm an idiot, sorry. Which did you lose, I asked, trying to sound nice. I'd never talked to her while she was in one of her insomnia spells. It was more like she was sleepwalking. Or as if I were talking to a stranger, a woman who only looked like my wife and had wanded into my house. A little one right here, she said, pointing it at a ring.

You wouldn't have noticed it. It's really small. You can barely even see it where it's supposed to go. I doubted that I wouldn't have noticed it. I bought her the ring, but the kitchen was too dark for me to see clearly. You want me to fish it out for you, I said? She smiled. Sure, I said.

Going over to the sink, I felt a sudden panicked urge to run back upstairs, but I pushed that feeling down. I loved my wife. I trusted her, even when she was maybe half-line. I reached my hand inside the drain. It was damp and warmer in there than I had expected. The bumpy edge of the blade was almost hot. The metal must have heated up from the garbage disposal running for so long.

It's really small, she said. She came over to watch and leaned against the wall. The switch for the garbage disposal was right next to her shoulder. I almost told her to be careful, but didn't. I didn't want to see him controlling. She smiled again at me. I poked around the size of the garbage disposal container, everything I touched soggy and soft, old scraps of food. The container felt like it was made

a rubber. I thought it would be maybe metal or hard plastic, but the sides gave slightly when I pushed, and they were strangely warm. My wife was watching me intensely. Her shoulder now on the edge of the light switch panel. My finger brushed something hard, and she moved her arm. The arm that was on the switch, and I ripped my hand out of the drain. What? she asked. Did you cut yourself? I'm fine, I managed to say, my voice is shaking. Was she really going to flip the switch? You are, she asked. Yes, I'm fine. I couldn't find anything. Sorry. That's okay, she said yawning. She went back up to bed. She moved slowly, oblivious to her surroundings. Maybe she was sleepwalking. I followed her upstairs and found her already asleep. I couldn't make myself get into bed with her. None of it had made

any sense. Her running the disposal to meet. Her lie about the ring, so. way I snuck back downstairs. The sink looked the same as before, a few drops of water around the rim, a waxy smear of grease on the stainless steel. I put my hands on either side of the drain and stared into the black hole. There was nothing unusual about it, other than the vague threat of something sharp hiding out in sight of this dark. But then I heard a low, soft gurgling sound of the drain. I bent over and lowered my ear to the drain to listen better. Maybe it was water moving through the pipes, but this sounded more organic, like the gurgling sound of a baby might make, and I realized that my ear felt warm. Warm air was wafting out of the drain every few seconds as if the

hole were breathing. I pulled away from the sink. Nothing came chasing after me. Just to see what happened, I got a slice of turkey and pushed it down the drain with my finger. As soon as the meat had slipped past the drain flaps, the garbage disposal roared to life. The metallic grinding noise rattled through the house. I probably screamed, but I couldn't hear anything over the harsh, wet, grating sound. Finally, it stopped. My heart pounding. I took all the turkey that was left and dropped it down the drain. Then got a wooden spoon and pushed it down into the hole. The garbage disposal turned back on again, and I ripped the spoon out. The end was nod to splinters. I'm not sure how long I stood there, washing the drain, and listening to the blade, chew up the

meat. A minute, maybe. Then the faucet was running too. My wife, was there. She had come down without me noticing. The water gushed loudly into the drain and choked down the pipes. The garbage disposal soon stopped, and she turned off the water. The water helps the food go down, she explained. I was too stunned to move, and she grabbed me by the arms, talking so quickly I couldn't get a word in. It had started a few nights ago when she had fed the drain some crumbs from the counter, then she fed it more, and noticed that it liked meat, so she got more meat. Whatever it was, thing down in the drain, whatever it was doing, growing, nesting. It was getting more active because of the food. And that meant it was getting hungry, which meant more food. She apologized for putting so

many groceries on the card, but it had been worth it. She had tamed the thing. That's why I knew you'd be safe earlier, she said. I'll show you. She got a bag of sugar out of the pantry, wet her hand under the faucet and dunked it into the bag. She pulled her hand out and is completely covered in sugar. Then she stuck her hand down the drain. Stop, I screamed. She pulled her hand back out. It was perfectly fine and perfectly clean, not a speck of sugar left. See, she said, he won't bite. And it feels good. She sugared up her hand again and stuck it back down the drain. It kind of tickles. It's so warm. I couldn't speak. You want to try? She asked. She got my hand wet under the faucet, too, and dunked it into the sugar. I let her. I was curious, honestly. More curious.

and afraid. And then my hand went into the drain. There was a loud, sickening crunch. I remember that, but I don't remember anything after, or even how the pain, the adrenaline, and shock blocked everything out. I must have somehow tied a tourniquet on and called an ambulance. It's funny. I closed my eyes and I can't even picture the stump. It's still wrapped up. Or the blood. There must have been lots of blood, but it's all cleaned up now and I can't picture any of it. Nobody could find the hand anywhere. Nobody can find my wife either. She took the cash, the jewelry, the second car, all of it mine.

The cops put an out an alert for the car. I don't know. It's all so screwed up. Today I had a plumber come by to check out the garbage disposal. He had never seen anything like it. The shredder and motor were never installed. It's basically an empty container sitting under the drain. And you said it was working, he asked.

doubtful? Yeah, I told him. My wife used it for years. My crazy neighbor poisoned my creek and stole water. I just created this account because my friend suggested I post here and maybe get some advice too. I don't know how to format for Reddit, but he said to make sure that I did. I live on a large property with a small house in the front. There are many small hot springs in the semi-rural mountain area that I live in, with many used by homeowners in their backyard. Many are piped indoors, but some have hot tubs built around them. I happen to have an active one in my backyard. Picture an in-ground hot tub being fed in from the hot spring near my left neighbor's house. I'll call her CN for Crazy Neighbor. A small stream runs through the far backyards of the

neighborhood, and it's used for gardens and little nature areas that everyone on the street enjoys. I have my small fruit slash pepper garden watered by this stream and take really good care of it for some visualization it has a good amount of water flowing down and everyone on the street uses it some way my right neighbor who's a really chill dude who i'll call jay has small pools he made that are fed by the stream and two neighbors down has a garden similar to mine now on to the actual story When I bought the house, the previous owners were sued by CN, her claiming that the land was rightfully hers. I don't know the details of our argument, but it was thrown out, as far as I know.

The previous owners warned me of CN and not to engage with their family. When I moved in, CN's kids, I'd say probably eight, nine, and ten, brought over cookies and welcomed me to the neighborhood. I thought that the previous owner was exaggerating, as they seemed really sweet. I invited CN and her family to a small barbecue, and they accepted. The second that they got in the house, CN started to explain the rules of the neighborhood. I thought it was pretty normal, like to not play loud music after nine, keep your car in the driveway to keep the street unc cluttered, etc. Common sense rules.

Until she got to some rules regarding the stream in the hot springs. She said that kids were allowed in all parts of the stream. in private backyards, and that everyone could use each other's hot springs. I have the only hot spring on the street, so I was surprised by that. I interrupted her and told her that I wasn't comfortable with those, and she scoffed, saying that all neighbors were fine with it. I told her that I still wasn't comfortable with it. She ignored me, continuing with some questionable rules.

The rest of the night was fine, but I felt like I wouldn't want to do it again. I talked to some neighbors across the next couple days, who all told me to steer clear of CN and that her rules were BS. I went over to CN's house and told her that I talked to the other neighbors and that I wasn't comfortable with anyone being in my backyard without my permission. She scoffed and said okay. I had a lunch with Jay, and he told me who CN was, a serial sewer with her lawyer on speed dial to get whatever she wants. CN had sued a small change pizza place in town into debt for having peanut oil on her pizza when she was allergic to it. The pizza chain didn't even have peanut oil, and many people in the small community believed

that she put it on, but still lost everything. I decided not to talk to her or her family. A week later, I got home from the grocery store to see CN's kids, I'll call them EKs for entitled kids, splashing in my hot spring tub. It's outspring. and usually has a lid on that two small kids would definitely not be able to take off as it is heavy and large. I tell them that they're not allowed in it and to leave my yard immediately. And they stand their ground, telling me that their mom, CN, told them that it was theirs and that they could use it. I told them that that's not true and to leave now. They finally do. Before you think I'm an asshole for that, to remember that pools slash hot tubs are dangerous and I'm a

I don't want to be liable. I headed back out to buy locks for my gates. When I got back, CN was now there, demanding why I kicked her kids out. She reminded me of the rules, but I told her to leave immediately and that my security camera was recording. She cursed at me for a minute or two and then left. I was bluffing as I did not have security cameras, but I did order them on Amazon that night. The next day was fine, replanting a lot of my plants from my apartment's balcony into the empty garden, the one that's watered by the stream. I noticed that CN kept looking over the fence. For the following weeks, CN complained about the trees in my yard, the color of the fence, what I'm doing with the stream, etc. Jay occasionally came over and told her

to F off. Three weeks ago, I left for a couple of days for a friend's wedding. I kept getting security alert saying that there was motion in my backyard, often heard kids playing in my garden, trampling my dear Shishito peppers. I texted Jay to tell them to get out. If you're wondering why not call the police, they wouldn't do anything as they're just some kids. I had a suspicion that CN was telling them to do these things, but I didn't have much evidence. On the drive back, I got a security alert that there was motion in my backyard. I didn't check as I was driving, but when I stopped for gas, I checked and saw CN instructing a plumbing team installing piping from my hot spring into their yard. I had to save all the footage, and I sent messages to Jay about it.

Jay told them that they weren't allowed to be doing that, but since it wasn't his house, they didn't listen to him. I called the police and they went, but they had already installed the piping. The team was just leaving through the gate, with a broken lock on the ground when the police showed up. They said that they had been hired by the homeowner. The police waited for me to get there while talking to the team of workers. And I told them that I was the homeowner and that I hadn't paid them to do it. They looked confused. I went with the police into the backyard and I started ripping the unsecured piping out with a crowbar.

CN starts shrieking from a yard and puts her head over the fence and starts yelling that I'm destroying private property and that she would sue me. C.N. then says that she has a contract with the owner of the house to have their, my, hot spring water. The police are now confused. She shows me a contract that read that she was paying me $2 per month in exchange for the water. CN won't give it to me so I could look at it besides waving it around in the air. The police eventually leave and warn me not to destroy the piping. I ripped up the small pipe that connects to the source as she's telling me that she'll see me in court. I contacted my lawyer, and she said that CN had no case as she didn't know my signature,

and it would be easy to prove if it was forged. I still haven't been served by CN's lawyer, but know that I will soon. In the meantime, I've been sitting in the hot tub for long baths while talking to myself loudly about how much I love it. Petty, but it made me feel good hearing the growls from across the fence. This is the final thing that made me post here. My garden wilting and dying at an unnatural rate. I heard a commotion out in CN's yard,

and I peeked over and saw her slowly pouring a massive jug of chemicals into the communal stream, which goes down to mine. I don't know if it's herbicides, plant killer, or something like bleach. It doesn't smell like bleach, so I don't think it's that. But it's rapidly killing my plants. I haven't eaten any of the fruit slash peppers since, as I'm worried, I might get sick. I think that if I can get definitive proof of her doing it, I can maybe use it in court to prove how crazy she is.

People swim in pools from the stream, so I warn Jay not to for the time being and told them to tell others. I know one neighbor removed her garden from the soil and moved it away from the stream just in case it got down to hers. I'm unsure of what I should do next. I don't think I live in a two-party consent state for video recording as it doesn't list it as one of the PDF I found. I might cross post this into legal advice just in case.

I do already have a lawyer, but it might be useful hearing free opinions from the internet. Edit. I forgot to say that I had water testing sticks arriving tomorrow. And then the OP makes an update post four hours later, titled Test Results in the update reads as follows. Jay offered to use a large drum in his garage to temporarily remove the water from the stream in senior comments,

I'm taking him up on his deal. All the neighbors down the street that I've talked to so far, two besides Jay agreed. One who has two sons said they might block off the start of the stream. It is a small outlet of a moderately sized creek. It will probably be blocked off, not that hard. Jay said that it can probably get the drum in place by tonight, as his dad can help.

Jay also has a sweet dog and definitely wants to protect it. I'm going to remove my plants from the soil nearby the stream. Also, for reference, in size of the stream, it's about one to two feet across. Truly just a stream. There's lots of obstacles and things that would probably filter out, but we definitely still have to be safe. I'll update later tonight or tomorrow. And then the OPE makes a quick update saying, big news.

The nice neighbor's kids damned up the stream at where it starts. It's a couple pieces of wood, a branch or two, and a lot of small rocks. There's still a tiny bit of water flowing, but it's absorbed by the soil higher up before C.N. Jay got the drum out, but we turned out not to need it. There's water still in the pools in its backyard, and we plan to do a water test. Apparently, pH tests are sold in a store just 10 minutes away, so I will head there as soon as I finish this post. And then the OPE makes another update to this post saying,

Jay is getting the pH test and an oxygen level test, but I don't know how oxygen levels would play into it. it. I'll look at responses and figure out what to do next. I will call authorities soon. And then the OPE makes another update saying the water test, pH, came lower than the creek water before C.N's house. A full 0.9 lower. Nitrates a bit higher, dissolved oxygen significantly lower. That's the only real changes in between the two tests. I wonder if you just poured a lot of vinegar. I think herbicides do change pH, but 0.9 is quite a bit, I think. And then the OP makes an update post the next day, titled Cops Pick Up Crazy Neighbor. And the update reads as follows.

