Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Horror After Dark 9 Hours of Fear

Episode Date: November 6, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #nosleep #paranormal #creepy #nightmarefuel #darknarratives #hauntedtales #midnightterror “Horror After Dark: 9 Hours of Fear” is an unending descent into pure terror — a chilling journey through the darkest corners of the human mind and the supernatural world. These nine hours are packed with disturbing encounters, ghostly apparitions, cursed places, and twisted psychological nightmares that will leave you questioning reality. When the lights go out, fear takes over. Perfect for fans of true horror, paranormal tales, and spine-chilling suspense that lasts all night long. horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, darkstories, paranormalencounters, ghoststories, hauntedplaces, truehorrorstories, thrillerpodcast, supernaturalhorror, nosleeptales, spookycollection, chillingnarration, eerieatmosphere, nightterror, horrorcompilation, darkaudiostories

Part 1. I am seriously starting to think that I am cursed. Like, genuinely cursed. The kind of cursed that feels like the universe, or the gods, or fate, or whatever is out there, has singled me out to suffer. And the worst part? I have no idea what I did to deserve this. I have loved three men in my life, and each of them made a terrible decision that ended up costing them their lives. That kind of pattern is not normal. That kind of pattern is terrifying.

Now, at only 31 years old, I find myself paralyzed with fear. I don't want to be alone forever, but I'm absolutely petrified that anyone I fall for will end up dying. For the past two years since my husband, Michael, passed away, I haven't even considered dating. The idea felt impossible, like something for another version of me, one that no longer existed. My therapist, Luna, has been working with me to slowly break down the walls of fear I've built up, helping me work through the trauma of loss. But even with all of that support, I hadn't taken any steps toward opening myself up romantically. And then, somehow, love, or maybe just fate, decided to force my hand.

It happened at a work conference. I wasn't looking for anything. I wasn't expecting anything. And then, during my very first session, I ended up partnered with a man named David. He was handsome in a way that made me nervous, sharp features, kind eyes, a voice that made me want to listen forever. We were thrown together for an exercise, and from the very first moment, there was something between us.

Chemistry That electric, undeniable spark. We laughed like old friends, talked like we had known each other forever. And then we had to switch partners. I didn't want to, but I told myself it was just a silly, fleeting thing. But I couldn't stop thinking about him. At the end of the day, fate decided to play its hand again. We ended up in the same last session.

It felt like more than coincidence. And when it was over, David turned to me and asked, want to grab dinner. My heart was racing. I told myself it was just a friendly dinner. No pressure. No expectations. But deep down, I already knew this was something more. That night, we talked for hours over dinner. We drank, we laughed, and by the time the night was coming to a close, I found myself doing something I hadn't done in years, I kissed someone. Right there, in the middle of saying goodbye, I leaned in and kissed him. And the second our lips met, I knew I was in

trouble. Because I wanted more. That night, I laid in my hotel room, staring at the ceiling, my whole body alive with something I hadn't felt in so long. I wanted him. I wanted him in ways I hadn't wanted anyone since Michael. And yet, the moment I allowed myself to feel that joy, the anxiety crept in. What if I fell for him? What if I let myself love again, only for him to make some reckless, stupid decision and end up dead. No, Luna would tell me that was irrational. She'd tell me that bad things happen, but they aren't my fault. There is no curse. And yet, I barely slept that night, my mind in a constant battle between longing and fear. The next morning, I overslept. When I finally forced myself out of bed and threw myself together

as best as I could, I realized something horrifying, I didn't want to run into David looking like this. But at the same time, I wanted to see him so badly. All day, I kept scanning the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but he was nowhere to be found. With every passing hour, I felt my regret growing. Why hadn't I asked him to come back to my room? Why hadn't I just taken the chance? And then, as my final session of the day was ending, I saw him. He was waiting for me outside, hand extended, an knowing smile on his face. The second I took his hand, he pulled me into a warm, lingering hug. My stomach flipped when he told me he had asked around to figure out which session I was in and had left his own early just to

meet me. I was completely, utterly swooning. We went to dinner again. This time, there was no hesitation. When the night was coming to a close, I invited him to my room, and let me tell you, Oh, my God. It was incredible, passionate, intense. Like we had both been starving for something and finally found it in each other. The next day, we exchanged information. The distance between us wasn't too bad, just a 45-minute drive. I was on Cloud 9 for two. whole days. And then, like a switch had been flipped, I crashed. The guilt hit me like a truck. Michael is gone. I know that. But suddenly, it felt fresh all over again. The pain, the loss, the empty space he left behind. Everyone has been telling me for the past year that I need to move on, that I need to allow

myself to be happy again. But now that I had actually done it, all I felt was shame. Maybe it was because I slept with David so quickly. Maybe it was just the harsh reality of moving forward. I don't know. But I do know that I need to talk to Luna. I also think I need to reach out to my former sister-in-law and mother-in-law. They've been my biggest support system since Michael passed, and they've both encouraged me to start dating again.

Maybe they can help me make sense of this overwhelming wave of emotion. David and I have another date planned for Friday. I haven't looked forward to something this much in a long, long time. And the truth is, I want to sleep with him again. I want to be with him. But I can't shake the feeling that what I'm doing is too soon. Luckily, I see Luna on Thursday. Hopefully, she'll help me untangle the mess in my head.

Part 2. I got a ton of comments on my last post, and honestly, I wasn't expecting such a huge response. I want to thank everyone for their thoughts, advice, and just for taking the time to read what I had to say. It really helped me put things into perspective. I've come to realize there's nothing to feel guilty about. I am a single woman. David is a single man. There is nothing inherently wrong with two people enjoying each other's company and seeing where things go.

My therapist, Luna, was incredibly happy to hear that I had gone out on a date. She even said she could hear the change in my voice, how I sounded lighter, happier. She reminded me that pursuing love again doesn't mean I'm betraying Michael's memory. It just means I'm human, and I still have a life to live. Before my date on Friday, I also talked to my mother-in-law, Julie, and my sister-in-law, Christina. I was nervous at first, unsure of how they would react, but to my surprise, they were over the moon when I told them about David. I expected a little bit of hesitation, maybe some sadness, but nope, just pure excitement.

It was a little weird and slightly embarrassing when I also admitted that I had already slept with him, and they both immediately cheered and went, yes. It was like something out of a movie. We ended up having some serious girl talk, and by the end of the end of it, I was feeling really good about everything. And let me tell you, Friday night was spectacular. David went all out and took me to the opening night of a new exhibit at the City Art Museum.

It was such a thoughtful, romantic date. He's kind of an art history nerd, which I hadn't realized before, and it was adorable listening to him point out little details in the paintings that I never would have noticed on my own. His passion for it was infectious, and I found myself getting lost. in the moment, just watching him talk. Afterwards, we went back to his place, and I ended up spending the night. The next morning, he asked me to stay for the whole weekend, and I didn't even hesitate, I said yes. And oh my God, it was one of the best weekends of my entire life.

We have been practically inseparable ever since. We message constantly, call each other just to hear the other's voice, and we keep making up excuses to see each other. In the first of the The past two weeks alone, we'd gone out to eat at least eight times, gone on two hikes, and he even took me to a gun range, something I never thought I would do. It was my first time ever holding a gun, let alone shooting one, and it was both terrifying and exhilarating. In return, I took him to get his first pedicure, which was hilarious. He was so skeptical at first, but by the end, he was loving it.

The best part of all of this. I'm not drowning in guilt anymore. I will always love Michael. That will never change. But I think I've finally accepted that I have to move forward. Holding on to the past doesn't bring him back, and it doesn't make my life any fuller. These posts, these conversations,

and these experiences have really helped me process so many emotions I didn't even realize I was holding on to. For the first time in a long time, I feel hopeful. And that, in itself, is a beautiful thing. Part 3. Hi everyone, it has been a few weeks since I last updated. Things with David and I are still going strong. No real new news on that front other than we made it official, so I now get to call him my boyfriend, L.O.L. The reason for this post is two-fold.

I got a ton of people who inquired about what happened to the previous men in my life. It's not ever been something I have really talked to. about. Honestly, I've barely talked about it with my therapist, Luna. I still have a lot of trauma about all of it, because like I said in my first post, they all died because they made a bad choice. It's hard to come to terms with that when you know they should still be here. Anyway, Luna suggested that I post about them here. Tell my story. She said, since posting about my struggles and moving on was so beneficial, maybe posting about this would be cathartic as well. I decided to take her advice, I think this will help me get some closure, answer the questions I got from so many inquiring minds, LOL.

This happened 15 years ago when I was 16. I had my first love with my boyfriend James. We had been together for two years at this point and I know it sounds naive and there were some rumors, but I knew we would get married someday. We were still stupid teenagers, though. We liked to go to parties, drink, get it on in his car, all the things teens do. Well, this one friend of ours was a sort of typical spoiled rich girl. She hosted a pill party one night. We decided to go. It was stupid, but we had both used Adderall for fun before and thought it would be fun to

do it again. The problem was he made a mistake. That night he ended up ingesting a large quantity of Ruffies. Being dumb teens, no one made the call to 911 until it was too late. Six years later I was engaged to my college boyfriend, CS. We had been engaged for a year. We were wedding planning. This had caused some friction between us and CS thought a vacation would help take some of the stress off. It was on the third day of our trip we decided to go hiking. It was a very beautiful trail that went around a cliffside. I did want to see over the edge of the cliff so we got off the beaten path and to the edge. This was all fine, but at this particular spot there was a rock that jutted out over the edge almost like an arrowhead pointing. CS decided he wanted a picture of himself out over the edge. I told him I was not going to go out on that spot and it wasn't safe. He went anyway, and after taking his selfie, lost balance

on the loose rocks at his feet and fell 40 feet below onto the jagged rocks below. I will never get that image out of my mind. Two years ago is when I lost my husband. We were married just over a year after a two-year-long engagement. We had been together a total of six years. We had bought a nice house with a pool just before our wedding. Everything was going well and we were debating some major life decisions. My husband loved to swim and one of the first DIY projects he performed was installing underwater lights into the pool. He insisted on doing this himself. I told him he should use an electrician.

One Saturday morning he went out for a swim. The lights had been left on overnight, and a stripped wire he missed electrified the pool. When he jumped in it wasn't the electricity that killed him. The autopsy showed it was electric shock drowning. The shock paralyzed his body and he was unable to get to the surface and drowned. I was the one to find him. I guess you can see why I feel cursed. I have to say it does feel good to finally say it out loud.

I have been angry in the past because I feel each of these were avoidable, but I have forgiven them. And I think truly ready to move on. Part 4. Hi everybody. I haven't posted anything in a really long time, but David and I have been married for two years now. Things have been going great for the most part. He is still the perfect chance. gentleman and spoils me. We are expecting our first child soon. I am four months along at this point. The pregnancy has been going smoothly so far, but I know I'm not even halfway yet. This is

where we are having some friction, though. I have always dreamed about being a stay-at-home mom. At least until all the kids get to school aged. Then I could foresee getting a part-time job or something, but that's way down the road because I would like to have a big family. David doesn't really agree with this. He thinks that since his mother is retired, and more than willing to be our daytime babysitter, that our best choice is to both work. He keeps telling me that while we could live off of his salary, it would largely just be living. This is especially true, he says, if we have three or four kids like I want. He thinks utilizing his mom, and both of us working would allow for a lot of luxury in our lives. We would be able to go on larger vacations,

and afford niceties that we won't have if it's just his income. I have proposed that he start looking for advancement in his field. He is doing fairly well, but he can keep climbing the ladder. Recently he told me about a position that opened that paid quite a bit more, but that he didn't want because it would mean more late night, some weekends, and increased travel. We had a bit of disagreement about this as I think putting the extra now for our family will pay off in the long run. It is also important for children to be raised by their mother as much as possible. What do you think I should do to get David to see things the right way? I'm currently worried that he may make a poor choice.

Part 5. It's been a very somber year and I need to vent. Outside of the celebration that was the birth of our daughter, Dana, it has been all turmoil. I am cursed. David lost his life because of a poor choice on his part. He was cleaning one of his guns, and I guess a round was still in the chamber. He thought he had emptied it and it went off. He was shot right in the face and died instantly. I was home sitting right next to him on our couch.

I am just thankful that Dana was with her grandparents that night. That was six months ago and I am still trying to cope with the loss of yet another husband. I don't know why I am so cursed. They always make some poor choice and end up dead. It's just not fair. Why do I not deserve true lasting love? Why are they all taken from me but their own stupidity? That's not the worst of it, though.

About a month ago some people I have known for years were starting rumors. They were calling me some sort of black widow. I went and confronted them. They denied ever saying anything. like that, but I think they were just trying to save face. Because right after they denied it, they said that they just thought it was interesting, that I have lost two husbands and a fiancé. I didn't know them back in high school, and I don't go around publicizing my heartache. I was so offended. I am the one grieving here. I am the one who now raises a daughter by myself.

Yes, we got a substantial life insurance policy payout, but I had to quit my job, so we don't have any new income at this time. I just think it's really cruel to say things like this about me. Then things got even worse. I learned today from a very nice detective that the police have not closed the case on my husband's death. It was an accident. However, it seems a medical examiner has gotten involved in my husband's case. Now they have requested the files from both my first husband's case and my fiancé's case. I just don't know what to do. I know I need to get a lawyer just in case this thing turns into a witch hunt. I feel like I can't trust anyone, even my ex-mother-in-law Julie seems to be distancing herself from me. I just want to be happy,

I just want the life I deserve. Part 6. I hired a lawyer. Many advised me to do so and it was the right call. My lawyer was very good as my husband's life insurance paid out a considerable sum. He had some ways of getting information from the police investigation before I was ever charged. This was life-saving. I don't know what I would have done if he hadn't. I still feel like I can't properly grieve the loss of my husband. The police investigation, and the sideways glances by those I used to call friends was all just too much. But then I was pushed even far. farther over the edge. My lawyer was able to find out what the prosecution and the police were holding. It was terrifying finding out. It was literally a witch hunt. The police are actively

investigating each one of the tragedies I have had to endure. They were interviewing people from high school. Apparently searching through records they found that my dad's long-time girlfriend had a prescription for rohypnol all those years ago. Then they were calling into question a large circular bruise that was on my fiancé's chest. I mean, he fell like 40 feet onto rocks, of course he has bruising. The note in the file had highlighted the medical report's note on a, circular, fist-sized bruise on the chest. They didn't stop there, though. They interviewed electricians and showed them some of the photos the police took after my first husband's death. I really couldn't believe it. They were actively investigating every horrible thing that has ever

happened to me. They want to paint me as some sort of horrible murderer. I loved these men, they were taken from me. I don't know why these people would be so determined to destroy my life. The worst part was hearing the things they were saying about my David. This man is the father of my child. I would never ever do anything to hurt him. There was all of this detail on angles and gunshot residue. I explained to them so many times we had to been shooting that day, we shot every week. Of course I had residue on my hands. As painful as all of that was, it was made worse by the collection of statements they have received from people I trusted. Old friends, work colleagues, even Julie and Christina, who I love like family. All of these people

seem to have turned their back on me during my greatest time of need. My lawyer let me know that they would probably come forward with formal charges any time now. That's why I had to leave. It was very difficult leaving behind everything. Luckily with the remaining life insurance money, the quick sale of the house, and cashing out some investments I was able to open an account with the Keisha Gerald de Depositos. It is a considerable amount and I now qualify for citizenship by investment. It'll be an adjustment for sure, but looking through a lot of their extradition laws it's unlikely I will be returned to the states.

Plus, Averro is a gorgeous city with a lot of culture. I think Dana and I will be able to make a great life here far from those who want to hurt us. I just want to thank all of you who have shown your support and advised me, especially those of you I have gotten to know through DM. It's nice to know that people still look out for others, even though some people in the comments were less than generous. If I have any further developments, I will definitely share them with you all. Until then I am just going to do my best to raise my daughter and help us both move on. Part 7. I am posting this today as my one and only attempt to tell my side of the story. The things being said about me in the media are untrue.

They are slandrous and deliberately misleading. All I want to accomplish with this post is to let everyone know what the truth really is. Yes, it was my idea to go to the pill party back in high school, and yes, I was aware that my boyfriend had cheated on me. I did not break up with him before the party because I did not want it to be awkward. We had all the same friends. I figured I could suck it up so that the party could be enjoyed without drama. The recent true crime episode about my case also made a huge deal about my dad's girlfriend being the only parent with a rohypnal prescription. That doesn't mean that is the only place those pills could come from. One of the others could have very well had an

aunt, uncle, mom's BFF that brought that. The second thing I want to address is the motives that all of these so-called investigators are focused on. They all want to paint me as some sort of shallow, self-obsessed woman. They are doing shoddy police work and thus have to make up a reason this happened. These were all accidents. Yes, I wanted to have a big wedding, C.S. Wanted to have a small destination wedding. Same thing with Michael. Yes, I wanted kids right away, he wanted to wait five years. These are things couples talk about and discuss. I did not murder them because they didn't agree with me.

If I killed everyone that disagreed with me I would have killed one thousands of people by now. The most ridiculous part of the whole episode was the electrician they had look at the photos of the wiring to the lights. Why the police photographer even took the time to take these photos makes me think they wanted this to be ruled a homicide. Him talking about how some parts of the job look really good but where the short in the wire was seemed hasty and reckless, as if someone tampered with it. That part was a total joke. First off, of course the part that went wrong is going to look wrong. Why are you saying that like it is some sort of gotcha? Secondly, I have absolutely no background in any construction field. I rarely ever pump my own gas. Yet, these people think I could manage to correctly

sabotage a pool so that it becomes electrified? If I even began to mess with electrical wires the most likely outcome would be me electrifying myself. I understand that for some when this kind of thing happens four times, it can raise some eyebrows. But that doesn't mean it just becomes true. You have to look at the evidence, actual evidence. I feel like all of these people have come to a conclusion, and are now looking for evidence that supports their crazy conclusion. While at the same time, ignoring everything that doesn't. The most painful part of all of it was watching the interviews, especially those by Julie and Christina. I thought of them as my real mom and sister. For them to buy into what the investigators are saying was very hard. I hope at

some point they see reason and understand that this is nothing more than a witch hunt. I'd be more than happy to make amends at that point. I'm going to leave it all at that. Dana and I are doing wonderful here in Portugal. I have been seeing a nice local man here in Aviero for the past few months. He is very family-oriented, which is good, because Dana and I deserve someone who puts us first, and who doesn't make poor choices. Par 8. Since the need news is reporting on what happened this past week, I felt I needed to respond. Julie, my once-beloved mother-in-law, did make an attempt on my life. I was out shopping with my new husband, Gustavo.

Yes, I have gotten married since my last update. We were just browsing some stores, when suddenly it felt like the air was taken out of me. I gasped momentarily, unable to speak. had stabbed me in the back, literally. The pain was like nothing I have ever felt. I turned in a moment and when I faced her, she looked deranged. She pulled her hand up to stab at me again, and then suddenly froze, noticing my seven months pregnant belly. That pause was all that was needed, as Gustavo had not been far and upon seeing the love of his life, an unborn child in danger, launched himself upon her. He managed to stop her, but did take a nasty,

himself. I was rushed to the hospital by emergency services. I was very lucky as she missed hitting anything vital. I am back at home surrounded by family. Julie was not so lucky. Gustavo's heroic leap into harm's way knocked her to the ground. She hit her head very hard and is now in a coma. I have been assured by authorities that should she recover she will be arrested for attempted murder. This whole ordeal has just been truly traumatizing. Just more pain on my already pain-laden life. The worst part is I truly loved this woman as a mother. She was my rock for many years after the passing of my first husband, her son. This is what happens when lies are allowed to perpetuate. But journalists and prosecutors that have led this slanderous

and heinous campaign against me all these years, obviously got to Julie. She would have never done this to me if not for their endless lies and twisted realities. I'm sorry, Julie, I'm sorry you were misguided. I never hurt your son or anyone else. They made their choices, and it cost them, these things happen. This will be the last time I ever post. I am moving on. I have a very wide extended family now that fully supports Dana and I. My husband Gustavo is perfect in every way, and treats me like a queen. I could not be happier. I finally found a man that completely understands, happy wife, happy life.

My name's Mikey, I'm 32M and have a bit of a dilemma on my hands. And for some reason like many before me, I'm turning to internet strangers. I don't know if I'm looking for advice, for someone to tell me my feelings are valid, someone to set me straight. I don't know. For 11 years I was with Molly, 32F, we met at college, not the American kind, the British one where you typically go between 16 to 18, became friends, fell in love and got together just after college ended. My oldest daughter Lila, 14F, was just a baby when we got together, Molly had her at 18 and the bio father has never been involved. When she was four, I legally adopted her. We then went on to have two more kids Tilly, 8F, and Milo, 5M. For years ago, around the time of my

youngest's first birthday Molly and I split up amicably. We remain really good friends and co-parent our kids well, we share a week on, off routine, however our doors are always open on our off weeks. Our reason for splitting was simple, the romantic love we shared had become platonic. No arguments or fights, just a change in feeling. Molly has since moved on with a new partner, Megan, 29F, and they've been together for a year. This wasn't a shock as she'd always been open about her bisexuality. Megan's great and the kids love her. Not long after the breakup, I noticed a new girl start my gym, I knew she was new because if you train at the same time every day, you tend to get to know the regulars.

Man, this girl stood out for all the right reasons. She was heavily tattooed, had this wonderful olive tint to her skin, had the most inviting brown eyes. She had golden brown hair and she was thick in all the right places. If you were to draw my ideal woman, she was it. Honestly, I'm a solid six, this girl was a ten and way out of my league. She was also the type of girl you'd look at and just know that she was a nice person, she had the kindest eyes. For the next few weeks we'd pass each other in the gym and curtly nod and smile at each other,

nothing you wouldn't do with anyone else. I'd try my best to steal a glance at her, while simultaneously trying to not look like a creep. One Friday morning we both happened to be squatting in the racks next to each other, I'm very much a headphones on, dialed in type of trainer so don't really tend to make small talk. While I was putting my plates away, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed she got stuck at the bottom of a squat and was in some bother trying to get up. As any normal person would I ran toward her and helped her get the weight off her back safely.

We finally got to talking. Her, thank you so much, I thought I was gone there, maybe I should take some pointers from you. Winks at me, me, goes pink any time, I'm Mikey, by the way. Her, I'm Anna, lovely to meet you Mikey. My night in shining armor. Me, goes beat red well, lovely to meet you two, Anna. Starts to walk away.

Her, hey. I was serious about those pointers, you know. Me, I'm here the same time every day. Ana and I started training together every day, and on rest days we'd be constantly texting. We connected on so many levels, we liked the same bands, same movies, TV shows. We started taking turns driving each other to and from the gym, and in the space of a couple of weeks we'd become best friends. I knew that I was falling for her, but I couldn't imagine a girl like her ever liking a guy like me in that way. I came to find out that Anna was 30 and a tattoo artist who came from a Portuguese family.

Her parents had moved to the UK before she was born, they own a restaurant in town. She had one brother and a son named Francisco or Frankie, currently 6M, who was the product of a holiday romance when she was visiting family in Portugal. Her son's father is as present as he can be and visits his son every couple of months. I obviously also shared my story with her, my job as a teacher, my kids, and my relationship with my ex. After around two months of becoming friends and getting to know each other something wonderfully embarrassing happened. I was driving Anna and I home from the gym when Molly called, I was worried that it was about the kids so I asked Anna if she'd mind me answering the call, hands free obviously, she didn't. Molly sounded quite ill on the phone and proceeded to explain that her and the kids had come down with the flu. She then let me know that my oldest Lila wouldn't be able to come to watch home alone one and two in the park with me that weekend, a tradition of hours at Christmas time.

She ended the call with, Maybe you should ask that Anna you talk about all the time, it would be a lovely first date. Embarrassed, I turned to Anna to apologize, but before I could say anything she just said, I'd love to. The setting was perfect, they put a marquee up with a giant screen in the middle of Butte Park. It was decorated with tea lights and we were given a soft mat to sit slash lay on

with cushions and blankets to keep warm. Gradually throughout the evening we got closer. She put her hand in mind and eventually she ended up laying on my chest. Every laugh she let out caused an avalanche of butterflies in my stomach. Between the first and second movie she looked up at me, I stared into those brown eyes and without thinking said, God, your beautiful Anna, she slid up and placed her palm on my cheek. I just said, I'm sorry, I know your way out of my league, but I, she cut me off, I've been waiting for two months for you to ask me out.

She placed her other palm on my second cheek and pulled me in for a kid. kiss. In that moment, I just knew. I loved her. We dated for three months before deciding to introduce each other to our families, my kids loved her, she's still Lila's favorite person, and so did my parents. The first time I met her family was, well, eventful in all the right ways. She took me to her parents' restaurant where I'd meet her parents Miguel, 55M, and Carolina, 56F, and her brother Santiago, Sandy, 25M. Her son was the star of the show, he was only three at the time, but I could already see my older girls doting on him, and my son and him being the best of friends.

We hit it off perfectly and the food was incredible. Having drunk a few too many super box, Anna thought it'd be best that we stay above the restaurant in her old room. As we lay on the bed, in my drunken stupor, I said, I love you Anna, she kissed my cheek and whispered, I love you too, now get done sleep. I woke to see Anna sitting up awkwardly next to me, she asked if I really did love her, or if it was just a drunken slip of the tongue. I told her that I'd never loved a woman as much as I love her, she took my hand and said, I need to tell you something. I was worried she'd cheated her didn't feel the same, what I wasn't expecting is what came out of her mouth.

Mikey, I love you, I really do. But if this is going to work, and I mean really work then there's something you need to know. In my early 20s before I opened my shop I was working as an apprentice at a tattoo parlor in town. Tattoo apprentices don't exactly make a huge amount of money, and with my parents not being able to help me financially, I had to find other ways of making money. I decided to start making adult content under an alias to supplement my income, I never had any partners, just solo stuff and to a degree I enjoyed it. I stopped when I became pregnant with Frankie.

I don't want us to have any secrets, and everything I posted has been taken down, can you accept me even though that's in my past? I just looked at her and smiled, of course I can you idiot. I pulled her close to me, we made love for the first time that morning. It wasn't just sex, in those first moments I've never felt more connected to someone. I took in every little detail of her body, the little freckle on her left hip, the way she'd shudder as I placed my hand on the back of her head. Everything.

We haven't looked back since, Anna and Frankie moved in with us last year. We're still just as if not more in love than we were. Her shop's taken off and I've been made the new head teacher of the school I've worked at for years. I've even bought a ring and am planning to propose in two months' time, when we take the kids to the Christmas movie in But yesterday something happened stirred up some feelings about my relationship with Anna. On a Friday afternoon I tend to leave school early so I can pick my own kids up from their schools, head teacher's privilege, and will do some admin work in the evening to make up the hour missed. While I was browsing my emails one came up with a link and a series of

numbers. I don't know why, but I clicked it. It took me to a website that needed a pin to enter. I entered the series of numbers from the email. It opened and I was greeted with a banner that read, leaked. The forgotten hose of the internet, the featured model. Anna. I stared blankly at the screen for I don't know how long, could have been five minutes, could have been an hour. Anna walked in and screamed, what the fuck are you looking at? I managed to calm her death. I managed to calm her down and explain, I showed her the email. But as we tried looking into the sender's details, another email popped up, it had a sort code and account number as the subject, and a message that read, I'm sure your children and the parents from your school would love to see what their

wonderful headteachers, lovely girlfriend used to get up to in her spare time. Send 20,000 pounds to this account, you've got eight weeks or this becomes public. I feel like I'm second-guessing my whole relationship, I'm struggling to detach my Anna with the woman on the screen. Is that wrong? I never thought about Anna in that part of her life, I never thought I'd see it. And fuck, I haven't got 20 grand. Any advice? I'm back with an update. Do yours and Anna's family know about her past? Yes, my dad and stepmom both know as well as my ex. So do Anna's parents and brother. Are you still questioning the relationship? No, I wrote that in a place of confusion, I love Anna, aside from the kids she's my world.

Anna's feelings about mine and my ex's relationship. Anna and Molly, X, have become great friends. Frankie Anna's son has started to call her Aunt Mole and will often spend time with my kids at her house. I'm sure she found it strange in the begging. Why didn't you go to the police? The biggest concern I have is more than one person being involved. If the police catch one, the other may leak Anna's content regardless.

We also live in an area where trust in the police is low. For some reason a lot of you want to know how heavily tattooed Anna is and if I'm tattooed as well. She's got two full sleeves, her sternum, upper back, collar bones and ankles tattooed. All of her artwork is in a floral slash fine line style. Yes, I'm also tattooed, two full arms, chest and both shins. I prefer a traditional style tattoo. Hopefully that's all clear now.

On with the update. So, after a couple of days, I decided to speak to my best friend for a bit of advice. My best friend also happens to be my dad, Paul, 53M. My parents had me at 20, BioMum was pregnant at 19, when I was three months old she decided. that she wasn't the maternal type, so she booked it. Her family were never bothered either. When I was five he met my step mother Lana, 49F, they were both in uni studying nursing. Now the word stepmother will no longer to be used to describe Lana, she filled that maternal role perfectly, I call her mom she refers to me as her son. Apart from DNA, in every which way,

that woman is my mother. She's done nothing but love me since I was full. five years old. I think that connection I had with my mom was a big reason I was so happy to be a father to my oldest, Lila. Sorry, went off track there. So, I spoke to my dad about what was going on, explain my concerns about Anna and my relationship and the worry about the blackmail, etc. This is when he stopped being my friend and became dad. Michael, I have never seen you so happy, she is the reason for that. You chose to accept her knowing her past, but now question it, when you're actually faced with it. Look at the relationship she's built with the kids, what you've got with Frankie.

