Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Creepy Online Friendships That Turned Into Stalking, Fear, And Dangerous Encounters PART2 #50

Episode Date: November 3, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #cyberstalking #digitalhorror #onlinefear #creepytales #internetdanger  “Creepy Online Friendships That Turned Into Stalking, Fear, And Dangerous Encounters – PART 2” continues the unnerving story of online connections gone wrong. This part explores escalating stalking behaviors, terrifying real-life encounters, and the psychological toll on the victims. It highlights the dangers of digital trust and the unpredictable threats lurking behind seemingly harmless online interactions.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, onlinefriendshipgonewrong, cyberstalkingordeal, digitalfear, creepyencounters, internetnightmare, stalkingvictim, realcybercrime, socialmediadanger, psychologicalordeal, unsettlingencounters, trustbetrayed, fearandparanoia, victimordeal, onlinepredator

A family built on cracks. My stepbrother is 29 years old. 6'4, 260 pounds, jobless, and still acting like a sulky teenager who never figured out how to function in the real world. Honestly, Manchild doesn't even begin to cover it. He's the kind of person who could make a room uncomfortable just by walking into it. Not because he's scary in the obvious sense, not like some thug out of a movie, but because of little things, the way he hovers too close, the way his temper flares over nonsense, the off-color

jokes he cracks at the worst possible times. I've spent enough time around him to know he's unpredictable. And unpredictable people scare me more than anyone else, because you never know which version of them you're going to get, the brooding one, the one who's joking, or the one who looks like he's seconds away from exploding. After catching him red-handed harassing me online, I couldn't look at him. the same way again. My nerves were shot. Every family gathering felt like walking across a frozen lake, listening for cracks under my feet. And yet, I didn't want to tell my dad. I knew what would

happen. My dad, who can barely say no to anyone, would fold in an instant. My stepmom would side with her son, guaranteed. She always has, always will. To her, he's not a man. He's not a man. He's not a man, who should be taking care of himself at nearly 30. He's, her baby, a poor victim of his supposed emotional issues. The same issues she claims keep him from holding down a job or moving out. Convenient, right? She laughs off his behavior like it's nothing. When he hovers too close or snaps at someone, she giggles and says, oh, he's just giving you a hard time. As if that makes it okay. as if my skin crawling in my own dad's house is just me, taking it too seriously. The sad part is, my dad goes along with it.

He doesn't fight it, doesn't step in, doesn't protect me or my brother. He just, lets it slide. And that's the most painful part. My brother and I genuinely care about him. We want a relationship with him, but it feels like we're always second place to his wives. Yes, wives, plural. My dad has a history of letting women bulldoze over his kids in the name of Keeping the Peace. This isn't the first time we've been shoved to the side for one of his relationships. His last wife. A walking nightmare. Attractive, yes, but also a drug addict and a

serial cheater. She couldn't stand the idea of him having kids from a previous marriage. She was jealous of me, jealous of the bond my dad and I had. There was even a stretch of time where he basically stopped seeing me because she didn't like it. I can still hear the excuses. It's just easier this way. You're making her uncomfortable. As if I was the problem. It got worse. One time, she was involved in a hit and run. Instead of owning up to it, she spun a lie so wild that should have fallen apart immediately, she claimed I had borrowed her car, I had done it. And my dad, my own father, backed her up, told me to stop lying and just confess. If it weren't for the police eventually proving it was her behind the wheel, I don't even know how far that lie would have

gone. That moment nearly destroyed whatever relationship I had left with him. Imagine your own dad choosing to believe a girlfriend's lie over his daughter's truth. It took years to patch that wound, and honestly, I'm not sure it ever fully healed. And now here we are again. Different wife, different circus, same ringmaster. This time, his excuse for letting it all slide is that my stepbrother, can't help it. He's sick, he has issues, he needs extra support. He's been sold on this narrative from the start.