Big update. The makeshift dam broke and water has been flowing down, but it's been slow. C.N. complained to a neighbor of the street that she's on speaking terms with about me being a major asshole for not letting her kids use my hot spring tub. She let it slip that she poured vinegar in the stream as justice. The neighbor was also shown the contract for the post. pipes, and she said that she didn't even have it signed by me. She and her lawyer had signed it, but without any signature space for me. I thought that she forged my signature, but she didn't

have any agreement, fraudulent or otherwise, on my side whatsoever. The neighbor similarly dislikes her, but their kids are friends, so she has to talk to CN. I sent all the info to a local environmental charity that has contacts with an environmental protection agencies. They usually deal with lakes and dumping, so this was in what they deal with regularly. The police were outside Cian's house a couple hours ago and took her to the station. Cian is back at her house. Now yelling over the fence, profanities while I'm having a coffee. I don't know if they arrested her and she paid bail or that she was taking in for questioning

or something like that. I know her brother-in-law works at the police station, but I wouldn't doubt that her family members have a strained relationship with her. I hope that she's stuck with a job. client fine and or jail time. CN's lawyer still hasn't served me regarding the pipes, and my lawyer is saying that CN has no case whatsoever. I'll update as soon as anything interesting comes up.

And then the OP makes a quick update saying, my power just went out in most of my house. I think CN just flipped the breakers to annoy me, going outside ASAP. And then the OP makes another update saying CN did indeed flip the breakers. As far as I know, the security camera has an internal battery for some time after it's disconnected from the power. So I don't have to worry about her doing anything.

And just, oh my God, this is wild. I mean, this lady, this neighbor is completely crazy. I mean, putting the pipes into the hot tub so she can have it inside her backyard, flipping the breakers, pouring vinegar into the stream. I'm very scared to see where this goes, but I do know this ramps up. so oh boy, buckle up. And then the OP makes it update one hour later, titled Revenge Tactics. While the government does its thing against my neighbor,

I'd like to do the most legal, annoying things to do. Currently, I'm thinking about removing the piping and separating the original cost. I think I will send every piece individually through a local copy slash print slash delivery shop. I know the owner and I think he would think it would be hilarious and agreed to it. The plan.

Please help with it. Number one, remove the piping from the ground and separate every piece into small plastic baggies and boxes. Number two, bring to copy slash print slash delivery shop. Number three, plan deliveries of each package every period of time over a long time that requires signage. Number four, wait. Number five, tip the copy slash print slash shop 100 bucks. What do you think? What else could I do?

And then the OP makes an update three hours later titled The Beginning of Sweet Revenge. I called the owner of the copy slash print slash delivery shop and he agreed to what I said in the previous post. I removed all of the pipes from my yard and put them into bags. I didn't have as much plastic bags and boxes as I thought so I'm paying extra for the owner of the shop to supply them. He just delivered the first one to C.N. I walked from the street and C.N.'s husband answered. He shouted for CN and she came up. I didn't hear any of the discussion, but she signed delivery sheet, took the package of a single small corner pipe piece and stormed into her house. She went up to the second story window and proceeded to glare at me since.

Still glaring as I sit on my couch while riding this. Working from home will be so nice for watching this. And then the OP makes an update four hours later titled Crazy Neighbors Weak Jabs at Me. Since my last post, there has been one more pipe delivery to CN and she is pissed. She stormed over to my house after signing the delivery, which I thought she would stop doing, and banged on the door. I started recording my front door and opened the door. I'm not dumb enough to let her in.

CN starts shrieking about how I'm awful and that I had to keep the pipes installed as it was her property and that we had a contract. When I told her that the contract wasn't legal at all, she starts to start to keep. screaming at me. I stepped inside for a second and called the police with the door closed. Cian continues banging on my door. I don't open until a police car comes down the street. I tell the police that I don't want her ever to be on my property and that she is trespassing. They relay that to her, and she takes up a hurt old lady act. For reference, she is in her 40s. Cian tells them that my hot tub burned her youngest child and that I was luring kids into it.

I showed the police the camera footage and they asked for her to come to the station with them. I'm assuming that she made some fake report, but I guess I'll be another charge of lying to a police officer. I think that the officer, not Cian's brother-in-law, believed me and saw that she was in fact a C.N. I saw C.N. get back into her house and once again went up to the top window, staring. I closed the blinds. I thought she would stop. Honestly, it doesn't bother me. But to my surprise, she crosses the street to the side of the hill. There's a slope on the other side of the street from the houses.

There's more houses up on the slope and stares through my front window. I don't have blinds for that one. It was about to head to a different room when I see her trip backwards. There's a small ditch for runoff and land on her butt. CN lets out a ungodly shriek. It wasn't that loud, but I'd like to say it was, as she storms back into her house. I feel at this point with all of the stuff for my lawyer from Reddit and neighbors saying that I'm completely in the right and that CN is insane has made this more into entertainment than a scary situation for me. I have multiple locks arriving in a couple days and a new security camera for the sign yard.

If you have any legal suggestions, please tell me. If there's anything I should be aware of, please tell me. And to be honest, I do understand why the OP is saying, it's becoming more of entertainment than a scary situation, but I mean, I just feel like the OPE should stay, you know, apprehensive. They should stay on edge because the neighbor is obviously off their rocker. They are a little bit psycho. And with someone like this who's staring into the O.P.'s window all the time and doing some other crazy shit,

like keep your defense up because someone like that can do something wild. But I'm interested to see where this goes. And then the OPE makes an update. next day titled Pulling Back and Going Fords Legally. I've been told that messing with CN is probably not going to help out legally, especially with a restraining order. So I just told the copy shop owner just to deliver it all at once. I don't know if that's happened yet, but I'm fine not being looking when it happens. I will file a restraining order today. I don't know how it works, but I hope I can complete it today. No new news from CN except Jay saying

that she looked really mad. I know this isn't a big update, but it's an update on the situation. And then the OP makes an update the next day titled, Husband Comes Over to Talk. This happened last night, and I was too tired to update after it. CN's husband, I'll call him N.H for neighbor husband, knocked on my door last night, alone. CN wasn't there. So I answered it. He then tells me that Cian is, quote, going through some things right now. and some other stuff. He then asked me if I could, quote, let sleeping dogs lie.

She did some stuff wrong, but she's a really great person. I told him that I would consider it. I'm not, but I don't want to be in that conversation. I honestly thought that he would apologize about it, but making excuses like that is so pathetic. According to many of my neighbors,

Cian's been like this for years. I think he's trying to cover himself from the bomb they just planted. That's all. New updates probably coming soon. And then the OP makes an update the next day titled Some Resolution, but not in the way you think. I was typing this out earlier, but it didn't save as a draft, so I will paraphrase it instead of writing it out like I did earlier. I went out to get my mail, and I noticed CN rush out of her house onto her porch to watch me. I take the mail and head inside.

Through the endless sea of junk mail, there was a wedding invitation. Nobody I know remotely nearby is getting married, and I didn't recognize the names or the faces. On the back was a handwritten letter thanking me for volunteering my house for the bachelette party and inviting me to the wedding at a local venue. Number one, definitely did not invite anyone to use my property for a party. Number two, my backyard isn't the biggest for a party. And number three, I don't know who these people are. I took a picture of the front and the back and then went and made a copy of the invitation and cut it to the right size.

I then took the copy and walked in front of CN's house in the street. She is looking from the door. I then light the copy on fire safely. She runs out and starts yelling at me. I am not entirely listening as I had an earbud in my left ear listening to a podcast. I listened to podcasts while doing my routines and hadn't bothered to take it out. and at one point I heard the groom's name. Clearly, she was behind it.

I knew before. This just solidified the fact. I called her husband and told him that I was not hosting the bachelor's party and to leave me alone. He asked which one. I told him the names of the bride and groom. He is audibly surprised. He then tells me that the groom is Cian's son from a teenage pregnancy, not with him. He then said that he would talk to Cian about it, calling him.

an accident. I find the name of the dad of the groom and call him. He sounded super genuinely grateful when I told him who I was. I asked him about Cien and he said that she had left the baby with him and when he had sued for child support, the judge said that it was his poor choices that led to the baby and he was responsible for it without child support. I told him the situation and he sounded defeated.

Apparently, the groom had been quick to forgive his absent mother, Cien and had invited her against the dad's wishes. He said that he would tell the groom and the bride about the situation. And geez, that was a lot of new information. Hopefully that made sense. But then she continued saying, I then had a thought that would be the absolute perfect revenge. I offered to host the party for free with two rules.

Number one, they don't damage anything and clean everything up. Number two, CN is blocked at the door of the wedding despite her invitation. And number three, my invite to the wedding, still stands. He then said he would discuss it with the bride and groom, even if he says no, it's worth a try. I just realized I typed it all up in detail, despite what I said at the beginning. I will probably get the news in the next couple days. And then the OPE makes an update the next day titled, It Was Worth a Try, Groom's Dad, GD, Groom and Bride. I was looking over some comments just before posting this and realized I don't want to be screwed over, so I am staying back.

Also, G.D. gave me a call extremely late last night and told me that groom wanted to meet his mom, C.N. at the wedding. Bride was supportive, thinking to be an extremely wholesome wedding. G.D. said that he would try to find another location for the party, but that it would be hard this late as bride had a large bridesmaid group. G.D. is going to help Cian with preparing for the wedding at his son's request, even though he thinks it might be a disaster. My plans that are near the stream look scorched as if they're going to be. were on fire. I'm thinking about the plants that are next and around the stream, not in my garden. I think the next steps are through legal means and not through petty actions. I will keep you all updated. And then the OP makes a post six hours later, titled Pacing Parts Together. C.N. had been

trying to gain access to the hot spring for as long as she's known of it. She had tried lawsuits, land disputes, and other legal and legally dubious means to get it. When she heard of her son becoming married, she thought that she could have a good attempt at gaining access to the hot spring. Cian had initially offered to use her house for a price for the bridesmaid party, but since it didn't have anything good for a party, bride had declined. She couldn't find another place, though, but she still didn't want Cian's house. Cian had then had the bright idea to tell the bride and groom that she had had a natural, healing, an amazing hot spring in her yard, and the bride said yes.

This is when CN tries the whole pipe in the hot spring to her yard. She obviously doesn't get far into that plan after I dismantle all the piping. She volunteers my house and backyard for the party. I think that the stream pollution was lashing out because she was mad before she volunteered my house. No updates besides what I've pieced together from assorted sources. And then the OP makes a post seven hours after this titled, revenge is back in action without me needing to participate. GD called me about 10 minutes ago.

I was going to post the update right away, but I was reading some of the comments. This is what he said and asked if my offer about hosting the bridesmaid party was still standing. This is heavily paraphrased to be readable, but all the main points in events are there. GD met up with CN to talk to her about the wedding, mostly set in boundaries.

He went to her house with his phone recording just in case anything happened, knowing the history of CN. GED is talking to CN very formally, as much straight facts as possible, when he glances through a cracked open door into her bedroom. I don't remember the word he used to describe it. It was a very good way to say it, but kind of out of the corner of your vision, when you're avoiding eye contact, GD sees multiple white dresses laying on CN's bed. They are fancy dresses, not quite wedding dresses, but definitely close. GED can't stop staring at it. He then asked Cian about what she's wearing to the wedding, and Cian says that she has a couple dresses picked out.

He connects the dots and subtly leaves the conversation, calls bride and groom and tells them what he saw. He then gives groom some of Cian's history. Bride then asks if they can do the house with the hot spring then. G.D. tells me that he knows that I don't like Cian and that I wouldn't be at the wedding, but that the rest of the deal would stand. I told him, sure, but not to let Cia know about it. just letting herself think that I got pushed around by him into hosting. I know that agencies I contacted about her pouring vinegar into the creek have been investigating, so even though it likely wouldn't, I hope it falls out on the day of the wedding.

And then the O.P makes an update two days later, titled CN Angry. I've been asked for an update. There has not been much crazy neighbor activity over time that I haven't updated. I think she installed a stepstool on her side of the fence as she's been looking, evil eyeing me whenever I'm in the hot tub. The wedding's coming up next week, so I'm interested in what's going to happen. Not much has happened besides that. And then the OPE makes another update three days later,

titled Really Funny Mini Revenge. Okay, I've been told to Skinny Dip in the Hot Spring, but I'm not doing that. I'm not socially okay enough for my neighbor to see, even if it's revenge. I do know some people who are. This happened yesterday around one. Just for reference. I tell some friends who are constantly. comfortable in their own bodies that they could hang out in the hot tub, and I'm not going to be there,

so they could do whatever. I more asked them to do it after I gave him a little bit of back story the neighbor. They happily agreed, and they came around one. I left for a nice long lunch when they came back. I told them to call me if anything happened. I also turned off the back security camera just to not be weird. Not 30 minutes later, do the cops call me asking if I was okay with the people in my backyard. CN had called the cops for a trespassing, hypocrite, and they had arrived and talked to my friends. They had my number, and they called me. I told them that I invited them over, and the cops left.

I didn't get a call this time, but the police were called again for my friends, exposing themselves to children. The police knew that they were in a private backyard, but still came and pretty much left almost immediately after. It was the same officers, I think. That's all. I don't think I'm going to do. anything until the wedding. Thank you for the astounding amounts of comments. It's absolutely insane.

And then the OP makes another update three hours later titled Creek Modifications. My neighbor Two Houses Down just came up to me and asked if I would allow the stream to be changed in my yard. Jay already said yes. There's a landscaping company that's going to be installing limestone along the creek for acid neutralization or something like that. My neighbor Two Houses Down does have a garden similar to mine, and I guess that's why. Not a big update. I said yes. I hope this can prevent future acid attacks. And then the OP makes a post five days later.

The wedding. I haven't updated in a while. Even though some stuff has happened, I just wanted to save it for this giant update. I'm so shocked by what happened, and I guess I should have listened to some advice about being safe. Also, I phrased the update about the card wrong as the bridesmaid party was last night,

and the wedding is today. The ceremony just finished a couple of minutes ago, and I got the news of what happened by a mutual friend who went to the wedding. I didn't know he was a mutual friend or going to the wedding. I told him about the situation a while ago, and he decided to let me know. Friday. CN kept looking over the fence. I would have turned on sprinklers, but I don't have any because I don't really have grass in my backyard.