Don't let something you've already known for the past three years ruined something special that could last your whole life. Don't worry about the money, we can sort that if needs be. But before you think about paying that money, remember how I taught you to deal with bullies. Hit first and ask questions later. Those were the words that I needed to hear, and I knew he was serious because he called me Michael. He only ever does that when he's serious. It was a Saturday and my exes week so she had the kids, Frankie was also with them as they were going to a theme park and Molly didn't want him feeling

left out. I grabbed a few bottles of beer, Anna's a beer drinker which for some reason makes her more attractive, her favorite tankatsu, and headed to the shop to meet her after work. I got to the shop which had shut at this point and couldn't find Anna anywhere. I finally found her sat under the counter sobbing, that killed me. It was the moment I knew that I would do anything for her, any pain she felt, I felt. I put the food down, cracked open two bottles with my teeth and sat on the floor beside her. Through her sobbed she spoke. Anna, I never wanted you to see that part of my life, you must think I'm disgusting. Me, that person I saw on the screen is a part of you, therefore that person is a part of me, Anna. You're the love of my life. You're the love of my

life, I love you knowing your past, I'll love you and you in our future. Anna, you're not going to leave. Me, nah. Slips a box between her knees. Anna, what's this? She opens the box, eyes widened. Me, I was going to wait until the Christmas movie in the park, but I couldn't. Anna, I love you more than you could ever know.

Want to be my gym partner forever. Anna, breaks down in my arms of course I will, I think. thought you were going to leave. Me, never. So yeah, I'm the six that's going to marry a ten. We told the kids, they were ecstatic and we organized a meal with both of our families at Honest Parents' Restaurant. There we announced that we'd be getting married, they were all overjoyed. The mothers cried, the fathers were clearly emotional, but held back.

Molly tearfully agreed to be my best woman. Sandy, Anna's brother came to me and put his hands on my face, So I'm finally getting a brother then, he agreed to be a groomsman and to take on the task of organizing the stag. All in all we couldn't ask for a better reaction. After the excitement settled, Anna and I decided to tackle the situation with the leak head-on. For a little bit of damage control, we decided to tell the kids about Anna's past in an age-appropriate way, which was difficult.

Tilly, Milo and Frankie didn't really understand, but you could see that the conversation made Lila up quite uncomfortable, as it would with any 14-year-old. My father's words rang in my head, hit first-ask questions later. So after some discussion, Anna and I decided to fight back. We called Santee this morning, explained the situation to him and asked for his help in finding who sent the email. For context, Santee is a heavily tattooed men's physique competitor, not what you'd expect from an IT nerd, but he is. The guy's literally Clark Kent. If Clark Kent was a software engineer that taught coding by night. Anyway, I digress, he agreed to help us as long as he hasn't got to see his sisters.

You know. He arrived around four hours ago, did a lot of IT stuff that I have no business even trying to explain. However, what really shocked me is that he was able to obtain the IP address of the sender of the email. From the IP address he was able to find something called a host name. Essentially he was able to find the network the computer that sent the email was attached to. Santee tracked the sender back to our address, from the IP address Santee could tell that the email was sent from a PC. There's only one PC in our house. Lila's.

Hello, it's been a couple of weeks since my last update, and it's been busy. There's a lot to cover so bear with me. When we found out it was Lila who sent the email we were absolutely heart-privile. broken, Anna especially. They'd really bonded over a love of art and Lila seemed to really look up to Anna, expressing that she wanted to be a tattoo artist too. She'd spend hours on Sundays sitting with Anna tattooing oranges and eventually fake skin. Anna was even considering letting Lila tattoo her on Christmas Eve, using a kit she'd had specially made for her. I don't think I've ever seen Anna so hurt. When we found out, my kids were at Molly and Megan's place for

the weekend, Frankie's dad was visiting for the week so Anna and I decided to head straight over to my ex's place to confront Lila. When we arrived our kids weren't too surprised as it's quite a regular occurrence to pop over to each other's houses on our off weeks. Molly could see the look of anguish on Anna's face and pulled us to one side. We explained to her that we figured out it was Lila who sent the email threatening to leak Anna's old posts, she was obviously shocked but insisted we have my parents take Tilly and Milo before we confront her. Once the younger two had gone, Anna, Molly, Megan and I sat Lila down. Anna started. Anna, Lila, I know, sweetheart. I know you sent that email to your dad, I've never felt so violated. Any pictures of me from back then were

meant to be taken down. Gone. Lila breaks down. Lila, pictures. What pictures? He made me send that email, he told me if I didn't then he'd make sure he'd take me away from Dad. Me, the link in the email you sent Lila, they had pictures of Anna from a long time ago, the pictures were of Anna with no clothes. You should know that, you sent the email. Lila, I didn't read it, he messaged me what to say, I didn't read it honestly. I just hit copy, paste and send. I couldn't have him take me away, Daddy, Anna, I'm so sorry.

I didn't know. I'm sorry. Anna, who's going to take you away, sweetie? Who's he? Lila, my. My father. Me, what are you talking about? I'm here, Lila.

Lila, not you, my biological father, I've got the messages to prove it, please I'm so sorry. Silence lingered for a little while before Molly broke the ice, I didn't think you knew who he was. For context, Craig, 40M, or Lila's sperm donor got Molly pregnant when she was 17 and he was 25. What we've been told by Molly is that he was an emotionally manipulative older guy who'd managed to convince her that they were in love. When he found out that she was pregnant, he ran. Didn't want the stigma of being the grown man that knocked up a teenager. Molly didn't know much about his family, but had heard that they followed him. Molly felt completely taken advantage of, and unfortunately due to the age of consent in the UK being 16, legally there was nothing she could do.

Disgusting, I know. Molly was sat looking almost numb, Megan moved closer to her and gave her a tight embrace before Lila spoke again. He found me, Mom, I never needed to know about him. I knew enough, about how he left. I've always had a dad, and when he threatened to take me away from Daddy I got scared. I'm so sorry, to all of you. I should have come to you first, but I thought I could make it all disappear. Anna was the first to comfort Lila when she broke down a second time.

It's okay, sweetheart, we've all got you. But you need to show us the messages so we can help. Lila went upstairs to grab her phone, she opened Instagram and showed us the messages. It seems like Craig had been following Lila for a long time. He'd been keeping tabs on her through there, on a day where Lila had posted a picture of her and Anna at the shop he decided to message her. He introduced himself as an old friend of her mums, and questioned who the lady in the picture with her was. Lila had tried to ignore him, but the messages kept coming.

She told him to leave her alone, but the messages asking about the lady in the picture wouldn't stop. Lila eventually messaged back bluntly, it's my stepmother. He then replied, but I'm single Lila. Confused, Lila replied questioning what he meant, this was his reply. I'm not sure if your mother ever told you, but your father, Mikey, isn't your biological father. That's me, Lila, the reason I've not been in your life is because truthfully I never fancied being a father. But I'm in a bit of a bind and I think you could help. Do you know who your stepmother is Lila?

I was a big fan of hers, you know I think I still have all of her pictures. and the videos. I'm sure the internet would absolutely love the return of Aurora Blue. What you're going to do for me is simple, Lila, I'm going to send you an email template for you to send to your dad, you're then going to send it from an anonymous email address which should stop the email being traced back to me. I've got myself in trouble with some bad people, I need 20,000 pounds. Do this for me or I will contest your adoption and have you taken away from Daddy Dearest and Sweetana. Do you understand? and message me back when it's done. Lila was inconsolable, Anna and Molly comforted her.

For some reason seeing my daughter in this state washed all anger I felt away, I just wanted to console her, reassure her that she'd be okay. In those moments everything else, all the outside noise was gone. It was time to be a dad. I got everyone's attention, Lila, give me your phone, she gave it to me and I simply put it in a drawer. I turned to Molly, you know what to do, Lila and me will go get the snacks, you three can set up. Molly smiled at me, good idea. You see, when Lila was little, whenever she got upset she would curl up in a blanket and watch a movie. Typically something Disney. When Molly and I noticed this pattern we decided to make it a family thing, I'd take Lila to the shop to get snacks and pop, and while we were out

Molly would turn the living room into a cinema. We always said to her that she should never be upset alone. This was something we've done with all our kids, even after the divorce. On the drive to the shop, I told Lila that the adoption meant that no one could take her away from me, and no one ever will. She sobbed for a while and for the first time in a long time, the teenager sat beside me was my little girl, she needed her daddy. My heart broke for her, but at the same time a part of me felt happy, happy that she still needed me. The five of us spent the afternoon and evening watching some of Lila's favorite movies and she seemed to cheer up. The next day, I'd come to a decision. Craig had hurt my daughter, Anna and Molly so badly it couldn't go unpunished.

I took Lila's phone and messaged him, This is Mikey, meet me at this address on the 30th of November and we can talk about getting you your money. Come alone or the deals off. I sent him the address of Anna's family restaurant. I'm not giving him any money, in fact Sandy, my dad, Anna's dad, and I have a plan for Craig. I'll update in a few days when the meeting's done. It's been six months since my last post, sorry it's taken so long. Again, a lot to cover so strap in. We'd arranged to meet Craig on the 30th of November, he arrived at the restaurant with a smug grin on his face. Like I asked he came alone, I told mine and Anna's fathers as well as Sandy to leave Craig and me in the private function room. They obliged but assured me that they'd be

on the other end of the door. He sat on the table opposite me with his shit-eating grin and our conversation began. Craig, have you got my money, Mike? I'm too old for this fucking guy Richie sit down you've brought me to. Me, we'll get to the money, Craig. I want you to answer some questions for me, can you do that? Craig, I'll humor you, but keep the old man and the geared up nerd outside, deal? Me, fine by me. I just want to know why Craig. Why you chose to stop my daughter's social media? Why did you try and manipulate her? Why bring my fiancé into this? Craig, how long have you got? My reasons for following Lila are probably not what you'd expect. I never had any more kids, Mike, never really wanted them. But from time to time I'll check up on my

uh, sorry, I mean your daughter and picture what it would be like, if I was her dad. I'd sometimes do it just for comfort, see what her life is like, see if she's happy. A few months ago I borrowed some money from the Greeks, 10 grand to be exact. I used that money to pay off some debts I had to some of the road men on my estate. I've got a bit of a coke habit, Mike. The day I messaged Lila, the Greeks had caught up with me. They told me I had eight weeks to double their money or there'd be consequences. And I can't imagine those consequences would exactly be pleasant Mike. Me, what the fuck has this got to do with my family?

Craig, I was getting there. After the Greeks came to my flat, I went back to my happy place to look at my, sorry your daughter. And who do I see? Aurora fucking Blue I was a big fan Mike I'm not just saying that I must have been a subscriber for her whole adult career

she had everything the body the hair fuck me how often do you see a porn star with kind eyes honestly I probably spent the year or two she was online fantasizing about meeting her being her man you know me please move on Jesus Christ

Craig I am fucking getting there When Aurora Sariana announced she was taking her sights down, I kind of scrambled to save as much of her content as I could. Save it for a rainy day maybe. Well, that rainy day came, and at the same time an opportunity presented itself. I knew perfect Daddy Mikey was a teacher, a head teacher in fact. What's the take-home Mike?

80 grand. And I know that Aurora's got some of that slut money left, crack. As the words left his mouth, I'd cocked my right arm back and hit him square on the nose. I could feel his nose shatter as I hit him. Anna's father and brother bolted in and pinned him to the wall. He looks at me, spit some blood and laughs. My money, Michael. Anna's brother hits him in his gut, there is no money, I replied.

It was my turn to speak. You see Craig, I never was going to pay you. I spoke to my school governors, they support me regardless of what happens. Anna and I have agreed to accept whatever comes out, we have each other, who cares? I'm living your dream, you sad little prick. The daughter you threw away. The woman you lusted over for years. Mine, Craig laughs, he replied, I thought you'd say something like that. The leak's already out, 200 subscribers and counting since this morning, 10 pounds ahead.

I'll get that money soon, I think. I just wanted to see if I could get any more out of you. I pulled my phone out and stopped recording. I looked at him and winked. I told Anna's father and brother to do what they want with him. I don't, nor do I want to know what they did with him. Won't have been pretty. My old man and I just left.

We picked up Anna, and went to the police station, we handed in the evidence and Craig was later charged. The charges included coercion of a child, extortion and following a search of his flat possession of class A substances with intent to supply. He's been sentenced to ten years. Anna's old posts were taken down again. We just hope that no more comes of it. We're just thankful that the police actually came through for once. You could tell that Anna was still feeling down,

but a few days later an opportunity presented itself for me to change that. I received a call from the company running the Christmas movie in the park event. They were letting me know that it was cancelled as only my family's ticket had been bought, I could see why Christmas with the cranks was being shown. In that moment I had an idea. I asked to buy all the tickets for the evening, no matter the cost. I arranged for all of our family and friends to be there, I even flew her grandparents over from Portugal.

On the day of the event, I had Molly take Anna out. shopping and to have their makeup done, while I helped my in-laws prepare a load of food for the event. My parents had all of the kids while we prepped. When we arrived at the marquee it was perfect, the same set up as our first date. Anna arrived shortly after, convinced by Molly to wear a white dress as planned, Frankie ran towards her and handed her a veil. Her father took her hand and walked her towards me, the surprise of the moment turned to realization. I took her. I took her hands in mine and asked, shall we do it then? She smiled, nodded, and allowed me to brush away the tears. So yeah, that's how I ended up marrying the love of my life. It seems like the perfect

place is to end this update, as I post this from the Algarva, soaking up the Portuguese sun. Anna and I had our second wedding celebration yesterday with her extended family here. And before some of you ask, yes, we still had to watch Christmas with the cranks, unfortunately. Life's good. I've been married for seven long years. Seven years of shared breakfasts, quiet evenings, silly inside jokes, and the kind of calm love people post about online and call hashtag goals. My husband, well, he's basically textbook perfect.

Sweet, respectful, charming in that quiet, unbothered way. Never raises his voice, never forgets an anniversary, always makes my tea just the way I like it. It sounds like a dream, right? But lately, that dream feels like it's curdling into a nightmare. About two weeks ago, something shifted. Not in him, no, he's still the same. Same smile. Same routine.

Same everything. But me? I've started spiraling. It began with dreams, intense, jarring ones that would bolt me awake in the middle of the night, sweat-drenched and breathing like I'd run a marathon. In these dreams, he's whispering to some woman I can't see clearly. His voice is low, secretive. Sometimes, I'd find messages on his phone, mysterious, teasing messages, but I'd never get to read them.

They'd vanish like smoke before I could grasp them. At first, I chalked it up to stress. Maybe work was getting to me. Maybe I was just, bored. But then the dreams came back. Again. And again. Every night, more intense.

More vivid. Always the same woman, always that same soft, secretive smile he's never given me in real life. My subconscious was screaming, and I was too rattle to ignore it. I broke one morning. I told him everything. Sat across from him at breakfast and unloaded the whole mess, the dreams, the fear, the paranoia. I even cried a little.

He just smiled, kissed my forehead like a dad comforting a kid with a bad dream, and said, you think too much. That should have helped. Should have grounded me. But it didn't. In fact, it made things worse. Because what kind of husband just shrugs off something like that? No questions.

No concern. That calm, easy response felt, wrong. Like he wasn't surprised. Like he knew exactly what I was dreaming about. Suddenly, every part of him that once felt comforting started to feel suspicious. His schedule, once dependable, began to feel robotic. His good morning kisses felt staged, rehearsed. His phone, always left face down, now seemed like a sealed vault. I became obsessed. Not curious, obsessed. One day, night, while he was showering, I cracked. I grabbed his phone and unlocked it with the code I've known for years. Heart pounding like a war drum, I checked everything, WhatsApp. Empty. Facebook.

Dull. Call logs. All normal. Nothing. Nata. Zilch. I should have been relieved. But I wasn't. My brain went darker. He's not dumb, he's hiding it well. Maybe he's using some encrypted app. Maybe he has a burner phone. Maybe he's not cheating at all. Maybe it's something worse. What if, what if he wants me gone?

That thought rooted itself in my mind like a weed. I started doing things I'm not proud of. I searched his drawers, snooped through his glove compartment, sniffed his clothes for perfume I didn't wear. I even followed him one Friday when he said he was meeting an old co-worker. I trailed his car, heart in my throat. He went to a dive bar, nursed a single beer, stared at the TV, and left alone. That should have been the end of it, right?

But it wasn't. I couldn't stop. The not-knowing was gnawing at me. So I started planting little traps. I moved his car keys just a bit and waited to see if he'd panic. I swapped his shampoo bottle for a different one to see if he'd comment. I changed his phone password while he slept, just to see how he'd react. Nothing.

He never slipped. He stayed calm, cool, predictable. Too predictable. Eventually, I installed a tracker app on his phone. I told myself it was just for peace of mind. One day, I watched him go to a coffee shop after work. I waited a full hour, watching him sit alone by the window, scrolling his phone, sipping his coffee like he didn't have a care in the world.

No woman showed up. No secret meetings. Just him. When I got home before him that day, I sat in the dark and stared at the wall for hours. Something inside me cracked wide open. Was I losing my grip? Was I inventing monsters in the face of peace? Or was he just that good?

That careful. I started imagining her. The woman in my dreams. I could almost see her face now, blurry but beautiful. The way she'd smile at him. The way he'd touch her hand across the table. I pictured them laughing, sharing secrets, building a world without me. It haunted me.

I couldn't kiss him without imagining her lips had been there first. Then came the worst night. He was sitting on the couch reading, his usual crime thriller, a glass of wine nearby. He looked so relaxed, like nothing had ever troubled him. Meanwhile, I was in the kitchen, hands trembling as I picked up a knife. I didn't want to hurt him, I swear I didn't. I just wanted to see, something. A flicker of fear, maybe.

A crack in the mask. I walked over, knife behind my back. and stood silently. He looked up, smiled. That same smile. Everything okay, he asked, calm as ever. That smile, it was too calm. Like he knew. Like he was daring me. I dropped the knife in the sink and locked myself in the bathroom. I cried until I couldn't breathe. I didn't even recognize myself anymore. Who was this person I'd become? I used to be logical. Reasonable. But now I was unraveling. Fully convinced my husband was either hiding an affair or plotting something far worse. But here's the catch, I had zero proof. Nothing tangible.

Nothing real. Just dreams and suspicions and this gnawing feeling that I was either crazy or, right. That duality is torture. Because if I'm wrong, then I've destroyed something beautiful. But if I'm right, if I'm right, then I need to act before it's too late. I started keeping a journal. Writing down everything, his movements, my thoughts, any odd behaviors. It helped a little. Gave the madness a home. But it also made me question even more.

Like the time he left for a late meeting and came back with a new tie. Said his coworker gifted it. I smiled and nodded, but I wrote it down. Who gifts a man a tie these days? And why didn't he mention it before? Or the night he came home smelling like cinnamon. He said the bakery next to his office was doing samples. Sounds harmless.

But I checked. That bakery closed six months ago. The signs were everywhere, or maybe I was just finding them because I needed them to exist. I started recording our conversations. I'd ask subtle questions, trying to trip him up. Remember what we did last Friday? Or, didn't you say your boss was out of town?

Tiny things. But he always had an answer. Always steady, never caught off guard. His perfection became unbearable. One afternoon, I found a lipstick under the passenger seat in his car. Not mine. A cheap, bright red tube with the label half scratched off. I stared at it for a long time,

like it was the smoking gun in a murder mystery. I confronted him, showed him the lipstick and waited. He laughed. That must be your sisters. Didn't she borrow the car last month? Remember? I did remember.

She had. But still. The timing. The color. The fact that he remembered. Too convenient. The final straw came when I found a tiny, heart-shaped charm under our bed.

One I'd never seen. It was delicate, gold-plated. I showed it to him, and he said he had no idea where it came from. For once, no explanation. No excuse. Just a blank, clueless look. I didn't sleep that night. I stared at him for hours while he snored softly beside me,

wondering if I was sharing a bed with a stranger. wondering if this whole marriage had been one long con, or if maybe. I really had lost my mind. So here I am. Writing this in the dark, the house silent except for the sound of his breathing. I don't know what to believe anymore. I don't know if I'm the villain or the victim.

All I know is that the doubt has infected everything. And there's no antidote. People think the scariest thing is being betrayed. But it's not. It's suspecting betrayal but never knowing for sure. It's this. Living with a man who might love me, or might be planning to destroy me. And never being sure which it is.

The end. Marissa had been jogging her usual track when she suddenly found herself not to be alone. On the side of the trail, she saw a wild black bear staring at her. Sensing her alarm, the creature lowered itself further down on the ground. Marissa, though scared, felt the need to follow it as it slowly walked away from the path, turning around to wait for her ever so often. But she never thought that with following a bear, she would find this. But before we start, make sure to subscribe if you haven't and hit that notification bell

so that you won't miss any new stories. The bear did not look angry or dangerous, and it did not try to attack her. For some reason, her fear disappeared, and she felt like the bear needed her help. She had never been this close to a bear before, but she had never been this close to a bear before, had heard many stories about how dangerous bears are and how you should keep your distance from them at all times. You're not that vicious, though, are you? She quietly whispered as the bear slowly walked away from her, looking back at her every

few steps. Several people saw what was going on, and they all yelled to Marissa, run. Get away from that animal right now. I'm doing this, she told herself, and she stepped into the bush next to the walking path. Nobody else was here, it was just her and the bear. The bear slowly continued its walk deeper into the tree. the forest, and Marissa followed it, making sure not to trip over a tree route. Where are you taking me? She was going to share her location with her boyfriend, Derek.

She quickly texted him, sharing location just in case. I'll explain later, and put her phone back in her pocket. She made sure to put it on silent, thinking that if someone texted or called her, the noise might scare the bear, and she did not want that to happen. The whole time, the bear kept looking back to check whether Marissa was still following it. As they walked deep, into the forest, Marissa noticed that it was getting late. Finally, the bear slowed down a bit and started sniffing around. What is it? What are you looking for?

It was the bear, it was growling. Marissa was suddenly terrified, and she deeply regretted her decision. What was I even thinking? You see, the bear had led her to a campsite. There was a tent, and whoever had stayed there had made a campfire the night before. The ashes were still a bit warm, however, there was nobody inside. the tent, and it had been left open. It seemed like the camper had left in a hurry, and Marissa couldn't help but look inside. Who was staying here, and why had they left in such a

rush? Something odd was going on here, and she wanted to know what exactly. While every instinct told her to head back, the bear's movements held her back. Upon further examination, Marissa noticed peculiar things inside. Amidst the clothes and maps, she found a small locket with a picture of a family and a camera with a half-filled memory card among the scattered belongings. Marissa's fingers brushed against the soft, worn leather of a diary. Pulling it out, she dusted off the pine needles and leaves, revealing an embossed bear on the cover.

The first pages were filled with neat handwriting detailing the traveller's excitement about his journey into the forest. He wrote of his awe at the myriad of sounds echoing in the night, wondering about the creatures that made them. One passage read, Their Majesty is unparalleled, especially the, and the world. the black bears. The traveler's admiration for the bears took a more focused turn, I've heard tales of a rare white fur bear cub in this region, he penned. His desire was clear, he wished to document this cub, believing it could be the centerpiece of a groundbreaking documentary.

Marissa's heart raced as she began to grasp the extent of the traveler's plans. Dread-filled Marissa as she continued, the traveler's obsession had turned dark, this cub is mine by death destiny. If it won't come to me willingly, I have measures to ensure it does. There were sketches of cages and details about bait. Every word, every hastily drawn map became a potential clue. Her thinking, Marissa felt the weight of the decision pressing on her. Should she rush to the nearest ranger station, potentially wasting precious time? Or should she use the clues at her disposal and venture forth herself?

She considered the bear outside, its insistent behavior, its silent plea. It was all almost as if it trusted her to do the right thing. Perhaps the mother bear had watched the traveler, sensed his intentions, and had desperately sought an ally. And Marissa, she would do whatever it took to reunite the mother with her cub. Each whimper and echo tugged at her heart, fueling her with an urgency she hadn't felt before. She began moving in the direction of the sound. With every step, the cries seemed to grow both clearer and more distressed.

Marissa stumbled upon a trap. It was empty but freshly set, the metal gleaming ominously. For a moment, her heart sank, fearing the worst. Nearby, she found a camera discarded in haste. The lens had captured images of the forest but no bear. Not allowing this bear to set in, Marissa turned her attention back to the distant cries. The connection between the woman and the bear grew stronger, bound by their shared determination. As Marissa and the bear pushed further into the forest, they came upon a clearing where several

large cages stood. More concerning was a smaller cage lying on its side, its door broken open. Tufts of bare fur were caught on its jagged edges, and nearby, a tranquilizer dart lay discarded in the dirt. Hello friends. I want to tell you a strange tale. Story of my wife who left me two weeks after getting married and sued me for divorce and accused me of rape and wanted $20,000 in settlement. But it's not your typical gold digger who wanted money,

story. No, no, no, this story isn't like that at all. It gets weird. I am still very much puzzled and I would like to know what you think. This is how I ruined my life. I am a Korean-American who grew up in the U.S. and I spent my 20s in South Korea teaching English. And I met a girl. Cute little Korean girl. We worked in the same building for about a year just as friends, and then we began dating. We got married after three months of dating. Guam was our honeymoon and we got an apartment in Korea and started to live together. I remember a lot of giggles and countless hours just hugging each other on the bed. Feeling each other breathe. It was wonderful. Two weeks after the wedding, one day my wife returned from grocery shopping and she just went bats hit insane.

Her face was slightly red and she started to scream at me and threw the groceries all over the floor. This sudden escalation was so unprovoked and uncharacteristic of her normal behavior I was just completely flabbergasted. Like what the fuck? It was so random and shocking that I wasn't feeling angry at all but immediately started to suspect there was something seriously wrong. hormone issues I don't know I tried to calm her down as best I could and I called my mother-in-law, M-I-L from now on

M-I-L immediately called my wife and they talked for a good hour alone over the phone and then M-I-L called me again and told me to send her back to Tegu where my wife's family lives she told me that my wife is sick and needs to go to the hospital in Tegu I told her that I will take her to the big hospital near

where we are, but then M. I.L. freaked out and told me not to do that and only bring her to Tegu where she knows a good hospital. My wife wanted to go to Tegu as well, so I drove her back. She seemed a lot calmer, so I dropped her off and drove back and went to work the next day. There was absolutely no contact over the next two days. I called my wife, M.I.L., father-in-law, F-I-L from now on, her brother, grandparents, but nobody answered my call. This zero. This zero. communication was just so frustrating so I just drove to Tagu again to see what the fuck was going on. When I arrived, M-I-L and F-I-L both let me in and they had me sit down with them. And they began to tell me that my wife is now very mentally ill and she needs long-term treatment.

For some reason, I did not suspect this answer at all. I just thought this was just some sudden stress-induced tantrum that can be seen from some women going through life changes. Sort of like, how even good girls can turn into bridesalists during wedding prep. That's what I honestly thought it was. I was so shocked at how my wife, whom I knew for the previous year and dated and married, could be mentally ill so suddenly. I didn't see any crazy behavior from her at all before. M.I.L and F.L. then took me to the mental hospital. Before we met the doctor, M. I.L. sat me down and told me two rules. One, do not tell the doctor that you are her husband. Pretend that you are her cousin.

Two, do not say anything or ask questions. Just listen to what the doctor has to say. I was just so stressed and in shock, I agreed to everything. I just wanted to see my wife. The doctor came in and told us that my wife has the following conditions, severe. severe depression, depersonalization, and dissociative disorder. What the fuck? I didn't know what any of those were and I had a million questions. But MIL abruptly ended the meeting and pulled me away from the doctor and we went outside. I observed my MIL paying for the hospital visit in cash and she did not use the Korean

National Health Insurance at all. I later learned that this was not to leave any paper trails of the visit that can be looked up in national health insurance records. M.I.L and F.L. both emphasized that she is sick because of the wedding and marriage that happened. They told me that I should have been more accommodating to their daughter and treated her better. I apologized to them and they told me to go back and wait quietly. So I did. Some of you might wonder why I didn't press the issue further, but in Korean culture, especially to the in-laws, I was not supposed to disrespect them by going against their words.

especially when my wife was so ill. I thought leaving it to whatever they felt comfortable was best for her. Days went by and still zero contact. I got very anxious and tried all means of communication to my wife, brother-in-law, B-A-L from now on, her grandparents, and M-I-L-N-F-I-L, but nobody responded. So I drove up to where Bail worked and tried to talk to him in person about what's happening. When he saw me, he literally ran downstairs to run away.

for me. What the fuck? But it was a small building and I caught up to him and he was very nervous. When I tried to talk to him, all he said was, it's between you two. I don't know anything, and he ran away again. This time I didn't follow him. I was completely shocked yet again about what just happened. About 10 minutes later, M. IL called me, finally, and she told me to leave her son alone and just talk to her instead. She then told me that my wife is still very sick and she needs more time until she can return to me. She was insistent that the best thing for me to do was just wait until she recovers. I decided to stay put. A week went by and my M.I.L. suddenly appeared at my door. I let them in and M.I.L. started to gather my wife's things. I asked what was happening

and if I else suddenly told me, you are not supposed to have oral sex. What the fuck? Then he explained to me that the reason why my wife is so suddenly sick is because I forced her to have oral sex and performed oral sex on her. He explained that this is a very despicable thing to do and I should be ashamed. Completely taken back, yet again, I explained that I never forced her to do anything and what we did was consensual and she did not have any issues whatsoever. Furthermore, I told them that what we do as married couples on a bed is really private and should

not be a topic of discussion, even from her parents. But F-I-L and M-I-L refused to reason with me and just kept telling me that having oral sex is a terrible thing and any woman will be mentally ill after engaging in such shameful behavior. Then I completely lost my shit and yelled at them for the first time, well then fucking 99% of the world is mentally unstable. Don't assightee there and pretend that you guys never do it, I then told them to get out and they left with some of my wife's belongings. A few days later, I received divorce lawsuit papers in my mailbox. My wife was suing me for divorce and $20,000 in settlement.

She claimed that I raped her continuously during the two-week marriage and I abused her emotionally and mentally. She wrote that she now has all these mental conditions because I sexually abused her. I couldn't think straight for a while and I just could not believe what I was reading. The woman of my life, the woman that I married just a few week ago, was suing me for divorce. Not only that, she was writing all these horrible things vilifying me as some American sex predator. A few years ago there was a big scandal of English teachers from America having sex with many Korean women and filming in secret. And what was more astonishing was the complete set of recordings. She submitted recordings of our conversations, dating back all the way to our first date.

