Snook - Horrifying TRUE Reddit Stories

Episode Date: March 20, 2025

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Hey, what's up guys and welcome back to another Reddit stories video and I've got an exciting video for you guys today. Some horrifying true Reddit stories and something even more exciting. All of these true stories are verified and yeah, that just makes them even scary because they are true, verified, real, they happened. So everything you hear in this video will be true and you can find the verification on it. So that's exciting, but still super scary. And thanks for stopping by. I appreciate you all watching. And before we get into the video, please like the video and subscribe to the channel. The channel's goal is 500,000 subscribers, so please subscribe to the channel. And all right, without further ado, let's get into some horrifying true Reddit stories.

My first Tinder experience ended with him in jail. This story is nowhere near as heroin 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. 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 flood 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

woman? 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 relaxing each other's company, and the rest of the day went smoothly. We joked about karaoke across town. He laughed about how we didn't like karaoke. I am a huge fan of karaoke. While no superstar, I 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 in the text 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. 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 a 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 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 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 cab 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 was. 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 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 good night? 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, to 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. 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 sleuths 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 it 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-beautie Queen's Stalker 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 threatened 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 a 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 five-five. Her head turned towards my. She was like a caricature of herself as she ambled beside me, smiling, maniacally. 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, Pugs, 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 made a 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 the 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 seasoned 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 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. 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 men's overcoat 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. We thought she was putting on a brave face and treating it all like a joke, but we were 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 Uber-Reed'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 Agatha Christie 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, 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.

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 house a terrible person long before she decided to try and make our lives miserable. Crazy beauty queen turns soccer? 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. Don't tell strangers who follow you home your name. Longtime lurker of this 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 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 gave him directions. He thanks me, but continues to stare at me. He asked if we know each other, and I replied 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 mistake. 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 park, 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 him 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 at 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 is 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 the 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. 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 of 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 breaths. And when the other guy drove away, we laid 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. An 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. 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, which I knew. It was somewhere north of area we are 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, stirring 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 this phased 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 drank, 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 the same. to 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 to be. 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 use it. Luckily, I have super chill friends, so they acted cool, and we were 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 of music. He then picked up his gun off the safe and left without 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? 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 would go out to our yard and drink coffee and watch the sunrise. One morning a guy with 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 shit 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 durnying to add 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, 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 them 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 dress. I've watched enough crime shows to know there's a

possibility I could be in danger. 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 OF 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 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.

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 at a 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 a drug deal, 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 hadn't 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, 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 brutally murdered my friend and wanted to murder me, let's never meet again. 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. My brother came back to our 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 waiting 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 patted everyone down. We were finally allowed to make a phone call and called my mom. The rest of the family was completely hysterical. They had 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 shoes. 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. He 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 college. 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 a 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.

And all right, guys, that wraps up horrifying Truretta stories. I hope you enjoyed. Let me note on the comments below. Would you like to see more true stories or more of the fake ones or something in between? Let me know out in the comments. I read them all. Thank you so much for watching. This was Snook and I'll see you next time.

Peace. Thank you.