Later in the day, a police car pulled into CN's driveway, and a bit after, it left. See Ann's revenge of staring at me continued a lot more after that. I don't understand why she wastes her time doing it. It doesn't make me feel uncomfortable. Saturday. Some people knocked on my door midday asking if I could let them into the backyard to set up for the bridal party. I called GD and he said it was the right people, just to be safe. They set up some surprisingly expensive and nice decorations and furniture in the yard, not in a destructive way.

people come in and out while setting up in the backyard looks amazing. CN continuously peered over the fence for a good amount of time, but I didn't care. Around six, bride and all the bridesmaids, I'll do M for bridesmaids, also about 20 bridesmaids there. I stayed inside mostly, but they occasionally asked me to come out and they drunkenly thanked me. I think the M's were very wealthy, as I received a little over $3,000 in tips from them, as I occasionally brought out a carton of ice cream. well worth it, I think. More to the events of the party.

Cian had a campfire in her backyard around 9, but there wasn't really any wind, so the smoke just stayed in her yard. I think she tried to smoke us out, but maybe she was just having a little fire. I doubt it, though. She then gets her host to put out the fire and accidentally sprays water over the fence. Eventually, once the party winds down and they're packing up, bride hands a card signed by all of them thanking me for hosting with additional tips inside, about $2,000. I was honestly stunned how nice they were. Around 11, a very drunk CN bangs on my front door as I'm about to go to sleep. I don't answer, but have the video on the doorbell camera. She leaves after a bit and I go to bed. This morning. This is a secondhand account, so I won't have all the details. CN comes to the wedding in a very white dress and demands to be let in, but the security denies her. She tries to put her. She tries to put her.

push the security, but he isn't phased. People were watching, but my friend who was there had to go do something. I didn't ask what. When he gets back, CN isn't there. What's happening on my side? This is my account that is right after, but before I got the news about what happened, CN bangs on my door and tries the knob. Since I was getting groceries a bit before, I had accidentally left it unlocked.

She comes into my house. I call the cops as soon as I see her open. in my door. I run upstairs while I give the info to the cops. C.N. screams at me and eventually slaps me in the face. I'm screaming at her to leave and she tries to slap me again. I grab her wrist and she screams. I basically drag her out the front door right as the police arrive. She is put in the back of the cop car and the police interviews me. I tell them and they leave. Then I get the news. CN is not back. I honestly won't argue with people about if this is true or not,

as what happened this morning doesn't feel real, even though I just live through it. And then the OP makes another update titled Final Update, Fafo. This is probably the final update, as I doubt any new news will come. CN still hasn't come back from the police station, or she's been hiding in her house. If she hasn't come back, which I think,

I think she might have not been able to pay bail, but I have no legal knowledge really. She's apparently facing north of three years in jail, but there's a good chance she'll get less or not at all. I grilled some food Saturday and hosted a good amount of the neighborhood. As much as I would like to say I was cool and collected after the assault, I felt a bit shaky and not great, so having some people over seemed like a good idea. I think it's mostly worked. Last night, I went in the hot spring, and it was really nice to hang out. And then the OPE doesn't give us an update for a long time. But before we get into the next update, I just think it's insane.

This entire saga, this crazy neighbor poisoning in the water, turning off her breaker, breaking into her house and assaulting her neighbor, just wild. And then the OPE gives us an update five and a half months later, titled, An Update on the Creek Poisoning Crazy Neighbor. I really didn't think I'll do an update, as I thought that CN would finally stop after getting legal punishment. She so far has only with me. One of my very nice neighbors who has the kids who volunteered to help her stop the creek earlier this year is well-liked throughout the neighborhood. I think I'll call her Donna because I don't want to put her name out there after someone found out what city I live in.

So she often helps with babysitting kids for a couple hours for a simple IOU. It's Thanksgiving break for all the kids, so lots of people are going on vacation or visiting family. CN and her husband are currently in California. You may think, oh, where are her kids? She left all three of her kids at the doorstep of Donna with an envelope that has $50 to pay for the two weeks that they're at the beach. The thing is, Donna and her whole family is in the Midwest for the week visiting family for Thanksgiving. Cian's kids were out at the door for hours, presumably in the cold rain, before another neighbor noticed them and asked what they were doing.

The kids said that Donna had agreed to have them until their parents got back, but obviously Donna wasn't there. They didn't want to call the cops as they thought it was a misunderstanding. So they brought the kids around until a newer family agreed to watch them until it was all sorted out. C.N. isn't responding to any attempts to reach her, and nobody wants to bring the cops into it. Donna's pissed and said that she won't come back to babysit them and that there was no deal ahead of time. I'm just an observer in this so far. So this is more of a neighbor update.

Probably going to have another update or two. Any recommendations? Nobody in this neighborhood wants anyone with the government involved really. And it's not really involving me. So I doubt my voice will be heard or taken seriously. I don't know. Thanks. And then the OP makes a quick update saying pretty big consensus I should call CPS. I think I will but not tell anyone I did. CN is not a good person. If you want to know what the full situation is, I'd look at the old posts. It's archived, so I think you can still see it. And then the OP makes another update saying it wasn't me, but someone called the cops earlier and by the time I called, they said that someone was at the house already. Currently, they're trying to contact CN and her husband, but so far, no luck.

And now let's get into some of the top comments. Someone says CPS should be called. I don't know if you're counting that as government, but CN abandoned her kids for two weeks. It's child abandonment, plain and simple. She needs to come get her kids, and if you guys can't get her to do it, I bet CPS will. They are there for the kids and to ensure their safety. And the Opie responds saying, I've said that, but the family that is having them now thinks that it's cruel to the kids and will break up the family. It's their choice in the end, I guess. Another commenter says, what's cruel to the kids is thinking you bumpkins know what's best for them and protecting a deadbeat. Kids need stability. If their parents can't provide that, then you were doing them a massive disservice by not calling CPS. No family leaves their kids in another state without knowing their well-being or making sure they are safe. And the OPE response saying, I know, CN is definitely not a good parent, but A lot of the people in the neighborhood haven't like directly seen stuff, and I'm not really involved right now, so I don't really have a say.

Calling the cops or anyone will just reflect really negatively on me because I think they just think it's a misunderstanding right now. And to me, that's wild. The OP cares more about their image in the neighborhood than the well-being of the kids. She's like, oh, well, it would look bad on me. Okay, cool. But the kids are going to be in much better hands with CPS. instead of these neighbors or not even having a stable place to live i mean that's kind of wild another

commenter says did she get any jail time based on the breaking and entering she committed post-wedding and the opi responds saying not as far as i know a giant fine and a giant amount of community service i think and then the opi has asked if cn got fined for pouring vinegar into the creek water and the opi responds saying she already got fined a giant amount due to my reporting of it to a local environmentalist group and then taking it to the authorities and then the opi gives us an update four days later titled not good update on child abandoning neighbor so yesterday cn actually responded to a call and when asked about everything she sent screenshots from months ago where donna said that she could possibly babysit them for the two weeks but she was still making plans with her family about visiting them

Donna said that it would be $2,000 for the two weeks, but she wasn't sure if she could and that she would let her know if she could do it and not to count on it. C.N played it off as a big misunderstanding with Donna as the fault and pretty much everyone believed her. So the kids are staying at the newer family's house for the remaining time in exchange for $1,000 from CN. I'd say $1,000 in exchange for not being arrested is a pretty good deal for CN that she does not deserve. Now at least the kids look super happy spending Thanksgiving with the family and were playing with their family in the yard for much of yesterday. Now I guess everyone forgot that the kids brought $50 instead of $2,000. What should I do?

And that is the last update we have ever got from the O.P. on the crazy neighbor poisoning her creek. And I mean, I just find this saga so unsettling and creepy because this neighbor just kept doing shit that was so wild. I mean, just so intrusive. turning off the breaker, pouring vinegar into the creek, like staring into her windows. And then she broke into her house and punched her neighbor in the face or slapped her neighbor in the face. Just a wild saga and I thought it was very, very honestly scary. Even though the OP kind of played off a lot of it, I feel like this was a very extreme and scary saga that hopefully the OP will make it out of because they're still neighbors, and hopefully the crazy neighbor doesn't do anything else to that

extremeness that she has previously, but who knows, and we have not received an update in about six months, so who knows? Maybe we'll get an update in the future, but I don't know. What are your thoughts on this? Comment down below. Chaos on a transatlantic flight. This was a long time ago, so the timeline might be a little bit off and some details are fuzzy, but I've written it out exactly as I recall it. In the early 2000s, my family was living in Europe, and in December of 2001, we were coming back home to Latin America for Christmas vacation. My brother and I, both in high school at the time, and my dad were flying together from Paris to Miami. My dad was seated in a business class while my brothers and I were in coach, sitting in the middle two seats of the middle row. The flight was pretty normal at the first, absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.

About four or five hours into the flight, I was reading a book, almost dozing off, when I heard a woman start to repeat the word, no. over and over. At first it was really quiet, almost inaudible, but it quickly got very loud and urgent. Before I realized what was happening, she was screaming, no, no, no at the top of her lungs. I looked up and saw a flight attendant a few rows ahead of me to the right, hunched over someone sitting on the window seat. My first thought was that a passenger was having a heart attack or some catastrophic health problem, but her yelling was so unsettling that this couldn't be it. There was a strangely long delay in people's reactions. Nobody did anything. I completely panicked and froze in my seat. My brother, on the other hand, jumped up out of his seat, jumped over the person

sitting on the aisle seat to the right, and ran up to see what was going on. He was up there in a matter of seconds, and as he approached, suddenly everyone around us stood up to see what was going on and or tried to help. She kept screaming, and right now she was struggling with his passenger. He was really tall, so tall that his whole head was visible over the back of his seat, and he had long, black, curly hair. came back to her road and said, something's wrong, before going up to get a closer look. Passengers close to her began struggling with the guy as well. A bunch of people jumped on him and started pulling at him. And someone in the row behind him even pulled his hair back so hard as face jerked towards the top of the plane. He led out a really loud moan slash scream.

And then there was chaos. The aisles were so crowded nobody can move. And I saw fire extinguisher being passed hand to hand from the back of the plane. I immediately thought there was a fire and that we're all going to die. It was an incredibly hopeless sensation to know that there's nowhere to run and no way to escape this situation unfolding in front of you. They passed the extinguisher up to a male flight attendant near the guy, and the flight attendant hit him with the butt of the extinguisher really hard on the face. They started asking for belts, headphones, straps, etc.,

anything they could use to restrain him. My brother took off his belt and gave it to them, and they wrapped everything they could around the passenger's arms, shoulders, and torso, securing him to the seat. I saw the male flight attendant who had hit him with the extinguisher carry a pair of large black tennis shoes to the back of the plane, which at the time seemed kind of strange, but I didn't think much of it. The flight attendants asked if there was a doctor on board to sedate the guy. People kept asking if there was a flight marshal on board, but nobody came forward.

I can't remember exactly how or when things calmed down, but eventually everyone was told to return to their seats. A small group of the people that helped or train the guy were asked to keep guard on a rotation. There were always at least a few people sitting behind him and or next to him. Keep an eye on him. I think there was even someone behind him holding a fistful of his hair for the rest of the flight. The pilot announced over the PA that there had been a security breach. I can't remember exactly what he said, but it was vague. And that we were being diverted to Boston Logan Airport.

He said they didn't know if the person was working alone, so get to know your neighbor. We were in the middle of the Atlantic with maybe four more hours to go before we could land. Things were a bit ominous and tense, but for the most part, everyone was friendly and a pretty good mood. Nobody knew what had actually happened. We weren't allowed to get up from our seats, and if you had to use the bathroom, you needed to call a flight attendant to escort you to the lavatory where you weren't allowed to lock the door. I remember a grumpy old Frenchman, a few rows from us, got really annoyed after a while and kept getting up without permission just to annoy the flight attendants. They were not happy. After a while, they put on a movie, legally blonde, to distract passengers.

My brother and I went up to business classes talking to my dad. Apparently, they didn't hear the extent of the chaos back in coach. They were all going about business as usual, pun intended. A few hours later, as we approached the U.S., we saw fighter jets outside of the windows on both side of the plane. The pilot announced that they were escorting us to Boston. A few little kids got really excited watching the jets. I later learned that these are the last resort security measure to prevent hijacked planes from repeated 9-11-style attacks. they were supposed to shoot us down in case of a major threat. We landed and were told to stay seated. A SWAT team came on board, carrying assault rifles and tons of body armor, cut off all the guy's restraints, and took him off the plane.

I saw everything in detail since we were sitting only a few seats behind him. We were parked in the middle of the tarmac for a long time before we are allowed to disembark. I remember seeing pieces of my brother's belt on the guy's seat as we left and thought about taking one as a souvenir, but thought better of it. We were escorted to a baggage claim area in Boston Logan Airport that was surrounded by a large metal fence to keep us all in one place. We were there for what felt like three or four hours just waning anxiously,

and nobody would explain anything to us. Passengers were getting really agitated, shaking the metal fences and yelling at airport personnel that this was inhumane treatment. There were no food, nowhere to sit, and children were crying. Dozens of people were trying to sleep on the baggage carousel. They finally ordered a bunch of pizzas and led us into a waiting area with actual chairs, where each passenger was interrogated by the FBI. They were astonishingly unfriendly.

I guess they were trying to discern if the guy had any partners on board. They then shot at us to our baggage, where security officers thoroughly hand-searched every single passenger's shoes, suitcases, and carry-on bags and padded everyone down. We were finally allowed to make a phone call and called my mom. The rest of the family was completely hysterical. They'd been watching the news all day.