She was running a recorder, on her phone maybe, continuously during our dates and she recorded all of our phone conversations. She attached parts of our conversations that would represent me as, horny American, when we were just mindlessly flirting or joking. I am not sure if she recorded our sex, but she didn't submit anything because, surprise, I didn't rape my wife and it would just show two people having. Just vanilla sex. Was she just trying to rip money off of me all this time?

Like a fake Asian marriage for status or quick lawsuit money? But that didn't make sense at all. I was just a poor teacher and I didn't have any money to begin with. My wife and her parents were completely fine with that and it was her parents who willingly paid for the apartment down payment and all the furniture, etc., I paid for the wedding. That cost them well above $20,000. They were genuinely trying to make their daughter settle down with me and were hoping for a good life. What the fuck?

Nothing made sense. At the time of the divorce lawsuit, Korea was going through the Thhmidu movement and the whole society was extremely sensitive to women claiming to be sexually abused. My wife took full advantage of this and did a great job presenting herself as the helpless meek Korean woman who was powerless before a predatory American man who tricked her into marriage and raised. her over and over. Took a while for me to recover, but eventually I got my shit together and hired a lawyer to fight back. But the outcome wasn't looking great. It was basically her words and recordings versus my words and domestic cases claiming sexual abuse were extremely favoring women at the time in Korea. But as the trial progressed with papers and rebuttals being submitted week after week, she made a mistake. She claimed that I showed up near her place to

threaten her at a certain time. But I wasn't there in Korea has CCTVs everywhere to prove where I was instead. She lost some credibility to her story because of this incident and the judge ultimately ruled in my favor. The domestic abuse charge was dropped in her $20,000 settlement request was denied. So I was married for two weeks and got divorced soon after. I won the lawsuit, but I didn't. What the fuck was this all for? I still don't understand. Friends, is it possible that her mental disorders can manifest in such a short period of time? Over two weeks of marriage?

Or was she hiding it for me? The whole family. Why the fuck were they all recording everything? To me it genuinely felt like they wanted this marriage to work out. But at first sign of conflict they distanced everything and sued me. I don't understand. My life is in ruins. This actually happened five years ago and I never really recovered.

I have a hard time trusting anyone. Every night, thoughts run wild with regret and speculations and endless questions. I genuinely loved this woman. I thought she loved me too. I really thought we had a great start for two weeks, until she left and sued me. Why did they do this? Were they hoping for the best outcome but at the same time preparing for the worst? Why blame everything on me?

They were convinced that the person who attacked Melissa was someone problematic, someone with a police record, who was involved in drug trafficking. However, all of Melissa's friends were devastated by this news, and the problematic friends were the most involved in the investigation. We begin in 1993 when a 15-year-old girl was left alone at home. Her mother was working, and her siblings were at their friends' houses. So, she decided to invite some friends over. She called them, made plans, but at the last minute, none of them showed up.

The hours passed, and her mother returned home, knowing that the girl had been alone all night. She thought that maybe Melissa was feeling sad, but when she opened the door, she realized that someone had kidnapped her. This was when the case of Melissa and Lee began. Melissa Lee was born on February 2nd, 1978, in Snohomish County, Washington, as one of three children of Sharon Lee, who worked as a waitress. Very little is known about her family life, but we know she had a brother named Eric and a sister named Kelly, and after the divorce, her mother was the one who raised her. From here, what we know about Melissa is what her mother told the police, she was very outgoing, charismatic, and kind, and she aspired to become a mother. She was thin, tall, and never left the house without her eyeliner and lipstick because she always said, you never know when you'll meet a talent scout. Being such an extroverted girl, she talked to a lot of people, was popular, had admirers, and apparently, everyone liked her, or at least, that's what her parents thought. Melissa never tried to run away from home, and she had never caused any problems before. She got good grades, was punctual, and responsible.

She was a girl with a lot of character and clear ideas, but her way of being had never caused any problems. However, everything took an unexpected turn on the night of April 13, 1993. That night, Sharon Lee, her mother, was not going to be home, and neither were her siblings. Some sources say they were at friends' houses, and others say they were at their biological father's house, but either way, the fact was that Melissa was going to be completely alone. So, the girl grabbed the phone and invited five friends over. The idea was to watch movies, eat popcorn, laugh, and have a good time. But at the last minute, all her friends cancelled on her.

Around 9 p.m., when her mother called to ask how the party was going, Melissa told her everything. She said she was feeling sad and disappointed that no one showed up, and obviously, Sharon did everything she could to calm her daughter down. However, after talking for a while, Melissa told her mother she was going to bed. So, the woman hung up the phone and felt more at ease. Sharon's shift ended at 12.30 a.m., and after that, she got in the car, picked up her partner, and they both headed home. The problem here was that Melissa was not there. They looked in her room, the living room, the kitchen, everywhere, but there was no trace of her. Obviously, Melissa had gone to bed, packed her things, or maybe gone to a friend's house. But there were several

things that didn't add up. First, Melissa would have informed her mother, left a note, or called. Melissa never did anything without consulting Sharon. Second, the front door of the house was ajar, and obviously, Melissa would never have left it like that. Third, the dining table was moved, and on top of it was a pack of Marlborough cigarettes and a lighter. And guess what? Melissa didn't smoke. Fourth, in the middle of the floor, they found a spilled glass of milk, a jar of peanuts, and an ashtray broken in half. Fifth, the entire living room smelled like gasoline.

Sharon Lee didn't understand anything, but one thing she was sure. of, her daughter had been kidnapped. So, she quickly picked up the phone and called the police. If Melissa had disappeared, she wouldn't have left so many clues behind. The police would have thought that she had run away, gone with friends, a boyfriend, or simply had an argument with her mother. However, there were clear signs of a struggle in the house, open door, moved furniture, objects on the floor. So, the agents got to work and searched everywhere for Melissa Lee. At 3 a.m. on April 14, 1993, they called her family to inform them that her lifeless body had been found. First, the body was found at the bottom of a 30-meter high ravine on McWilteo Boulevard in Everett,

at the city limits of Seattle. But for her to be in this location, the cause of death wasn't the fall, but strangulation. Second, Melissa was dressed in casual home clothes, wearing a black San Jose Shark sweatshirt, orange and pink shorts, and black socks. What was shocking was that the girl was covered in dirt, mud, and chalk, and she was barefoot. Third, and this is the most sinister part, her underwear was inside out, and it had a strange stain, which the police classified as potential evidence. The body was quickly subjected to an autopsy, revealing some truly chilling findings. First, Melissa had neither consumed drugs nor alcohol, but traces of chemicals were found in her system. There were traces of diethyl ether, which is used as a solvent in the manufacture of other chemicals

but could have been used as an anesthetic in this case. In other words, to knock the girl unconscious. Another chemical found in her body was heptane, one of the components of gasoline. Diethyl ether smells sweet, but heptane smells purely like gasoline. So, this was the odor Sharon had smelled in the living room of her house. Third, the girl showed clear signs of having been assaulted, and the stain appeared to be male DNA. But we will delve further into this later. Melissa apparently didn't have any enemies, no criminal record, didn't get into trouble, and didn't get into fights.

But being so extroverted, she interacted with many people, people who smoked, people who didn't smoke, people who drank, and people who didn't. among them were some members of local gangs. So, the police followed this lead. They were convinced that the person who attacked Melissa was someone problematic, with a criminal record, involved in drug trafficking. But all of Melissa's friends were devastated by the news, and the problematic friends were the most involved in the investigation. They collaborated with the police, handed out posters,

called the radio and television, did everything possible to make sure Melissa's face appeared everywhere. These dangerous friends were on the front lines, demanding that the police do their job properly. So, under this pressure, several agents went to the Lee House and searched Melissa's room. It's worth mentioning that, thanks to this, they found her precious diary. Melissa wrote in it every day, talking about her dream of becoming a model, the boys she liked, the ones she didn't like, and all the things she wrote there. They found several striking entries. On March 14, 1993, Melissa wrote the following, I met Alan on the phone on Nightline, a telephone dating service. You called a phone number, and it would automatically redirect your call to

another person who was also calling to meet people. You could be a guy, a girl, you could be friends, have an adventure, you never knew who you were going to meet. And apparently, this was the fun part of Nightline. On March 15th, Melissa wrote again, Alan picked me up, and and another person, at 4.15, and we went out for dinner. Afterward, we went to Fantasia, and finally, we went home. For the police, this man was starting to sound suspicious, but he wouldn't be the only one considered as such. On April 12th, Melissa wrote the following, I hope to God we get back together.

Clearly, this phrase was directed at an ex-boyfriend. But before following this lead, the police decided to look up Alan. They grabbed Melissa's phone directory and checked every number, but none of them were listed as Alan. However, there was one called Mike Nightline. So, on May 18, 1993, they decided to call him and arranged to meet with him. To be continued. So, on May 18, 1993, they decided to call him and meet with him. The person tasked with going to Mike's house was Detective Greg Rinta, and as soon as he arrived,

he noticed something very striking. Mike's house was located just 3.5 miles from the place where Melissa Lee's lifeless body was found. This could have been a simple coincidence, but what came next was even more curious. It turned out that Mike's real name was Alan Edward Dinn. Apparently, this man used to give a different name when he played on Nightline, and he was 35 years old, while Melissa was 15. Physically, this man appeared much younger, but he was still. an adult, and she was a minor. So, before the police arrested him for this, Alan quickly excused himself. He said that, indeed, he had met Melissa on two occasions, but he denied

making any romantic advances. He claimed that he never touched her, had no thoughts of doing so, and that they were simply friends. He also emphasized that he was an honest man and would never even consider doing something like that. At that time, he worked as a mechanic and assembler of decorative panels in Everett, and he told the detective that his colleagues could corroborate that he was a hardworking man who never got into trouble. Another thing he emphasized was that he had been on medical leave for quite some time, as he had undergone back surgery on May 8th and still had staples. The back surgery had been scheduled well in advance, so it was impossible for this man to have attacked Melissa Lee, or at least, in theory.

Up to this point, Alan seemed innocent. With such a significant injury, he couldn't have kidnapped Melissa, grabbed her, fought with her, or strangled her. But still, there were two things that made him suspicious. First, this man said he had no idea that Melissa was dead. He claimed he hadn't heard the news and was surprised by it. But her picture was everywhere, it was on television, in newspapers, her name was on the radio. So, not knowing about it was impossible.

Second, as a mechanic, Alan had access to a wide range of chemicals, including diethyl ether and heptane. However, formally accusing him was a bit more complicated because, up until then, they only had conjectures. In 1994, with the case not progressing, the family distributed posters offering a $1,000 reward to anyone who could provide any information about Melissa's case. Despite all their efforts, the situation remained stagnant. Melissa's face even appeared on a deck of cards designated for cold cases in the area. This may sound grotesque, but these cards were the easiest way to introduce cases in prisons. There were 54 cases represented in that deck, and the intention was, like in Shaw's case,

that someone would speak up and inform the police. Unfortunately, by 2008, the case was still unresolved, and everything was pointing to false leads and contradictory witnesses. But then, in that same year, the stain on Melissa Lee's clothing was analyzed, and it was confirmed to be male DNA. They had always suspected that the stain was male DNA, but they hadn't been able to confirm it 100% until then. And the most shocking part was that when they uploaded this DNA to a database,

it didn't appear anywhere. In October 2018, the sample was sent to Parabon Nanolab, A Virginia-based DNA technology company, and the person in charge of the analysis was genetic genealogist Sissy Moore. In February 2019, she concluded that she had found links between this DNA and Alan Edward Dyn's family. They couldn't be 100% sure that he had committed the crime, but they were certain that someone in his family was involved. So, she requested the police to obtain direct DNA from this man. That's when the agent started to plan the perfect operation. In July 2019, three undercover officers went to Alan's door and told him they were gum salespeople.

They told him a story about their company and wanted him to try new flavors, offering him three different kinds of gum right there. Up to this point, the plan seemed flawless, Alan would chew the gum, spit it out, and they would have his DNA. But what happened next was that Alan wasn't stupid. At one point, he said the following, you're not trying to collect my DNA. are you, and immediately slammed the door in their faces. For a long time, the police did everything they could to get his DNA, and finally, in April 2020, they decided to monitor him 24-7. With the chaotic context of the year, due to the pandemic and everything, Allen stayed home.

So, watching him was going to be very easy, but getting his DNA was going to be much more complicated. He didn't drink coffee anywhere, didn't eat out, but at one day. point, the man went outside for a Marlborough cigarette. As soon as he finished it, he threw the cigarette but on the ground and entered the house. The cigarette but was quickly collected and sent to a lab, and obviously, the DNA matched. So, Alan Edward Dinn was arrested and charged with the murder of Melissa Lee. At this point, the police started looking into Allen's past and realized that this wasn't the first time this man had been in trouble. Years earlier, he had been arrested for domestic violence, resisting authority, and marijuana possession. But the most serious

crime was committed in 1985, eight years before Melissa Lee's murder. Apparently, that year, a 13-year-old girl went to the Scottsdale, Arizona, police to formally report this man. According to her, he offered her alcohol and marijuana. She claimed that some of the substances were altered, and her body started to respond badly. Everything else. Everything else was. Alan said, she did without thinking, and her mind didn't respond correctly. First, the girl felt very affected, and Alan, taking advantage of this, asked her to undress. Then, the girl, now naked, lost consciousness. She couldn't say how many hours she was asleep, but she was sure that when she opened her eyes,

Alan said the following, I hope I haven't left you pregnant. After this statement, the police immediately arrested Alan Edward Dinn. Once in custody, he admitted a few things. He said that, indeed, he had offered the girl cannabis and alcohol, and that he had slept in the same bed with her. But he denied touching her inappropriately, kissing her, or having relations. It was his word against the girls, and with this, the girl didn't dare to press charges and quickly withdrew the complaint. This implied two very important points. First, no DNA samples were taken from this man, and therefore, if he had committed other crimes,

his DNA would not appear in any police database, and second, when the complaint was withdrawn, Alan packed his bags and moved to the state of Washington, where, eight years later, Melissa Lee would be murdered. In September 2020, a preliminary hearing was held regarding Melissa Lee's case. During this hearing, Alan Edward Dinn tried to defend himself using very convoluted words, words that made no sense. I tried to translate what this man said, but it doesn't make sense either in English or in Spanish.

He was spitting out words for no reason, disconnected sentences. But the important part of the preliminary hearing was that the Snahomish County Police Department asked the public to call the number on the screen if they knew anything about this man. But most importantly, they wanted to know if this man had access to chemicals, something directly related to the case of Melissa Lee.

But now, it's your turn. What do you think about the case, and what sentence do you think will be given to this man? The end. I know that if J.C. Dugard can be found alive and come home after 18 years, then my daughter can be found alive and come home after 18 years. If this should not turn out to be the answer that we seek, the answer is still out there. We start the morning of November 19, 1988. Two nine-year-old girls decided to meet up to play.

It was the first day of Thanksgiving vacation, and they decided to wake up early to shake things up. They ran up and down, jumped rope, played with dolls, and around ten in the morning, they asked the mother of one of them if they could go to the supermarket. The mother initially refused, stating they were too young, had never gone out alone, and easily got distracted. But the girls insisted. They promised they would be careful, cross the street cautiously, and make the trip as quickly. as possible. The supermarket was literally two blocks away, so the mother finally gave in, not knowing that 15 minutes later, her daughter would disappear forever. Mala Joy Garch was born on January 24, 1979, in Oakland, California, as the oldest of four

children in the marriage of Sharon, Mississippi and Rob Gare. Shortly after her birth, the family moved to Hayward, California, and there, the little girl grew up very happy. According to loved ones, she was a very cheerful and lively girl, kind, extroverted, and had no trouble-making friends. In fact, she got along with everyone at school and had two best friends, one of whom was Trina Rodriguez, who was practically her neighbor. Trina lived in a house on the other side of the street, and after school, they would meet up to play, sometimes at one house, sometimes at the other. They were practically inseparable. In 1988, the girls were nine years old, and although they lived in a very quiet area where everyone knew each other, their parents didn't allow them to go out alone.

They wouldn't go to the store, to the corner, or walk the dog unless accompanied by other kids. However, November 19th was different. It was the first day of Thanksgiving vacation, and the girls decided to meet at Trina's house. Trina woke up early, her father took her there, and once there, the fun being. They jumped on the beds, played with dolls, messed up the house, and around ten in the morning, the girls asked Malah's mother, Sharon Merch, for permission to go to the nearby supermarket.

The place in question was Rainbow Market, just two blocks away, literally zero point from their house. But still, Sharon firmly refused, too many things could go wrong. They could get hit by a car, get lost, or even be kidnapped. But the girls in six. They promised to behave, not talk to anyone, go straight to the candy aisle, and even said they would use their scooters to get their faster. Seeing how persistent they were, Sharon gave them the benefit of the doubt, so she opened the door and let them go. The girls immediately left through the door and made their way to Rainbow Market, located at the corner of Mission Boulevard and Fayette Avenue. Today, the area has changed quite a bit, there's another supermarket, and what used to be the main entrance is now saying. it to be a secondary entrance. But regardless, the girls arrived, left their scooters at the

door, and entered. They went straight to the candy aisle, then grabbed a couple of sodas, went to the register, paid, and walked out the main door laughing. They walked for a while, hopping, laughing, singing, and at some point, they realized something was missing. They were halfway back when they realized it was the scooters. They rushed back, and when they reached the door of Rainbow Market, they encountered a very strange scene. Remember, the girls had left their two scooters at the main entrance, but now there was only one. Trina's scooter was right there, but Melas was at the far end of the parking lot, lying next to a very old car. Obviously, these were young girls, and they didn't see the danger. Trina approached her scooter, and as she did, Melah ran to retrieve hers.

But just as she bent down to grab the handlebars, the car door next to her swung open, and an adult man grabbed her by the waist and forced her into the vehicle. Mala and Trina screamed with all their might, but sadly, no one helped them. Trina was frozen, terrified, and Mala kept kicking and screaming, but her efforts were in vain. The abductor finally succeeded in kidnapping her. Interestingly, it took him a long time to start the car. He tried several times, and when he finally succeeded, he sped off down Mission Boulevard toward Union City. When the car drove away, Trina ran into the store to ask for help, and within minutes, police filled the area.

Unfortunately, in 1988, there was no advanced system for cases like this, and no clear protocol. Changes wouldn't be implemented until 1996 with the Amber Alert System. The Hayward Police didn't have a computer system to archive information, so everything was written on paper, statements, witness accounts, hypotheses, all handwritten. Another big problem was that Rainbow Market didn't have surveillance cameras, and the only witness was a traumatized nine-year-old girl. Her statements would be very confusing. In fact, they initially gave more weight to the words of a cashier who hadn't seen anything but claimed to have seen a suspicious man. Based on her vague description, they wasted several days. However, once Trina was at the station, she took a deep breath and gave a very detailed description,

a man around 1.80 meters tall, about 20 years old, with shoulder-length hair that was dark blonde, blue eyes, and marks on his face that looked like severe acne scars. She also mentioned he was driving an old, badly maintained sedan, which was bronze in color, with muddy wheels and a front full of dents. She even noted that it was hard for him to start the car, and when he finally did, the exhaust emitted a lot of smoke. The case appeared in all the media, on television, the radio, newspapers, and magazines. This wasn't just a kidnapping, it was the abduction of a nine-year-old girl in broad daylight in a very busy area. It didn't make sense that no one saw anything, heard anything, or remembered anything.

But sadly, that was the case. It was so shocking that within the first year, the police received over 5,000 leads. As time passed, more and more calls came in. The case was featured on many programs of the time, and Malah's face appeared on milk cartons. They searched scrapyards, landfills, houses, and gardens. They looked for Malah's belongings, but nothing was found. Neighbors criticized the police, saying the officers weren't doing enough to find the girl. But the Garch family supported the police and publicly said they were doing everything they could.

In fact, until recently, Sharon Merch defended the police's work on a blog called Diary Maila, though it seems the blog has now been condensed into a new one called Seekers Road. As the years passed, the Hayward police were able to computerize all the information, and although the case seemed stalled, they presented the following hypotheses. The first one pointed to a man named Tim Wiener, a strange, individual obsessed with child disappearances. He claimed to be psychic and could communicate with the spirits of the kidnapped girls. He spent many hours in cemeteries, especially near the graves of murdered girls. He was linked to several cases, including Ellen Melhoff in 1989 and Amanda Campbell

in 1991, but physically, he didn't resemble the abductor of Malah, so he wasn't considered a suspect. The second hypothesis was only found on Malaw's mother Sharon Murch's. his blog. Sharon mentioned that in March 1989, the border police detained a man named Richard Helwig while he was crossing from Mexico to the U.S. In his car, they allegedly found clippings about Malah and Amber Schwartz, who had disappeared months earlier. Immigration investigated the case further, and they discovered disturbing connections. Helwig's girlfriend, who lived in Mexico, had two deaf daughters, and it was reported that these girls said Amber and Mela had been with them temporarily.

Helwig was jailed but never admitted or denied any involvement, and he died in prison from AIDS. A third hypothesis involved Philip Rito, who kidnapped J.C. Dugard from 1991 to 2009. This man kidnapped J.C. in almost the same way Mela was abducted, broad daylight, witnesses, forced into a car. When J.C. was found in 2009, the police couldn't help but draw parallels between the two cases. Malaw was kidnapped just three months after Garito was released from prison for previous kidnappings, and the modus operandi was strikingly similar. Furthermore,

Garido's location was only about an hour's drive from Hayward. Unfortunately, the two cases couldn't be connected, and this hypothesis was eventually discarded. Then there were two criminals known as the Speed Freak killers, Loren Herzog and Wesley Sherman Team. They were suspected of killing several people in and around San Joaquin County, California. Later, it was revealed that they probably killed many more. In early 2012, Wesley Shermanteen, who was on death row, told the police that he was convinced his partner Loren Herzog had kidnapped Malau. The physical resemblance between the two men was striking, but unfortunately, Herzog had taken his own life in prison a month earlier, making it impossible to ask him anything. Shermanteen also made

false claims about other cases, so his word was not considered reliable. However, the physical resemblance was remarkable, and after a lengthy interrogation, Shermanteen revealed the exact location where they could dig for the remains of some of their victims, which reportedly included the remains of a nine-year-old girl. In February 2012, police began their investigation, and following Shermanteen's directions, they excavated an abandoned well in Linden, California. There, they found the skeletal remains of five individuals, including several girls who had disappeared in the 1980s, as well as the bones of a nine-year-old girl.

However, DNA testing showed it wasn't Malag Garch. There were controversies surrounding the excavation, including a detective's testimony that claimed Mayla's shoes were found, but the police never confirmed it. There's no concrete evidence for this part of the story, so it may not be true. Years passed without any solution to the case, but in 2020, everything changed. On December 21st, 2020, the Hayward Police Department issued a statement announcing they had found the culprit. And incredibly, this person wasn't on the list of suspects. His name was David Mish. At the time of the events, he was 32 years old. In the 1980s, he had been accused of killing

three women, including Michelle Xavier and Jennifer Day in 1986. In 1989, he broke into Margaret Ball's house and murdered her. He was sentenced to life in prison for those crimes. However, no one suspected he would also be capable of kidnapping in killing a nine-year-old girl. But looking back, we remember the scooter Mela had left behind. The girls went to Rainbow Market on scooters, left them at the door, bought their things, and when they returned, Malas Scooter had been moved. The abductor must have grabbed it.

The police never checked it for fingerprints, but in 2020, they had the means to do so, and they discovered David Mish's fingerprints on Mela's scooter. At the time of the events, he was in the area, and physically, he resembled the abductor. The years had passed, but it was clear they could have been the same person. And with his criminal history, it was no surprise. The trial for Malas kidnapping is set to take place in 2021, but unfortunately, it seems it will be held behind closed doors, with no press or journalists. From now on, the case will remain confidential, and we will only know more when there's a final verdict. I've often wondered if I

truly want to know what happened to Malo. I wonder if I can accept it. As our detective told me, the kidnapper has been identified. I'm glad there are answers, and I'm glad there are answers, And I'm glad this man will never hurt anyone again. So now it's your turn. What do you think of the case? Do you think David will confess everything? The end. The familiar or men in gray sweets that is Mill West.

Hello, my dear slash year well, that's too much for right now slash. Just backslash underscore hello backslash underscore I guess. She's not been in the picture for a while you see and I am starting to get anxious, but more on that later this story has to start not finish. I am Mill West, this is my account, and well, I am familiar to fewer than the title entails. They call me West, though. She, he smirked. She calls me Mill, he said out loud in a whisper for the first time, and happily too.

Slash another first slash he thought with her by his side only in the mind. I didn't know she did that, he slipped past his tongue commenting on his strange manner of speech while by slasher slash side. I guess I should explain what going on already, but too much happens for this to happen in a typical format. To be concise, I am talking to you with my brain more than letters on a page and by doing this I end up missing most literary cues that normally occur. That's what he says, but I disagree, she projected into his mind. I hope this is all right as my work is too mysterious to be talked, written, and, especially for me, even thought. Just clarifying I will do my best,

but my tone may seem off, just read what is written and hope that slash-y-slash makes enough sense backslash underscore ear sorry again, slash that slash was her talking backslash underscore. Quite embarrassing, he thought hoping that his makeshift slash italic slash and backslash underscore bold's backslash underscore didn't clash with their inability to appear in this ancient format. The M.in dash slash asterisk cough backslash asterisk notepat backslash asterisk cough backslash asterisk, D. His brain cried at him that he should write this out, but his handwriting was too illegible. It cried again for her as it might just be the job she would have to take

on with her MD-worthy chicken scratch handwriting. Still better than mine, he thought. I just wish she was here, said almost too audible drawing some attention from his fellow train writers. I can't say where I am as its work and like I am trying to get to, it is both dangerous and mysteriously macabre in nature. Like the insanity causing whispers that drive would be politicians, to madness, or the things that drive sailors into dangerous waters, siren songs of unknown origin. I argue that it is just the mind and that's not just me backslash asterisk wink backslash star. Anyways, now is the time for sharing in I am, finding myself unable to elaborate. I guess we will start with the broadcast slash or maybe not slash she chimed.

The Mill West One slash stop slash she projected into my head, or at least I hope it was her. Maybe these thing have already seized my and her consciousness is. Slash sorry slash I project into her head slash, why'd I throw her under the bus? Just to make me feel less alone, I guess. Might just be M and a cold electric shock flew up his spine and spun his eyeballs almost out of their sockets, like a sneeze with your eyes open. With two broken orbitals he added wickedly, smirking and toe disturbing his fellow train riders. Was he getting too rudy, E? Might just be M, M, M, M, me E, E, E, he stutter horribly and far too loudly for his now snickering audience on the train.

I, um, pardon me this will be for another time. time. It's time for me to talk about me. Not those wretched primordial demons from space, I assume at least, I guess we will move along to the first part then. Just after I get safe. You never seem to know who's safe these days. And in a flash he moved seats and hoped for her to chime in with some wise crack about how he always knows what to do, but nothing, came, not even a, my dear. Now that we are acquainted, at least as much as I am with anybody. We can discuss my work, he growled carefully but somehow rudely. The attention from his fellow passengers scared him but before it got to him he was speaking, ear,

a, writing, or aha, telecommunicating via the mind. I don't know just listen. My work is political, but where it takes me is a bit more grand. The types of people that you meet in my line of work vary far and wide. Spies, bona fide politicians, barons of industry, eco-fascists, some of whom I think to much alike, and even a few women some of whom are the preceding, but all of them tackle the world in a much stranger way. Some are madams of brothels, cartel personnel and even Lily, she's her. These people tend to be unsavory to most, but I have found them to fit quite nicely into my humble

little life as a familiar, ghost, or a singular man in gray sweets, whichever you prefer. All three, she spoke to me softly from wherever she was now. This concludes the Mill West broadcast. Thank you for listening and remember, they're watching. Day one, to the man seeing burning trees, I know who you are and that they are looking for you. These ancient ancient swato hallucinations that attack the mind not unlike a parasites or even a predator. Perhaps these slash things slash are, just ancient whispers of human evolution projecting themselves into existence to any given individual in the gene pool like a genetic puppet show, or ATGC Kabuki Theater as I like the, call it.

More on that later, please, anyways mill or air ha. West, as they call you out there. I glad you finally made contact with me. Can we chat somehow a little more private, please and thank you, Oh, you done it. That great me boy now just keep nodding and talking. What do slash we slash do next? This concludes the Mill West broadcast.

Thanks for tuning into the show tonight and remember we're watching you. Smiley face, day two, to the man who sees trees on fire, I usher you to look away now as these brain bugs or demonic genetic projections are getting close. They are hoodie things that appear in trees and along fixtures. They are not just harmless as our genetic code expresses itself, but they are something more than that and just as much more harmful in tandem, at least for those in the no. I now I must slow my speech as things get farther away.

The trees almost smile now. Come closer again we must one again meet in privacy. Thanks again Mill always so expeditious. Chisire in nature, you know like, well this faces, cats, trees, chasire in nature. They whisper and stutter and jab at the mind in a way that is, ehahe heck. to hard to explain. My next clue awaits and this concludes the Mill West broadcast thank you and good night and remember slash they slash are watching this time. Wink with tongue sticking out, day three, to the man who see smiling trees, I have awakened and you are no longer safe behind

your broadcast. West you nasty beast or mill as she calls you. You are ordered to stop your research on these trees now before it is too late. The magnificent reds and yellows and oranges bake you into feeling safe behind saints and chlorophyll but you are not. Neon-dipped berries on craggy leafless trees do not mean nothing your safety is eminient. Stay away from the purple-conjured red Cheshire screams in the trees and pay attention to their rosy projections onto the mind. Blues and greens and pinks that calm the mind not unlike the depressing scary purple and green of your checkpoint. Glitch. Don't stray too far from home as you may become manic in the yellow.

The broadcast is back on Mill, West Stay Safe Now. Announced something. this broadcast concludes the Mill West broadcast. Stay safe, we are no longer watching, we are hiding, and you don't seem T.O. B creeped into the mind. They are in control now. Tuning out. Backslash O Reviar. This concludes the Mill West broadcast. Thanks for tuning in, and remember we're watching, as are slash they slash, no not him and the girl but those damned trees. Day four. To the man at the sleepy hollow in.

