Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - From Rich Parties to a Fatal Overdose How A Teen's Death Changed Everything for Us #19

Episode Date: July 22, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales#truestoryhorror #overdoseterror #teenagechaos #darkpartysecrets #richkidtragedy  In this haunting and tragic tale, a group of teens living lavishly on wealth and indulgence find their lives shattered after one of them fatally overdoses during a wild party. But the horror doesn't end with the death—it begins there. As guilt, paranoia, and strange, unexplained events follow, the group realizes some truths refuse to stay buried. Are they being haunted by their own consciences… or something darker? A psychological descent into grief, fear, and the supernatural consequences of a life lived without limits.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales,richkidnightmare, overdosehorror, hauntedbyguilt, partygonewrong, teenagefear, darktruths,supernaturalgrief, fatalchoices, emotionalterror, deathaftermath, friendsandfear, downwardspiral,ghostofregret, twistedrealities, moralcollapse, luxurioushorror, postdeathterror, hiddenconsequences

It was just like any night back then, in those days we were running shit, every Friday. Ask anyone bout Nas boss, the real ones will know. These functions were real fun, all these rich kids would pull up, we were slinging lean, LG, drinks everything, on a bad night we made bout 8k, on our best night we covered 25k. Profit Shit was wild man, all these white bitches would pull up with their wallets full of daddy's money and leave with nothing, it was a lot of money for teenagers and even now, still quite a bit of money for me. I mean we always blew it all on Puff and the club on a Saturday night but when I was

15 I wasn't looking to invest it in the SNP or anything. Anyways, I'm getting sidetracked, I had a friend, let's call him a, he was fucked up from birth, a semi-present father, a crazy schizophrenic mother, who ended up on the news for jumping out a window 10 stories up, surviving but ending up wheelchair bound, and a drug dealer brother. At one point, he became affiliated, with some serious people, following a boss and everything, he started doing a shit ton of coke with his newfound cash. Him and his buddy who were affiliated with the same group became runners, running coke, getting high on the supply and dealing for their elders. So A's parents saw this and sent him to a Catholic boarding school, he couldn't take it, basically ran away and started

living in this trap hostel, he kept the Coke stash there, in the middle of one of the most ratchet ghetto buildings in the city, it was where all the poorest immigrants and refugees would stay to get their shit figured out. Good God the food here was fucking amazing, talking about Filipino, Indian, and Ghanaian restaurants run by Antis, talking about there being at least nine brothels and more dealers on the bottom floor than I could count, shout out Don Burju for inviting me to the smoke and the post-smoke after dinner. Ifter with the munchies, chilling with the dais and the.

the Johnny's till the sun rises is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I met a fucking human trafficker and a supposed IRA member in this place, 50% sure he was lying, but that's a story for another time. Anyways, him. And his homie thought it was a good idea to steal a bunch of the stash, and use it. This guy was tweaking 24-7 off of some coke that was probably half-wall dust by the time it reached him. Of course all my man's told A to chill the fuck out, We all knew he was going to get in some serious shit soon enough, but noon foresaw what ended up happening. Of course, A didn't listen, he thought he was a big trapper, tripping on some Tony Montana shit, while working as a runner whose whole job was to be arrested. This came down to one night of

no spa sin, and it was the usual, we hosted a nice little party, and made a shit ton of cash. The night ended with us sitting in a closed mall, we were cracking jokes and A was being his usual goofy self, flirting with this Pachy girl. It was a normal night where we ended up discussing the important topic of what should we do next and where we would go. The night was young and so were we. As usual, we had to go out to the club since we had some fresh cash, some girls, and a lot of energy. We smoked up in a little garden and headed out to the strip in taxis. We went out to our usual spot, with the bouncers letting us in and giving us the nice tables as usual. As usual, we blew all the money we made on bottles and getting drinks for everyone.