It knew that an Islamic extremist terrorist had tried to blow up our flight with a bomb that he had smuggled on board in his shoe. We had absolutely no idea what had actually happened until this moment, as we were kept completely into dark. It was a very strange sensation. Up until this point, my dad brother and I had actually remained pretty relaxed considering the circumstances and were more annoyed about the inconvenient changes to our travel itinerary than the crazy experience on the plane. We had no idea how bad the security breach really was and how close we came to being killed. After about 12 hours in Boston, we were put on another flight home. My brother made the mistake

of giving a few interviews to CNN and other networks while we were in Boston. So when we landed in our small country, he was immediately swarmed by the press, gave a bunch of interviews despite being exhausted. I was happy to finally sit and relax with my family after the longest and most stressful trip of my life. We later learned that the bomber, Richard Reed, had actually tried to board the same flight on the previous day. He was detained in question by French security. because of multiple red flags. He had no luggage and purchased a one-way ticket with cash, causing him to miss his flight. They put him on the next day's flight and put him up in a hotel kind of far away from the airport since everything nearby was booked. The following day it rained,

and on the walk from the hotel to the airport, his shoes got wet. This might have been why he got in trouble lighting the wick in his shoe. His plan was to light it in the mid-flight. He waited until the passenger next to him went to the bathroom, then tried to light his shoe with matches. The female flight attendant that first engaged him had smelled the matches and was walking up and down the aisle looking for a passenger who, she assumed, was trying to smoke a cigarette. She saw him with the shoe in his lap and immediately tried to take it from him. They struggled and he bit her hand.

Reed is now serving three life terms in prison. Small town mentality. Lock your doors. I grew up in a small town, the type where people don't really lock their doors. Helix they didn't used to. When I was about 14 female, I got a call to babysit for one of my regulars who had three daughters. It was December, so a lot of Christmas work parties were going on. I arrived and we went over to the usual rules.

She mentioned the TV upstairs was out, so once I put the girls to bed, just head down there to watch TV. And so after playing with the girls for a while, I sent them off to their bed and headed downstairs. I spent a few hours channel surfing. It was around 1.30 a.m. I remember grabbing the phone, though I can't remember who I was calling, maybe my mom or my sister to let them know I would be really late. But I heard the door open upstairs, which sort of surprised me. The mom enjoyed the nights I babysat, as she knew I was a night owl who could be there super

late, like three in the morning, provided she held the cab for me. It was a small town, but I live on the other side of it. As I headed upstairs, I heard someone stumble, so I picked up my pace to make sure she was okay, only to find three people I had never seen before. There was a clearly drunk woman lying in the doorway in two guys. The guys looked as surprised to see me as I was them. I asked why they were there. The girl had slurred out that they were there for a party.

I was confused and asked if they knew Helen, the mother. One of the guys looked me up and down and I began getting even more uncomfortable at the whole situation. He asked if I was here alone. I remember not wanting to answer because all it could have been. think of was the fact that there are three little girls sleeping in the house. I decided instead of answering him, I would simply state there was no party here that they needed to leave. The girl was adamant that she was here for the party. The guy who had asked me the question took a step forward. I demanded this time they leave and we all heard the sound of a phone button being pushed.

I'd forgotten it was even in my hand, but it seemed to be enough to startle the guy who thought I pushed it on purpose. The guy quickly told the other. guy they were leaving and helped the woman up. As soon as they were outside, I slammed the door and locked it and quickly ran to the front window and watched them. They continued up the block, so it wasn't merely messing up the house numbers for them. The mom returned home two hours later and was confused why the door was locked. She was too drunk, so I just told her it made me feel safe. I feel stupid for not telling someone, but they didn't really do anything. To the three drunks, that one winter night, let's not meet again.

The Tipjar, a scary encounter working at a bikini coffee stand at 4 a.m. I'm not willing to share the evidence that earned the verified flare with anyone else except the mods for obvious reasons. The tip jar. Against the advice of my parents, I started working at a bikini coffee stand when I was 17 years old and continued working there until I was 20. If you were unfamiliar with bikini coffee stands, they are little drive-thru espresso stands, usually painted in some neon color, or the employees all wear lingerie or bikinis while they serve coffee. I know this sounds strange, and believe me,

it is strange, however, the money was good. It was fun at the time, and my parents couldn't really afford to pay for college. There is no loudspeaker where customers place their order, they simply drive up to the stand, order coffee, and make small talk as they ogle you in your skimpy assemble. Anyway, it's kind of hard to explain, so maybe just Google it. The Seattle area has them all over the place. Within a matter of months, the boss gave me the busiest shift. The shift began at 4 a.m. and ended at 9.30 a.m. Though the coffee stand was not officially open until 4.30, I had to count the till, grind the espresso beans, fill up the sinks, take stock, clean if needed, etc. The coffee stand was situated in the corner of a large parking lot, sharing the enormous empty lot

with only one other retailer. The other retailer didn't open until around 10 a.m., and so when I arrived, the lot was completely dark, save for one dim street lamp above the stand and another in the far corner of the lot. I pulled up to the stand as I normally did, only this time, I was a lot. Only this time, it was my first shift alone. Normally, I worked with one other girl, as the shift would get far too busy for just one person. I had the routine with regular customers, as I literally worked every single day. The boss didn't believe in time off unless requested. While I worked, I could see cars approach the stand and know immediately what drink to prepare, based on my recognizing a regular customer's vehicle. After almost a year on the morning shift, it was rare to see a new vehicle,

or meet a new customer. My boss was extremely strict about being fast and efficient. It would have us prepare drinks in advance for our regulars while they waited in the line of cars. My boss was so strict that for the first six months of my working there, you would watch constantly on his camera system and call me on the business phone to scream at me for the lack of efficiency. After this, I became so fast in preparing drinks. I guess he decided he would save money by having me work alone in the very early morning hours, he was stingy too. So like normal, I approached the stand and punched in the access code. I went inside and turned on some music right away to keep myself company. The street lamp directly above the coffee stand had burnt out a few days before so it was rather dark outside,

coupled with the tinted sliding windows of the coffee stand and the knowledge that I was completely alone. I felt a little creeped out, though not nearly as creeped out and terrified as I was about to feel in a few minutes. Even though the stand was technically open at 4.30, I wouldn't expect my first customer until about 4.45. I usually arrived at 4, but since it was my first shift alone, I came in at 3.30 to give myself enough time to complete all of the opening tasks. My first customer was always Dave.

He drove a red sports car and ordered a double cappuccino, heavy on the foam. He worked for the local Boeing plant and would brag about his high-ranking job in between awkward remarks about my body, you'd get used to the sort of thing after a while. But nothing could prepare me for the sort of thing that happened to me on this particular dark morning. Though many of the customers were pervy men like Dave, most of the early morning customers weren't as lecherous as one would expect. They simply needed coffee and no other business was open as early as ours. In fact, many of my early morning customers were married men in soccer mom vans. desperate need of caffeine. I glanced up at the clock as I opened the money in the till.

3.50 a.m. I finished the count and walked from the back of the stand onto the main floor. There were two steps separating the back of the stand from the main floor. The back of the stand had no windows and containing a bathroom, large refrigerator, washer, dryer, etc. This is the area where many of my coworkers and myself would get ready and drove around where customers couldn't see us. As soon as we walked onto the main floor where customers could see us, uniform was required, meaning lingerie or bikini, as well as heels. That morning I was wearing a matching pink lingerie set with knit stockings. The lingerie fully covered my breasts and buttocks and provided more coverage than a typical

bikini you would see at a beach. I counted all of the syrup bottles. I opened the fridge and took stock inside. I turned on the espresso grinder and robotically poured in a bag of espresso beans. I started filling up the large commercial sink with soapy water. Music played softly on a stereo. Then I heard it. Over the noise of faucet, coffee grinder, and the music,

I wasn't sure I heard anything at first, so I just ignored it. Then I heard it again. Tap, tap, tap. Someone was tapping on the sliding glass window of the stand. I wiped off my wet hands and grabbed my cell phone. 4.15 a.m. We weren't open for another 15 minutes. I checked the light switches to make sure I didn't accidentally flip on the open sign.

Along with an open sign, the stand was equipped with bright floodlights to illuminate the presence of the stand due to the sheer darkness that morning. I'd contemplated turning on the floodlights when I first arrived, but it was strictly forbidden to do so until the stand was open. Without the floodlights on and through the tinted glass, I could not see who was on the other side. I stood there, staring at the window. Maybe it's just Dave. rationalized to myself. Tap, tap, tap. I could hear my heart thumping in my ears.

The tapping had definitely grew louder. I picked up the business phone and punched in my boss's number. He had an extensive camera system, complete with night vision, and could see in real time both inside and outside of the stand. In the very least, he could tell me who was outside. The phone rang and rang no answer. I flipped on the floodlights. I walked over to the window and saw the man.

now illuminated by the bright lights. His head was pressed up against the glass, hands cupped around his eyes as he tried to see in. I jumped back. Hi, he yelled through the glass. Can I get some coffee? We aren't open for another 15 minutes, I replied. My boss will be mad if I open early. Oh.

Well, I can wait. The man then walked away from the window and stepped into a small black Honda. I continued my opening duties, warily eyeing the black Honda. At the time, I felt a false sense of security, lulled into the daily routine of my shift. However, this was different. At 4.30, I dutifully turned on the open sign and watched as the man in the black Honda drove up to the window. He was wearing a dark red baseball cap, a thermal shirt, and plaid pajama pants.

I opened the sliding window. Hi, sorry about that. What can I get for you this morning? I said, trying to sound as normal as possible. The man looked at me for what. it felt like an eternity. What I want doesn't appear to be on the menu, he said. Not looking up for my crotch.

Okay, so. I know what you're thinking. What did I expect working in this profession? Gentlemen? I brushed his comment aside with a laugh. We have a great white chocolate mocha. I looked around frantically. What the fuck was the usual morning guy, Dave?

I silently prayed another customer would pull up behind the sky. He looked away and stared at his steering wheel. I want you to be my maid. Excuse me, I said. Not sure if I heard him correctly. I want you to be my maid. I want you to come over to my house wearing a maid costume with nothing underneath. I want to watch you.

If you don't clean correctly, I am going to do whatever I want to you. He paused and gripped his steering wheel tightly. I am not a nice guy. He looked up at me and smiled. Until that point in my life I had never seen. seen a truly sinister smile before. I slammed the long-serving window shut. I ran to the back of the stand hyperventilating at this point. I picked up the phone and called my boss repeatedly, no answer. I stood on the steps and peered out the window. The black Honda was gone, replaced by the familiar red

of Dave's sports car. I never thought I would be happy to see Purvey Dave, but here I was, rushing to the serving window to tell him what had happened. I opened the window all the while, frantically relaying story. Dave just laughed and muttered something about the guy dreaming. He told me that I was just being paranoid and the guy just had no filter. For some reason, this put me at ease. Dave reached his hand out of the window to place a $5 bill in my tip jar. He tipped this amount each morning. Wow, he explained. You just opened and your tip jar is already full. I didn't have a good coffee, but it's not that great. Huh? I said, slamming the register shut. The tip jar rested on the outside. window ledge so customers couldn't reach it. I made it a habit of just leaving it outside in between

customers as it could get very busy. I leaned over and looked into the metal canister. Inside the tip tip jar was a long white envelope that appeared to be stuffed to its capacity. My stomach turned, as I knew it had to be from the guy in the black Honda. Dave, I said cautiously. It's from that guy I just told you about. I'm not opening that. Dave sipped his cappuccino and suddenly his goofy demeanor turned serious. You're right. Let me open it. I have gloves. It was late fall and rather cold out. Dave put on his gloves in a dramatic manner laughing about my paranoia and proceeded to step outside of his car. He took the envelope out of my tip jar and opened it. Holy shit, he said. His eyes widening. He held up a stack of $20 bills held together by rubber band.

On the back of the stack was a folded up piece of paper. He unfolded the paper and began reading it. His eyes grew even wider. His hands were shaking ever so slightly. What? What does it say? He simply said, Get dressed and call the police.

I snatched the note from him. His jaw slightly agape. The note was laden with spelling errors and looked as if it was written in a child's hand. Oddly, there was rather long words that were attempted, but spelled incorrectly, it said some very deranged things. There are some things too sick to mention here, but I'll relay the basic message as best as I can recall. Some things you just never forget, even if you want to.

So here it is, without the spelling errors in the length. It was two pages long, front and back. You will come to my house. When you arrive, I'll examine you thoroughly. I'll then tie you to the post, and you'll be punished for what you do. Every inch of your body will be bruised and sore. Afterward, I will untie you and use you in every way possible.

Used a different term, but it is extremely graphic, it includes the words hogtied. You can scream, but no one will hear you. This is your first payment. Upon reading this note and taking this money, you have agreed to follow through. If you do not follow through, you are a stealing, lying, whore, and you will be punished more severely than if you cooperated to the, this initial agreement. You will clean every inch of my house. There will be no mistakes or there will be more punishment to follow. I got dressed and called the police and my boss who finally answered.

The police arrived and I went to the station to explain in detail what happened. I handed them to the note, along with the money for evidence. The female police officer who appeared to be in charge nonchalantly told me that I should probably quit my job, that this behavior was to be expected from customers. I told her that I have never experienced anything like this before. My boss reviewed the outside videotape footage. The footage showed a man, standing outside of the coffee stand, window just staring inside. Occasionally it showed him leaning his head into the glass and cupping his hands around his eyes for a better view. It also showed him rubbing his crotch. Apparently, he'd been standing outside the window since 3.40 a.m. 10 minutes after my initial

arrival. At one point, it showed him going back into his car only to reemerge several minutes later and finally tap on the window. I was shocked to realize that the man had watched me for almost a full hour without my knowledge. I felt stupid and most of all scared. The footage also revealed that the man had his license plates covered with what appeared to be white paper. After reviewing the footage and the note, the police decided that the man posed a potential threat, and that this behavior was not normal. Duh. They sent an undercover cop back to the stand with me. I was shocked that they wanted me to go right back to work not even two hours after the incident. The cop sat outside in an SUV while I worked. The plan was this. If the man drove through again, I was to flick the

open sign on and off to alert him of the man's presence. I worked serving all of my regular customers, trying my best to pretend nothing happened. I was told not to recall the incident to any of my coworkers or customers that morning, in case they knew the man and warned him of police involvement. The man did not return that day. But he did return. Little did I know the day was only the beginning of a year-long nightmare. Edit number two. To all of those who asked, this happened well over six years ago.