Backslash, backslash, backslash I white space no white space who white space you white space are white space mill white space west backslash backslash backslash said the primordial demon and her noticed the backslash backslash backslash backslash from wherever they are they seem too old to be anything but some sort of permutation from space thought mill in his expositional way or did he ever so softly speak it the waitress had returned with a pot of coffee and after some i dancing or silent film magic she whipped out her notepad for taking his order backslash backslash backslash he was sitting at the Sleepy Hollow in backslash-backslash permeated the room in her voice. The waitress took his order.

The Sleepy Hollow special, does it really come with two drinks, he said. The waitress simply nodded at this hoodie character. He had sat and waited for half an hour just drinking coffee before she took his order. He seemed to be up to nothing. No phone, no pencil, no writing, just gazing around ever so randomly as to not attract any attention in his corner. Milk and O.J. then. He muttered, backslash, backslash, please backslash, she, not the waitress but her, and no, not the demons that we spoke of earlier either, whispered to him in his head.

Please, he finally spat out. The waitress was backslash, backslash, backslash, backslash, already three paces away. Thanks, hon, she said with a splat. He simply waited. What are you doing there? They shouted at him. In addition, he had a side of eggs cooked to perfection in bacon fat, sunny side up in fact runny, almost surreal yellow yolks and albumin still jiggly from its mere basting in oil.

And next to it on the plate was the missing bacon in which the eggs were fried, crunchy meat with soggy delicious fat. His meal came with the promised glass of cold milk 2% and other drink, but it was a full jug of OJ placed on table with its freshly squeezed pulp and juices still circulating in the jar. This full jug defied his expectation and must have been a flirt from the waitress. It was far too big to drink out of. He, backslash, backslash or a mill backslash backslash, decided that since his juice

glass was absent he would just finish the milk in one quick chug and used the now empty glass for the OJ. He finished almost the entire pint leaving his plate untouched for now as he was to busy writing or thinking or whatever he does. Backslash, backslash, backslash, backslash, backslash. Anyways, he had work to do. And he sat and drank his coffee. They'd both agreed that's what he would do, leaving his food untouched for an hour, mainly ignoring the now belligerent waitress besides his refill of course which he kept needing to

ask for. Not just by talking but by waving so widely across the resturant that it created an awkward wiggle with his whole being. In a poriet they thought. Everyone, the waitress, him, and the girl in his head, but the space demons or primordials, as I will refer to them from now on. He left and that was it. This concludes the Mill West broadcast.

Backslash, backslash thank you and goodnight backslash, backslash, backslash stay away from her. The The Primordials. P.S.S. It is almost a play and should be taken quite literally with backslash, backslash, slash, backslash, meaning her speaking, italics being his thought, and quotation marks for talking and or dialogue. The The The Primordials, talk in bold and are curly bracketed for stylistic purposes. O Rivoir, My Otman, the chilling presence that sent shivers down my spine deviated from the stereotypical image of a hardened criminal. It embodied the unassuming figure of a little old woman burdened with the weight of a true killer. Two years prior to our encounter, she had fatally shot

her husband with a shotgun. Despite rumors in the neighborhood whispering a different tale, she had managed to avoid jail time by claiming self-defense, supported by multiple witnesses. Regardless of the truth, she had committed murder, and that very shotgun, resting in the corner of her foyer, could very well have been the weapon. During the peak of my drug addiction, our paths crossed. However, I have since recovered and remained sober for six years. At that time, opioids ruled my life, and percassettes were my poison of choice. A fellow addict informed me about a new dealer, Miss Coco, who sold her monthly prescription of 70 pills. Intrigued, I decided to visit her address, conveniently located just a few streets away from my friend Selena's place.

Before heading there, I dropped by Salinas to share the news. Little did I know, Salina held a treasure trove of cautionary tales about Miss Coco, stories of her dark deeds within the neighborhood. Selina pleaded with me to be careful, but I dismissed her concerns, assuming that an old woman posed no threat. Fear was absent from my thoughts as I approached the shotgun house and knocked on the door, fully aware that I was expected. The door creaked open, revealing a short,

elderly woman. Catching a glimpse of her face and one bloodshot eye, she inquired about my name and gestured for me to come inside. As I stepped into her home, my attention was drawn to the shotgun leaning in the corner. She led me further into the house, giving me a chance to observe her closely. Fragile and hunched over, she walked with a cane. A silk bonnet adorned her head, and her attire resembled a moo-moo. The toll of diabetes was evident on her low. left foot. We settled in the living room, a cluttered space that somehow managed to maintain a semblance of cleanliness. A peculiarly placed rug on the otherwise bare floors triggered thoughts of bloodstains, reminding me of Salina's words. However, Miss Coco seemed amiable,

offering me a drink and a snack. Underneath her surprisingly kind eyes, I pondered the bizarre nature of this drug deal. I silently scoffed at Selena's warnings, considering them unfound. I accepted the soda but declined the snack, completing my purchase of her entire script of pain pills. Miss Coco mentioned she would refill it on the same day next month. I bid her farewell, blissfully ignorant of any wild notions about this seemingly harmless old woman's capacity for violence. For several months, I followed a routine, returning to Miss Coco's place, sipping on soda, declining snacks, and leaving in a state of blissful intoxication. Over time, our interactions allowed me to catch a glimpse into her life, her struggles with diabetes, stories of her children, and how we'd brought her relief.

Occasionally, I even shared a joint with her and helped her with minor tasks like moving furniture. Yet, the topic of her late husband never arose, and I dared not broach the subject. Days turned into weeks, and the notion of this old lady's capacity for sudden violence faded from my mind. Then, one summer day, it was my turn to visit Miss Coco for my drugs. My friend Shane accompanied me on this particular occasion. We followed our usual routine, entering her home. However, Shane innocently mentioned a recently released movie he wanted to watch. Struggling to recall its title, I was taken aback when Miss Coco's eyes lit up,

revealing a collection of bootleg DVDs, including the exact movie Shane desired. excitedly, she allowed us to choose three movies and requested their return once we were finished. That night, at my place, we eagerly inserted Shane's preferred movie into the player. To our disappointment, the footage resembled a shaky cell phone recording, complete with people walking in front of the screen and constant chatter from behind the camera. The quality was abysmal. Laughing at our misfortune, we assumed the other two DVDs would be just as terrible and opted for a different film. A few days later, on my way to meet Selena, I remembered the DVDs and decided to

return them to Miss Coco. Attempting to call her first, I received no answer. Undeterred, I approached her doorstep and knocked, but still, there was no response. Thinking nothing of it, I left the DVDs propped up against her door, protected from the elements by the screen on the top half of her storm door. My mind shifted to my plans with Selena, and I promptly forgot about the encounter. Later that night, as I indulged in the company of friends and the haze of my high, my phone incessantly rang. Disinterested in conversation, I initially ignored the calls. But as they persisted, my friend urged me to answer.

Retrieving my phone, I noticed it was Miss Coco attempting to reach me. The late hour and her uncharacteristic behavior heightened my concern. Normally, her number served the sole purpose of arranging my visits on the 12th of each month. Today was only the ninth, anxiety crept in, and I returned her call promptly. Astonishingly, she answered before the phone even rang once. An aura of fury emanated from her voice as she unleashed her anger upon me. I had carelessly left the DVDs in her door, and in her eyes, I had disrespected the ways of the hood. Anyone could have seen them, seized the opportunity, and stolen them.

My actions were disrespectful, rude, and ungrateful, according to her lengthy diatribe. Though I maintained the calm tone, I offered my sincere apologies while also expressing my opinion on the lackluster quality of the movies. Unexpectedly, her tone shifted once more, returning to the sweet old Miss Coco I had known. She conceded that her reaction had been unwarranted, blaming her edginess. that night. She apologized for her outburst, reassuring me that I had been good to her and didn't deserve such treatment. As if to make amends, she informed me that she had obtained her script earlier than usual. In fact, she had it with her at that very moment. She invited me to collect it

that night. Now, a rational and sober person would have detected the red flags instantly. But under the influence of my intoxication and oblivious to the danger, I foolishly believe that I had stumbled upon a miracle. Junky Jesus, I thought, had granted me another opportunity for an enhanced high. Eagerly, I set off towards Coco's house. The intoxication still enveloped me as I approached her home. To my surprise, the DVDs were still where I had left them. Coco swung open the door as I approached the step, commanding me to retrieve the movies and

bring them inside. Although her voice carried a stern tone, it lacked the urge. crazed edge. With the DVDs in hand, I entered the living room, taking my usual spot. Yet, something felt amiss, a gnawing uneasiness crept up my spine. I shifted my gaze around the room, and that's when I saw it, the shotgun. It was no longer resting in the corner, instead, it was firmly gripped in Miss Coco's frail hands. Panic surged through my veins, jolting me into a state of hyper-awareness. I glanced at the door, calculating my chances of escape. But before I could make a move, Coco spoke in a soft, chilling voice.

She recounted the story of her husband's murder, a narrative that deviated drastically from her previous self-defense claims. She confessed to cold-blooded murder, describing how she had lured him into the living room, promising a moment of intimacy. Instead, she pulled the trigger, unleashing a devastating blast that ended his life. Her motive, she revealed, had been her husband's infidelity, a betrayal that shattered her heart. The image of the bloodstained rug came rushing back to my mind, and I realized it had been soaked with the remnants of her husband's life force. Paralyzed by fear, I listened to her words with growing terror. She declared her intent to recreate that horrific scene, this time with me as her unwitting victim. In a macabre twist of

fate, the very weapon she used to end her husband's life would now be turned against me. The seconds ticked away, each one stretching into an eternity. In a desperate bid for survival, I mustered the courage to plead for my life. I spoke of redemption, of change, and of the possibility of a different path. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, a flicker of doubt appeared in her eyes. It was in that fragile moment that I saw a glimmer of mercy. She hesitated, her grip on the shotgun loosening ever so slightly. Taking a gamble, I continued to speak, appealing to the humanity buried beneath her hardened exterior.

I shared my own journey of addiction and recovery, of the struggles and the strength it took to overcome them. I painted a picture of hope, of transformation, and of the possibility of redemption. As the minutes passed, I could see the conflict within her, the battle between vengeance and compassion. And then, in a final act of defiance against her past, she released her grip on the shotgun, dropping it to the floor with a thud. We sat in silence, the weight of our shared secrets hanging heavy in the air. She glanced at me, her eyes filled with a mix of regret and resignation. In that moment, I realized that despite the horrors of her past, Miss Coco was still capable of

change. The darkness within her could be tempered by the light of compassion and the possibility of a different future. It was a lesson I would carry with me for the rest of my life. As I left her house that night, the weight of the encounter pressed upon me. The path to recovery, I realized, was not just about overcoming personal demons, but also about confronting the demons that lurk within others. Miss Coco had been a reminder that beneath the surface, anyone can carry a story of darkness and struggle. But within each person, there is also the potential for transformation, for healing, and for a new beginning.

And as I walked away, I vowed to carry that lesson forward, embracing the power of redemption and the possibility of change in every step of my own journey. I always knew that I was different. But it took me most of my life to figure out why. But here's one of the problems. I'm Norwegian. Fair-skinned, nothing extraordinary, but I've known since I was very young that. I guess you could say I'm easy on the eyes.

Or I was. I'm 62 years old now, but when I was very young, maybe 10, I had a little thing with my cousin. I'm not going to exaggerate, she was the hottest girl in school. And I got naked with her. We didn't actually have sex, but let me just say this, I kind of started learning around that time that you know, women are somewhat attracted to me. But I couldn't communicate with them. I couldn't communicate with anyone. I don't even know how to express it.

It's something I've never told anyone, and it's so frustrating. It's happened so many times and it's always the same. First time was with my cousin. Then it was with Meg. I didn't know how to deal with a relationship. I didn't know how to deal with people. I found out when I was around 50 years old that I have ADHD and I have trouble concentrating. But throughout my life I've had some of the hottest women right where you would want them and then when.

When I met Meg, she was the first girl I was ever able to communicate with. But then I got drunk and these guys talked me into telling them about what. me and Meg were up to and these guys went and spread it all over the place and well I'll just say Meg never wanted to speak to me again. I couldn't blame her, but I got to tell you I didn't understand relationships and I still don't. It's kind of hard to explain, I guess, but I know I have a medical condition closely related to Lupus that is very complicated and well, it's made it to where I had a woman right where

I wanted her and I just let her slip away every time. I know that faithfulness is important, but I don't understand why. Yeah, I'm pretty messed up. There was the time with Tammy. She was a 98 pounds waitress with a hot body and she was laying naked and ready and all of a sudden everything stopped for me. I've tried to go back and figure out what happened, but I can't understand it that I just kind of froze, I guess that I don't know why.

And Tammy really wanted to have sex with me. But I could not do it. I don't know why, I just can't explain it. She loved my long hair and she loved to braid it. I was ready but then something happened and I just froze. I just don't have what it takes. I don't know what it is about me. It's made me think about how different things might have been.

My best friend's sister had feelings for me and I started getting feelings for her. And I'll never forget the night we were alone in my apartment and it was a perfect time but I just couldn't make my move. She ended up marrying someone else. It's just the story of my life, you know. I can't even count how many times it's happened. One time I dated a nurse, her name was Kim. My mother owned a restaurant and a motel back in the 80s. and Kim's mother worked for my mother.

They hooked us up. I had no idea that Kim was, well, she was something else. She was a couple years older than me around 22 maybe. I was about 19 at the time. We went to Estevan, Canada, and went bar-hopping and dancing and I'll tell you what, I'm not a dancer, but Kim.

She did enough for the both of us. Man, she was something else. I can't believe how she could dance. And she loved it. She just loved it like you. you wouldn't believe. She loved showing off her hot body. She was in nursing school at the time and had just broken up with her boyfriend who was a highway patrol officer. When I drove her home she gave me a big kiss. As usual, I froze. Looking back, I'm thinking it might

have something to do with sorting out my feelings. I'm not a spontaneous person. I think that writing this is helping me. I've known for a while that writing is about the only way I can communicate effectively. It takes me a long time. Kim was the hottest nurse I ever met L-O-L. I ended up marrying a nurse a few years later. She had to make the first move. I just couldn't do it. I don't know why I can't, I just freeze. Then there was another cousin, her name was Tracy. Yeah, I started putting the moves on her and she was, I think, liking it, but then I just froze. And now she froze. I shouldn't chuckle it's not funny. I guess it's the irony. Life seems so cruel at times.

It was a cold night I remember. I was working and it was minus 25 degrees. I read in the newspaper that they found her in her car. She passed out drunk and then froze to death. She drank a lot. I would say she was an alcoholic for sure. I don't know why I always ended up putting moves on my cousins, but it was just something that happened.

I don't know why. But I froze up with her too. Then, as I thought about it, I realized if I would have hooked up with all those women I would have never been with the woman that I married first. Her name was Rose. When I met her, she was a virgin and was never with any other man. I'm telling you there's no way that I deserved a woman like that. We had two kids together and they were young when she passed away at the young age of 36. She taught me a lot. I believe everything happens for a reason and I believe

that she came into my life not by chance but to teach me. And I'm still learning from it. She taught me what it means to be faithful. I'm not too good in that department. But I had the desire to be that way. I know that I hurt her and I didn't want to do that. The morning of her death, me made love on the living room floor. The kids were at school, we had the house to ourselves. It was quality time. Then she looked at me intently and asked me point blank. I'm going into town tonight with a friend from work. George, our son, wants to come. We're going to, Heaven's Gates, Hell's Do you want to come? I had heard of this on the radio but didn't know what it was about, although the name seemed a little scary.

Instead of asking about it, I simply stated I, wasn't ready for something like that. Okay, well George and I are going. That's the last thing she said. I had to get up at midnight to go to work that I delivered bulk newspapers to various towns. About a 200-mile route. I had sleep issues so I slept in a bunkhouse in my yard. I woke up at 12 a.m. and went to start my vehicle to let it warm up. It was October and winter was brewing.

I noticed the lights were on in the house. A little unusual because Rose should have been in bed by now. I went in the house and the first thing I saw was Rose. I found her kneeling, clutching a pillow to her stomach and hunched over on the floor. I knew before I got to her that she was gone. I'm not sure how I knew, but I did. I guess I hollered because the kids came running down the stairs. I motioned them out of the room.

Walking across the room seemed to go in slow motion. She had her shirt off and it looked like she had been getting ready for bed. When I turned her over and looked at her face, it was confirmed. She was cold. And as I tried to breathe into her chest I knew something was bad wrong. Abdominal aortic aneurism. That's what took her life. According to the medical examiner, she died in minutes.

I know there was pain, but it didn't last long. It was a relief. But the greatest relief is one that I never expected. Somehow at the very moment that I stood over her lifeless body, I realized that she had gone to this presentation and something happened. Something happened to prepare her. I found out later from my son and from the neighbors that she went with, that she had gone down to the front of the auditorium and committed her life to Christ along with our son.

She became born again. And I was so sure of it. It was bittersweet. about an hour and a half later she was gone. But I knew where she was. I was comforted beyond belief. When I watched a recording of Heaven's Gates, Hell's Flames, I fully understood what happened. But I knew all of it before I ever saw the film.

It's as if God arranged it perfectly so that I could understand every bit of it and it didn't matter if anyone else did, it was for me. This is significant because I have difficulty with understanding. I was born this way. But I didn't know about my medical condition back then. Not much is understood about it. Even today. She's been gone a long time now and I sure miss her.

TLDR if I would have kissed Joanne that night in my apartment my future would have changed. It would have changed a lot of things. But I took a different fork. Because of my indecision, because of my hesitation, the future was changed. Joanne got married, had a son who was two weeks older than my daughter and he passed away from drugs. Now Joanne is hooked on meth and not doing too well health-wise. She's divorced and doesn't look too good.

Her brother had a stroke and I'm pretty sure meth had some part to play in it. I often think of how different things would have been if I had made my move on Joanne, or my cousins, or Kim, or Tammy. But I somehow know that God knew too. This is my future and I accept it. And somehow I know there's more to come. I believe I will see Rose again someday. It's not over.

In the meantime I want to learn what faithfulness is. I want to become that. It's a tall order I don't know if I can do it. But I believe this is what God wants me to learn. The day after she died I found a letter in one of the cars. I read it but I was so emotionally unwell at the time that I couldn't handle it. I threw it in the fireplace it was too much for me to deal with. She wrote about how hard it was for her to stay with me.

I was unfaithful. Things had become really, really tough. Because of my medical condition, I couldn't work for about seven years. I started selling weed. I had no idea the strain that I put her through. But she stuck it out anyway. She stayed with me. She didn't walk away.

And she stayed faithful to me her entire short life. She was an angel in disguise. I guess I'm a slow learner and I'm running out of time. Life is short and I don't know how much time is left for me. I don't know if I'll ever learn, but I've certainly had every opportunity. Honey, let's kill Mia. Just as I was getting engrossed in my late-night novel, my mom, sleeping beside me, suddenly uttered these chilling words. And I am Mia.

Since Dad works the night shift, I usually share a bed with Mom. We were sleeping back to back when I felt an icy chill run down my spine. I carefully turned my head to look at Mom's side, which was shrouded in darkness. By the faint light of my phone, I could see her body rising and falling rhythmically, clearly sound asleep. Before I could make sense of what had happened, a wave of drowsiness washed over me. Leaving my phone screen on, I drifted off to sleep. 2. When I woke up, it was already late afternoon. Sweetie, lunch is in the pot.

Your dad and I had to go out for something. Signed, your loving mom. Everything seemed normal, just like any other day. This made me think back to last night's incident. Maybe I had imagined it. I had been staying up late reading novels, so perhaps it was just a hallucination. Thinking hard, I vaguely remembered it was around 2 a.m.

I was engrossed in a romance novel, moved to tears by the beautiful love story between the main characters, when I suddenly heard my mom's voice. It wasn't her normal speaking voice, but a deliberately hushed whisper, the kind used for secrets. Honey, why don't we kill Mia? And I am Mia. Three.

As I lifted the pot lid, a delicious aroma wafted out. Corn chowder, my favorite soup. But as soon as I tasted it, I noticed something odd. There was a strange bitter taste, along with a hint of rust. Looking closer at the soup, I saw tiny gray particles floating on the surface. It looked like some kind of soil. 4. Suddenly, I remembered an urban legend.

On Halloween, if you cook a dead person's ashes with a living person's blood, make the blood donor drink it, and light a candle, the dead person's spirit can possess the living person's body. 5. Halloween had just passed a few days ago, and I was on my period. It's gross to say, but it would have been easy to get my blood. The more I looked at the soup, the more unsettling it seemed. 6.

Should I take a picture and ask some experts online? I took out my phone, about to snap a photo. Click, an unusual sound came from outside the door. Click, click, click, click, the door seemed to be stuck and wouldn't open. The person outside appeared very impatient, repeatedly pushing in point. pulling the door. The force was so great that the entire door was shaking. I stared at the door in terror, my mind flashing with scenes of murderers breaking in from countless horror movies. Bang, seven. Mia, why are you sitting there like an idiot? Mom pushed open the door and came in.

Why aren't you eating your lunch? She looked at me suspiciously. Hurry up and eat, I need to wash the dishes. I don't know if it was my imagination, but she seemed particularly anxious, constantly urging me to drink the soup. Eight. I blurted out, I think this soup has gone bad. Gone bad? A dark look flashed across mom's eyes. Let me see.

Does it? It's a bit sour. Did you accidentally use vinegar instead of water when making the soup? Of course, I didn't dare voice my real suspicions, so I made up an excuse. Nine. She leaned in close to the bowl, taking a perfunctory sniff before setting it down. No, your dad and I just ate some, it's fine. Hurry up and eat.

She pushed the soup back towards me. I shook my head firmly. What if it's spoiled? You guys shouldn't eat questionable food either. You're so picky. If you don't believe me, try it yourself. It really is sour. Forget it, Mom ignored me, looking displeased.

If you don't want to eat it, I'll just throw it out. 10. Normally, my mom wouldn't even throw away a. half-wroughten apple. Even if food was visibly spoiled, she'd insist on tasting at first. Why was she so quick to discard this soup? I felt an inexplicable sense of unease. It was just a pot of soup, after all. I shook my head, trying to dismiss these ridiculous thoughts. 11. After going out for a run and taking a shower, I was comfortably lying in bed. I took out my phone, planning to play a game. Suddenly, I felt something cold on my nose. I figured

my allergies were acting up again. I sniffled hard, and the next second, I tasted a strange salty, metallic flavor in my throat. That's not right, mucus doesn't taste like this. Confused, I instinctively touched my nose, ice cold, bright red liquid stained my fingers. 12. My first thought was that I had a nosebleed from over-exertion. I tilted my head back, trying to stem the flow. But the next moment, plop, plop, plop, blood drops fell on my face like rain. One drop even landed right in my eye, making it impossible to open. 13. It was then that I noticed a colorful flying squirrel hanging from the ceiling.

Its belly had been sliced open by the decorative wire of the ceiling lamp, its body dangling and swaying in the air. Blood was steadily dripping from where its body met the wire, with half its intestines hanging down, nearly touching the floor. A few disgusting green flies buzzed around, and the stench of decay filled my nostrils. 14. Spotty I cried out in shock.

This was my pet flying squirrel of three years. How did it end up there? Flying squirrels are intelligent animals, very cautious of unfamiliar places. How could it have gotten caught and died on the ceiling lamp wire? 15. Spotty had been by my side ever since I graduated college and moved back home. But now, its once soft body was split open by the wire, its internal organs blackened and rotting, its death horrifically gruesome and bizarre.

What was going on? 16. What are you doing? Why are you shouting? Why is your face covered in blood? Mom pushed open the door. Without a word, she grabbed the towel and started roughly wiping my face. Spotty.

I mumbled. That old rat. Good riddance, it was creepy anyway, she said coldly. 17. How did it get up there? How should I know? Doesn't it fly? Maybe it crashed into something and died, Mom dismissed carelessly.

Look at it yourself, it was hanged by the wire. Besides, no matter how well it could fly, it wouldn't end up like this. 18. Mom shoved me aside, revealing a cold and fierce expression. Fine, I get it. How annoying. It's already dead, what can you do about it? It's just a rat, why are you making such a big fuss?

If I kill a cockroach tomorrow, are you going to hire a funeral procession for it. 19. My heart slowly turned cold. It must have been mom who did this. She had always disliked having pets in the house and had threatened to get rid of Spotty several times. Twenty.

I could almost imagine her grabbing Spotty from its cage, grinning maliciously as she wrapped the wire around its belly layer by layer until it was split open and bleeding. The scene was horrifyingly gruesome. Suddenly, I had a chilling realization. Was what I overheard a few nights ago real? If my parents really wanted to kill me, it would make sense for them to practice on spotty first. 21. I turned off the lights and lay in bed.

Suddenly, I heard a faint rustling sound from the doorknob, the very soft sound of a key turning. I have a habit of locking my door at night. My parents have always kept a spare key to my room, but they've almost never used it. 22. Click, the door lock was opened. Then I heard very slow, eerie footsteps. Someone had come in. The old wooden floorboards creaked under their steps.

They seemed to be moving very carefully, trying not to make any noise. But I could clearly feel them slowly approaching. 23. The air seemed to stand still. I held my breath nervously. My heart was pounding in my chest. I kept my eyes tightly shut, not daring to move a muscle. The person came closer and closer until I could almost hear their breathing.

24. Suddenly, I sensed a flash of light pass in front of my eyes. A long, cold light. A sense of dread washed over me. I opened my eyes just a tiny crack. Twenty-five. An eerily gleaming knife blade was pointed right at me, less than four inches from my face. If it moved down even slightly, I would be decapitated.

26. Without time to think, I screamed and ducked under the covers. What's wrong, Mia? You were sleeping so soundly, did you have a nightmare? Dad? What are you doing here? I quickly rolled to the side, wrapping myself tightly in the blanket and eyeing him warily.

27. I told you she was pretending to sleep, Dad turned and smiled at Mom, who was now leaning against the doorway. But for some reason, his voice sounded sinister and creepy. Your mom and I had a bet about whether you were asleep. I said you definitely weren't. 28.

Want to get up and have some warm. watermelon. We just bought some. Only then did I notice Dad was holding a fruit knife. I relaxed slightly, no thanks, you guys go ahead. I need to sleep, I have work tomorrow. They looked at me for a moment, then left without saying anything. 29. Lying in bed, I was wide awake. Thinking back on recent events, everything started with that overheard sleep talking. Could what I heard that night be true. I tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep until the middle of the night. I got up to get a glass of water from the kitchen. But something felt off. It was like I had forgotten something standing alone in the living room for a long while, I suddenly realized, there was no watermelon

in the kitchen at all. I even checked the fridge again, but there weren't even any leftover watermelon rines. The morning of December 25, 2011, was supposed to be magical for two little girls, aged three and eight, living in a small apartment in Anaheim, California. Like every Christmas morning, they woke up excited, jumping out of bed and racing towards the living room. Their tiny feet pattered against the floor as they made their way to the beautifully decorated Christmas tree standing proudly in the middle of the room. Giggling, screaming with joy, they tore into their gifts, eager to see what Santa had brought them. But the older sister, eight-year-old Gianna, suddenly stopped. Something felt off. Her father was sitting on

the couch, watching them with a smirk, clearly amused by their excitement. But their mother, something wasn't right about her. She was sitting still. Too still. Her posture was rigid. Her body didn't move. And the strangest thing? She was wearing sunglasses, inside the house.

Confused, Gianna turned to her, asking, Mommy, are you okay? Silence. No response. No movement. Nothing. Instead, her father answered for her. Mommy's just tired. She's sleeping.

The little girl frowned. Something inside her told her that wasn't true. She tried to ignore the nagging feeling, went back to opening a gift, but every few moments, her eyes flickered back to her mother. Still, she didn't move. Her instincts kicked in. She slowly walked towards her mother and placed a tiny hand on her knee. Her mother was cold.

Her skin was stiff. The girl's heart pounded. Something was very, very wrong. Panicked, she turned to her father. Daddy, call someone. Call an ambulance. Call grandma. Mommy's not okay.

Her father sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes. She ruined Christmas, he muttered. What kind of response was that? Instead of dialing 911, he made a series of calls, to his mother-in-law, his brother-in-law, his sister-in-law. But not emergency services. Not the police. Not a single call to save his wife's life.

It took him a full hour before he finally called an ambulance. When paramedics arrived, he met them at the door, telling them his wife had gotten too drunk, fallen, hit her head, and wasn't feeling well. But as soon as the emergency responders stepped inside, they were horrified. Blood. Everywhere. It was splattered on the walls, staining the floors, even coming. covering the children's toys. The gruesome scene did not match the casual story William Wallace

had given them. And on the couch, right where he left her, sat the lifeless body of his wife, Zaisal Preston. This is the shocking, tragic, and heartbreaking case of Zazel, Zizi, Preston. Zazel Dominic Preston was born on September 5, 1985, in Anaheim, California. She was one of five children in a loving but hardworking family. Some sources claim she never knew her father because he had passed away before she was born. But despite that, she was never truly alone, her mother, Seidel Preston, had a huge support system. Ants, uncles, older siblings, and grandparents all played a role in raising Zaisal. From a young age, Zazel was artistic, creative, and full of life.

She had a passion for painting, drawing, sculpture, and above all, dance. She had dreams of becoming a professional artist, and those around her believed she had the talent to make it happen. But then, at 17, her life took an unexpected turn. She became pregnant. Her family feared the worst, that she would have to give up on her dreams, that she wouldn't have a future. But Zaisal refused to let motherhood stop her. In 2003, she gave birth to her first daughter, Gianna, and immediately took on multiple jobs to support her baby.

She worked tirelessly, as a cashier, as a makeup artist, even as a model. Whatever it took to provide for her daughter, she did it. And despite the hardships, she still held on to hope. She saved money, determined to return to school and build a better future for her child. Then, in 2007, she became pregnant again. She gave birth to her second daughter, Norrell, in early 2008. This time, the challenges multiplied. Some reports say the children had different fathers, and neither played an active role in their

lives. But despite it all, Zaisal saw her daughters as blessings, gifts from God. She wasn't going to give up. And then, she met William Wallace. At first, he seemed like everything she had been looking for. He was older, mature, and most importantly, he claimed to love her daughters as if they were his own. He talked about wanting a big family, about being a devoted husband and father. Zaisal fell for it.