I guess it's easier to believe your stepson has a condition. then admit he's just lazy, entitled, and used to mommy bailing him out. What makes this whole mess extra complicated is the history between my dad and my stepmom. They were high school sweethearts once upon a time. Married young, divorced young, then went their separate ways. My dad eventually met my mom, started a family, and that's how my brother and I came along. Meanwhile, my stepmom raised her precious only child into the man-shaped least. he is today.

Fast forward 30 years. My dad and stepmom run into each other at a gas station, like something out of a cheesy roncom, old sparks reignite, and suddenly it's like no time has passed. They start dating again. They get married, again, this past August. And now I'm stuck with a stepbrother who makes my skin crawl. The twist? I actually get along with my stepmom.

She's good to my dad. She treats him better than the last one, at least. But her son, he's a granade with the pin already pulled. And everyone's pretending it's safe to keep holding him. After I caught him sending me those disturbing anonymous Skype messages, things changed. I couldn't unknow it. I couldn't unhear the things he'd written. It wasn't just trolling.

It wasn't just a dumb prank. He'd used that account to confess thoughts he shouldn't have, desires that made me want to crawl out of my own skin. He thought it was a game, ah, you don't know it's me. But once I figured it out, the game stopped being funny. Since then, he's avoided me. Stays upstairs whenever I'm over. Never comes down to eat with the family. Doesn't even look me in the eye.

Maybe he's embarrassed. Maybe he's angry I caught him. Or maybe he's just waiting for the right moment. I don't know, and that's the worst part. The holidays are going to be a nightmare. I don't want to exchange gifts with him, don't want to sit at the same table, don't even want to breathe the same air. He was always creepy, but this. This was a whole new level of disturbing.

And the part that cuts deepest. I can't even talk about it openly. Because in this house, he's the poor misunderstood boy, and I'm the one making drama. My dad doesn't want to hear it. My stepmom will defend him until her last breath. My brother sees it, sure, but he's powerless to do anything about it. So here I am, stuck in the middle of a family built on cracks, pretending it stable while knowing it could collapse at any moment.

But before I leave you thinking this is just another, creepy stepbrother, horror story, let me say this, you're only half right. The real horror isn't him? It's my dad. Or rather, my dad's absolute inability to stand up for his kids. That's the monster in this story. The pattern that keeps repeating, over and over again, every time he chooses someone else's comfort over his children's safety. This is where I've learned one of the hardest truths, sometimes the people you expect to protect you just, don't. Sometimes they're the ones who hand you over to the wolves.

And I know what you're probably thinking by now, why didn't I make better choices? Why didn't I cut people off sooner, set boundaries earlier, speak louder? Believe me, I've asked myself those same questions a thousand times. I've rolled my eyes at my own decisions. But here's the thing, good choices don't just fall out of the sky. You learn them by living through the bad ones, by getting burned, by realizing who's safe and who never will be. So maybe that's what this whole twisted mess has been, one long, painful education. But let me rewind a little, because this isn't the first time I put my trust in someone who didn't deserve it.

Before all this family drama, there was another story. Another boy. One I thought of as a brother, a confidant, someone I could trust with my deepest secrets. We'll call him Joshua. I met him at school during a sports day, back in my fourth year of secondary school. It was the last day before the holidays, the kind of day where no one's really focused on anything serious. Everyone was laughing, goofing off, enjoying the freedom before break. He was part of a group I hung out with, and for a few hours, it actually felt like I belonged.

At the end of the day, we all exchanged Facebook info, the way teenagers do. He didn't message me right away. It wasn't until halfway through the holidays that he popped up with a simple, hi. And for me, that was everything. I was a loner back then. Always had been. I hadn't had a real friend since primary school, so the fact that someone reached out to me, even with something as small as high, felt huge. Flattering, even. That one little word turned into a conversation. And that conversation turned into another. Soon we were talking regularly, filling the empty spaces of my days with

laughter, stories, and secrets. Around the same time, I was moving houses. During one of our chats, Joshua mentioned he only lived 10 to 15 minutes away from my new place. Which meant, finally, I could actually hang out with a friend outside of school. For me, that was a big deal. I'd never had anyone over before. The idea of it felt shiny, new, exciting.

I didn't know then where that path would lead. To be continued.