Final update and conclusion. I have been unindated with messages before part two. Unfortunately, I'm unable to post the rest of the rest of the last. of the story for LNM because series posts are no longer loud. I posted part two on no sleep, but unfortunately the guidelines do not allow users to continue stories from LNM over on no sleep. I'm sure you can find part two in a pace bin somewhere. But I will keep it simple and relay a short version of the conclusion.

I fully intended to complete this series. Unfortunately, I no longer wish to invest the time nor the energy to keep posting the rest of the story, only to have it removed by moderators, which I understand rules or rules. rules. So I will end this with letting you all know that I am fine now. I'll give you a quick synopsis of how things turned out. The stocking continued for a while, about a year. The stocker left endless creepy gifts from me, both at work and at my place of residence, all of which he signed off on as Turner. It got to a point where I could improve it was him because it would often be sent by a courier or a third party. He continued to come by the stand, and at one point

he even promised to leave me alone. My co-worker was there. We actually managed to have a very brief discussion in which he apologized and agreed that his behavior was inappropriate. However, he resumed his creepy behavior just days later. The police were of no help and kept insisting me that it would all go away if I just quit my job. I had his license plate, which was out of state and vehicle description, but apparently the car wasn't even registered. I did not even know this was a possibility. Despite taking a leave of absence, the stocking continued. I didn't want to quit my job, as this was shortly after the recession. My mom, the sole provider of a family of five, had lost her job, so I wanted to chip in and help her so they wouldn't lose the house. Other bikini stands in the area

were not hiring due to the being embroiled in prostitution scandals, all of which were heavily covered by the national media. You have no idea how hard it was and maybe still is to get a normal job after having worked as a bikini barista. Employers don't like it on your job history too much. The few of the scariest incidences were, being assaulted at an ice freezer outside of the coffee stand. Thankfully, he didn't harm me physically, just grabbed me and touch me inappropriately.

Turner coming through the drive-thru completely naked and J-Oing into a pair of women's underwear. I'm not sure if I'm allowed to say all of this on L&M and a quick snook note, I'm not sure if I'm allowed to say this on YouTube, so I kind of tried to, you know, censor it a bit. But anyways, back to the story. I've previously omitted this from my story due to the explicit SA nature. If this is in violation of the guidelines, please let me know before removing my post. I will remove it. Another incident occurred when my friend gave me a joint, a customer had left

for me on her shift. Crazy as it may sound in my regulars fairly often would leave joints in my tip tip jar instead of money. I like to smoke a lot at the time. I asked my coworker for the customer's name, but she didn't get a chance to ask for it. I was told by my friend slash co-worker that he had long hair and looked like a hippie. This fits the description of a customer who'd regularly leave joints in my tip jar. I smoked the joint before I went to sleep one night, only to have a massive freak out, full of hallucinations, hysteria, etc. I literally thought I saw ghosts, demons, and fire. I ended up in the hospital. I found out in the hospital that, in addition to having marijuana in my system, I also had a bunch of PCP in my system as well. Later on, Turner would take credit

for this joint by sending a text to my phone, letting me know that if I wanted him to smoke me out, that we could get together sometime. I guess he thought this weed was enjoyable. Ha. Of course, I gave his number to the police. I feel like I gave them enough information to get this guy, but I was just never taken seriously or they had bigger fish to fry. They did find, however, that the phone he used was a burner. Again, I did not plan on and did not previously include this in my story. Just typing this out is giving me horrible flashbacks to that time on PCP. I do my best to never think about this or bring it up. In this period of time, it was evident that one of my coworkers was sharing my personal information with Turner in exchange for money, or maybe just because

she didn't like me. This coworker was later arrested on prostitution charges. I ended up relocating and changing my last name, which is surprisingly easy to do. I did this primarily to get away from Turner, but also so I could get a fresh start with a new employment history and get away from the negative energy that had circled my life. I had taken nude photos of myself or my boyfriend at the time, and after we broke up, he leaked them to everyone on my contact list, including my co-workers, of course. This meant Turner most likely got a hold of the photos as well. It may seem strange to you, but after a while, the stalking becomes part of your life. It's kind of like living around a bunch of rattlesnakes. You may feel constantly on guard and on edge, but eventually you work your daily routine around

trying your best to avoid the snakes so you don't get bitten. When it happens, you do your best to move on. I have recently found out, within the last few months, that a man fitting my stalker's description was incarcerated some time ago for doing something even more frightening to another barista in the PNW. There were also similar incidences in reports of a man driving through bikini stands naked or with women's underwear. I suspect that this man was most likely Turner.

I could not be sure if it is the same person, as I never was able to find out this person's true first and last name, but I'm hopeful that it is him. He'll be locked away for a very long time. He just wanted a girlfriend. When I was about nine years old, female, my family used to live in a remote area on the outskirts of town, considering the location of the suburb that area,

was surrounded by warehouses and such. At the time, my family did not have a phone in the house and neither did our neighbors. There were no cell phones back then, or they were a luxury and not everyone could afford one. This took place in the end of the 90s. So if I needed to call my mom while she used at work, I had to either go to my dad's work or accompanying next to his, which was closer to make a phone call. My dad's work was a relatively short walk from our house, probably 30 minutes or less. My dad was working at a huge unloading dock for metallurgical slash natural resources shipments.

In order to get to my dad's work, I had to walk past another adjacent company just like the one where my dad was working. I will call it Docks 2. My dad's work, as well as Dox 2, had a sort of watch tower. It is just a cabin mounted at the top of a tall platform, and you need to go up a decent amount of stairs to get to the top. There was always a guard inside overseeing the whole yard from the top. during the day and night to make sure no one is in danger slash no break-ins. The phones were located only on-site watchtowers at the time. Docs 2 were much closer to our house, only 10 minutes walk. One day, as I've done many times before, I went to the docks 2 to make a call. I climbed the stairs,

knocked on the door, and was welcomed in by a guard and used to see well quite often and knew well. However, that day he wasn't alone. New guy, 28 at the time was there. Apparently he was a employee hired to work shifts. He was this very tanned white guy always wearing military style outfits. I was just an average-looking child looking exactly my age. My hair was very blonde, which made my cheeks appear rosy red, and gave me more childish appearance. When the new guy saw me that day, he wouldn't take his eyes off me. As soon I was about to finish my call with my mom, it's just one room so everyone can hear my conversation with her. The new guy went outside to smoke. When I came out, he smiled at me and asked me what my name is and whether I came there often to make calls.

I don't remember what I said, but I felt very shy because he was just staring deeply into my eyes. I will call him the creep. Fast forward, and I came to that tower again to make a call, and there he was again. But that time, he was alone. I spoke to my mom, and as I was about to leave, he asked me if I wanted any tea to which I refused. He then proceeded to ask me how school was going and things like that. offered to help me with my homework, however, I told him I've got it all sorted. Harmless, but strange. On a side note, I just want to say about that what gave me shivers when I was near

him is that whatever he looked at me, he looked drunk, which was very unsettling. Mind you, he wasn't actually drunk, but his eyes would just get so hazy and his face would flush red. Sometime later, I saw him again. That time I was walking to my dad's work with my friend, and he was doing some digging in the docks too. When he saw me through the metal, fence that was separating us, he just leaned against his shovel and just stared at me. He didn't say hi or anything like that. After those encounters, for quite some time, I took alternative routes to see my dad or play with puppies at my dad's work or make calls to my mom because he really creep me out. However, one day I had to call my mom urgently. My dad's work phone didn't work

so I had to go to the Doct 2 tower, hoping I won't see him. The creep was there. And oh boy, He was so happy I came. He was complaining how I don't come anymore to see him. As I was making a call, he grabbed another chair and sat right next to me. Very close. It took a while for the call because my mom was busy with something and someone went to get her whilst I was on the line. It felt like hours waiting and the creep was just sitting next to me, looking at me and smiling.

When my mom finally got to the phone, he got up and went to make some tea and brought some biscuits. When I was done talking, he insisted I have some tea with him. him. I didn't, and he just kept on trying to strike a conversation, but this time the tone of the conversation was different. He asked me how old exactly I was, and I told him 12 or 13. I have no idea why I lied when I was older than 9. He told me his age, and although I knew he was much older, I felt really weirded out that he wanted to talk to me so badly or had any interest in being my friend. My alarms do go off every time I was around him, but I guess I didn't feel overly in danger. He then proceeded to tell me that I was so beautiful and asked me whether

I had a boyfriend. He asked me if I had already dated boys and what type of boys I liked. I was just so uncomfortable and so eager to leave at that point and he would just keep dragging me into these weird conversations so I could tell he was drinking that day. When I began moving towards a door, he followed me. Eventually, we were both outside. However, in order to get down from the tower, you need to walk this narrow path towards the stairs. He stood, blocked. blocking it so that I couldn't leave. He got very close to me and I freaked out. The only escape tactic I could come up with as a child was to pretend that I'm seeing

someone from the top of the tower. So I began waving my hand at the road down the bottom and towards houses in the distance pretending I see someone and I know and say like, oh look, that's my uncle, he's waving at me. The creep looked in that direction but either he didn't care or could tell that I was lying. I kept on telling him that my uncle who waved is a big angry man and if I won't come home down this incident and go home, we both are going to be in trouble. The creep didn't budge. He got even closer and eventually pressed me against the railing. He kept on asking me his weird

questions whilst I was terrified to move because I didn't want to move my body against his, if that makes any sense, so I just froze. He asked me if I could go on a date with him and that he is looking for a girlfriend. And at that particular moment, someone was coming up the stairs to the tower, so he let me go, but asked me to come back. I've not told anyone about this encounter at that stage because I was afraid that my parents would get angry. I also just felt embarrassed and thought that people would judge me for what's happened. Sometime later, I was home and it was around 9 p.m. I know the time because it was my bedtime. Suddenly a car came into our driveway. I came to see who it was through the front room door, and I could see it was the creep, but this time with other guys,

blasting music in his car and shouted my name. I have no idea how he knew where I lived. He must have followed me one day. My dad was outraged. He asked me who these people were, but before I could even answer, he rushed outside. Apparently the creep asked me for me to go out to him and his friends. My dad obviously refused, saying that I am a child and too young to hang out with them or go out at this time of night, and that if he sees any one of them ever again,

you'll beat the living daylights out of him. So they drove away. I was so upset with my dad that he called me a child in front of them. So stupid. I think because we live so far away from everything, I was really keen to make friends as there were no kids around and such. For a while after that, I haven't seen the creeper heard of him. Significant time later, I was walking to my dad's work again

and I've completely forgotten about the creep. He was working in the docks too with his friends. Maybe those that came with them that night in the car, or maybe these were just his coworkers. I got scared when I saw him and even thought he shouted hi. I pretended not to know him. He said something to his friends and I remember so clearly how one of his friends explained loudly, Her?

I guess he told them about me or his interest in me, but no one expected me to be a child. I looked at the guy that exclaimed. He was staring at me in utter disbelief. He must have been 20 or 25 or so, I think. And the creep was saying something to him. His friend screamed at him, Have you lost your mind? Clearly, the creep didn't see me as a child like everyone else did.

Fast forward again, maybe half a year later. One day I was home alone in the evening waiting for my parents to come back from work. We lived in a very safe community, so sometimes I'd be home by myself for a little bit after school until my parents got home. I was playing a game whereby I was a singer. I had this stage created in the living room and I was performing in front of chairs pretending there were my live audience. It was pitch black outside.

At some point during my performance, I had a lot. I see someone staring at me through the living room window. That person must have been crouched down as only top of the face could be seen from the bottom. As soon as that person realized I saw them, they ran away. I was so embarrassed that someone saw me performing, scared and shocked at the same time, that I was literally glued to the floor. I didn't know whether that was him. Our dog didn't react at all, maybe because music was playing very loudly.

I was scared to go outside the house to check but peered through the window, however, no one was there. That person had to climb over the wooden fence to get to our living room window. I told my parents about it. I've also asked my friend whether it was him who came around, but he said it wasn't him. I don't know if my friend felt shy to admit he was watching me or whether it was the creep. To finish this up, one day I went to docks too with my dad, as my dad needed something from there from work. I saw the old guard that I knew well and asked about the creep and was told that he didn't work there anymore.

I don't know what happened of him. I never told my parents about what's happened. So even though I know our past will never cross, let's not meet. God said, you're my wife. A few years ago, my boyfriend and best friend of four years had just dumped me. I was using this website, Meet Me to Meet People in my area while I was in college. My profile clearly stated that I was not explicitly looking for anyone to date, just wanted to meet new people. I had just been dumped, so I was really trying to put myself out there, and I'm not really the type to go out.

In my area, there was a giant dance-a-thon that my university did every year to raise money for a children's hospital. I had someone messaged me and asked if I had heard of it. I told him my dance team usually performed at it every year. He told me he was actually one of the children that was supported by the event when he was younger. I thought that was really cool, so I asked him a little about his experience with that and genuinely thought it was interesting. After a while, that conversation was kind of dead, and I didn't really have much else to say. Plus, it was getting late, and I kind of wanted to go to bed. I told him so, and after about 10 minutes of lying in my bed trying to sleep, I get another

notification. I glanced at it real fast, and this dude had just sent me a novel. After this event, I swiftly deleted the account, so unfortunately, I don't have access to the exact messages, so I'm just going to do my best remember. The first one went a little something like, look, I'll be honest. I really want to keep talking to you. In fact, I'd actually really like to take you on a date sometime. You seem like a really nice girl and very sweet and interesting.