Within months, they moved in together. At first, things were great. William was caring, protective, and involved with the kids. But then, one night, during a family gathering, he drank too much. He became irritable, distant. And when they got home, his annoyance turned to rage. He hit her. The next morning, he apologized profusely.

He blamed the alcohol. He swore it would never happen again. And Zazel, wanting to believe him, forgave him. But it wasn't just the alcohol. Anytime he was jealous, angry, or felt like he was losing control, he lashed. out. He was possessive. Controlling. Paranoid. He suspected Zaisal of cheating constantly, despite the fact that he was the one hiding messages and sneaking around with other women. If she ever confronted him about it, he gaslit her, calling her crazy, accusing her of making things up.

The abuse escalated quickly. He isolated her, watched her every move, called her nonstop when she was at work or school. And every time she tried to leave, he threatened her. Then, she got pregnant with his child. She hoped this would change things. That he would change. He proposed. They got married. And on their wedding night, he beat her so badly that it triggered early labor. She gave birth to their son, Mossel. Zaisal was slowly disappearing. But she had a plan. She had enrolled in college, studying domestic violence counseling. She was determined to break free, not just for herself, but for her children. She wanted to help other women escape situations like hers. Christmas 2011 was meant to be her last one with William.

She was waiting for the right moment to leave. But she never got the chance. The night before Christmas, they went to a neighbor's house for dinner. William got drunk, as usual. Zaisal started feeling unwell and wanted to go home. That simple request enraged him. Witnesses heard shouting, glass shattering, the sound of a struggle. One neighbor saw her outside, begging for help.

Then, William dragged her back inside. By 2.30 a.m., Zaisal Preston was dead. And in the morning, her daughters woke up to find their mother's lifeless body dressed in pajamas, propped up on the couch, wearing sunglasses. For nine years, William Wallace avoided justice. But in March 2021, after the testimony of his now teenage daughter, he was finally convicted. Sentenced to life in prison. story is one of heartbreak, resilience, and a tragic reminder of the dangers of domestic violence.

No child should ever have to grow up witnessing such horror. No woman should ever feel trapped in a situation with no escape. If you or someone you know is in danger, please seek help. You are not alone. I'm a washed-up lawyer who was hired by a wealthy drug-smuggling family to not only get their son off of death row, but also out of prison. My client's son, Richard, had killed his neighbor's wife and their two kids. had also critically injured the husband. I was given $3 million in expenses and I would get $5 million if I was able to get him ultimately out of prison. If I was unsuccessful, then my client would probably kill me. I was tired of defending people who I knew were guilty and even

if I got them an innocent verdict they still wouldn't pay me. I figured if I lost this case I would just flee to somewhere in South America or Europe. Basically, the awards outweighed the risks. I came up with a plan. First, I needed to find someone who was with a willing to assert the neighbor husband as the murderer. Then, I needed the Supreme Court to overturn the original verdict, based on the new evidence. The original guilty verdict was based on a long-standing neighborly feud that Richard had with his neighbor Kevin. The jury believed that Richard broke into the neighbor's house and shot each of the four victims.

The gun was later found in Richard's house. I needed one of Kevin's close friends or a family member to lie and say the gun was planted in Richard's house by Kevin. I researched Kevin's family and friends and discovered. he had two older brothers. I only had one chance at this and if one of the brothers declined my offer then it was over because that brother would then tell the court that I had approached him with a heinous offer. I learned that both brothers were married with children. As I dug deeper, I learned one of the brothers was having an affair. This brother's name was George. I needed to

first gather evidence on George in his outer marriage affair, then offer him a large amount of money to lie and frame his brother Kevin. I paid a private detective $50,000 dollars to surveillance George and to come up with a ton of evidence that he was having an affair on his wife. George worked on Wall Street as a broker. I waited a month for my hired private detective to come up with photos and text messages of the affair, which I finally received. With the evidence in hand, I handed it to George as he was leaving work with a message to call me.

The next day he called me and I told him to meet me the following day in Central Park to discuss his options. I met him in a secluded area in Central Park. He was extremely mad and told me his sob story of. how his wife would divorce him if she found out. I asked him, what are your concerns with getting a divorce? He replied, it's none of your goddamn business. I told him, if you tell me then perhaps I can help you.

He said, I don't need your fucking help. I then said, is it the money or how the kids would be affected from the divorce? He then said, once again it's none of your fucking business, and then he started to walk away. I then said, would $2 million in cash be helpful? He turned around and said, what? I said it again. Would $2 million in cash be helpful? He replied, who do I have to kill?

I said, no one but I'll need you to testify against someone. He responded, testify against who, I don't know anything. I said, I know you don't, but would you be willing to do what I tell you to do and say what I tell you to say in exchange for the money? He responded, keep talking. I said, first I need you to agree to testify for me. He replied, whatever as long as I don't have kill anyone. I said, it doesn't but you'll need to testify against your brother, Kevin. He said, Kevin's been through hell.

he came close to death and his family was murdered. I replied, yeah, now I need you to testify that he told you that he was going to frame his neighbor and that he planted the gun in Richard's house. He responded, who would sit idle if someone told you that they were going to kill their own kids? I replied, you need to say that Kevin's original plan was just to kill his own wife who he thought was having an affair. You tell the court that you would have done more if you knew the kids were going to be harmed. He replied, won't they throw me in jail for lying? I said, Kevin was never a suspect and you never testified, so as long as you don't change your story after being sworn in as a witness then you'll be fine. He said, well, what about Kevin? I said, truthfully, I really don't care about

Kevin. Perhaps the courts wouldn't go forward with prosecuting him. I really don't know. I only care about getting my client's family member out of prison. He said, what if I don't do this? I replied, then all of the evidence I have I will give to your wife and you'll go broke paying child care and alimony on top of court and lawyer fees. He said, you have to be one of the biggest in the world. I said, that might be true, but I'm not the one living a double life and if you really wanted to you could give some of the money to Kevin to justify your decision. He said, What's the next step? I replied, I need you to give me a signed sworn statement. Then I need you to appear in court for my client Richard's appeal testimony. He said, that's it. I replied,

yep, that's it. I'll tell you exactly what to write down then you just need to memorize it. He agreed and we parted ways. I next needed to dig up dirt on Kevin. I paid the same. I paid the same private detective another $50,000 to see what he could find out. I gave it a couple weeks and the private detective said the only thing he found was that a female co-worker named, Sarah complained about her perceived advances he made towards her. I thought to myself, perfect, now I need to pay her to make up a story that her and Kevin were having an affair. I reached out to my client's family and they were more than willing to give me more money to pay Sarah since I got George to agree to testify against his own brother. I waited for Sarah outside of her work and gave her $50,000 in cash just to

listen to me. I lied to her and told her that her old co-worker, Kevin killed his own family and I needed her to say that she was having an affair with Kevin. I told her I had a statement from Kevin's brother George that he was responsible for the murders. After explaining the situation she seemed like she didn't feel comfortable, but once I told her that she would get $1 million in cash, then she seemed willing to testify. I paid $300,000 to a lab technician, for a vial of Kevin's blood that was being stored in the hospital. I needed to pay this old dirty cop that the drug cartel found me to plant Kevin's blood throughout Richard's house, which cost another $300,000 dollars. Then I needed to pay a million dollars to a blood analysis expert who would testify that it was Kevin's blood in

Richard's house, because Kevin was trying to plant the murder weapon in Richard's house after Kevin shot himself. Also, I needed a medical expert's test. that Kevin was strong enough to plant the gun in Richard's house after being shot, which cost me another $600,000. One of the last things I needed to do was hire a ballistics expert to testify that Kevin shot his family and his own wounds were self-inflicted. This cost $500,000. I finalized the court documents for the appeal and with the new evidence presented the court agreed that an appeal testimony would occur with the hope of a reversal. Tensions were high during the first day of the court proceedings. I basically created a whole new cast of characters from the original court proceedings. Everything was going according to plan.

The prosecutors were baffled by George and Sarah's claims. The prosecutors couldn't come up with any type dirt or motive on either of them. They were basically stunned that this information was not discovered during the original trial. Sarah's statement, Kevin told me that he wanted a new family with me and he wanted to move on from his old family, the judge found extremely damaging towards Kevin. The real game changer came during George's testimony when he said, Kevin met with me two days prior to the murders and he told me his plan on how he was going to murder his cheating wife and was going to frame Richard for the crime.

The ballistics expert, the medical expert and the blood analysis expert did what they needed to do. My whole case was completely made up. Nothing was true from the witnesses to the experts. The prosecutors and the judge were baffled by all of the new evidence. I over the prosecutor say to his assistant, how did we miss Kevin's blood in Richard's house. The judge and the prosecutors were all part of the original court proceedings and I literally seen them scratching their heads with all of the new evidence presented.

It really made the prosecutors look incompetent that they weren't able to find Kevin's blood in Richard's house and the litany of all of the other newly found evidence and testimony. The judge had no choice but to overturn the original conviction. I essentially got paid $5 million in cash for getting a cold-blooded murderer off of death row and out of prison. I was diagnosed as an extreme narcissist years prior and true to my form, I left my family and started a new life in the Cayman Islands. They tried to prosecute Kevin for the murders, but there were too many holes discovered in the defense that I had given, which didn't matter to me because Richard remained out of prison. Everything was going well until I received

two unwanted visitors at my Cayman Island Beach house. It was Kevin and George, who essentially had kidnapped me at gunpoint. George had told Kevin everything out of guilt and to make make things right they both forced me to transfer all of the money I had in my account over to Kevin's account. The two of them stayed out my house for two weeks to ensure the transferred money would stay in their account. After the two weeks, they left and now I'm completely broke. I had to sell my house for nothing and now I'm giving bus tours of the island and I'm living essentially in a shack. Let me tell you about a strange and personal experience I had in December 2023. It happened in Big Bear, California. Here's my detailed account of what went down and

everything felt so unreal. The day started like any other. Two friends and I decided to take a day trip to the mountains to snowboard. We left around 5 a.m. to make the most of the day, heading to Big Bear. By 7.30 a.m., we arrived at a massive gravel parking lot at the base of the mountain. There were no buildings around, just portable restrooms and the area where shuttles came to pick people up and take them to the top. We parked the truck with its rear facing the mountain, giving us a view of the lake from the back. That detail would stick with me later. After unloading, we made our way to the shuttles and headed up to the mountain. The day was beautiful, the air crisp, and snowboarding was as exhilarating as ever. Around midday, I decided to relax at the bar while my friends continued

snowboarding. That's when things started to get strange. While I sat at the bar waiting, an older lady approached me. She asked if she could sit in a seat next to me since the place was packed. I offered her one of my friend's seats, and she joined us for a while. We struck up a friendly conversation, and she mentioned her kids were out snowboarding too. She was kind, and we had a genuinely nice time chatting. Around 3 p.m., one of my friends decided to hit the slopes again for one last run since his lift pass would expire at 4 p.m. So, it was just me, the lady, and my other friend at the bar. Around 3.15 p.m., the lady said she had to leave to meet up with her kids.

I felt a little sad, it had been an enjoyable conversation. As she stood up and walked toward the door, we exchanged a final glance. It wasn't just any glance, though. Our eyes locked for a moment longer than felt normal. Then, out of nowhere, everything changed. I'm not exaggerating when I say I went from sitting at a barstool to standing in an empty gravel parking lot at night. The shift was instantaneous.

I physically felt the transition, like my body was yanked out of one reality and dropped into another. The sound of gravel crunching under my boots was the first thing I registered. I staggered, trying to regain my balance, and looked up to see my two friends about 20 feet ahead of me, walking toward the truck. Except the truck was now parked differently, facing the mountain instead of away from it. Panic set in. I shouted to my friends, this isn't the same parking lot. We didn't park here. They stopped, turned, and looked at me like I was crazy. What are you talking about, one of them asked. This is where we parked.

It's the only lot, I insisted, no, we parked farther from the mountain, in a bigger lot without any buildings nearby. They argued with me, clearly annoyed, so I dropped it. But inside, I was reeling. How could they not notice the change? The parking lot we were in now had different features. There were lights illuminating the mountain, and it felt closer, more confined. It wasn't where we had left the truck that morning.

As they packed up their gear, I walked around in a daze, trying to make sense of what had just happened. I even asked a few strangers in the lot if they remembered parking somewhere else earlier in the day. They looked at me like I'd lost my mind. I felt completely alone in my experience. When we got back home, I told my dad everything. I explained how we parked in one lot that morning

and ended up in a completely different one at the end of the day. He suggested we look at Google Maps to figure it out. Sure enough, the maps showed the large gravel lot where we'd originally parked. Relieved, I thought I had some proof that I wasn't crazy. But then, something even stranger happened. Two days later, my dad and I checked Google Maps again. The large lot was gone. In its place, there were houses and streets that hadn't been there before. The second lot, where I'd ended up, now seemed to blend features of both lots. It was as if the two locations had merged into one. I was devastated. The one piece of evidence I had to validate my

experience had disappeared. My dad was just as shocked. He couldn't believe the lot we'd seen on the map two days earlier no longer existed. For weeks, I couldn't stop thinking about it. I finally asked one of my friends how I'd acted at the bar that afternoon. He said I seemed fine, normal even. When I pressed him about how we'd left the bar and got into the parking lot, he said nothing unusual had happened. According to him, we'd simply taken the shuttle down and walked to the truck. But here's the thing, I know it wasn't me who left that bar with them. It couldn't have been. From the moment the lady left to when I found myself in the parking lot, I wasn't present

in that timeline. It was as if another version of me had taken my place. The thought still chills me to the core. I can't stop wondering, did the lady know something? Was she involved in what happened to me? Where was I for those missing hours? And who or what was with my friends, pretending to be me? The experience has left me with more questions than answers.

I plan to return to Big Bear soon to see if I can uncover anything, but I'm not optimistic. Whatever happened feels like it's beyond human understanding. This wasn't my first brush with something inexplicable. Over the years, I've had smaller glitches, losing objects only to have them reappear in places I'd already checked a dozen times. But nothing as intense as this. For instance, there was a time in the early 1980s when I lost my bus pass. I was living with my parents after college, trying to find a job.

One morning, I was getting ready for an interview and couldn't find the little plastic wallet that held my bus pass. I searched everywhere, my room, the kitchen, the living room. It was nowhere to be found. Frustrated and out of options, I considered asking a neighbor for money to get to the interview. Just as I sat on the couch to put on my shoes, I heard a faint thud. It sounded like something had been dropped onto a hard surface.

I looked up and saw my wallet sitting right on top of our old record player's plastic cover. I had looked there multiple times, even lifted the cover, and it hadn't been there before. Yet, there it was, as if it had materialized out of thin air. This incident still baffles me to this day. It felt as though the wallet had ceased to exist for a brief moment, only to reappear seconds later. Thankfully, I made it to the interview, got the job, and went on with my life. But I've never been able to shake the feeling that something. beyond our understanding was at play. Fast forward to a more recent trip, my boyfriend and I were

driving through a deserted town near Death Valley. We spotted a figure on the sidewalk that looked, off. It was shaped like a woman but didn't have a torso. Just long legs and black pants, a shoulder, and an arm stretched out holding a handbag. The figure moved robotically, its knees stiff as it walked toward the street. We were both stunned. My boyfriend muttered, that better be a mannequin. But as we turned the corner, it kept walking, moving unnaturally toward our car. Even now, we can't explain what we saw. It's become one of those stories we revisit often, trying to make sense of it, but never quite succeeding. Was it another glitch?

A malfunction in the simulation, if that's what this is. Then there's the story of the extra sandwich. A few weeks ago, I took my kids to the laundromat and decided to grab Subway Sandwiches for lunch. I ordered three subs, each with specific ingredients. Later, when my eldest daughter went to finish her sandwich, it wasn't hers. It was a duplicate of her sisters, down to the exact toppings. But her original sandwich was still there too. Somehow, we had an extra sub that no one had ordered.

It's a small thing, sure, but it left me unsettled. Where did that extra sandwich come from? These experiences make me question the nature of reality. Are we living in a simulation? Are there parallel timelines bleeding into hours? Yes, when she discovers that her best friend is dead, the girl immediately runs out screaming and, incredibly, the adults come to a very clear conclusion, Peggy Beck, 16 years old, has died of natural causes.

It all started on the morning of August 19, 1963, at a camp located in the mountains of Colorado. It was the last day of camp for 24 Girl Scouts. They all woke up early and went to have breakfast. They gathered everything, grouped up, and began breakfast, but one of them was missing. That girl was Peggy Beck. She was one of the most responsible girls in the whole group, and that's why her best friend Claudia got up from the table and went looking for her. She knocked on the door of her cabin several times but received no response.

She called once, twice, again, and finally opened the door and walked into her house. the cabin. Once there, she found the girl lying down, covered up completely in facing away from the door. She called her again, and when she saw that she wasn't responding, she nudged her a little, and then realized Peggy Beck was dead. Peggy was only 16 years old. She was in the prime of her life and, apparently, had no health issues. She was a healthy, active girl. However, the camp counselor said the girl had died of natural causes. They called her parents and told them her heart had stopped in the middle of the night. But was that true? Did Peggy Beck really just die like that? Let's find out. Margaret Elizabeth Beck, better known as Peggy, was born on November 22,

in Colorado. She was the oldest of four daughters of Merna Stouffer and Clarence Vincent Beck. Peggy had always been an adventurous child and very protective of her younger sisters. She loved going on excursions, camping, and when she was nine years old, she asked her parents for permission to join the Girl Scouts. She had all the qualities for it, so Merna and Clarence quickly agreed. At that time, they were a middle-class family living in Edgown. Water, Colorado, and overall things were going well. Clarence had a job, the girls were healthy and well-behaved, and Peggy was their favorite. In her childhood, she loved school and had many friends.

She got along with everyone, classmates, neighbors, she had friends everywhere. In her teenage years, not much changed. She studied at North High School in Denver and usually got good grades. Some sources say she had an agreement with her parents. If she kept getting good grades, she could stay in the Girl Scouts, otherwise, they'd pull her out immediately. From age 9 to 16, she never missed a single meeting. She went to all the events and balanced everything perfectly. In fact, she wanted to climb the ranks in the Girl Scouts, from camper to counselor.

She did her job so well that in 1963, just before turning 17, she was named a counselor, and of course, she was ecstatic. It was going to be her final year in high school, and she would start college afterward. She was one step away from adulthood and independence, happier than ever. In August 1963, Peggy was informed she would be one of the counselors leading a four-night, five-day trip to the Flying G Ranch, a camp near Decker's, Colorado, in Pike National Forest. Naturally, she accepted. The group consisted of 24 campers, including other counselors, and three adults. The camp started on the 15th and ended on the 19th. And the camp was not how

you'd imagine, not tents and bonfires, but well-structured wooden cabins, designated rooms for meals and meetings, everything well set up and supposedly well guarded. The first four days went perfectly. Peggy followed the rules, made sure the others did too, and shared a cabin with her best friend, Claudia. But on the last night, the 18th, things went wrong. Claudia started feeling very sick and asked to sleep in the infirmary. Before the final campfire, Claudia left, and Peggy, fulfilling her duties, stayed with the campers, singing by the fire. They sang, told stories, put out the fire, and everyone went back to their cabins. Peggy's cabin was farther than the others, but she didn't mind. They say she was cheerful, said goodbye to everyone, and walked

alone into the dark. The next morning, at sunrise, all the girls packed up and went to breakfast. Claudia, feeling better, left the infirmary and joined them. But during the headcount, only 23 campers were present. One was missing, Peggy Beck. The three adults assumed Claudia had given her the flu and, since she was her best friend, told her to go wake her up. Claudia obeyed, walked through the woods, knocked on the cabin door, no answer. She knocked again, and again, and finally went in. She saw Peggy completely covered, facing away from the door. She called again, nudged her, and when there was no response, turned her around.

That's when she realized her best friend was dead. The girl immediately ran out screaming. Incredibly, the adults concluded Peggy died of natural causes. Maybe undiagnosed problems. Maybe her heart just stopped. There were no signs of foul play, she was covered, eyes closed, a peaceful expression. So they decided not to call the police, but instead called Peggy's parents, asked them to come get the body, and then asked Claudia to pack Peggy's things. Which is, simply shameful.

But it was the 1960s, no one could imagine such a thing happening at a secluded mountain camp. Peggy had no enemies. She was 16, in the middle of nowhere, and apparently had no signs of violence. However, something strange happened. Hours after the body was found, and after the campers had contaminated the scene, red marks began appearing on Peggy's neck. As time passed, they looked more like bruises, signs of storkers. strangulation. Then the staff opened the sleeping bag and found clear evidence of sexual assault.

Her underwear and stockings were torn. She had scratches and bruises all over her body. Then they called the police. A forensic investigator confirmed she had been assaulted during the night, then beaten and strangled. He also found two crucial clues. Under her nails were blood and skin cells from her attacker, meaning there was a struggle. The attacker likely had facial scratches, an important detail later on. The way her body was left, covered and zipped into the sleeping bag, suggested this wasn't the attacker's first time, or that the crime was premeditated. The adults wanted to sweep the death of a teen under the rug. Claudia happened to feel sick the last night and left Peggy alone in a faraway cabin.

All very strange. Incredibly, the police found no suspects at camp. Some sources say all attendees were women, others say there were men, but none with injuries or motives. The police did all they could, interviewed everyone, looked for clues, but the crime scene had been cleaned. Within 24 hours, witnesses came forward. People said that on August 19th, they saw a man with scratches on his face at a bus stop in Cannon City, Colorado. Authorities made a sketch, searched everywhere, and questioned the man, but no connection to Peggy's death was found. There were other suspects and false confessions, but no arrests, and eventually the case went cold.

You may wonder, what about the DNA under Peggy's nails? Well, in those days DNA analysis was primitive. So the evidence was frozen and saved for the future. Years passed. The case was forgotten. No more witnesses, no new leads. Some sources say Peggy's parents couldn't handle the grief and divorced. On December 13, 1974, her mother Mirna Stouffer died at age 51.

We don't know why, but after that, her ex-husband and three daughters continued fighting to keep the case alive. Then, something happened that turned everything upside down. In summer 1977, three girls, Lori Lee Farmer, 8, Michelle Buzza, 9, and Doris Denise Milner, 10, were murdered at a Girl Scout camp in Broken Arrow, a suburb of Tulsa. They begged to sleep in the same cabin, number 8, and after much insistence, were allowed. According to staff, they were responsible girls. At 6 a.m. on June 13th, a counselor went for a shower. Near Cabin 8, she saw a sleeping bag between the trees, inside was the lifeless body of one of the girls.

The others were later found nearby, beaten, raped, and strangled, covered with their own sleeping bags. This made police consider a link to Peggy Beck's murder 14 years earlier. All four victims died similarly, raped, beaten, strangled, and tucked into sleeping bags. A red flashlight with a clear fingerprint was found at the new crime scene, and a bloody shoe print was found near the cabin. Police quickly suspected Jean Leroy Hart, 33, who had served time for first-degree burglary and kidnapping two pregnant women. He was familiar with the area and arrested in 1987. His trial began two years later. Everything pointed to him, but surprisingly, he was acquitted.

He later died in prison in 1989. DNA from the 1977 crime scene matched Hart in three of five samples, but his DNA did not match. that from Peggy Beck's case. So the police hit another dead end. In 2007, new technology allowed them to create a DNA profile from Peggy's evidence. They uploaded it to Cody's, the National DNA Database, but there was no match. Years passed. Peggy's father, Clarence, died in 2009 at age 88. But her sisters never gave up. Finally, in 2019, they completed the profile, and it led to a descendant of the killer. That's how investigators identified James Raymond Taylor, born December 22, 1939. At the time of the murder, he was 23, married, and worked

repairing antennas or televisions in homes. He lived in Edgewater, same as Peggy. Investigators don't know if he knew her, but media reported he was familiar with the camp and had been there before for radio work. Sadly, in 1970s. He left his family, moved to Las Vegas, and was never seen again. No calls, no letters. The only photo of him is the one shown. We don't know what he looks like now, whether he changed his name or started a new family. He committed other crimes in the 70s but was never jailed.

Before he could be caught, he vanished. Only he can answer the questions, why Peggy? Did he know her? Or was it random? He may still be alive, or not. It's a complete mystery. So now it's your turn, what do you think about this case? Do you believe James Raymond Taylor could still be alive?

The sun shone on the man's face sweat dripping down and collecting on the tip of his nose. It's scorching today, in it Margie. Quiet now, Edward, no need to look unprofessional, said the lady dressed in a puffy wolf skin coat despite the heat. About that, what's the case we've been put? assigned. A disappearance, the butcher's wife, the dainty woman said. You think she's been killed, one cannot make a hypothesis without Data Edward, you do it on purpose, don't you? He said, and what are you accusing me of now, Ed? She asked in full innocence, your fancy words Margie you know I can't understand them, he said with a red face, which only got redder when she

started to chuckle. When they arrived at the scene, they saw a mountain of a man about six nine, 6.10, it was a surprise to see such a man bawling, ugly tears ran down his face as the officers at the scene tried to calm him down enough to give them a statement. Another slimmer man stood at a distance seeming to be arguing with a shorter portly man what's the baker doing here? And who is that man he's talking to? He was confused, but he kept this thought to himself. Ah, this won't do Edward, I don't have time for a weeping wreck, said Marjorie in disdain. Well, what do you suggest we do then Margie? Wait for him to stop Ballin, he asked.

No, we are going to go in and gather the evidence. We can't trust those bumbling idiots with anything short of a bar fight. This got her several scowls from the officers nearby. Look who's being oh so high and mighty. You want us to be the next missing persons, huh? He continued his grumbling as they walked past a hallway filled with pictures of the butcher and a slender raven-haired woman. Hush now look at this, she pulled a strand of hair from between a drawer that looked no different

than his hair if only twice as long and blonde, it's a hair Margie, what of it? He asked again in confusion, have you been paying attention to the pictures we've been passing Edward? Yeah, what of it? Margie sighed at his words and muttered something about men under her breath then said in a slow, mocking voice, this hair is blonde, the woman in this picture is brunette, meaning, Edward's eyes lit up as his mind finally made the connection, We have our murderer, God Edward not so loud,

and no we don't have our murderer, we have a small description of a possible suspect. What now? Edward whispered. She gestured for him to follow as they walked down another hallway into what seemed to be the master bedroom. More mystery hair, he stated as Margie held up another strand of blonde hair. They then moved on to the bed itself and they were overwhelmed by a familiar smell,

boy she pissed herself, yes she did, this is now most probably a murder, she said darkly. How you know that, March? Well, look at the marks on the side of the bed and this mud patch at the bottom. Ed looked for what she was talking about and indeed there were. This indicates the perpetrator came in their shoes and jeans muddy from the rain and knelt one foot on the bed and strangled the woman to death as she struggled, under the weight of their other foot which they place above her chest, she said with no doubt in her voice. Edward unfazed by her rant walked past her and grabbed the something that had caught his eye, look it's an aglet, he said with pride.

A what Edward. Edward gleamed finally the one with the information and proudly said, An aglet my dimwitted companion is the coating that tips your shoelaces. He then sidestepped the incoming slap from Margie while chuckling. Well, despite your prude behavior I know where we are going in a possible suspect, she said, the baker, she said, oh. Why, Edward asked, come, I will explain on the way. She said as she stepped over muddy boot prints heading to the back

exit of the house Margie stopped to look at the door before frowning, straightening, then leaving through the door. What do you do that for? He called after her as she walked haphazardly following something. It looked like she was at least, this is not the way to the baker's Margie. He ran after her, quickly getting out of breath they ran further and further downtown and then finally to a stop outside an abandoned warehouse. And pant what pant? did you do that for? The tired man said sweat dripping off his nose and hissing on the sidewalk. As we walked through the door I looked for signs of forced entry and I found none despite the footprints coming from the entryway, I then noticed the same mud prints leaving the house then followed them.

She said not a drop of sweat on her body and she didn't seem to be out of breath. But there aren't any mud prints over here, he stated, yes, but when the mud prints faded, I noticed a strange scratching on the pavement and I took what you said into consideration. She said, Oh, the iron-tipped boots and aglets left a trail of scrapes and scratches in the ground, leading us here, she pointed at the heaping garbage pile, the stench alone was enough to make Edward dry wretch, come now Edward, she said pressing on through the muck. We have a body to find. They searched through the landfill until sundown and the entire dump was bathed in blood-red light. Well, my wife, now ex-wife, was two months pregnant. When she found out she was pregnant she asked me to talk and told me that. halfway through our relationship as a couple and half a year before our marriage she cheated on me with her best friend, with whom she currently has no communication. So I left the room and went to another side of the house to think about my action plan. Hours later I was sitting in the sofa,

during those hours I did not go to see her at any time, I did not want to see her face, I heard her calling me, almost screaming, I approached her and she was in the bathroom bleeding quite a bit down there, we went to the hospital and apparently she had a miscarriage. According to the doctor it was not something forced nor product of some medication, maybe it was an emotional shock, something that already happened to her before. While she was sitting on her stretcher waiting to be discharged, she asked me what I thought about all this, I just said that maybe it was for the best since a child would make more difficult the divorce, words that made her cry again. I'm not going to lie, I love her, but at the same time I don't trust her anymore. If she could hide a slip, for almost a decade I don't know what else she could have hidden. Maybe this is just the tip of the iceberg, the only thing that haunts me now is to know.

know if that son was mine or not. According to her she has been faithful to me since then and she never spoke or saw any man other than me, which I did not ask her to do, but obviously I also have to question that. Our relationship was quite good, but now I also have to doubt if every good deed she did for me was out of true love or it was just guilt for cheating on me. Anyway, I'm already planning a divorce, thank God that son wasn't born because otherwise everything would have been more complicated. As I said, I love her, but I can't live knowing every action she made for me could be lie, and also I'm not forgiving a cheating. Now, I want to clarify one thing, in my country there is something called divorce by mutual agreement, which is a process that

lasts less than a month, which you will not go to any trial, just a signing of papers by both parties, it is made clear that we both want to divorce. The following conditions exist to be able to carry out this type of procedure. One, both must agree. Two, that two years or more have passed since their marriage. We have been married for eight years. Three, if there are mine, or older children with disabilities, everything related to parental authority, food, tenure, visits, guardianship must be resolved. We do not have children, for not having property in common. We have separate finances.