It was everything 15-year-old me wanted, being all cool with the money and bottles. Some of the homies left and we decided to leave from the club, we picked up a couple of randoms and a couple of old friends at this point, OFC giving them a massan and the bar staff some nice tips. We decided to go to a underground club where I knew the only only one. It was the top Filipino after-party spot in the city. Shout out to my Filipino brothers they really know how to party. We went in, got hustled into the VIP part where we met some Filipino dais and got some free drinks on them. At one point in the club, we were chilling in the bathroom and they offered me and some friends a couple lines. Being so gone, we accepted,

it was our first times doing coke and we were pretty gassed about it. Me, my best friend, let's call him L, this cool stoner chick we met and they went out on a quest to get some coke. I got his trapper friend to bring a couple G.S. across the harbor to us, and we all went the bathroom to do lil bumps. Me, Elle and the stoner chick decided to leave at one point, and we left her with his trapper friend to continue partying. We went to a park, smoked a couple joints and left, I caught a cab with the stoner chick since she lived somewhat near me. Skip to the next morning. I had a mad headache, as I made a cup of tea and checked my phone, all I saw were notifications.

The group chat was blowing up, everyone was really concerned, we heard from A's trapper friend of the scene, and pieced together a complete story hearing from people who lived in the ratchet building. Apparently, after we left, A and his trapper friend Kinnitknit partying and ended up back in the trap hostel they were living in, and started doing lines and lines with this middle-aged Bahamian man who owned the hostel they lived with. This is where it all got fucked. A started seizing up, vomiting, pissing and shitting,

the Bahamian man and his friend were tripping out Bikio. They were high on a lot of different shit, so they sat down and contemplated what to do. A was clearly in a shitty state, but they had about a million dollars worth of coke stashed in the hostel. His trapper friend ended up calling an ambulance, and dozens of cops pulled up. They found a basically dead,

and instead of letting the medics rush him to the ER, They spent a good half hour grilling the Bahamian guy and the trapper friend. A died that morning in the ambulance, and the next day we saw a news article, saying a 14-year-old boy died of a overdose and the cops made a $750,000 seizure. Where did the rest go? Fuck this fucked up police, of Coke. Everyone was shook and pretty fucked up. We had all been wilding out, we thought we were on top of the world, beating anyone who called us out and robbing whoever and whatever we wanted, flaunted. our connections to Deis and being an overall nuisance to the party scene. We were rough kids fucking with defenseless rich sons and daughters of bankers and businessmen.

Consequences were an afterthought, since we were minors, every time we got caught all we got were warnings and slaps on the wrists. We were in this drug and money-fueled year-long bout of insanity. A's death was sobering and took us all back to reality for a while. This situation was completely fucked, one of ours had been. died, and this time we couldn't blame anyone apart from A and his own actions. We had a little vigil, and in the fucked-upness of it all, we smoked a couple joints on the harbor in memory of A. In the months that followed, many of us calmed down and straightened out. I am not proud to

say, but I continued to be involved in BS until I had an awakening from a particularly powerful acid trip and a failed kidnapping. What's fucked is that it took one of us dying to give us a wake-up call. What's fucked is that some of us, including me, didn't even take a brother's death as a warning and continued down this path. I was lucky to be able to escape, but still, many people from this group continued dealing, robbing and scamming, going deeper and deeper. It went from kids fucking around to serious organized crime. Every month or so I get news from home, oh yeah, so-and-so got arrested, his bail is set at 30k, so-and-so is on the run in X country, he's never coming back, oh yeah, him. He's in rehab, oh, he's fucked, he's in

jail for a bit. Every time I hear this I'm reminded of how lucky I am to have had the awareness to escape this cycle. The way that all this shit seemed normal to me at one point is actually fucked. I took the opportunity to move to another country far away, and straighten myself up. To this day I avoid coke and hard drugs like the plague, and I promise myself to never get on this BS ever again. The memory of A continues to haunt me to this day. When I return to the city, he'll smoke a joint in his memory and leave some flowers for him at the crematorium. The end.