I think we would get along extremely well. I am kind of alone in this world. Insert long-winded commentary about his loneliness here. He also did not use any punctuation, so it took me a long time to dissect this. I responded and told him I wasn't interested in and was about seven years older than me. I was 20 at the time and tried to say good night again. Then he responded with another novel along the lines of, I don't think you understand you are perfect for me.

You are made for me. I'm sure of it. God speaks to me, you know. God wants us to be together and we will be. One day, you will be mine. I'm trying to be polite because he was so nice earlier and I guess I'm naive. I don't totally know, but I kept responding, trying to let him down easy. Here are some more highlights.

Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But God has decided this. Who are we to deny him of his plan? Some day in the future we will end up together. You will realize it soon. We're going to have three children. I know their names.

Two boys, one girl. God spoke their names to me. I wrote them down when I was seven years old and I still have the paper. Do you know how I know you're going to be my wife because I wrote your name down on it? You will be my wife. Don't make a mistake. is talking to me now. He's saying your name to me. I can't let you leave. At that point, I blocked and reported him. Nope, the hell off the site and went to bed all creeped out. Morning

came and he had found me on Facebook and he was going on and on and on, starting with comments along the lines of, where did you go? How could you do this to me? You're denying your fate. He did it all night. I freaked out, told him to leave me alone pretty aggressively and blocked him. I deleted all the social media apps off my phone for the next few days. I asked my roommates do stay at home with me. They agreed after I told him what happened. I was actually genuinely afraid of this dude was coming to get me. I mean, he was local and I had made nice conversation by telling him my major and some clubs I was in. He could have showed up anywhere, but thankfully he didn't and that was the end of that. So creepy, meet me, dude? Let's not meet.

My friends and I attended a trivia night. The questions progressively got weirder. Thursday is trivia night. Every Thursday, four friends and I have meet up at a local restaurant that hosts weekly trivia games, with all of us being young adults that recently graduated from college. Trivia is a great way for us to stay connected despite all of us being real adults with real jobs now. Every week we go to the restaurant, Bennies, and sit at the same booth. We participate in five categories of trivia, with each category having five questions. We drink, laugh, answer the questions, and usually win or at least play second. This is the routine that we have followed for the past few months, until the group chat got a text from Henry.

Have you guys ever heard of Lucy's bar? I read the message and instantly went to look it up on Google Maps. Nothing came up in the search bar except some recommendations for other bars or establishments that started with an L. I typed out my response. No, where's that? Some place over by Thurmont Avenue. I got an ad in my mail advertising trivia at this place on Thursday.

Maybe we check out a new spot? I frowned when reading that. Personally, I love the status quo and hate change, even when it comes down to something as simple as where we attended trivia night. But before I could respond, Alice sent the text. I'd be down to try a new place. It gets boring when we always win every week at Benny's. Well, if Alice wants to try the new place, then Jenny will side with her.

That only leaves me and Morgan. I had to respond before he did. We're going to give Gary a heart attack if we don't show up Benny's tomorrow. We're there every week. Gary is the head bartender, and he'll usually let us get away with one round of beers for free. Come on, it'll be fun to try a new place. Henry really seemed to want to try this new place. Sigh. Before I could formulate a response, Morgan finally chimed in. What's the harm in skipping Bennings for one week? We'll see if the trivia here is fun, and if it's not, at least we tried somewhere new.

And that's settled it. The following evening, I drove slowly down Fairmont as I squinted at the buildings. looking for a sign advertising Lucy's bar. We don't live in a small town, but I've lived here long enough to be pretty familiar with the businesses that line the street. I'd never heard of this place before, so I figured it must be new. After parking on the side of the road, I began to wander down the sidewalk. When I reached the last building, I turned to the group chat for help. Where is this place? Go around the side of the bank building.

There's a sign pointing to the stairs. The bar is down there. Sure enough, once I run at the corner of the building for the bank, I saw a bright neon side with an arrow pointing down the stairs. No wonder I'd never seen this place. I followed the stairs and found all four my friends already seated at a table. I scanned the place while walking over to them. It looked like an average bar.

One bartender stood behind the counter of the bar, and there was a mix of regular tables, high top tables, and booths along the wall. There weren't many others, just a few groups of people scattered about. I greeted my friends as I slid in next to Henry at the booth. I never knew this place was here, I said. I didn't either until I got the ad. He shrugged. I didn't know of any other places that hoarded trivia, and I thought it might be fun.

I think we have a good chance of winning, and Alice whispered while Jenny nodded her head in agreement. We're the biggest group here. While we waited for our appetizers and drinks to come out, I looked more closely at the other groups. There were two groups of couples seated at different tables, two trios, and one group of four that were also in boothas around us. Around a few minutes, our food was brought out. I could now see a name tag on the woman who is waiting on us. Are you the Lucy that owns the bar, I asked? The one and only, she replied with a wink.

She looked like she was in her 40s and had on the brightest red lipstick that I've ever seen. We'll get trivia going here in just a moment. I watched as she went into the kitchen, and a moment later she emerged and sat on one of the stools of the bar. She had a handful of cards with her that she laid down on the countertop before clearing her throat. So what does the winning team get, I asked Henry. I'm not exactly sure. The ad just listed the location in time for trivia.

He replied with a shrug. All right, everyone, we're going to get started. There should be multiple sheets of paper on your table as well as a couple of pencils. After each question, you'll write down your answer and then bring it up to me. It was similar to our normal trivia in this sense that there were five rounds of five questions, but bringing up the answer after every question seemed a bit tedious. After everyone turned in their answer, Lucy would repeat the question, tell us the answer, and then grant the points to the teams who answer correctly.

Oddly enough, I did end up enjoying getting to hear the answer sooner, rather than at the end of the round. The first round was a general trivia, generic questions about the year that this product came out, or who wrote that great American novel, the second round covered sports, then the third round covered geography. The first question related to the Pacific Ocean, and the second question related to the country in Europe. Then, Lucy asked the third question. Where can you find hell, she asked. My friends in I exchanged glances with each other. Like, as an actual hell, Morgan asked? We're going to find hell, Lucy, repeated grinning at us?

What are we supposed to say? Under the Earth? The Earth's core, Jenny asked. Alice shrugged. I'm good with putting the core of the Earth. So that is what we wrote down. Henry brought the slip of paper up to Lucy, who read it and smiled. After the last group brought up their paper, Lucy prepared to give us the answer.

Where would you find hell? Well, you'd hop in your car and drive out of Michigan, where you'd find the tiny, unincorporated town of hell. Lucy said with a laugh. All of the tables also let out little laughs at the question made more sense. The next two questions were normal geography questions. Lucy listed the play scenes of each team in my group was in first, but only by a couple of points. Then we got to the fourth round. Time for round four, Lucy exclaimed, clapping her hands together. Name this 2005 horror film that Keanu Reeve starred in. Everyone immediately turned to Henry, the horror film buff in our group.

Constantine, he whispered, and Jenny wrote it down. She had been tasked with writing the answers since she had the neatest handwriting. After everyone turning their answers, Lucy confirmed that Constantine was the correct answer. Next question. Who do you like the least in your group? Lucy asked. I looked at my friend, and then at Lucy to see if she was being serious. Who do you like the least in your group?

There is no right or wrong answer, but you will not get a point if you don't turn in a real answer. She explained. What? Morgan asked. What kind of question is that? Yeah, I'm not writing anything down, said Jenny. If you choose not to write an answer, you will not receive any point. And it's in your best interest to get as many points as possible, so you can win, of course. She said cheerily, we all sat in awkward silence waiting to see if anyone would bring their paper over to Lucy.

No one did. Well, Lucy chuckled. You guys get a pass with that one. But moving forward, if you do not bring up a real answer, you will get docked points. Next question. Who is the most rational, level-headed person in your group? Still weird, but I guess this isn't a mean question to answer, Alice said. I'd probably say Jenny, I answered, and everyone nodded in agreement. Jenny wrote down her own name on the paper and brought it to Lucy.

Excellent. Now you can earn a point, Lucy told her. The other group slowly filed over to the turn in their papers, and once everyone was seated again, Lucy asked another question. Who in your group would you sacrifice? if you had no choice. Complete silence filled the bar. I think I've had enough of these questions, Morgan said. I'm done with this.

The rest of us voiced our agreement and began to put our cash to pay, so we didn't have to wait for a bill to be rung up. I'm afraid that no one can leave until trivia is complete. Lucy said in a sympathetic voice that did not seem sincere. I don't think you can really stop us, said a man from one of the couples that was sitting at a high top table. He was putting his coat on while his wife grabbed her purse. Lucy was silent as we watched the couple walk up the stage.

stairs. Once at the top, we couldn't see them anymore, but we heard the sound of a door attempting to be pulled open, followed by cursing. Flustered, the man ran back down the stairs. The door was fucking locked. Open the door, he shouted at Lucy. I told you that no one may leave until trivia is over, she clucked. Please return to your table, so we may continue. We should be allowed to leave if we want, Morgan told her, as we all stood awkwardly around the table. Everyone else was murmuring in agreement, trying to figure out what to do. The rules are the rules. Once you you must play all the way through. I highly recommend continuing your participation because the first place group will win a very promising prize, she told us.

You can't keep us locked in here, said a man from a different group. There is no other way out of the bar, Lucy told him, and the murmurs at each table slowly began to turn into panic. All I ask is that you finish trivia. That's it. We all looked around at each other. Alice looked at her phone and groaned in frustration. Of course we don't have service in here. It seems like we have to have. We have to have. have to tough it out and finish the trivia. We're already on the fourth round. We only have about six questions left, said Henry. Disgruntled, the couple seemed to also come to the conclusion as they returned to their table, and we all sat back down. You will have one minute

to submit your answer for the previous question. If you fail to turn it in the paper with a real answer, you will be docked a point, Lucy told us. She doesn't know any of us, I whispered with my friends. Let's just put a random name and turn it in. Jenny nodded and wrote something down before bringing it to Lucy. After the minute was up, only three of the other groups had turned their papers in. Lucy reviewed the slips and tallied the points. Sadly, none of you get points for this round. Some of you failed to turn in an answer while the groups that did submit an answer

chose not to be truthfully named a member of the group. You all get talked to point. How the fuck does she know that I whispered to everyone, who all stared back in me with wide eyes? Next question. Last one in this round. What is the worst sin you've ever? ever committed. Since there is more than one person in each group, I expect one answer for each person. Your points still count towards your overall group score, but you can get more points if

everyone answers truthfully. We all sat there, speechless. Do we try to leave again, Jenny asked. I wouldn't, Lucy said. Red lips stretched into a wide grin. Just finish it out. There's only one round left. Your group is in the lead, and it is in your best interest to keep it that way. Why do you keep saying that? What does the first prize win? A girl from one of the trio tables asked. You'll find out soon enough if I were you, I would work very hard to try to take that first place spot, Lucy replied.

Now let's turn in those answers. The girls from the table ignored her and walked over to the staircase anyway. We heard them pushing against the door, but apparently to no avail, as they gloomily came back downstairs a minute later. Well, somehow she knows if we're lying, so we have to turn in the right answer out. said about the worst sin we've ever committed that's a fucked up question Morgan retorted clearly this woman is whack but we often turn in our own answer we don't have to look at

each other's answers but I think we should just answer truthfully Henry reasoned fuck it yeah I just want to get out of here let's turn in our answers I said I pondered for a moment what is the worst skin I've ever committed I cheated on my partner in high school I felt really awful about that for a long time Obviously, we weren't married or anything, but I wrote down adultery-slash-cheating on my slip of paper and turned it in. Lucy snatched the paper from my hand and after reading it, winked at me. I walked back to the table and sat down. After everyone had reluctantly turning their answers in, the room sat in an eerie silence while Lucy examined the papers and wrote down the scores.

She proceeded to list out the ranking of groups by points, and our group still held the lead. We have made it to the last category, Lucy announced. First question. What is your deepest fear? Well, not a fun question. It wasn't as awful as the sacrifice question. The rest of the round proceeded with bizarre questions, including, who do you hate the most in your life? If you had to kill someone, how would you do it?

Which circle of hell and Dante's inferno would you be sent to? And we finished with the grand finale question of, will you return to trivia at Lucy's? My answer was simply a fuck no. After the last group turned in their paper for the last question, I've been a question. I let out a breath. I didn't even realize I was holding. The same guy who tried to leave earlier stood up again. Can we leave now? Trivia's finished. I haven't yet announced the winners, Lucy replied without looking up from her score sheet. I don't care who won. We want to leave, he told her. While the winners get to leave first, she said in response. She listed the rankings

again with the duo's finishing last, then one of the trios. Third place went to the other trio. Second place went to the group of four and my team was announced as the winners. Congratulations, Lucy said, beaming toward our table. You all get to leave first. Second place gets to choose three people to leave. And third place gets to choose one person to leave. Everyone who had been gathering their things stopped in their tracks. Forget that.

We're leaving, said one of the girls in the duo that finished last. Lucy stood to her feet. No, was all she said. You can't stop us, the other girls said. And the two of them headed towards the stairs, the bartender, who had been silently cleaning glasses at the counter, now stood at the foot of the stairs, blocking them. Let us through the first girl demanded.

The man stared at her silently. He lifted his jacket up to reveal a gun tucked inside the waistband of his pants. The girl shrieked and ran back to their table while everyone else ascended into panic mode. Quiet down, Lucy yelled so loudly that it stunned everyone into silence. First place, groups gets to leave first. My second and third place groups, you have two minutes to decide who goes and who stays or else you will all stay. Guys, let's get the fuck out of here, I whispered. And we all hurry towards the stairs.