Well, two days later she called me and told me to go to my father-in-law's house, where she is since her father picked her up from the hospital that night, to talk, I went with the papers that my lawyer had given me and that she had to sign in case I could convince her. I arrived, she was with her father, a 70-year-old man, she has not been related to. to her mother or siblings since she started university because her parents are separated and she was the only one who wanted to stay with her father, so he is the only one with her. We talked about everything that happened and after a few hours she ended up signing all the papers, she asked me if I hated her, I told her that I don't feel the same love for her, but that I felt respect for her

courage to confess something that she could have kept for her, I wished her good luck and told her to recover, that I love her, but that I can't trust her anymore and that the healthiest thing is for each one to get ahead on their own, we gave each other one last hug and kiss and I told her. I told her that I told her I would take care of everything and that if I needed anything I would let her know. Now I just have to take the papers to be legalized by a notary and then take it to the civil registries for the registration of the divorce in the civil registry. Although I'm happy that this was solved the easy way, I still have a pain in my chest from everything that happened, I'll start therapy next week and I'll get through it, I guess.

For those who wonder why I didn't consent to this infidelity, even though it was almost a decade ago, I grew up in a family where both parents were unfaithful to each other and forgave each other, I ended up leaving that house as soon as I could because the discussions taking everything past and face were an everyday thing. I don't want to go through the same thing or make my future children have to hear the same thing that I heard. Now a week has passed, I have gone to the psychologist and I feel that I am improving. The truth is that I am very hopeful about the future, but I feel that I will have to be more

careful in my next relationship, but at the same time I do not want to mistrust my new partner. The truth is that this is very difficult, but I just have to move on. Ah, yes, I already presented the notarized and signed divorce papers to public records. My status should change to divorced in less than two weeks. I don't know how my ex-wife is doing, I haven't called her, but at least she has her dad to support her. TdLR, I'm divorcing my wife after she confeased she cheated on me almost a decade ago. I was around 13 years old when we met and we met on YouTube. Back in the early 2010s I attempted making YouTube videos, they were all terrible, but I liked them a lot.

Well, I posted a video and the comment popped up shortly after I uploaded the video. The comment was short, it was something along the lines of, hey, you're beautiful. I know now that comments like those are not comments you should reply to, I know today how weird that comment was but back then I was young, dumb, and gullible. I commented back saying something along the lines of, thanks so much. As I felt flattered to read something like that, I've never been a beauty queen and had been mercilessly bullied my entire childhood. I checked out the commenter's YouTube channel and saw they made horror content, Gore-Wi-clamations of people being murdered and assaulted. I loved horror movies and I was an art girl so I thought it was really cool,

I got another comment asking for my Instagram account and I, being dumb, sent it. That marked the moment my life was changed forever. We started talking every day on Instagram, he was about four years older than me and we bonded quickly over our mutual interests. I was an emo kid for years and during that time I was incredibly interested in horror content, I was also unmedicated for my mental illnesses so I was just a weird person. He was obsessed with horror and true crime, this obsession will come up later. He was always a bit, off. He loved to talk about how he wanted to harm the people in his school. He talked about serial killers

with some type of jealousy, he thought they were the coolest people on earth. He talked about how he wanted to cause a mass genocide at his school. He made extremely Gore-Wite clay animations, these videos involved horrific assault of all types and so much blood. I replied back to him with positivity, I wanted him to be happy. He told me about his issues, he'd been severely bullied his entire childhood and that affected him greatly. He also said proudly that was a either a psychopath or a sociopath. I was bullied too, I had no friends so I guess I kind of grasped onto him.

I don't know. He was and is a deeply disturbed person. Today I'm nearly 20 and I see all the red flags. I should have seen before. We were friends for about five years, we talked nearly every day and we were extremely close. We both had feelings for each other, but I always told him we couldn't be together. He lived in Eastern Canada and I lived in the Midwestern USA. Plus, over the years, I had romantic partners in real life. I felt love towards him and he felt, something towards me. Not a pure romantic feeling but rather what a disturbed person would think love would

be. In late 2018 I had a pet gerbil, I didn't have her. for long because my living situation changed and I could no longer have a pet. Well, I told him about the gerbil and raved about how much I loved rodents. He replied normally and I didn't think anything of it. On February 7, 2019 he asked a weird question, What's you our reaction to animals being killed? I replied saying I was used to seeing that kind of stuff, because my sister used to show me a lot of best-gore videos and picks

so I got kind of desensitized to it all, and he stated he was desensitized to everything. Then. May 19th, 2019 happened. What happened on May 19th, 2019? Here's what happened, this is going to get really dark, really quick. He purchased three hamsters from his local Petsmark, he then went on to make a video in his house of him torturing and murdering the hamsters.

He physically tortured the hamsters to death, including putting them in the microwave and slicing them. He filmed this, edited it, and posted it to a bunch of sites, Reddit, Instagram, Twitter, YouTube, etc. At first when he did this I didn't believe it, I hadn't seen the video, so I thought people were lying about him, people were leaving hate comments on his Instagram and YouTube and I assumed it was all fake. That's when he sent the video to me, he sent it and immediately deleted it. But I got to see the thumbnail.

It was a disgusting photo of the hamsters covered in blood. He sent screenshots from the video and immediately deleted them as well, I saw them, though. I'm not going to lie to y'all on here, I didn't stop talking to him immediately. I called the police on him the day he sent me the video and the screenshots. But I didn't stop talking to him. This was for a few reasons, one, I was desperate for any type of human contact. At the time I had literally zero friends besides him, so I was desperate to not be alone. Also, I was scared as to what he would do if I left, he could have hurt himself or others.

We gradually stopped talking as much after that, our last conversation was on April 4, 2020. I didn't realize at the time that he did what he did for a reason. I talked to someone that was in a Kiwi Farms chat about him, because he was punished legally, and they pointed out something that shook me to my core. 1. He got hamsters after I got a gerbil and after he knew I absolutely loved rodents. 2. He asked me how I reacted to animals being killed a few months before he did it. 3. He messaged me on May 9, 2019, 10 days before he made the video, telling me he was adopting hamsters. He told me on the day of May 19, 2019, that he adopted the Hamsters.

He had posted a short video of the Hamsters in his lap to his Instagram, so I responded to his message telling him they were cute. 4. I had multiple people read over our messages over the last 3.5 years. I deleted my original Instagram back in the day, and they all agreed on one thing. He was obsessed with me and had intense feelings for me, reading back on our messages I'm shocked that I let him say some of the stuff he did to me. He was, flirting, in a weird thing. way. He would compliment me nearly every time we talked, calling me, sexy, and beautiful. He drew

me once. He said he loved me more than once. I was his only friend for so long. I've talked to some people that know the case and have read the messages and they came to the conclusion that he did the hamster video as a way to, spite me but also show me he cared about me. He killed the hamsters on that video and sent that video to me as a way to show me how much he loved me. He was obsessed and upset that I was dating someone in real life. I could be wrong, but that really seems to be the thing that makes the most sense. He was charged in May 2020 and sentenced in August of 2021, an 18-month conditional sentence. He can't go online without supervision and isn't allowed in pet stores. They found that his emotional intelligence is that of a 12-year-old and that he has

severe autism. Sometimes I message his Instagram account, when I have no one else and I'm feeling emotional over what he did I will send full paragraphs to the Instagram. He probably will never see them, but possibly when his sentence is over he will reply. I both want to talk to him and want to never see his face again. My doctor stated that I have PTSD from him and what he did, I saw his photo for the first time in a year a few months ago and had a full-on panic attack. The way I feel about him is, complicated. I'm terrified about him in a way. He knows what city and state I live in. He knows my name. And he knows how to harm things.

I'm terrified of him yet I miss him. I don't know. I had no one else to talk to about this, so that's why I'm posting here. If you want to ask anything, just comment on this. I couldn't put every single detail in this, but I'm willing to talk more. Thanks for reading. My name is Kara, 21F. I have been dating my boyfriend, Leland, 27M, for three years.

We met at a party my friend was throwing during my senior year. Since then we have been largely inseparable. He gets a little jealous sometimes, but we do really love each other. I moved in with him eight months ago. It was a little bit of an adjustment for the both of us, but I think we are getting the hang of it. I don't work right now, since I'm in nursing school. He has a pretty good job, so I do my best to take care of the apartment. I wish he helped out a little bit, but I kind of get it since I don't contribute anything financially.

Like I said, for the most part our relationship is pretty good. He spoils me. I don't have a lot of my own disposable income, so I do appreciate that he likes to take me out and buy me things. Our sex life is really good and really active, we try out a lot of new things in the bedroom. We've always role-played scenarios, and I always thought these were just fantasies of his. We've done cheating scenarios, swapping scenarios, and stuff like that. Usually I'm pretending to be someone else.

Which is fine, I'm not upset about that. The thing that hurt my feelings recently is that. he said he missed dating sometimes. I know it's valid to feel that way. I have had a few moments over the last couple years where I wish I could just do some of the crazy things my friends do, but I don't because that's not what you do in a relationship. You got to prioritize your boyfriend or girlfriend, and sometimes that means missing out on things. I tried to see where he was coming from and we didn't really talk about it, so I thought maybe it was just him being a little oblivious. That was until he started to talk about how he has these two co-workers that are in open relationships.

I've met the one he has worked with for like four years. She, Abigail, is like mid-30s and married. When he brought her up the first time, it was just months into us dating and we talked about it like we were gossiping. Abigail does not hide the fact, and Leland has heard other people ask her questions about it, and she just answers them like she was talking about anything else. Leland hasn't brought her up very much at all, and usually if he does it goes like, you know what, Abigail had some guy, that was definitely not her husband, drop her off at the office today,

and I totally saw her give him like the biggest kiss before she came in, isn't that crazy, could you even imagine? I mean he says stuff like that, like he's gossiping. So I never really thought he was that into that. Then he met his new co-worker, Madison, 26F. She is also apparently in an open relationship. Leland talks about her a lot. The thing that has scared me is, when he talks about her, he says it like he's impressed.

He talks about her like he has a crush on her and like he envies her lifestyle. It makes me feel kind of insecure sometimes. Then today happened. It was just a usual Saturday. We were having some sandwiches and chips for lunch, when he just asked me what my opinion of swinging was. I just went blank for a few moments. I finally said, I don't know, I've never really thought about it.

Leland came back with, well, let's talk about it. I mean you have to think about other guys sometimes right. I said, sure, but not like real people. Like Ryan Gosling, not Ethan from class. Do you fantasize about people you know? He replied, no, not really, I mean I guess sometimes, but it doesn't mean anything. I guess I'm just saying, we're young. Now is kind of the time to do something like this, you know, have some fun before we settle down.

I see how happy Abigail and Madison are and think, maybe, we would enjoy it too. Madison, there it is. I got a little mad, so this is about Madison. He came back, she just makes a lot of good points. She says her and her husband are in an open relationship and that it has made them really close. They talk about everything now and it makes the intimacy amazing. I was getting more annoyed honestly, that seems like really personal information to know about someone you've only known for four months.

What are you sharing with her? He got defensive, nothing, I talked about how great our relationship is, and she told me about hers, that's it, then she said we should give it a try, it'll make things even better. I don't know why you are getting so defensive. I just asked a question, you always say I should be open about my thoughts and feelings. I backed off a little, I do say that, I want him to feel like he can be safe around me. I watch all these TikToks about toxic behaviors in relationships. I'm not going to be the kind of girlfriend my boyfriend can't talk to about anything.

I told him, okay, that's fair, we can talk about it some more, I just need a break right now, can we talk later tonight? He agreed, then we hugged, and each went to do our own thing. That was a few hours ago, and I don't really know what to do or say. I guess I will just listen, I don't know where this is coming from. I am half expecting that he will say that Madison and her husband want to swing with us. So, I'm 28. My, now ex, boyfriend was 30.

We met at this wild pool party thrown by this semi-famous actor we both happen to be friends with. One of those flashy, too many people, everyone's got sunglasses on even though it's night type of scenes. It was July 1st, hot as hell, drinks were flowing like a waterfall, and nobody was really keeping track of who came with who or who was doing what. Just good vibes and questionable decisions. At first, we didn't even talk. I mean, I probably passed him like three times while grabbing mojitos, and he was busy flexing for some girls in the shallow end. But when the sun dipped and the party lights came on, the vibe shifted. You know that drunken, hazy energy that wraps around a place once everyone's been marinating in booze for hours.

Yeah, that happened. I ended up chilling in the hot tub with one of my friends, half laughing at some story she was telling, when he slid in like he'd always been there. He started off real smooth, like asking what I did, if I lived in the area, pretending not to know we'd both been invited by the same dude. I played along. Then out of nowhere, he leaned in and kissed me. Not a peck, like, full-on movie-scene kiss, hands and all.

It caught me off guard, but it had been a while, and truth be told, I liked it. My friend, clearly reading the room, excused herself with a wink. And yeah, we escalated. We snuck off upstairs, locked ourselves in a random bathroom, and let's just say the hot tub wasn't the steamyest thing that night. The chemistry was off the charts. After that, it wasn't just a little bit of the same. a one-time thing, we actually started seeing each other. Like, sober dates and everything.

Fast forward a couple months, we were doing romantic getaways, weekend hikes, binge-watching shows together. One trip to Thailand, and I was already imagining what our kids might look like. It felt like one of those right person at the right time kind of things. We were in sync, laughing all the time, having amazing sex, talking about futures without flinching. So, naturally, we decided to meet the parents. I met his first. His folks were honestly amazing, super warm, welcoming, and his grandma. That woman could have convinced me to move in that night just for her cooking.

She made the most delicious empanadas I've ever tasted, and she loved that I wanted to help her out in the kitchen. His mom was already dropping hints about weddings and grandbabies, and I wasn't even mad. It felt sweet, like, yeah, maybe I found my person. A week later, we flew out to San Diego so he could meet my parents. They picked us up from the airport, Mom, Dad, my 18-year-old sister, and Mom brought this massive bouquet of roses. Beautiful, velvety red ones. I reached for them, assuming they were for me, but she handed them to him instead. It felt weird, but I brushed it off.

I mean, maybe it was a thank you for coming kind of thing. We stayed there four days, and on the surface, everything was great. My boyfriend got along with everyone, especially my mom, a little too well now that I think back on it. When we got back home, something shifted. He got weird. Distant. He barely touched me anymore, didn't want to kiss, and our sex life dried up like a dead cactus. I figured it was just work stress or maybe he wasn't feeling well.

So I gave him space. Mistake number one. Then Christmas came around, and both families came to celebrate at our place. I'd bought this house in 2022, five bedrooms, for baths, total dream home, and it was the perfect spot for a big holiday gathering. My mom was still being oddly sweet to my boyfriend, constantly around him, always talking to him in this weirdly private way. My sister even pointed it out, which made my stomach turn. I asked him if something was up, and he brushed it off. Said they were planning a surprise.

Okay. Cool. I let it go. Until Christmas Eve. I woke up in the middle of the night and he wasn't in bed. I stayed still, listening for sounds, maybe he was in the bathroom, or getting water, or watching TV. But the house was silent. Dead silent. I fell back asleep confused but didn't ask questions the next day. Then, it happened again. Same thing.

I finally asked him about it, and he said he had stomach issues and didn't want to wake me. His face turned red when he said it, but I let it slide. Fool me twice, right? Anyway, we went through Christmas morning like normal, made breakfast, opened presents. Until we got to my mom's gift for him. A freaking bondage set. I wish I was joking.

You could have heard a pin drop. My dad's face went pale, my in-laws looked like they wanted to evaporate, and I just laughed awkwardly because I didn't know what else to do. He said it was a joke. I pretended to believe it. But deep down, that was the moment. I knew something. was up. That night, I couldn't sleep. My mind was running laps. When I woke up around 2 a.m., he was gone

again. Just like the night before. Same story, stomach issues. This time, I decided I'd find out the truth. I waited for the next night and set an alarm for 2 a.m. Sure enough, I rolled over at 2, and the bed was empty. I grabbed my phone, turned on the flashlight, and went hunting. I checked the second floor, nothing. Bathroom, empty. Kitchen, silent. I looked in a guest bedroom that nobody was using, and the sheets were rumpled, like someone had been there. Still, no sign of him. Then, Dread hit me like a freight train. I made my way toward my parents' room. My dad was a I woke him up, heart pounding, and told him I couldn't find my boyfriend, and mom wasn't in bed either.

He blinked a few times, said maybe she was with my sister. Nope. I checked, my sister was asleep, alone. Dad and I looked at each other, and something just, cracked. We both knew. But neither of us wanted to say it out loud. We checked the garage, cars were still there. Lights were all off.

Then we decided to check outside. The Hot Tub. We walked quietly to the back patio, and as soon as we stepped outside, we heard it. The soft, mechanical hum of the jets. We crept around the corner like we were in some horror movie, and there they were. My mom and my boyfriend. In the Hot Tub. Using that damn bondage set.

My world stopped. Dad and I looked at each other, faces blank, blood boiling. We backed up, hearts pounding. What the hell were we supposed to do? Pretend we didn't see it. Wait until morning. Screw that. We decided we were confronting them right then and there.

We walked up and made ourselves seen. They saw us. And you know what they did? Nothing. No shame. No shock. They just kept going, louder, like they wanted us to watch. It was sick.

My mom. My boyfriend. Two people I loved and trusted. I was frozen. My dad was speechless. We went back in and started packing their crap. That was it. I told him to get out.

Gave him the car keys and told him to take her with him. My dad packed her things, too. The next morning, we sat everyone down and told them. My poor sister cried like a baby, she was devastated. My ex's parents came downstairs and saw their son for who he really was. Still, in the end, they chose him. Said it was his life. Whatever.

My dad, sister, and I stayed together. Just the three of us, grieving in silence. Dad filed for divorce within two weeks. It was quick and clean, no fighting. Just done. Months went by with no word from them. Until last week. An invitation came in the mail.

They're getting married. Yep. My mom and my ex-boyfriend are getting married. The woman who birthed me. The man I thought I'd grow old with. Wedding bells and all. And now I don't know what to do. Do I crash it?

Do I burn the damn invitation? Do I show up in black with a speech about betrayal? Or do I stay home, sip wine, and move the hell on? What would you do? Because I'm stuck between rage and heartbreak, and honestly, this still doesn't feel real. The end. I, Kara 21F, still can't believe what happened last night, and despite becoming suddenly single and homeless, I feel amazing. I'm typing this out from a hotel room that I'm staying in with seven.

For a guy I just met on Thursday, I feel like we've been through a lot together. I'll go home to my parents' house tomorrow, but I am not in the mood to explain this all to them tonight. A few weeks ago I posted about my boyfriend, Leland 27M, asking me to consider swinging. He did manage to convince me to give it a try. I thought it might just be something he needed to get out of his system. Then he brought up Madison, 26F, again. Apparently her and her husband were wanting to add swinging to their open relationship, and Leland thought this would be perfect, because then everyone is new to it. I was so pissed, I knew something was going on between them. I confronted him about that and he totally gaslit me. I didn't realize it at the time.

I actually just now am realizing how stupid our relationship is that I mean, it was stupid from the start. Why was a 24-year-old at a high school party? Anyway, I bought into his bullshit again, and agreed to meet with Seth and Madison for dinner. Towards the end of dinner Seth asked me for my phone number because he wanted to talk about this without Leland and Madison. We messaged back and forth a lot on Friday. See, Leland always told me that Seth and Madison were in this super happy relationship, and the open relationship had just brought them closer together.

Seth told me the truth. Madison had given him an ultimatum to open their relationship, and he had almost left her after her first ever date, they weren't living some sort of open marriage fairy tale. We had both noticed at dinner how close Leland and Madison seemed to be. As we talked we made a plan to look through their phones and see if they were actually cheating, and this whole swinging thing was just a ploy to get permission to keep cheating. Madison is smart, Seth told me he found nothing on her phone. The only texts on her phone were totally work-related.

Leland is not as smart. It looks like they may have used a messaging app as he had a few on his phone. There weren't any messages but that was a red flag for me. They did have a few texts that he forgot to erase. It wasn't like 100% obvious what they were talking about though, the exchange read, Leland, what did he say? Madison, I told him we should just go and see what it's like. He agreed.

Madison, delete this and switch over. That's all that is there, I asked Seth if this was on Madison's phone and he said, no, at that point I just called him. We talked and decided we needed to test these people out. We both agreed that these two just wanted permission to cheat together. The thing was, neither of us really wanted to lose the relationship. After talking it out, we decided we should give our relationships one more chance. We each asked them if we could wait.

We didn't want to go to Abigail's party the next night. Each of them told us we didn't have to do anything, but we told her we were coming. They told us almost the same thing exactly. That Abigail made it seem like it was a big deal to get invited, that we would each be the only new couples. That the other ten had been doing house parties like this for a while. They told us that if we didn't at least go, we probably wouldn't be invited back if we decided we did like this later on.

We were going to go, hoping for them to pick us. I was so nervous all day Saturday, I thought I was going to throw up. I wasn't sure if I should eat before, if there would be food there, if I should not eat at all that I didn't really have a lot of direction on what to wear to something like this. Leland didn't even ask. I just went with a little black dress that was just a touch too short and showed a bit too much cleavage. Luckily, this turned out to be the correct call. I wanted coffee but didn't have any because I was way too nervous, so I just started

overhydrating which made me have to pee every ten minutes, especially when combined with the nerves. We met Madison and Seth outside of Abigail's house. The house was very nice. Seth and I looked at each other like, Here we go. I had not met Abigail before, but she looked amazing. She's 36 and has had two kids, and you would never know it. When we arrived we got greeted like it was a dinner party. There were the usual pleasantries, and a quick tour.

She showed us they had a pretty good spread of finger foods and lots to drink. I was actually kind of overwhelmed and trying to not stare at the other people. They weren't even doing anything other than having conversations. I don't know what I was expecting, we arrived right when it started, there were going to be a dozen couples here tonight and I think we made it five at this point, which included the hosts. The women were all dressed kind of like I was. This made me feel better.

On the tour Abigail went over some things, but at that time I was totally distracted. I remember her saying the rooms upstairs were set up for private play. There was something about changing the sheets. She introduced us to her husband Brad, then to her boyfriend Jacob. I wish I had paid more attention to the next part, or maybe it was a blessing that I didn't. I know what she said now, but at the time all I heard was, thank God for those double doors. Everyone gave a little laugh, me too, even though I didn't know what we were talking about. She was talking about the party adjustments she had made to her first floor dining room.

I got snapped back to reality very quickly. Another couple arrived, that really didn't mean anything, it just drew my attention to Leland. Madison and him were talking, he looked at her and said, want to head upstairs. She nodded and the two of them just started making for the stairs. Seth and I were left standing there staring at them as they headed off together. Leland finally looked back at me and said, come on. But then he and Madison disappeared up the stairs, without another look or word. I felt sad, then pissed.

I looked at Seth and said, I guess we got our answer, well we might as well make the most of it. I was angry and absolutely was not going to join them upstairs. Abigail said there were places to play down here too, I thought, I'll find my own space far from those two. Seth was just following best he could as I marched out the other side of the room from the stairs. I didn't even know where I was going, I made a turn, maybe two, and ended up in this huge room with two king-size mattresses pushed together. There was also a large L-shaped sectional in the near corner, a good-sized couch opposite it, and one of those cube shelves with the collapsible baskets along the wall. I didn't even hesitate when I walked in. I just dropped my clothes to the ground without looking back at Seth.

The next moment he was pulling his shirt off and gathering up my clothes. He put them all in one of the cubes and turned back to me while fumbling with his belt. I snapped, OMG just come here. He figured out how to get his pants off but then just turned and ran back over to the cube shelf and put them in it. I said, What are you doing? He responded, she said you were supposed to use the cubes for our clothes in here, I don't want to rude, I kind of comedically stunned said, rude to who. We're the only people in here, he just said, more might come in. I remember thinking, who the hell is going to come into

this room where there are already two people messing around. It's not like we're being discreet, we left the two doors wide open. I am not normally this aggressive, but after what Leland pulled, I wasn't holding back. We were enjoying each other when I realized my foe pouse in picking this room. A very fit 45-ish-year old man lays down naked on his back not five feet from me. This is immediately followed by a very, very busty, similarly aged woman climbing on top of him. I totally freaked out for a moment saying, Oh my God, I am so sorry, is this your room? The guy just shook his head and got an amused smile on his face, my dear, this is the group room, group room. I looked at Seth, did you know this was the group room? He just nodded and

said, yeah, she said it on the tour. I had a momentary freak out, but quickly composed myself, after a second and being mildly embarrassed, I realized I didn't really care. As I was enjoying the moment with Seth I kept making eye contact with this older guy, and I kind of liked it. That's when he looked at his wife and they nodded at each other. The next thing he said, do you guys want to swap? I immediately agreed. Seth didn't say a thing.

The older guy reached into a small bag next to him and pulled out a condom. Seth noticed and said, oh shit, I left mine over in my pants. The old guy said, don't worry I got pulled. plenty just take this one and handed him one from his pack. I began with this guy, and his wife began with Seth. It was the most insane experience. When I got here tonight I had been with exactly three guys in my entire life and now I've been with two more in the span of what was probably 15 or 20 minutes.

Another couple joined on the bed and began to play together. I then took a look around only to find two more couples were in the room. It was a really intoxicating experience. and I played with this couple for however long, but ultimately ended up finishing with each other. I couldn't believe what I just had done and was feeling kind of proud of myself when I looked up, and in the doorway were Leland and Madison just staring daggers at us. Things got ugly from there, especially once we got back in the car. There was a lot of screaming all the way home.

He kept telling me I went too far and that he can't stand to look at me. I totally snapped and called him out on all of his bullshit. I told him I know that all of this was so Madison and he could have a free pass to cheat. He denied it but I told him about the text and their shady behavior. The way they just went upstairs without a thought. He kept telling me we were supposed to follow them. They didn't check in with us, they didn't check if we were okay. They didn't take anything slow.

When I asked if he and Madison had sex, even though we didn't follow them, he said, yes, I screamed, so you really didn't need me there. He started going on about how it wasn't supposed to be like that. That we were all supposed to pay attention to each other, and that Seth and I should have been more attentive to them because they were the ones who brought this up. I was so pissed off it caused a moment of clarity. Why was I with this guy?

He is nothing but red flags. I ended the conversation there and packed a bag. I didn't say another word to him and just left. As I walked out of the apartment, I checked my texts. Seth had texted me to check in. It seemed he was having a similar experience with Madison. I let him know what happened with me, he told me he got himself a hotel room. I told him I was heading to my parents' house even though I really didn't want to explain why.

He said I could come to his hotel room and I happily accepted. I have been sitting here thinking about everything that has happened. I know Leland will not be part of my future, but otherwise I don't really know what I want to do now. Still, for some reason, I feel more sure of myself than I think I ever have before. My name is Daniel and I'm 28 years old. I have a fraternal twin brother named Gavin. We were kind of close growing up. More like normal siblings.

I always hear from other twins how they are super close and always were from birth. That wasn't us, but we also didn't hate each other. It had been all good growing up, but things started to change in the sixth grade. We didn't hang out much because while my interests matured has kind of stayed the same. I got really into sports and shifted my friend's group into the guys that also played sports. We also hung out with the girls a lot more often. Gavin just kind of kept hanging out with the same guys that still worshipped superheroes, anime, and spent all their time playing these weird board games or video games. I mean their whole group only had like one

heavy set girl in it. By seventh grade the differences between us really grew. I grew a lot, especially compared to Gavin. I don't know what he looks like today, but when we graduated high high school he was only 5 feet 8 inches and maybe 140 pounds. I was 6 feet 2 inches and around 190, all muscle. I could bench press 245 pounds and my coach timed my 40-yard dash at 4.5 seconds. Only a couple of the linemen on the team could bench more than me and I was the fastest guy. That's how I ended up starting varsity as a sophomore. I doubt Gavin could do so much as a pull-up back then. We were twins, but more like that movie with Arnold and the short guy. I always wish we would have been more like Van Dam and his twin brother from that one movie,

but that just didn't happen. Anyway, back to seventh grade. Now I feel bad for what happened during those years, but I was just a dumb kid back then and a lot of what I did was just normal kid stuff. I admit I did pick on Gavin, but it was mostly just joking around. A few things went too far, but I apologized and got in trouble for those things. It was all typical middle school stuff. My buddies and I would call him names sometimes were do little pranks. Like this one time, this guy passed out at a party and we pissed in his shoes.

It was fucking hilarious. We were pretty good pranksters, but it was just ball-busting, nothing cruel. Me and the guys did stuff like that to each other all the time. Gavin always got upset though, and being 13, 14 years old I didn't really get it back then. My parents grounded me a few times for that, usually after Gavin told someone at school and they'd call home. That didn't stop me though, and that went on all the way up to graduation. We just did dumb kid stuff. I just didn't realize how much it bothered him at the time. We grew more and more apart through high school. Once we could drive he did pretty good at

avoiding me. My friends and I still gave him shit here and there, but it wasn't anything too serious, usually just when we wanted a good laugh or something. Then I did the thing. I know this was bad of me, but at the time it just felt like a challenge. Senior year Gavin got himself a girlfriend, Renee. They dated that whole year. Back then I thought she was pretty average. Well, prom rolled around and they went together. Seeing her really dressed up and everything, she looked better than average. That night none of us really said anything because we had our own dates and stuff we were focused on. It was the next weekend when my friends and I were hanging around. We drank 19 beers and half a fifth of Jose Cuervo, no limes, that night while playing

Madden. Then Joe said that Gavin's girlfriend was actually kind of hot. We gave him a little shit at first, but then he said, yeah, I mean you saw her at prom, yeah, she's still got a dog face, but her body looked pretty good. We were just guy talking when Joe said, dude, you should totally sleep with her. I laughed and was like WTF. But Joe was like, yeah, man, that would be like the ultimate burn. It would be hilarious. Fuck, I'll give you a $100 if you can pull it off before graduation, the rest of the night played on, but I was locked in on getting that $100. It gave me about four weeks to pull it off. I started out just texting. My brother didn't have any experience at all with girls prior to Renee. I had been pretty good with the girls all through middle school

and high school. I played it right, just being friendly, and flirty. She kept saying she shouldn't be texting me but she didn't stop. She did not have a face to die for. So thinking back, I think she liked the attention from one of the hot guys at school. Eventually, I got out of her that her and Gavin had already had sex a couple times, prom being their first time. I had been worried that she was a virgin, which would have made getting her to give it up way harder. I used this as my angle and ramped up our messaging, especially after she admitted that her first few times with him hadn't been anything great. It was a few days before graduation. I knew Gavin had to work that night.

