Snook - Terrifying True Reddit Stories

Episode Date: December 13, 2025

These were some of the most insane and terrifying stories I have ever read! What did you guys think? The 11th story was by far my favorite. Please follow the podcast and rate 5 stars! Thank you!CREDITS -Practical_Sink1484 -   / came_across_an_incredibly_creepy_family_a_...  [deleted] -   / you_dropped_your_wallet_its_1115_at_night_...  [deleted] -   / im_confident_i_would_have_become_a_missing  Banluil -   / almost_gave_a_serial_killer_a_car_ride  AbbiAmok -   / that_time_i_accidentally_dated_a_sociopath  CrispitoDay -   / i_think_there_is_someone_living_in_my_shed  [deleted] -   / possible_murdererserial_killer_encounter_i...  musekbamb -   / the_night_i_learned_to_not_sneak_out  weelondon -   / people_can_be_absolutely_creepy  HelloSaroh - Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Hey, what's up guys, and welcome back to another Reddit stories video. And today we will be covering a very exciting topic, terrifying true Reddit stories. And all these stories are true and verified, and some of these are very disturbing. So I'm excited to get into this one because true stories are always one of my favorites, just because they are, you know, true and just super interesting. And they're all super scary, unsettling, and some are kind of weird. But I'm sure you'll enjoy them. And these videos are great to listen to if you are studying, sleeping, relaxing, or just want to watch a video. So this video will fit perfectly for whatever you're trying to do. And also, before you get into the video, please like the video and subscribe to the channel.

It's your channel's goal to be at 500,000 subscribers, so please subscribe to the channel. And all right, without further ado, let's get into some terrifying true Reddit stories. 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 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 whose

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, and 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 looked normal, not tattered, but not nice. They also were not carrying any kind of light source, meaning before I arrived behind them in my car, they'd 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,

turn 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 this 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. You dropped your wallet. It's 1115 at night, and my wallet is in 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 from 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. It 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. 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.

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

pro-positioned 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 zipped 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 noted us 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 vein. 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. 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 tilted 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 day. time. Stay safe out there. Two creeps in a van? Let's not ever meet. I hope karma finds you both soon. 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 to had gone 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 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 Orrinos, 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 imbursed. 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 Jess 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 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, lovemaking, and planning. We went places and did things that I always wanted to do.

Then, in the 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 place on my own. so finding a roommate was essential. I had no support system to fall back on, nor did anyone else, I know, needed a place at the time,

so Jev's 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.

jazz 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, guilting 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 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 jazz 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 you're 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 jazz 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, in 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 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. 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. Jazz, 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. but 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 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, and 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. 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 him 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, Jez started blowing up 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 have potentially been 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. Jess 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 Jez 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 gone to 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. Jez 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 wish 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 wouldn't 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 closed 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. 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. 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 sun slash laundry 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'd 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 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 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 in Cannebunkport, Maine. 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, and 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. 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 excused herself to speak to him. Apparently, all hotels were booked for the nights, go figure. Hide a 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 mom 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 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 a 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 asymmetrical room layout, they are right under the window in each room. just seemed kind of out of place. Anyway, fast forward. We were 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 to 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, etc. Sorry for the long post, just trying to be thorough. 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 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.

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 car pulled 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. 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 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. And 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 don't 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 me. meet him. Sally, lacking any common sense, said yes. Thus begun her plan for us to sneak out, he walked 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 2000 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. 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 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're 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 circulating 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 Sal, to Sal,

Thank you for teaching me a very valuable lesson and making me realize that some people are best just left alone. Into 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'm a little bit of my home. 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 them. 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 to 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 him 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. Small town mentality. Lock your doors. I grew up in a small town, the type where people don't really lock their doors. At least 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 I could 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 I 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 blocked. 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 tip jar, 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 for 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 bus gave me the bus the shift. The shift began at 4 a.m. and ended at 9.30 a.m. though the coffee 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 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-class. 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 purvy men like Dave, most of the early morning customers weren't as lecheris 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, in 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, a good one. grab 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, I 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 said, 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 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 this comment aside with a laugh. We have a great white chocolate mocha. I looked around frantically. What the fuck was the usual morning? morning guy, Dave. I silently prayed another customer would pull up behind this guy. 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 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 the 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 open and your tip jar is already full. I didn't make good coffee, but it's not that great. Huh? I said, slamming the register set. 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 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 and 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 lot. a stealing, lying whore, and you will be punished more severely than if you cooperated to 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 ask, this happened well over six years ago. Final update and conclusion. I've been unindated with messages for part two. Unfortunately, I'm unable to post the rest of the story for LNM because series posts are no longer allowed. 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

paste 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. 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 couldn't prove 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 coworker 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, this 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 grab me and touch me inappropriately. Turner coming through the drive-thru completely naked and J. Owing 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 jar instead of money.

I like to smoke a lot at the time. I asked my co-worker for the customer's name, but she didn't get a chance to ask for it. I was told by my friend slash coworker 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 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 were sharing my personal information with Turner in exchange

for money, or maybe just because she didn't like me. This co-worker 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 coworkers, 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 stocking 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 am hopeful that it is him. He will be locked away for a very long time.

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 up 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 left. 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 stared straight ahead. I don't think there's any way that she couldn't have noticed or heard too 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 knitted 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 to 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 her 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, and 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 a 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, um, 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. We only had about 10 minutes before a grandmother was supposed to pick us up. We're 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 end game? 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 co-workers 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 evidence,

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 that 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, someone just for that, perhaps the landlord took the kind of actions because he judged her based 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.

M 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 arch, 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 Zolpium, which is Ambien slash Still Knocked, with Largen, 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 six 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 you could wait with making your coffee until 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. It 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 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. 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 in 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 tact. 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 8 to 10 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 M 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 was 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 leapt 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 M. 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 a 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 six and couldn't go back to sleep. I asked her in the morning for probably the 10th time to not

make coffee till 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 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 it, 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 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 that she needed to pick them up and give me the keys back, and that I will give her money for a hostel 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 a 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 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 not the 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'll 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 and 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 for 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. I had 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 health care, 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. I 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 energies 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 too? 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 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. And all right, guys, that wraps up the terrifying true Reddit stories. I really hope you enjoyed this video because these stories were very interesting and like I said, all true, so it makes them very scary in my opinion. But let me know what you'd like to see in the future, what's the type of stories. What else would

you like me to cover? What did you like about the video? What did you not like about this video? and thank you so much for watching to the very end of this video. If you haven't liked the video, please like the video. It helps a ton and also subscribe to the channel. It's the channel's goal to get 500,000 subscribers, so please subscribe.

And alright, enough with the outro. Thank you so much for watching. See you next time.