The man moved slightly to let us through, and we all clambered up the stairs. I reached the door first, and I held my breath as I pushed it. Thankfully, it opened. We stumbled into the chilly night air and backed away from the staircase. We have to call the police, right? Alice asked us if he had already had her phone out and unlocked. Yeah, yeah, Morgan said, watching the staircase. What just happened, Jenny whispered, staring at the ground?

What does she mean when she said that the second and third place groups had to choose who got to leave? No one answered. A moment later, three other people emerged from the staircase and came over to us. We left Adam in there. One of the girls said, tears streaming down her face, please tell me you called for help. We did, Alice asserted her. The police are coming. We watched the doorway to see if one person from the trio would have come outside, but no one did.

No one said a word as we all stared at the staircase, hoping that someone would appear from the hellhole of a bar. After a few minutes, smoke began creeping on the stairwell and rising into the open air. "'Hey, I think there's a fire,' Henry exclaimed. And he and I ran towards a staircase. We quickly descended the steps and tried to tug on the door, but it was shut firmly. One of the guys from the other group followed us, and we all tried to kick the door in. We heard banging on the other side of the door, and the faint cries of those stuck inside.

There's got to be a way we can get this door open, I said to them, pulling my shirt over my nose and mouth. The panic cries of those trapped in the bar were growing louder. With what? There's nothing around here we can use so try and bust the door down, he said miserably. we need to get away from the smoke. My friend is in there, the other guy said. She said we had to leave someone or we'd all have to stay, and Adam told us to go and get help.

I promised we'd go back for him, the guy said, beginning to to weep. Help should be here soon, I said. But even I didn't believe that help would come in time for this guy's friend because the stench of burning meat began to fill my nose. I think the others smelled it too because we all trudged back up the stairs. I couldn't bring myself to look at the agonized faces of the group that left their friend down there. Another few minutes went by before we heard the sirens approaching.

Should we get out to the street? I'm not sure if they'll know we're back here, Jettie said. We agreed and followed her around the side of the building to the main street. The members of the other group followed us from rush over to the car, trying to convey that their friend was inside and needed help. The responding officers realized in the gravity of the situation followed us back around the building towards a staircase, but something was different.

The neon sign that labeled the bar was now gone. Weeds and vines were covering the railing that surrounded the hole in the ground where the stairs were. This is where you were? One of the officers asked skeptically. Yes, one of the girls cried. We were down in this bar to play trivia and the lady who was being weird with her questions and she wouldn't let her friend leave. There's other people who are stuck down there too. The officers descend into the staircase while we all hung back. This doesn't look like a bar to me, one of them called up the stairs. Dismayed, I went down the stairs to see it for myself. He was right. The door swung open into what looked like a basement,

but is devoid of a bar, chairs, tables, or any sign of life. The grass. The grass. was dirt, and the empty space gave no indication that a bar had been there moments ago. This some kind of prank in an officer asked? No, sir, we were just down there, I insisted. It's like she said. There were other groups of people with us, and they got trapped in there. I smelled smoke, and we tried, but we couldn't get the door open. The officers clearly did not believe me.

And how could they? I would also find a hard to believe that entire bar disappeared in a matter of minutes. After they took all of our statements individually, they addressed us altogether. I'm not sure what's going on here, but. All of your statements match up. I can tell you that nothing has been down there for several years, let alone a bar. We'll keep looking for your missing friend and keep an eye out for any missing persons reported in the area, an officer said. I don't really remember getting home that night.

The next few days are a blur. Every Thursday, I drive to the site where we had that trivia night, only to find that it still remains a decrepit old basement. I hope is that when Lucy's bar reappears, I'll be there to ward off anyone who thinks they're going in for a fun night. And my advice for you is, If you ever find yourself participating at a trivia night in a new place that you're unfamiliar with, make sure you win.

I may have watched too much true crime, but I think my coworker might be missing. My coworker and I are in different departments and buildings, so I don't see her and we don't talk really. We have a lot of comments, so we are friendly and chat once in a blue moon via work email. We talked about hanging out, but it just didn't happen due to poor scheduling. But we are friends on Facebook and would like slash comment on each other's post pretty often. We also have each other on the company's Skype that automatically makes you available and tells the last time you logged on to the company's system. I noticed that she hadn't logged onto the system at work for about two weeks and figured she was taking another one of her frequent out-of-the-country trips. She always checked in online for her trips and would still continue to post daily, multiple times on social media.

She didn't always pop up in my feed, so I didn't notice when her post. weren't showing up. About another week passed and she still was not logged on. I thought maybe she was taking a leave of absence or something was going on and I figured it wasn't really my place to be like, hey, what's you doing? Why are you not at work? Since we don't really talk super often and I also don't know how to navigate that situation without a possible HR issue or if that would be a possibility. Basically, anxiety talked me out of it. I forgot about the situation for a while until last week when she popped into my head randomly and I looked at her work icon and it says she's been offline for 40 days.

Being judgey, I thought that was a little long for a leave of absence unless something serious happened, so I checked her Facebook. That's what I noticed she hasn't posted anything since September 25th. She went from posting it multiple times a day on social media. to nothing. Her work icon indicates to me that she's still employed the company. When you leave the company, they put dot ZZ next to your name so people know you've been terminated. So that lets me know they are anticipating her return, but after 60 days, they consider a job abandonment unless you have something in place like a leave of absence. I do think it's possible. She's on

leave of absence, but this next part makes me feel off about the whole situation. I'm message her on Facebook the other night and just said, hey, just checking in on you. Haven't heard from you in a while and haven't seen you logged in at work. No response when she normally responds within an hour or so because she always has her phone on her. I texted her, basically the same thing, and the message will not say delivered. But it isn't turning green either, so I know I'm not blocked. I think her phone might be off, like it died? I don't know all of that works when it comes to delivering messages.

especially via iPhone. I'm pretty illiterate when it comes to stuff like that. Her Facebook is locked down, and I can't see her friends list. Only are one mutual who hasn't spoke to her either. I don't think I can ask HR if someone is on leave, and I don't want to jump the gun and call the police. What is the middle ground here?

What should I do, if anything? And then the OP makes an update saying, I contacted my manager and informed her of the situation. She didn't know what to do, so she escalated it to her manager, who I know. They checked another system that I didn't even think to and saw that the woman has an out-of-office message displayed. However, my manager said they could not get any kind of information about her being on leave from HR, which I don't want anyways, just to know she's alive. And they indirectly agree with me, it would not be appropriate for me to ask her direct manager for info.

We did discuss me calling for a welfare check as well, but that will be a personal decision. She said she feels that the woman will reappear sometime soon, and she might just be visiting family out of the country, which relieves some anxiety for sure. But still, nobody knows any info. So that's what happened so far. Nothing dramatic. And then the OP makes another update, update two. This one is just to address a few repeat comments. Number one, I'm not planning to call for a welfare.

check just yet and yes it is partly because i don't want her to accidentally be harmed by this but mostly because my manager said she believes she may be on a leave of absence and out of the country with family in which case good as long as she's okay number two the out-of-office message was weird to me because it was put up in the beginning of september but sky passed her last login as 48 days ago I think she put the out-of-office message up before one of her trips and just forgot to take it down. So it has no relation to whatever is currently going on, but I could be wrong. We as a company are switching from Skype to Microsoft Teams, however. Business Skype will automatically populates when accessing the system and logs you out.

I'm unaware of that feature can be turned off or not. In number three, while no, we did not talk often, I still care about our well-being, just as I would for any of you internet strangers. I'm not flipping shit over this and shouting that she's missing from the rooftops. I do have my suspicions, but staying optimistic that she's just on leave and is doing well. Hell, for all I know, she could be one of you all commenting here. I will admit there is a tinge of guilt here because she asked me to hang out so many times and things just didn't line up.

And if something happened to her or something was going on and she just needed a friend, that could have been her trying to reach out. And now let's get into some of the top comments. Someone says, just ask a boss or manager. You're worried about a coworker. Just tell them exactly that. And I'd agree with that. And then someone else says,

I had a coworker announce on a call that she'll be out for a few weeks. Someone asked and she said she was going on holiday. We were all excited for her. A month went by and we started to wonder about her long trip. Around the world, baby? turned out she was dying of cancer and didn't want to tell anyone. A family member notified the company she had passed away.

I hope that's not the case here, but this gave me flashbacks. And then the OP gave us an update a few days later. And the update reads as follows. I've purposely been ignoring update request because there was no update to give and I promised to give an update when one was available. However, I woke up this morning to have a message sitting in my Facebook messenger inbox from two hours ago from the missing co-worker. There were not many details, and she kept things kind of vague,

but she told me she kind of went off the grid for a while to, quote, take care of a few things. And she thanked me for reaching out and said that she will be back at work soon. Her Facebook is still bare, but there's been contact made, and that's enough for me to know she's okay. And then people start to speculate in the comments on what the O.P.'s coworker was doing. Someone says, ending this deserved. I'm glad they are safe. But someone replied to that saying, probably mental

health or rehab. 90 day stay is rehab. Someone else comments saying, I hope your coworker is fine. One time I had a coworker go missing and then eventually we found out she got accidentally somehow got locked in her attic for days and nobody knew she was there for days. She was quiet. But apparently her family went up there and then they found her and she was hungry and thirsty. But someone else says definitely in rehab. Very interesting. And a lot of people think it's rehab. Some other people think it is IOP therapy or chemo radiation.

But I just hope the OPEs co-workers fine. And luckily, this seems to be a good update and things are going well. Someone is trying to kill dogs in my hometown. Originally posted to R-slash RBI and the post reads as follows. Hello, a little bit of background. I live in a city in Sweden with around 340,000 inhabitants. Since December 2020, today we've had over 150 note attempts to hurt and kill dogs. The perpetrator, in most cases, deploys small baked bread buns containing sharp, handmade stars made out of pieces of tin can. See pictures. Sometimes the buns are dropped in plain sight.

sometimes near bushes, under leaves, etc. And then the OPE links a picture of the, quote, stars in the buns. Horrible. Horrible stuff. I mean, that is just evil. Like just straight up evil. And then the OPE continues saying, since 2020, a lot of dogs have ingested these buns,

and at least four dogs have been rushed at the vet for operation. Stummox filled with sharp objects. In other cases, meatballs containing nails. staples, or shards of glass. The glass bottle kind has been found. Since most of these cases slash rumors were circulating on Facebook, I took it upon myself to create a website regarding the cases. I then spent countless of hours figuring out what brand of tin cans were used. Some of the pieces had text on them, sometimes part of a phone number, a little piece of a logo, etc. These were quite common tin cans, unfortunately, so this did not lead to anything. I then got a whole

hold of all the police reports and started to enter all the information into Google Maps to try and get a good overview. In the picture of the map, you can see all cases marked out yellow 2021, orange 2022, and red 2023. And the OP links a map. And unfortunately, it is currently unavailable, so we cannot see that. And the OP continues saying, so the police has no leads whatsoever. There has not been a single siding of this perpetrator. Best guess is he is out doing this very late at night slash early mornings before people wake up. Now to my question for you all, have you ever had anything similar to this in your town? Or have you heard about similar cases somewhere? I've been Googling around for ages without finding anything helpful. I'm trying to find patterns, similarities, anything. All help

would be very much appreciated. And the OP makes a quick edit saying, I've added an image of 2021 through 22 calendar and marked the days with attacks. Some days have multiple reports. God, that is so evil. And now let's get into some of the comments. Someone says, since you say cameras are not an option, could you organize a community watch? It's a wide geographic area, but maybe you guys could get in early morning joggers and dog walkers to keep an eye out. The buns look homemade, but I think your idea of tracing the she metal is more likely to pan out than finding someone who started buying more I'm hoping others on RBI will have ideas for you. Someone else comments underneath that saying, adding to this, O.P.

You could organize regular sweeps to pick up the buns before they get in and reduce the number of them out there. It's a wide area, so it may be hard to coordinate, but at least at the places most recently targeted, that park near the center, for example. And someone else says, does anyone else find it odd that there's a gap in the distribution of these buns on the map, just west of the park? Park. Someone else says, looking at the map, my first thought is that the perpetrator lives in the blank space in the middle, as they will instantially not want to misbehave close to their residence. However, this could just be because it is a commercial district. I would take a good look at the actual positions of the items to see if you can determine if they were placed by hand or thrown

out of a car window. This could inform the type of patrols you will need. Is there any info about the intervals between occurrences? And so it seems like every everybody is kind of at a loss for words. No one truly has a good theory or advice on what to do on approaching this. Although the OP gives us an update a few days later titled, Someone is Trying to Kill My Dogs in My Hometown Update. And let's get into it. He says, first of all, I just want to say thank you for all the comments and theories in my first post. I've gone through them all and answered most of them, I hope, and took a lot of great information and new insights from it. Now, what I didn't tell you in my first post is that the

dog attacks are not the only crazy slash strange thing that has been happening since 2020. Actually, we've had four and very different odd attacks going on parallel to each other. Number one, hitting glass charts and playgrounds in the sand under swing sets, slides, etc. Number two, arsons at playgrounds. And number three, attacks on more than 250 trees with what is believed to be some kind of draw knife. And number four, attacks on dog. I've made a picture marking out each individual known incident, some might still be missing, waiting for the police reports.

And the OP has them all marked out. I mean, that is insane work. Like this OP commend to him. He really cares about his community. That's awesome. But let's continue. I've gone through all the news I could find on these and marked out dates and times. I also made a new map.