I used that chance to invite Renee out, and she accepted. I played the night right with her and eventually we ended up at my best spot for car sex. She really wasn't apprehensive, I kept selling myself as the superior twin, which I was. We ended up having sex in my car. I had won the bet, but I didn't want Joe backing out of paying me to $100, so I took a snap video when I was hitting it from behind. She didn't even know. I know that was bad, but really at the time I just didn't want Joe to try and go back on his deal. I didn't do it to be a creep or anything.

I took Renee back home. It wasn't real late, like 11 p.m. or so. Gavin got off around then. I went to Joe's to collect and showed him the proof. A few of the other guys were over as well, which was weird for a Wednesday, but we had been out of school since the prior Friday and had been partying a little more than usual. He gave me the $100, and I told the guys how I was. I pulled it off. That's when Joe said, man, send that shit to Gavin. I don't know why, but at no point did it cross my mind that this would be a bad idea. I just said, yeah. Should I? All the guys were

like, fuck yeah. Just like that I sent it to him. We all gathered around the phone to get his message back. Nothing came. I ended up staying over at Joe's that night. I woke up the next morning and was getting bombarded with messages from my mother. She was pissed. I got in the most trouble I have ever gotten in. My mom said that Gavin just moved out. She said that he told them what I had done, that he was tired of me being an asshole to him all the time, and wasn't going to live here anymore. Sure it was a total dick move, but if you think about it, I kind of did him a favor. My mother also said that for some reason Gavin was blaming her and our dad for all this, and said they never do anything about me. Which we all know wasn't true, I got in trouble all the time. Well, that was

ten years ago. We did find out from some people who knew Gavin that he went into the military. We just got an update last year that he was out, and was living in Washington State. That's when I first tried to get a hold of him. My parents have been trying to get a hold of him since the day he moved out. He will not respond to anything. I just am not sure what I should do. I've told a few people about this over the years and they say I should apologize now, but how can I do that when he won't talk to any of us? Part 3, Daniel's update. I finally got through to my brother. I tried to send him some apologies. I tried to be the nice guy, but after cutting off my parents and I for a decade over

dumb shit that happened when we were kids, I had enough. I finally just told him off on how much of an asshole he has been over the last decade. He's missed every Christmas, every Thanksgiving. I deep fry a damn good turkey. He has a has not returned a single phone call, email, anything that whole time. I let him know all that. I told him he was an asshole for not realizing that we were just kids then, and that you got to get over this stuff. That family stays together and forgives.

That the right thing to do would have been to try and work things out, not run off. What I said worked, he messaged me back. He actually agreed with me. We each apologized for what happened in the past. It was good to reconnect with my brother. I even offered him a groomsman spot in my wedding. He told me he would think about it and get back to me. After all these years,

It feels good to be a family again. Part 4 Gavin Update. Every few months for the past couple of years my brother Daniel has sent me a random email. Usually at like three in the morning. I'm still not sure what the hell that's about. This is in addition to the usual message I periodically get from my parents. These tend to coincide with some form of family event, like a wedding. I'm sure more than anything, that my absence from the family has damaged the illusion that we are close-knit.

I sometimes wonder if they still make excuses for me not being there. I have always ignored, and blocked any calls, emails, or DMs I have gotten. I was doing that with my brothers as well. Although I do typically read them. Mostly in attempts to see what they really want. With my parents it was always easy. They want us to look like a family. My brother, however, is such a moron, I often have a hard time figuring out what he is getting at.

There are always these half-baked apologies, interwoven into long details about his personal life. He once sent me a message that had to be 500 words on his job, which is working the desk at an enterprise rent-a-car. Not shaming anyone's job here, it's just he goes on about the weirdest stuff. Telling me about the mundane inns and outs of a local enterprise dealer is not really necessary in an apology message. If it were funny stories about crazy customers, sure, but I don't really need to know about how important recording the mileage is. He also goes on about his friends, and his fishing trips, and how good he thinks the Grizzlies are going to be. I just don't really get what he wants.

One time he bought a hunting rifle, and told me every single thing that could possibly be said about this gun. I wasn't sure if he was trying to intimidate me or impress me. I have gotten a few laughs from this, which is good, because at no point have I read anything that sounded like a genuine apology. I guess after two years of this he finally got fed up. I was surprised it went that long. About a week ago he sent me a message telling me all about his fiancé. This was actually the first I'd heard about him dating since maybe a year after I left. When I didn't respond for three days, which I was never going to respond, he ripped into me.

The rant I got, for how absurd it was, really pissed me off a lot. Daniel directly said, you are such an asshole. I can't believe after all this time you're still. but hurt about the actions of a dumb kid. We were kids, it's what kids do. They give each other a hard time. I didn't mean any of it, you didn't get hurt, nobody beat you up. I still got punished every time you snitched on me, it's not like I got away with anything.

I don't hold that against you, I forgave you. I get it, you were pissed about Renee, but I did you a favor. She wasn't ready for a relationship then and I saved you. You need to grow up, if not for me, then for Mom and Dad. You've torn this family apart. That's not what families do, they look out for each other, and forgive each other. It just ended there. I was so pissed off reading it.

He actually believes I am just as much to blame as him, maybe more so. He downplays everything he did. He will never understand. Unless I make him understand. I decided to reach out to my brother. I apologized and so did he. We talked for a while and he rambled on about his life the last ten years. This was mostly him telling me about various times he was drunk in the woods.

I also must say it is uncanny how well he can recall how much, and what exactly, he drank on a given night or weekend. Even when the event took place years prior. It's like talking to an alcoholic rain man. Anyway, I'm going to be a groomsman in his wedding in exactly three weeks. It will be the first time seeing him or my parents since just before our high school graduation. I would have let it all go if they had just left me be. I'll take this opportunity to show them what it was like to be me. I got married last weekend, but it was probably not the best idea.

I should have called the whole thing off. It was going to be a really nice wedding too, but ended up a total shit show. I mean we got shrimp for the main course. Shrimp is not cheap. It's like $14 a pound. The food was about the only part of the wedding that went well. I thought everything was going fine. My brother came into town two days before and we got to be.

caught up. I guess I probably should have told him that I was marrying his ex-girlfriend from high school, Renee. We haven't been dating this whole time. We just got to dating last year when she needed a rental car after getting rear-ended. She was at a stoplight in front of the BP station on the east side of town. When a teen driver not paying attention plowed into her. She was fine, a little whiplash was all. The car was totaled and the insurance put her in a rental for a week. She came into the enterprise I work at and we started talking. She had just ended an engagement so it was very convenient as the deposit on the place was still there. She just changed the date, just in case we ended up getting

married. That was good thinking. Well, Renee and I decided that having traditional bachelor and bachelorette parties would be ideal. They were both on the Friday night right before the wedding. My brother was invited to mine, and told me he would be there. He just never showed up. Which bugged me but it was fine. I ended up drinking 17 bushlights and having a great time. It wasn't until the next day that things went wrong. The wedding was at 3 p.m. It was at about 2.30 when I got this Snapchat message from Gavin. It was a video of him banging Renee in the back of a car. The caption just said, repaying the favor. Stupid thing was set to just play one time then it was gone. Then Joe comes running up to me and shows me a snap he just got. It's not graphic like the vid I

but it's of Gavin in the back of a car with Renee. You can tell from the photo something just happened. Apparently this was either texted or snapped to a lot of the guests. From there all hell broke loose and everyone was arguing. Renee and I got into a huge fight, I was about to walk out of the wedding, when she told me she was pregnant. I talked to my parents, and hers, and Joe. They convinced me that it was the right thing to do for the baby and we ended up going through with the wedding. Everyone was in a really bad mood though after that and it wasn't fun at all.

I just can't believe my brother would do that to me. One of my friends said it was just like what I did to him, but that's not true at all. I was getting married, she was just his girlfriend back then. Renee and I are figuring it out, she took a test right in front of me and she really is pregnant. Anyway, all of this is Gavin's fault and I've decided to never speak to him again. My 27M, brother, 24M, put me in a shit spot. About three years ago we got invited to a mutual friend's wedding. I was excited for several reasons, one of which being I don't get to see my brother, Jake,

often since I work out of state, so it was a great chance to catch up. My fiancé couldn't make it since she was finishing school several states over. At the reception he caught the attention of one of the bridesmaids, we'll call her Sally, who would not leave him alone. Any conversation that he was a part of she would jump in and kept asking people if he was actually 21 because he looked 17. I'm not entirely sure why this was her main conversation point, but I heard it about five times through the night. But they seemed to hit it off pretty good and I was about to chalk the entire wedding up as the best ones I'd been to until the very end. As I'm getting into my car Jake comes running up and asks me to go downtown with him and Sally.

I said thanks for the invite, but I'm tired and I'm just going to drive back to our parents. He said that Sally wanted to hang out with him but she wouldn't leave her friend, Jess, and Jess didn't want to be a third wheel. I declined again and said that driving an hour into town, the venue was out in the country about ten minutes from my parents' house, just to get drunk was not what I felt like doing. He then turns around and yells to everyone in the parking lot that I'm drunk and trying to drive home. Everyone and their mother ran over and started berating me for being irresponsible. I was trying to explain to them I was sober when Sally yells out, every time I saw him

he had a drink in his hand. I had three the whole night, it was a five-hour wedding. But after that comment the mother of the bride told me if I got into my car she would call the cops. My brother took my keys and tossed them to Sally who went with Jess to get their car. I'm pissed at this point but he tells me he's got it all figured out. I go hang out with them downtown for an hour, be friendly with Jess, I could Uber with him back his place, he would rendezvous with Sally, then take me back to my car in the morning. I hated this plan, on top of being exhausted I also felt uncomfortable, seemed like the whole situation was bad

optics for a guy who's engaged. I text my fiancé to see if she's awake so I can keep her in the loop and ease my own growing anxiety, but she'd gone to sleep hours ago since she was two time zones over. To avoid any miscommunication about what this night would entail when I introduced myself to Jess, I said, Hi, I'm and I'm happily engaged. She just laughed and thanked me for coming so she wouldn't be a third wheel. An hour is a long time to spend in a car with strangers so I tried to get to know them. They were pretty much open books, told me about their plans for the future,

their past, their families, etc. I noticed Jake got quieter as the drive continued, but I figured he was just finally getting tired as well. When we get there and Jake and Sally went to get drinks so Jess and I hung out near the door. About 30 minutes later we get approached by one of my fiancé's friends, Lily. She cuts between Jess and I asks me who I'm with.

Me, this is Jess, Lily, that's cool how do you? you know each other?" Me, we met at a wedding today. Lily, and now you're out drinking with her." Does fiancé no? Me, well, no she's sleeping, but I texted her. Lily, I hope you did. She then turns to Jess and tells her I'm engaged and leaves.

At this point I'm ready to call it, I had already thought the whole thing looked bad optically and after that conversation it was pretty much affirmed. I go to find my brother and I run into Sally making out with some dude at the bar. I feel bad for Jake since it seemed he liked this gal, but she then informs me that he actually ditched her and left. She had no idea why, he didn't say anything to her, but he had walked out the back twenty minute prior. She then grabs new guy and they go out the back door.

I call him but it goes straight to voicemail. I don't know his address. No friends are answering, it's past midnight and everyone's asleep. is freaking out now because she doesn't know where Sally went. Fifteen minutes later Sally finds us, apparently she was so mad she just decided to angry bang this guy in his truck. The guy kept coming around trying to get her to go back to his place, but she doesn't want to go.

He starts getting very persistent to the point I thought he was going to do something stupid if I left the girls alone so I suggested we leave. Not long after we start driving Sally passes out, drunk A.F. is fairly distraught and asks me to help care of Sally and offers me a couch. I curse my brother under my breath, but I agree to stay at their place so that hopefully I could at least sleep soon. I got to the point of exhaustion where being awake almost felt like torture. I'm an old man at heart and making it to the end of the wedding was an achievement in itself

for me. But my torment wasn't over. When we get to the house they knock and their old roommate answers and tells them to fuck off. Apparently, they don't actually live there anymore. They had graduated a month prior and were no longer on the lease but just assumed they could stay at the house after the wedding. Door shut, locked. It's damn near 3 a.m., Jess has no idea what to do, Sally is just coherent enough to

sling slurs at the roommate through the windows. I basically begged Jess to drive me home, she doesn't want to because it's a long drive. I said if you take me home and then to my car in the morning, I will let you ride my horses, shoot my guns, and I'll pay for your gas. She was sold at horses, so she agreed but was too tired to make the hour drive and asked me to. After the longest drive of my life we get to my parents' house. We get inside and I show them to my brother's old room and I go to mine. I get a text from my father.

He had taken my mother on a vacation that weekend but got alerted by his camera app that a car pulled in and saw me get out with two girls. He said, if you do something stupid I won't cover for you. I tried to call him to explain the situation and tell him about the shit night my brother had brought on me, but he wouldn't answer. So I was finally home but slept like shit because I didn't like the idea of my dad thinking I was cheating four months out from being married. When my fiancé woke up we talked and she actually found a whole thing fairly entertaining.

Her friend had texted her and sent shit tons of pictures she had taken prior to approaching me, but it was just me talking like arms distance away from Jess. She appreciated the constant texts I was sending her throughout the night and laughed at how panic they sounded. So everything ended fine, I guess, but the night still sucked. Edit, my brother apologized when I confronted him. Essentially it boiled down to the conversation I had with the girls in the car. He just wanted to hook up, but when Sally started opening up about her life it ruined the night for him. He called an old fling who came and grabbed him from the bar. Ten years ago, my older brother, Jason, went missing. No warning, no goodbyes, just vanished one

night and was never seen again. My family was devastated. There were search parties, missing person posters, police investigations, but no leads. Eventually, people moved on. Except me. Jason and I were close growing up, and I never stopped wondering what happened to him. There was always something about his disappearance that didn't sit right with me. No break-ins, no signs of a struggle, just his empty room, his phone left on his nightstand, and the front door left slightly open. And then, yesterday, he came back. It was around 3 a.m. when I woke up to someone knocking at the door. Not just a casual knock, a slow, deliberate knock, like whoever was on the other side was waiting for me to answer. I should have been scared, but something in me new.

I got up, walked to the door, and when I looked through the people, my heart nearly stopped. It was Jason. He looked exactly the same as the night he disappeared. Same hoodie, same jeans, even his shoes looked untouched. As if he had just walked out of the house ten minutes ago, not ten years. I yanked open the door, barely able to breathe. Jason, he just nodded, like nothing was weird about this. Like we just seen each other yesterday. Hey, man.

His voice was calm, too calm. Wrong. I pulled him inside, slamming the door shut. Where the hell have you been? My hands were shaking. Do you have any idea what's been happening? People thought you were dead. We thought you were dead, Jason frowned, confused.

I just went for a walk, a walk. Ten years. I couldn't even speak. I just stared at him, waiting for him to say something that made sense. But he just stood there, completely dry despite the rain outside, no sign of age, not even a hint of stubble. Like time hadn't touched him. That's when I noticed something. else. Jason always had a small scar on his eyebrow, from when we were kids, and he fell

off his bike. It was gone. He saw me staring and tilted his head. What, I felt sick. This wasn't Jason. Or at least, not exactly. I don't know who, or what, walked into my house last night. But now he's asleep in the next room, like nothing ever happened. And I don't know what to do. Do I tell my family? Call the cops. Or do I do I I wait and see what Jason does next? My high school was best free school in my town. There was a private school in town but it only accepted exceptional students around country. First day of school in the middle of the first class someone knocked our door and window which I need to rise to my fingertips was showing a chest covered in something red.

My teacher, typical Karen, said to come in. Have you ever wondered what they used to record the breathing noises of the beasts on horror movies? At that moment I taught, this is what makes the noise in the movie last night. He was 6.4 feet, 195 centimeters, 245 LBS, 110 kilograms, of violence. He was two years older than us, but he took a break for two years and came back this year. He was covered in blood and asked the teacher who was shaking, can I sit? Teacher asked him if he is OKI. I remember thinking if he is not OKy is that means there is a lion or a bear in school, I was 14, that he looked at his uniform and said it's fine it will come of easier after it dries. The fact that he knows this was weird. The fact that teacher was afraid was

weird. The fact that everyone knew that was human blood was weird. It was a weird encounter. Teacher told him to wait and run off then the beast turned to class and said, I am not going to lie, I am a violent person, but there is nothing for you to be afraid of. You will get used to being around with me and as my friends you will never get hurt in my reach. The second he finished his sentence four cops with full gear, shields and shit, came to our class and take him away. I remember all of the class sighed at the same time it was like a choir. After two weeks of suspension he was back at school.

But the boy who beat was in a coma and he was out because of that if the victim dies he goes to prison that was the deal he get. I remember my father who is a lawyer at his own firm was talking about his case. father said to his colleague, he has a decent lawyer he could end up in prison. He is lucky there was a witness. I didn't know this could reduce penalty. This conversation made me think that he was someone who can make people lie in court. After he came back he was a weird beast no one gets close.

He was a sleepy giant he was coming to school throwing a torn-up bag to his desk sleeping trough all classes. Sometimes he wokes up, gets out, gets into a fight and leave early. There was a gossip in school that he goes to a... car mechanic after school and locks himself in with people and beats them. One day some idle-aged dude came to school and asked his permissom to enter the school for his son's parent-teacher meeting, this was the topic of the day. He was like a beast who rules our school. There were a couple of people he was bullying.

One day after school my mom was at an art course so I had to walk home. There is a narrow path which hosts some of the homeless people in our town and that path makes my walk 15 minutes shorter and there is a 30-minute walk from my school to my home that I took the path. Halfway through a drug addict grabbed me by the tie and asked for drugs. I told him I am only a student and I can't afford drugs he mentioned. Then he pulled out a knife. I remember something hit him so hard my face hurt. He passed out cold.

When I looked behind the beast was there. He asked me if I was all right I remember sawing robber getting up and run home without saying shit. Next day the Beast came school with some sticks and started calling me pussy and ordering me around. I taught he will stop, but it kept going. It was like hell my friend started calling me pussy to. It was so sad I remember crying to my mom about it. After a year of bullying and agony there was a new girl in school people said she was essayed on her way to school, so she took a break and after a year she took a exam and skipped class.

She was like a lighthouse to me and she was interested in me too. When she was near me I was feeling like I can face the world. I realized she was talking to the beast with a smile about us. I taught she is so loving she even befriends that monster there is no one who can resist her light. After we start dating I realized bully was not around when we were together and maybe that makes my love stronger. After I gained some confidence with the help of my GF. I decided it was time to face my bully. I stand in front of him after school and here is what I remember.

Me, you know bullying is wrong right. Bullie, talk. Me, you are bullying people and I am one of your victims that I want you to stop. My father is a good lawyer if you don't stop. I will make sure that you serve for your wrongdoings. Bullie, that would be sad for your parents they would lose a son and it will make my life harder. I have a family too, you know, and my dad is a cripple so he can't do shit. My mother barely comes home so I don't think he can do shit too.

But I am a man who solves his own problems with his own hands and you are pussy who runs to his dad at the face of any danger. So in other words no one other you can solve your problem. Me, only I can solve my problem, huh? How can I beat you? You are a monster who are tall and powerful I am a man in a five-year-old's body. Bullie, you know what, you started rebelling that's a step-keep-up the good work. Me, F you.

Dad, he got you good. Putting ice to my black eye, after that day he never bullied me again and my life was perfect. At the last year of high school my GF asked me on a date at a park near my house. I agreed and she picked me up from home when we went to park we saw Bully with his father. He was giving his father a beer he was taking a sip too. I fouled that disrespectful and talked about it to my GF. My GF told me that bully is a very nice man and I should respect him for his accomplishments. I questioned her mental health in my mind.

Then she explained the boy who saw her at the first day was the boy the beast put to a coma that was the reason he was covered in blood. The bullies of our school gets bullied by him, so no one gets bullied in our school now. I asked her if she knew about me and she told me, you acted like a coward and he treated you like a coward, but that was what made me love you. I couldn't love someone who is masculine.

I went near to Beast, meet his father he couldn't move his limbs at all. I greeted him. Beast told me to shake his father's hand, gave me my first beer, and whenever I open a beer the sound it makes make me remember the small chat we four had on the bank. He explained his mother was unfaithful and left his father for another man after he injured on a fight to protect his son, and now he intends to live like the man who his father was. And that's why he detests me he told me if someone put an effort for you you should show the

same if someone helps you can't run, you should just perish together if you won't do that, just leave her now so she cannot perish while you run. That last part hit me like a train. He was a lone beast trying to protect a flock of sheep's. And sheeps were disgusted of him afraid of him act like he doesn't exist. I realized how he had felt when I run. I started crying, I don't know why, I cried like something in me was broken. I felt like a man who would abandon anyone and that broke me.

That was the last time I saw him. I learned he dropped school for working at a car mechanic. After collage I got deployed I arranged my wedding while I was still in military and got married the day I return. I was almost late to my wedding because of a delay in my plane. And when my wife were expecting my firstborn she decided to go to a wedding in our hometown, I said absolutely no, and then he said someone tamed the Beast. I cried out of joy. We went to his wedding and realized we missed our town. And the city life was harsher than

small town we decided we will stay until firstborn school age. After a couple of weeks my wife explained to me the Beast's wife was sod and got pregnant so her parents kicked her out and she was staying at the path which Beast got stabbed. So our lone guardian took her into his mechanic, Yes, he bought the town's mechanic after her mother died of OD and sold the house she got from his dad during divorce. After a month of refuge in mechanic he told the girl to come live at his house because of her condition he helped her with labor and she took care of his father well during his. Military service he came back as a war hero after Doc say his father can't live long. She asked him to fix himself until wedding after wedding his father killed himself before he gets any worse. I remember telling Beast during an event she is pregnant, referring to my wife, and him saying, how did you understand that, referring to his wife?

He has four boys, two of them are twins and I have one boy, two daughters my second daughter and his twins are same age, five, and they call themselves the musketeers and act like the beast is a villain and this shit melts my heart. Seeing the guardian of our life happy is enough to make my family happy. This is a revoked version of my grandparents' answer to how have you met? I labeled fiction because I filled up the story, I only know grandpa lawyer is nearly got stabbed my grand take one for him. He ran away and he came to wedding with eight months into pregnancy wife so debt paid. And my grandma's story of S.A. And that's the reason why my grandmas were besties. The fact that I have two pairs of grandparents is awesome. I am the oldest boy of bully's son. Yes, he is not my biological grandpa, but until I listen to his story at 25 years of age, I could never ever dream of something this heavy. He always loved me and dad. I never met grandma.

But dad said she was a good mother to him. My father is a teacher. My twin uncles owns the body shop. And my fourth uncle is a formal specops. They say grandma died giving birth to fifth, but youngest uncle died a week later because of a mistake at C-section. Something about. trying to save the grand mom I don't know what it is exactly its kind of taboo to talk about. Please feel free to throw the stones at me I am trying to improve my writing. English is not my native language so sorry for mistakes and if there are tips to writing more fluent in and I would appreciate the comment. At the age of eight years old my parents and I moved into my dad's aunt's house after she passed away. She left him the house. It was a beautiful home on the outside over 90 acres of land, six bed and six bathrooms in the heart of Alabama. It was absolutely gorgeous.

When you walked inside all you could see was stacks and stacks of junk. She was a hoarder. Over the next year after we moved and we began cleaning in out. The carpet was gross we had to rip that up. It smelled gross so we had to fumigate it. We began making it into a home. Now you should know a little about this lady. My great aunt.

I didn't really know her until about a year before she died. My parents would go over there to take care of her and she absolutely hated my mom because she thought my mom took my dad from her. She was an evil old bitter woman. As we began to clean her home out, we learned more about her. Especially after we ripped up the flooring. When we ripped it up, there was a huge, huge pentagram drawn under the carpet on the wood floor underneath. It was like a black ashy smeared substance.

We found money hidden behind picture frames, the huge attic above us we found a box full of human hair cuttings of different colors and textures of hair tied in a red ribbon. Right next to it was three voodoo dolls with the aforementioned hair sewed into it with pins and needles in it. We also found a Ouija board in the giant three-bedroom basement. It was an older board probably one of the first ones made. We looked it up and it was like from the 40s or something I think. It was super old. When I got older I found that bored again and played with it a few times as a funny with my girlfriends that would sleep over.

I was probably about 10 when I did this. She had a giant shelf full of hundreds and hundreds of books. Turns out most of those books were of the witchcraft variety. We found a chest with probably thousands of different kinds of crystals. A shelf of candles of different colors that had been melted previously. When we began checking out the property, there were dead animal carcasses. Everywhere. So, so many of them.

We later found out she would shoot her cows and other animals and leave them in the pasture to rot away. Now that you know a little about this old home she had built and a little about her as well, let's talk about my experience growing up in this god-forsaken home. As a child I began having nightmares. Now not just any kind of nightmare, I mean they were so real I would wake up screaming bloody murder in the middle of the night. I heard these women in my dreams, but it was like it outside of my dreams if that makes sense laughing at me. They were wearing these old Victorian dresses. And they would laugh and make fun of me.

I dreamed of hearing TV static and 9-11 being played on the older Statistee TVs. I was not alive to hear 9-11. I played a real version of it when it happened and heard it on YouTube and it was almost word for word and a play-by-play of what ID heard the night before. I dreamed of this vacuum cover that from back in the day was in the statue of a doll and it fit over the vacuum. It would chase me around the house in my dreams. There was faces on my walls that I could see glowing at night but wasn't there in the daytime. This was when I was fully awake. I had dreams that my bed would lift off the damn floor and shake and turn and it would scare me to death.

Dreams of a portal opening in my ceiling and I would just float out and see above the trees. I had dreams of a man in a tall hat and what looked like a big suit standing in the corner of my room just watching me. Something was always watching me no matter if I was awake or asleep. As I got older I started hearing things while I was awake. Doors slamming, cabinets closing, and that feeling. Something was always watching me. One day when I was probably about 12. It was the weekend I remember it so vividly and I woke up and called for my mom.

I roamed around this house looking for her. I heard her say H-E-Y Marietta, I'm downstairs, come down here. Just like my mom would say. She was usually downstairs where the laundry room was. So I tiptoed down the stairs and you guessed it. My mom wasn't there. She was on the other side of the house in the bathroom and had not called out to me. I was so shook up I started crying.

I felt things touch me in the night. Even things had sex with me, which I found out to be a succubus demon. Now that I'm an adult and know what it feels like. It was definitely a succubus. Now like what you're thinking, when this happened no one else but my mom was home. My dad worked nights and was never home at night. I'd wake up with bruises and scratches. I felt its cat like tongue lick my cheek.

No, I didn't have cats B.C. am highly allergic. My face felt raw when I woke up and wet and slimy. I knew when it would happen, I'd feel like I can't even explain it, but an electricity zapping my body, I felt it in my veins. I would drift off and it would happen, every single night from 12 to 14. One night I slept in my older sister's bedroom that would visit sometimes. I seen a huge man painted red with a bushy tail and horns and he yelled stuff at me. I woke up screaming.

We moved away from the home at 14. None of this has ever happened to me again since I was 14. The sleep paralysis went away as soon as we left. Me 19F, and my stepdad is 48B. I really don't know what to do, I want to tell my mother, but I'm scared. One year ago my mother had escaped a bad relationship from my biological dad who was abusive all my life, and then she found my stepdad. Let's call him Jeff.

I grew up liking dancing, having taken some classes I could say I'm pretty good at it. Usually when I'm comfortable around people I dance, I like doing this one dance with my mom and sisters that kind of looks like I'm twerking from the back. I do not do that type of dance in front of men, so please do not say I was doing it on purpose in front of him. My stepdad does not know about that dance, or did. For weeks ago I was dancing with my little sister to some music while doing chores. No boys were around and it was just me and little sister, so I did. the dance. I did not see my stepdad walking into the house from the back door, not until my sister

stopped dancing and I looked behind me to see Jeff standing there. I instantly stopped, obviously embarrassed, and me and my sister went back to doing chores. That it not what I found creepy, but what I found really creepy and inappropriate was when a day later he asked to talk to me in his room. I really didn't want to, but I just wanted it to be over and done with, because I do not like him. Once he brought me to his room he said blankly with a straight voice, why don't you dance like that in front of me? He said, I got really uncomfortable and left the room. Leaving the house with my car, I did not feel comfortable with him home alone, so I left and went to a friend's house. That wasn't the first time he did something really creepy,

another time was when I was taking a shower and I heard a knock so I yelled yes. I did not hear anything so I peeked my head from the shower only to see the door knob trying to be opened. Luckily it was locked. I knew it was him because after I yelled stop and he had the audacity to say, why is the door locked? Like what the actual fuck, what do you think? After that I told my mom about it, saying she needs to set boundaries or I am leaving and going no contact.

I know that was a little dramatic, but I do not give a flying shit. He did so many creepy things to me, and my mom does nothing about it. The reason I'm scared to tell her, is because she genuinely loves this dude and I hate to be the reason she can't find love. I'm sorry for the end, I'm not good at English and I'm really not wanting to talk about this because I'm still trying to recover from him asking me that and the previous things he's been doing. Right now I'm staying at my grandmas. Update, I really didn't expect to get over 300 plus comments, thank you for all the advice and I did tell my mom. My sister did ask to go to my grandmas with me because she absolutely loves her, so she's safe.