This time I decided to display the breadball attacks only of the dog attacks because that seems to be the most consistent. consistent modus. And unfortunately, it is unavailable as of today. I mean, this was posted three years ago, so I guess the opi took it down. But he says, so this map, black attack on dogs, red attack on trees. That doesn't really matter because we can't see it. But he says, my theory is that at least two of these is by the same person, dog attacks plus other. It seems to me it's the same twisted mind planning these attacks. I'm once again looking for some sort of pattern. What I can see is that these incidences almost never occur on the same day. They sometimes end during the same period

and start again roughly at the same time. Some of them happened if not exactly on the same place or close to another incident. They all target people in a passive way. The person is not there to see their dogs or kids get hurt, but he slash she knows it will bring fear to the public. The tree markings are always made so that they are visible to people passing by. All incidences happen late at night slash early morning. Hitting glass, balls of bread, and tree attacks sticks out for being very uncommon, strange, and elaborated. The map looks the same, even with these new attacks

with a similar dead zone. Now my question to you all at RBI. What do you think? Could these all be linked somehow? Do you think it's the same person? Can you see something, a pattern or other? Please share all your thoughts and theories and for those of you who want to visit the original map with all of the different dog attacks,

I've now made it all in English, and we can not visit that. But Tom, let's get into the comments. Someone says, be very wary. This is escalating psychopath behavior big time. And I agree. If this guy catches wind that this guy or the O.P. is on his tail. Who knows what the psychopath might do? Someone else says, following this with interest,

the only further thoughts I have are on possible actions to take along. with the drawbacks. Crowd fund for DNA testing on the dough balls. It's really expensive and requires police cooperation. Place hidden trail cams in some of the areas of most concentrated activity, hours of footage to go through looking for a needle in a haystack. Assemble doziers on pizza restaurant crews in the area and see if any of them fit the profile, invasive and super creepy. I wish the best of luck to the people of Malmo and hope there is a break in the case soon. I would agree. But I think the hidden trail cams is probably the best bet. Just put in the high traffic areas, in the parks, and on the streets and just, I guess, look through it. I mean, I don't really see any sort of other good way to solve this. Someone else says, hi, I saw your previous post. This is super creepy. I actually think I noticed something. A lot of the most recent attacks seem to be concentrated in the Pildom Spark, SP, the West area inside the park, but also a few of the north corner. and a few to the south, while the other areas are more older attacks.

It looks like they seem to be concentrating on this particular area right now. Would you be able to set up some trail cameras in that park? Or can you somehow organize enough people to watch this specific area? And so far, no ground has been covered in terms of catching this psychopath. But then the OP gives us a second update saying, Hello, RBI. It's been a while. I've received a lot of messages from you guys for an update.

I will try and get you up to date on everything that's going on. First of all, once again, I want to thank all of you who have reached out, commented and posted your theories. It has really helped a lot, and I and many others are working on crossing some of them from the very long list of to-does. So since my last update, there has been a lot of media coverage. Sivitskin, the local paper in Malmo, has made a series of different investigative articles on the quote, the dog tormentor. A lot of what they have written about is stuff you already know from my previous two posts about this.

Some is new. For instance, an interview with an American FBI agent named Mark Safferick who put in his two cents on the case. Quote, I have investigated many serial animal killings in my career, but it has always been cats that were affected. Never dogs. What you have in Malmo is fascinating and disturbing, says Mark. It has been going on for a long time, at least since 2020, and a number of incidences have been recorded, but no dog has died yet.

That makes me believe that the process is important to this individual, and it is not certain that he actually wants to kill, he says. He believes that there are more effective ways to kill dogs than to cut sharp metal pieces and bake them into bread, or to prepare meat with nails or metal. quote, if the goal was to kill, he should have realized by now that the method doesn't work. Yet he continues since he developed the method and came up with these stars, says Mark. Quote, for this individual, just like for some serial killers I've worked with, the preparations are important. Collecting materials, cutting metal, baking, it can be a slow process to make a hundred of these buns, but it is still satisfying for him. He can fantasize during that time.

Mark does not think that the cans use for the dangerous metal stars say anything about the perpetrator. At least nothing that can help in the search for him. The dog torturer may have come across these cans by chance. However, it is possible that the person has metalworking as a hobby. What do the different methods sometimes meat, sometimes bread, tell you? Mark says, quote, the behavior is so unique that it is most likely the same person. Basically, it's the same activity. Even though he uses different materials, it could simply depend on what is available at the time or how much time he has. That the dog torture holds on to his

basic methods over a long period of time speaks to Mark's theory about the motive, to terrorize and instill fear, rather than actually killing dogs. Quote, he doesn't go after certain individuals, but after all dogs. It could be very well that he enjoyed. He would be very well that he enjoyed. He getting feedback when it is reported in the media, but also that he feels he can manipulate the police without getting caught. Mark highlights an important experience from the FBI's profiling of serial criminals that gives hope for finding the right person. The perpetrators need for appreciation or to be seen makes them talk easily. Quote, both with mass murderers and serial killers, we have noted such leaks. In their contracts with their surroundings,

individuals reveal important information. Often certain elements of truth are woven together with lies. Leaks how, quote, important or offensive comments that people around him find strange, but most dismiss or explain away. In conversations with others about the dog attacks, he may say, for example, the perpetrator seems to be good at what he does,

or I can understand that someone would want to, a kind of reverse praise for himself. Here, the media can play a role. Mark says, by appealing to those around the person who have heard strange statements. If you hear someone saying something unpleasant or odd, at least consider informing the police. I know that many people do not want to get involved, but that is the kind of commitment that is needed to move forward. There have been no reported dangerous buns or meat pieces since January of this year,

an unusually long period of calm considering the statistics of recent years. The dog torturer may have been scared into silence. temporarily. Perpetrators who follow what is written, stop, or decrease their activity if the media coverage becomes too overwhelming, says Mark. In some cases, they can also change the area or the approach, but your dog abuser won't do that. He seems to have acted only in Malmo. I would say he will stay there because he knows the city. You say he, but is it a man or woman? All these serial offenders I have seen who have targeted animals, tortured or killed them, have been men. We cannot exclude a woman, but statistically, it is probably a man.

Mark repeatedly emphasizes how important preparations are for the offender. They completely fulfilled their psychological need. For the dog abuser, he can hardly be present and watch the dogs eat the bread rolls or meat. Overall, this indicates mental illness, according to Mark, and he is sure that the dog abuser will continue, no matter how murky the motivations seem. If he was angry at a particular dog for something that has, happened, it is more understandable to attack out of anger or revenge, but eventually that feeling disappears as it has acted out. The question is whether the dogs are the target or merely a tool

for this serial offender. He has made some adaptations to his behavior. Given that it has been going on for a long time, it is unlikely that he is trying to find new ways to attack. He will continue. And yes, there was a long pause since the last incident's late January, but now he slash she slash they are back. Last week, one incident early Monday morning. Same balls of bread with sharp objects inside. Today, one more

incident with the same thing. Some modus as all the rest of the incidents. This time however, the new incidents does not follow the usual pattern location-wise. These two are quite far apart and outside the hotspots. See highlighted

pings on map. And now we have a picture of the map finally, and we can see that the hot spots are definitely downtown. I'm kind of curious how he got them out into the water, but I digress. But yeah, they're definitely a lot farther out. Very, very interesting. And he continues saying, he's most likely following the media coverage and is probably doing this as an attempt to confuse. And as usual, no one has seen anything. In the incident last week, there were security cameras in the vicinity. I reported this to the police as quickly as I could, but since there was a holiday, I think it was too late to retrieve anything.

But who knows? Hopefully, I'll get an update on that soon. Other than that, nothing really new right now, unfortunately. I've done some media, podcast TV, and I have opened an anonymous hotline with a phone number and you can call 24-7, and also an anonymous form for anyone to fill out who thinks they have valuable information about the case. My next step now is to plaster the 250 post. posters I picked up today all over town that has all the important information about the case and some links and QR code for reporting stuff. I've also made all the police reports available for free to anyone who wants them. So now I hope there are hundreds of private detectives running around looking for this person. As of today, I have a little FB group and chat with two

other people who are doing some very cool stuff that I can't go into detail about right now, but I really think we are on to some good stuff. Now RBI, I want to ask you, if you read this and my other two posts and think, Hey, I think I can help here. Feel free to contact me here in a comment or send me a PM. My dream is to have a team of people with different knowledge and skills that I can join together and work this case hard. I will be back for update number three. Cheers.

And then one of the top comments on this post is I have a little theory that's been buzzing in my brain. since your last post. I think this may be a pizza delivery driver. The buns are bread dough. Maybe leftover pizza-based dough? The metal is tomato puree-sla-sauce. I believe there was another reason pizza places were theorized,

but I've forgotten by now. Went back and checked, the other cans were feta cheese. The drops happened at night slash in the early morning, prime delivery hours. No one notices pizza delivery people. Much like they don't notice the postman,

or the cleaners at the office. They fit into the scenery. The very first bread drop back in 2021 was likely close to the perpetrator's base. The profiler says that the preparation is very important to this individual. They've spent time making these buns, carefully cutting stars and wrapping them in dough.

When you make that kind of effort with something you are excited and want to use it right away, add in that first time fear of being spotted or even being stopped in someone discovering your dangerous cargo, and they likely didn't go very far at all. They will want to be somewhere familiar,

somewhere where they know it well enough to be able to flee to safety if needed. It would also increase the chances of our suspect would hear about the reaction via word of mouth. People love to talk, especially about something like this. The first drop on 11, 24, 2021 was at Ablegascan. I'm sorry for all my Swedish viewers,

but I'm not even going to try to pronounce that. Right next to Pizza House. And then the OP responds to this comment saying, Hello and thanks for your input. I think the biggest problem with this theory is that we have almost nothing open after 1 a.m. Most of these incidences are found early mornings after 7 to 8. People walk their dogs late at night, but I don't think any of the cases have been reported late at night,

so that tells me this is probably happening around 3 to 6, give or take. After 1, there are no food deliveries, going out. Could even be that they close earlier than that since a big chunk of the incidents has happened on weekdays. That being said, anyone working with pizza could bring both tin cans and pizza dough home after work to start baking slash cutting. Laef J.W. Person, Sweden's most famous criminologist, says this, quote, I envision a man in his 50s with local connections, both in terms of residents and profession. He runs a food business, something like a pizzeria or kebab place, a food truck slash small restaurant.

And he has complained to the police several times about all the people who walk their dogs outside his shop. All of his complaints have been dismissed immediately, and the police's response has made him an active litigant and led him to decide to take matters into his own hands. End quote. Person says that he believes the dog torture has a foreign background, a wife and grown children. He does not elaborate on what motivates this belief. Person also brings up geographic profiling and his reasoning quote.

He lives alone with his wife, who is a few years younger, in a three-room apartment located within a radius of about one kilometer from the epicenter of the dog killer's activities. Very, very interesting. And then the OP gives us a third and final update. Let's get into it. Hello, RBI. It's been a while. Things have been relatively quiet on this front for some time. The last incident was reported in April of this year, and since then, there's been a lull.

But not anymore. Sivitskin, our largest local newspaper, published an article titled, quote, How He Stopped the Dog Tormenter. While it's a lengthy piece, the gist is that they received numerous tips leading them to a person residing in a central area of Malmo. She lives in an area where no incidents have been reported. This aligns with our previous discussions, highlighting the classic pattern where, where perpetrators moved to surrounding areas to carry out their crimes, the don't shit where you eat principle.

Reporters from the newspaper initiated a stakeout outside of the individual's home at night, hoping to catch them in the act. Unfortunately, this proved unsuccessful. They then enlisted the help of a young girl, accompanied by an adult, who posed as a salesperson and went door-to-door in the apartment complex. The girl eventually knocked on the door of the suspected perpetrator and asked if she was interested in purpose. purchasing the offered items.

The person who answered the door turned out to be an elderly lady, appearing like any normal neighbor. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. They had a brief conversation and left. Later, in an interview, the young girl mentioned that it, quote, smelled like the lady was baking.

Following this encounter, the reporters confronted the woman directly asking, quote, What is your involvement in this? Naturally, she denied any connection to the case. Since then, all dog attacks have ceased. There has been no activity for almost nine months.

Until yesterday, a woman was apprehended in a park on the outskirts of Malmo. Upon searching her purse, authorities discovered dough and fragments of glass. Subsequently, she was transported to the police headquarters, interrogated, and today, she was formally arrested. Do I believe this is the same individual highlighted by the reporters in their article? No. Do I think she's responsible for all 170-plus dog attacks? Suggesting Silvetskin's error?

No. What troubles me is that the person now in custody committed this act in the afternoon, when people were clearly present to witness it. It's worth noting that the OG perpetrator has never been seen before, and most incidents have occurred during late nights or early evenings. I will, of course, follow this development with keen interest, and I wanted to provide you with an update. I will now pace all of my previous posts in chronological order

and feel free to read and engage in discussion and speculation. And now let's get into some comments. Someone says, So you think the arrest woman is a copycat? Or maybe she changed her behavior because of the coverage? And someone replied saying, I would ask, quote, who the fuck copycats killing dogs?

But I also don't know what could possess someone to do the original crime in the first place. Someone else says, I don't think the arrested person is the original purpose. The original was careful and meticulous. I highly doubt they would have gotten so sloppy, especially with the increased media attention. And then someone else says, truly never expected to see a resolution to this. I'm shocked.

And the O.P responded saying, if it's a resolution, let's wait and see where it goes from here. And that is the last update we have ever gotten from the O.P. regarding this topic. But I mean, this was wildly interesting because this was like a real manhunt and a real mystery being solved by Reddit or at least attempted to. But what do you guys think?

Do you think that person who ended up getting arrested was the real perpetrator? I doubt it. I just don't think the person would get that sloppy and do it on a sunny afternoon in a park.

I really don't. But at the same time, why would someone even copycat that? Very weird, but a very interesting post. And shout out to the O.P. for doing that hard work in trying to find out who the monster and psychopath was. The OP clearly put in a ton of effort, and I mean, I just completely commend him for that, for trying to, you know, keep his community safe and put away this disgusting monster.

But a very, very interesting RBI post. I hope you enjoyed that. But do you think the perpetrator is still out there, or did they get arrested? And I'm curious where that perpetrator is now, and if they will ever strike again.