She does not know about the whole situation and I think it's best not to tell her at this moment. But I did tell my mom and she obviously freaked out, and confronted him. She later served my stepdad divorce papers. And they're still going through it at court. Nothing physical had happened in confronting and I'm glad. And also for the person saying that this story is weird to make up, it is weird, but it's true and not made up. My dog keeps waking me up at night, but my dog died two months ago.

I remember when it all started to happen, the nightmares, the sweating, the scratching, all of it. Each night the same thing happened over and over again, why did this happen to me? What the hell did I do to deserve this? About a month ago my dog Apollo passed away and it nearly broke me. I know it may seem over the top, but he was my only family and my best friend. Twelve years before I got him my mom died and not long after my dad joined her. Life had been rough and I needed anyone to help cope with the amount of emotions rushing through

my body, and that's when Apollo came into my life. He was my angel, a blessing, and most importantly someone to listen to me. He always seemed to sit and take in everything I ever said and I never complained, he was my best friend. Anywhere I went he came and in return to listening to me I gave him the world, but no matter how much I gave nothing could take more than life. If there is one thing I've learned in my life it is that the more you enjoy the things in life, the more life enjoys watching you suffer as it rips away what you hold closest.

Walking into the living room to see the corpse of Apollo might have been one of the hardest sights to see. After all the crying I finally managed to grab a shovel and bury him in my backyard, each puncture into the ground hurt but not as bad as each time I covered his limp body until there was nothing but earth below me. It took about a week for me to finally get back to a somewhat normal lifestyle but the burden of my parents and my dog put a heavy weight on my shoulders. Everywhere I walked felt like I was carrying a life full of anguish and dread. The world no longer had color and my soul no longer had life, I was done. I still functioned as a normal human would but it got hard and slow with each waking morning. Every other night I would have

dreams of me playing with Apollo and my parents watching. A big smile protruded on my face as I was in paradise and for a moment I could swear that it was all real, but then I would wake up. This evergoing cycle of dreams went on and on with the same schedule, go to sleep, be in paradise, wake up to a nightmare. Sometimes I would wake up and swear I could hear the laughter of my parents with the faint bark of Apollo, but then nothing but silence. That wasn't in a month after these dreams that I noticed that the silence was beginning to break. One night after the dreams I sat up in my bed and looked at the clock to see it was around 3.30 a.m. The blur of my once solidified eyes made it hard to see my surroundings and the

humming of the fan above reminded me of where I was. I felt alone within the dark void of my bedroom and reflected on the false memories I just lived in my head. I glanced around my room to nothing but darkness staring back at me and laid my head back on my pillow hoping to revisit what I was taken away from. The silence of the night began to take me away when I heard something that went through the silence like a boat slicing through the waves. I heard a faint chuff from what seemed to be in my hallway. The door was closed so it was hard to make out anything that faint, but I had sworn that

I heard it. I shot open my eyes and stayed still waiting to catch the noise again. A minute passed and then I heard the quiet shuffling of something moving down my hallway closer to the door. It was slow but sounded as if it was creeping. The occasional tap of something that sounded similar to a nail of some animal hitting the hardwood floor echoed into my room. I listened with laser focus when once again I heard a chuff, this time to the left frame of the door. It sounded identical to a dog, but how could a dog have gotten into my house?

The doggie door I had bought was programmed to only open to Apollo. A chip in his collar activated the door to open, but I had left the collar in the grave with him. Thoughts flooded my head as I waited for another noise to come from the other side of the door. door. Sleep was never an option and I never got tired as the thoughts acted as caffeine. I wanted to say it was a dream and that I would wake up, but the reality was that I was wide awake, and most importantly I was not alone. For hours I stayed awake until I could see slight rays of sun looking through my curtains. I decided to get up out of my bed and get ready as my feet rested on the floor beside my bed. As the hours had passed through the night my worries

had lessened as no other noises were made. Though I could not go to sleep still I tried to be realistic as this had not been the first time I heard noises just from my head. Just as I had heard what seemed to be Apollo and my parents each time I woke up this was no different. Standing up from my bed I began to walk to the door when I froze from pure fear. About two steps in I heard a loud yelp followed by frantic scattering down my hallway. Whatever the hell I had heard was there all night. My body burned as I could practically feel the blood coursing through my body with rapid speed.

The realization hit me hard and I didn't dare move for what seemed to be an hour. What kind of creature would have simply sat in the same position all night doing God knows what? I finally built the courage to open my door to nothing but an empty hallway. Just as I began to walk down my foot was met with a wet puddle. In disgust, I stepped back and looked at what seemed to be a water bottle worth of slobber. Everything in my right mind was telling me that some sort of dog had gotten in and was lost, but I just couldn't see how it could be possible. In need of more answers, I walked further down and everything was normal.

making sure to look over everything multiple times nothing was out of place and the doggie door looked just as it had always been. I wanted to say that it was all in my head, but the slobber was there and it was very real. I figured that the best way to get past the night was to go through my day and maybe whatever it was had just gotten lost and was now back home. Everything went as normal throughout the day and I slowly began to forget about the events of last night. The thought of my family always seemed to help take my mind off of any situation.

As the night approached I turned off the TV and made sure that everything was locked. Once I was satisfied I did my nightly routine and before I knew it I was fast asleep. Hours must have passed before I jolted out of my bed to the echoing of a howl. A deep howl that vibrated my insides and lasted for at least three seconds. The once normal day turned back into the nightmare I had gone through the night before in mere seconds. My eyes darted to the door as a terrifying realization came over me, the door was still open. The exhaustion for my day and the sleep that had been taken for me took a toll on my mind

and before I had the chance to close the door to my room I passed out. Now I sat there looking at the crack that kept me safe from whatever the hell was in my house. Seconds that felt like hours passed and I could feel the arms holding me up begin to tremble like the foundations of a building during an earthquake. My body began heavy but I knew that any movement or sound could draw whatever howled closer to me. Just as the night before I heard something scruffled around in the living room with the occasional chuff as I heard before. It was loud, very loud, and I could hear the table in the middle

of the living room being pushed with cups shaking on top. Once again it howled with the same intensity and would pause then begin to walk again. With all the courage I had I quietly stood up and crept to the door with caution. I made it to the doorframe scared to look around, but I had to get this thing out of my house. Everything pointed to it being a dog which meant I needed to be careful, especially if it was a stray or a bigger dog that could attack me. With my heart pounding I slowly looked around the frame to the dark hallway which led to the lightly illuminated living room. The carpet seemed to have been moved around and the table was now turned at an angle from the creature moving around. With a shiver running down my spine,

I slowly walked down the hallway and could hear a slight painting from the right side of the room. In an instant of being four feet from where the hallway opened up to the living room, a stench hit me so hard it made me gag. It smelled of rotten meat mixed with vomit and feces blended into a hell-bent fragrance. I stood against the wall. I stood against the wall, for a second having to take in the intense smells when the beeping of the dog feeder alerted my attention back to the room in front of me. Memories flooded in as I hadn't heard that sound in the two months of Apollo not being around. I remember being fascinated with the technology of his collar as the worker at the pet store

explained how the chip in the collar could activate the doggie door and the food dispenser when needed. Then the reality hit me, how could this thing possibly have that chip? The only explanation was that Apollo dug himself out of the grave and crawled back into the house for one last visit, but this wasn't reality and certainly was the last possible explanation. This thing could have dug up the collar, but no animal could be smart enough to know how it worked. Surely enough I heard the dog food being eaten after the shuffling of four limbs going against the hardwood floor. With even more questions rushing through my head I continued my journey when a creek from the floor underneath my feet sounded the animal. The food stopped

moving and then once again silence flooded the house. Then a shadow slowly made its way to the opening of the hallway and stopped just before it could be seen. Frozen with fear and curiosity I waited with the hope that if it looked down maybe it couldn't make out my surroundings. The shadow stayed there for a bit then once again crept forward as I could begin to hear the slight breathing of the animal just on the other side of the wall. Out of the darkness, I could make out the end of a dog's snout as I started to hear it sniff. I slowly started to lean to try and catch a better glimpse but within a second it loudly

ran to the doggy door. With a tired reaction time, I started to run to the opening just to see the doggy door closing back from the intruder. I ran to the door and opened it, but there was nothing but the cold breeze to greet me to the night. Turning back to look for any clues I saw just as I thought that a noticeable amount of food had been eaten and the smell was still slightly present from where the dog had been. I went to examine the kitchen and was presented with a steaming pile of feces left in the middle of the floor.

Disgusted with the sight I went to grab some materials to clean it up when I realized something odd. The shit was large, too large for a dog. Apollo had been a large dog and I had to clean up after him for 12 long years, but this was something else. Everything I had heard pointed towards it was a dog, but the human-sized feces confused me and creeped me out. Seeing that it was very late, I decided to ignore the strange sight and clean up, making sure everything was locked, and getting back to my bed. This time I made sure to place a nearby box against the doggy door to make sure that whatever it was could not enter again. sleep was rough that night I managed to get a little sleep in with the extra protection of the

box that served as a barrier for my safety and the dog outside. The next couple of days consisted of me trying to find explanations for the weird events of the nights before. How could Apollo be back, was it truly him, did something find a way to get inside? Maybe it was the deep hope of seeing my best friend again, but I knew that it wasn't possible. I saw his lifeless body on that floor, I threw the dirt on the dog that I once played with, and I watched as the foggy eyes of my best friend were covered by the cold earth. The days consisted of me asking the same questions and the nights added more confusion to my life. I would go to sleep with my door closed wondering if the intruder would come back in and make its visit and it would

take some time to fall into sleep. A single creek would wake me up and sometimes I swear I could hear it back in my house. Some mornings I would notice the box was slightly pushed forward as if something was trying to get in or that it had pushed it back into place so it would look normal. The thought of it being in my house as I slept never went right with my mind. Things seemed to slowly get back to normal and just as always, the dreams began to come back with the same waking nightmare. I wish things had stayed that way. Getting back to my routine felt somewhat nice and brought some joy to my life that I hadn't felt in a long time. I came back to my house and sat on my couch with time to relax before the

night was ready to take charge. With a little boost of joy, I decided to make my favorite meal and turn on my favorite movie, the day was the best one I had experienced since the last time I saw Apollo. After eating I went to wash the dishes and stared into the backyard thinking of how my friend was back there, resting, and hopefully at peace. I never looked back there since it only brought sadness to me, but maybe I could start thinking of it as a happy reminder of the good memories instead of the bad ones I had made recently. It was cold outside and to be quite honest ever since the dog in the house it creeped me out to go outside at night.

I went to the light switch and flipped on the outside lights to get a view of the grave to maybe give me some good closure to end the day off. My eyes tried to adjust to the harsh darkness of the night when I noticed a small pile of dirt beside the grave. Pure fear engulfed my very presence and I tried my best to understand. I ran outside the back door and to the grave sweating. There it was, the once fee grave with now nothing but earthworms at the once occupied space of Apollo. I had to have been in some nightmare, some long and descriptive nightmare made up in my fucked-up

head. The sweat dripped from my forehead and was caught by my nose which made the sweat run to my lips. Was Apollo alive? Was he some kind of demon haunting me? There were no signs of a shovel but only the marks of paws or hands that formed the pile of dirt beside the grave. I had no idea when this had been done, but I wish I would. would have simply looked out sooner.

Whatever was in my house was either some demented version of Apollo or something that had dug up his remains. Either way, I was terrified. The most gut-wrenching thing about the situation was that after looking around there was no sign of Apollo's remains anywhere. I ran back into my house and slammed the door shut painting and sweating with every possible thought clouding my mind. What I once thought was my dog now was something else, and it had been in my house with me.

As far as I knew it had been coming in when I wasn't even aware. Sleep was not even an option now and I stood there thinking of how anything that had happened could be real. That was when the sound of a whimper made my blood turn cold. Everything in my body seemed to pause when I heard the quiet whimper of a dog, or something that sounded similar to one, from in the distance. I slowly lifted my head to face the hallway when I was met with the sight of half a human face staring back at me. I could tell by his height he was on all fours and was hidden behind the wall where only half of his face was showing. on his head was what I could only make out as the skull of Apollo with bits of his rotten flesh still holding onto the skull.

The sockets were empty where the man's eyes could see through all the flesh and he looked at me with a frown while still making a whimpering sound. Flies orbited him and the smell slowly crept towards me just as bad as how it smelled the night before. Sensing the look of disgust and horror on my face he quickly darted into the hall with the loud bash of his knees and palms smacking the floor. My heart bounded and my knees felt weak as I had to grab the counter. to help hold up my weight.

This, man had been in my house, at my door, acting like my dog, and he desecrated my dog's grave. I wanted to vomit at the thought of a man drolling on my floor and wearing my dog's rotting skin running through my house just ten feet away from me. I wasn't sure what sick game this man was playing or what mental state he was in, but my body refused to move. He had found this collar which led him directly into my house and acted as if he was my dog, my only friend, and found some sick pleasure in it. A scratching began to echo into the kitchen and with what must have been pure adrenaline I began to walk to the doorframe as if I had

just learned to move my legs. I finally made it to the door frame when I saw the twisted figure of the man scratching at my door. He was propped up on his knees and clawing at the door to my bedroom painting, drool coming from his tongue and forming a puddle of slimy liquid on the floor. I could see the collar around his neck, tight and making his veins pop out from his neck. His body was dirty and he was hairy. He was naked and near his rear had the decaying tail of Apollo stapled to his back. Clunks of pheces could be seen stuck in his hair and each one of his nails were long. It was the most disgusting sight I had ever laid my eyes on and it took all my strength to not throw up on the floor in front of me. After looking at him for a couple of

seconds he faced me and barked. He began to shake his rear to simulate the wagging of the tail stapled on him and through it, all just stared at me. I had never seen such a human that had such features as a dog, yet there he was. Staring at him made it difficult to remember that this was a man, a grown man, acting like a dog. There was no telling how long he had been doing this and he could have been here for weeks, watching me. I wanted him out of my house, I wanted to run him out, but this wasn't a dog. He was a full-grown man that could overtake me and I needed a way to protect myself. I didn't have a gun and the only thing I had remotely to a weapon was a kitchen knife, but I couldn't just take my eyes off him. Now that I had seen

what would he do? He looked at me with such innocence, he reminded me of the way Apollo used to look at me. The man just stared at me, watching, waiting, and I did the same. The only plan I had was to run to the kitchen and get the knife, anything after that would have to be determined by what the man did. The only issue is that if I approached him in the hallway he could easily overpower me, I would have to distract him. Swallowing all the disgust I decided the only possible solution was to play along with his little game. Hey buddy, I said after whistling towards him, are you lost? The man at the end of the hallway tilted his head with curiosity and responded with a deep bark that was so realistic it sent a shiver through my bloodstream. Looking around the area, I saw an old bone of Apollos and quickly picked it up showing it off to him.

Here, buddy. I know you must be scared, but we can play now. Come on, after patting my knees to gesture to him to come, he slowly crawled through the hallway towards me. Slowly creeping back to make sure to stay out of his range, I continued to whistle and wave the bone at him. watching the man come closer terrified me as the sound of his heavy breathing grew louder and louder with each thud of his knees to the hardwood. Now just a couple feet away from me I threw the bone as he tracked it and started to quickly shuffle to it.

In an instant, I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a knife. As I ran I could hear the man quietly giggling trying to pick up the bone with his teeth. Just as soon as I pulled the knife from the counter I ran back into the living room to see him turned away for me with only the sight of his hairy back the tail which dangled from scabies of blood from where the staple had punctured his skin. Without hesitation, I held the knife and with as much force as possible launched it into his back. With a loud yelp, he dropped the bone and crawled to the doggie door.

Once again I ran towards him and punctured the knife into his flesh multiple times as blood began to splat and ooze out of his dirt-covered body. Nothing but adrenaline pumped through my body as I kept stabbing and stabbing while he attempted to crawl out of the door. With all my strength I flipped him over and began to stab his chest and guts to make sure that I would end it for good. All those nights of fear rushed into me and drove my anger which led to more push into each stab. Blood began to shoot out of his mouth and the once innocent eyes were now filled with terror and the realization of death. I finally stopped and stood up looking as he

lay there shaking and gasping for breath against the amount of blood seeping into his lungs. What the hell are you? I asked staring into his terrorized eyes. Your best friend. I wanted to be a good boy. He weezed. I stared back at him. him for a second and wrapped my hands tight around the knife to give the final blow, my best friend is gone, and you sure as hell are not him. Within a second I dug the knife deep into his chest until nothing but my breathing remained in the room. The nightmare was over. I got up and called the police and they were just as confused as I was. They asked the same questions I had no answer to as we looked at the corpse of the man who once sat at my door waiting for some sick reward. To this

day I am not sure of what made him do this or how long he was there. The dreams never stopped after everything and every other night I still see my best friend in my dreams and I miss him. Life is hard without Apollo and my parents and I would do anything to see them again. I wish those dreams could become a reality, but at the same time from the reality I witnessed these past days, I'll stick with the dreams. June 17, 1997 at 5.46 a.m. was the worst day of my entire life. My name is Alex Torland. I was in prison for 26 years for having a simple dream that saved my life, but it didn't save my family's life. June 17, 1997 at 538 a.m., I woke up from a dream and started screaming. I remember every detail of the dream, including where I was,

where my brother and sister was and even our pet dog yogi. I rushed out of bed and started banging on the doors of my mom and dad and my siblings' rooms. They came out worried about what was going on, I was frantic and couldn't get a single word out. Finally, after two minutes, I screamed. We need to leave right now. They all looked at me like I was insane. I started pleading for them to believe me, but they didn't. It just hit 5.42 a.m. and I knew we only had four minutes left.

You would think that would be plenty of time, but for trying to explain that everyone was going to die, it's definitely not enough time. A single tear flowed down my cheek and I knew at that very second, my family was going to die. My siblings went back into their rooms and my parents were just shaking their heads. I can't even blame them either, I've always had a wild imagination, I also had a history of lying. It's all my fault. I'm so sorry, I said. Those were the last words I ever told my family. I looked at the clock on the wall and saw that it was 5.45.

I had one minute and ran as fast as I could to the front door knowing the seconds were ticking down. I ran across the street screaming for help. It was like slow motion, I looked up at the right window and saw my older sister with a confused look and then, it was gone. I woke up probably like a minute later on the ground, my ears ringing, looked up and my entire house was in flames and gone. It took exactly seven minutes and 24 seconds for the police, fire trucks, and the ambulances to show up. I tried running up to the house, but I was stopped by the police before I could. I turned around and punched the officer in the face that was trying to stop me. I started running again and I was tackled and handcuffed before I could.

I started screaming for my mom and dad, but my screaming fell on deaf ears. They put out the fire and the only thing left remaining was the ashes of my home and my family. I was taken down to the police station for questioning about the events that took place. As soon as I sat down in the interrogation room, I didn't cry or scream, I just sat there in shock wondering if I was still dreaming. I looked down at my arm and pinched myself, the moment I felt the pinch was the moment I felt my whole world crashed down onto me. The lead detective came in as I had my head down and I was crying. He brought me a coffee in a sandwich, I guess this was his way to be the nice cop. Only if I knew about having rights or even for the fact I was the main suspect for an

unforgivable crime I didn't commit. So Mr. Torland, is it okay if I call you Alex or should I call you Alexander. He said, My eyes were empty, my body felt of just pure emptiness and I didn't even respond. Look, we need to talk about what happened tonight, because right now you're being charged with an assault on a police officer and four first-degree murder charges. He said, this is when I looked up for the first time and I was back in my body. I took the coffee and threw it onto him burning his face and three officers ran in and pinned me down and put me in handcuffs. I started screaming for my mom which is something I haven't

done since I was six. I was 15 at the time, I'm now 43 years old and I remember that scream like it was yesterday. I was taken to a jail cell and left there for three days, I was called every name in the book by the guards. I could hear the radio in the other room and was being called a monster for something I didn't do. Finally they took me out of the jail cell and into the interrogation room again, a different officer walked in. Hey Alex, I'm Detective Lennon, let me go ahead and read you your rights before we start talking. He says, There was only one thing on my mind and I finally spoke up. Are they Dad?

I said as I'm still looking down at the metal table as I can my reflection. Unfortunately, yes, your entire family is Deccist, he says. He reads me my rights. So, at this time, you're being charged with both assaults on the police officers and for the four Mike Asteriskda. That's including your mother Patricia, your father Paul, your sister Lucy, and your brother Eric. Do you understand what I'm telling you?

I looked up at him. I didn't K-a-a-a-a-a-l-them, I said and then put my head back down. He looked at me and said straight to my face, Look, we both know you cled your family, and we both know that you're just going to have to accept this reality. There was an explosive device found in the basement and you're the only one that's still alive. The sooner you come to terms with that, the sooner we can get this difficult part over with. Your family is dad, you happen to run out of your house exactly one minute before the B-Asterisk M.B. went off. Now how did you know the bomb was going to go off if you didn't have any part in this? I looked up at him with tears rolling down my cheeks.

I dreamt it, I said as I was staring straight into his eyes. Look, Alex, we know you did this, we just don't know why, it looks like you had a really good life and an amazing family, why would you K-L-L them? You're so young and had a bright future ahead of you and you cled your family, he said. I looked up at him again, go F asterisk C-K yourself, I said to him. I looked back down again at the prison attire I had on. The officer got up and walked out of the room, five minutes later a couple of officers came in and put me in cuffs and brought me back to my cell.

A few weeks later I had my future trial, I walked into the courtroom and there were a bunch of people. There was police officers, my other family members, the media, there had to be at least 14 cameras in there. I sat down and my attorney sat down right next to me and he whispered in my ear. Welcome to the show kid, look, we're going to make this as a lot of you. easy as possible and you're going to plead guilty and try to get you life in prison instead of the D asterisk ADHD penalty. I looked over at him, I didn't do this, I'm innocent,

he looked over at me again with a surprised look and chuckled, yes, he actually laughed in my face, a 15-year-old kid. If I had a nickel for every time I've heard that line, look, I'm trying to help you here. If you plead guilty, then you will most likely get life instead of the D-a-a-a-d-h penalty. The judge walked in and we all stood up, we were told to be seated. I sat down as I saw everyone staring at me. I started shaking as I knew the whole world was against me. I could feel every part of my body just losing its BL asterisk O D. flow like my heart was about to stop.

The trial went on for two years, let's just say that each time I walked into the courtroom, was another time I had to relive my family's death. Each one of my tears were seen as, he's sorry he got caught, not that his family is dead. I was Fking 15 years old, barely had any hair on my B-a-a-a-a-a-a-l-s. I didn't get to live my life and neither did my family. family. After two years of the trial going on, it was finally time for them to sentence me, I was sentenced to four consecutive life sentences. They dropped the chargers for the a- asterisk asterisk alt on the police officers. When the judge read off the sentence, I basically dropped to the ground.

I screamed, I didn't do this, but not a single person listened to me. It took 26 years for them to finally listen to me, I took 15 lie detector test and every single one of them came back positive. I was in still and telling the truth. Luckily with how good science has gotten since the 90s, they could finally look at the DNA left at the scene. I was in prison for 26 years for a crime that I didn't commit. If it wasn't for the dream I had 26 years earlier, I would be dead too. They found fingerprints to a man named Brandon Torland. If you've noticed the similarities to the last names, he's my uncle. We have a very small and close family except for my uncle Brandon. 27 years earlier, my uncle Brandon was cut off from the family and the trust fund that

was going to be left from my grandparents. My grandfather was a very wealthy man, he owned several different businesses he created and later sold. My uncle Brandon was the type of person to be the so-called life of the party type. He eventually was addicted to Royne and Kane and would do anything to get his fix. He wanted to get the inheritance so the party would never end, even if that meant that his nephew would go to prison for life. He also didn't care that he would was K-a-a-steriskling four of his family members, including his nephew and niece and his brother and sister-in-law. You would think that it's a good thing I was finally released and the man who actually killed my family was behind bars. Some people would call that making things right.

It's not about me being free and the scumbag that K-a-sterisk led my family is behind bars. My life will forever be ruined even though my name has been cleared. I was eventually rewarded $17 million for being wrongfully convicted for a crime I didn't commit. I will be donating the $17 million to several different charities, including to people who were wrongfully accused. I wanted to quickly tell my story before it's time for me to see my family again. I just want to say a huge thank you to Brian Luther, who I met in prison for protecting me through the years and having my back.

I will see you soon, Mom, Dad, Eric, and Lucy. R.I.P. Alex Torland born August 26, 1982 and D. Asterisk Ed, November 5, 2024. He was found dead from a self-inflicted GNS-T wound. I know what you might be thinking, she's just trying to get likes. Well, you're wrong. This is true, and it happened to me yesterday night. It was a little past midnight, so I guess it was this night, and I had woken up to a banging sound on my door, but before we get to the scary stuff, let me tell you what black-eyed children are. Black-eyed children are children with pale skin and black eyes. Not just the pupil that is black, their eyes are all black, no whites or anything. Just black. They go to houses or cars and bang on their

windows or doors, when you open it, they will ask, can I come in? But, whatever you do, don't let them come in. They usually appear in a group of two at night so no one can see their eyes. They will look like completely normal innocent children who are lost and need to come in. If you let them in, then you will experience bad luck for the rest of your life and there is absolutely no way of getting rid of it. So anyway, back to the story. I woke up to the sound of loud banging on my door. My parents were out voting, and my sister was still asleep. I went downstairs quietly so I wouldn't wake my sister up.

I had cameras, but I decided not to look at them. When I looked through the little peeping hole on the door, I saw children. They didn't look quit as normal, though. The little boy, around eight years old, had these weird shoes and outfit that someone in like the 40s would wear, or just in the 1900s. The point is he dressed old-fashioned. The girl, around six, did not look so better. She had this haircut that a woman would wear in the 90s and an outfit that a women would wear in the 70s. Besides that, they looked perfectly normal.

Are you lost? I asked, our parents will be here soon. They both said in unison, do you need anything? Can we come in? Right away, I knew that something was off about these kids. Not just the fact that they were dressed weirdly, but the fact that their voice was voices were off. They had voices that number eight-year-old or six-year-old should have. I suddenly felt dizzy and knew that something demonic was in these kids. If your parents are almost here,

then can't you just wait out here? I asked. It was a perfectly sweet neighborhood and not a robbery or anything had ever went on. I never even ever saw a shady person walk around here. Can we come in? They asked once more. But, this time, they weren't asking. They were starting to get angry. No, you may not. I yelled, I know this sounds bad that I am saying that a little kid that's lost can't come in my house, but there was something off about these kids. That yell woke up my sister and she turned on the light which helped me see that these kids had black eyes. I screamed and shut the door in their face. My sister asked what was going on and who was that and why I yelled. I told her to just go to bed and don't worry about it. She did as I asked. The kids

eventually left, but they did do some damage to my house when I shut the door. They ripped some plants and they cracked the window. Later that night, I did some research on them and I found out that they can only come into your house if they get permission. I also found out that it's the same with demons. Like if you summon them and play spiritual games and stuff. If you moved into a house and they were already there then that's because someone else previously allowed them in or the place was abandoned. There is a slight chance they will come back soon and I'll be ready. When the kids left, they went into a black car with two tall dudes in suits. Just remember, if you ever see a kid with black eyes and pale skin coming towards your house or car,

don't let them in. Back in high school, I thought I had my future all planned out. I was young, in love, and convinced that the person I was with was my soulmate. I started dating my ex when we were both juniors. We spent four years together, navigating high school, making big plans, and dreaming about the future. We were serious, so serious that we talked about marriage all the time. When college came around, we even moved in together. We thought we were the perfect couple, ready to take on the world side by side. Things weren't always smooth, of course. Every relationship has its ups and downs, and ours was no different. But if you had asked me back then, I would have told you without hesitation that she was the one. The idea of us not being

together wasn't even in my head. Then, one summer, everything changed. She had gone to stay with her mom and older sister's family across the country, something she had done before. It wasn't unusual, and I wasn't worried. We had done the long-distance thing for short periods before, and while it sucked, we made it work. But this time, something felt. felt different. At first, everything was fine. We talked, texted, sent stupid memes back and forth. Then, out of nowhere, she just, disappeared. No texts. No calls. No messages. Just complete radio silence. At first, I thought something had happened to her. Maybe she lost her phone, maybe she got busy, maybe something serious had come up. But as the days passed and I kept reaching out, my worry turned into full-blown panic.

I called her. Nothing. I texted. Nothing. I tried contacting her mom, her sister, even mutual friends. Nobody answered, and nobody gave me any information. For six days, I was losing my mind. I didn't know if she was okay.

I didn't know if she was safe. I didn't know anything. Then, on the sixth day, she finally answered my call. I barely had time to say her name before she coldly told me to fuck off and never call her again. Then she hung up. That was it. No explanation. No closure.

Just like that, for years of my life were gone in an instant. At the time, I was shattered. I had no idea why she had done it or wasn't. had gone wrong. In hindsight, though, I started seeing things I hadn't noticed before. She had always been manipulative, selfish, narcissistic. But love has a funny way of making you blind to red flags. It wasn't until I was out of the relationship and had support for my friends and family that I truly realized how toxic she had been. They helped me see that I was better off without her. That I had dodged a bullet. Of course, knowing that didn't erase the pain.

The thing she put me through affected me deeply, and even now, years later, I still feel the echoes of that trauma in my life. My wife, who is an amazing and understanding person, has been nothing but supportive. She knows about everything, and she's patient with me when old wounds flare up. I'm grateful for that every single day. For a long time, I moved on with my life, thinking that chapter was fully closed. And then, out of nowhere, a friend sent me a news article that flipped my world upside down. The headline, My ex had just been convicted of first-degree murder. I had to read the article three times to process what I was seeing. I knew she had problems, but I never thought she was capable of something like this.

According to the article, after we broke up, she had a baby with a guy she was dating. Things between them didn't work out, and they split up. The father wanted to be in the child's life and fought for partial custody, but my ex refused. She wanted the baby all to herself. When he took legal action to get visitation rights, she decided to handle things in the most horrifying way possible.

She bought a gun at a gun show. She got a friend to drive her to her ex's house. And when he opened the door, she shot him in the face. Just like that. She was so confident she'd get away with it that she bragged to a co-worker about how she just claimed self-defense. She thought she was untouchable, that she could manipulate her way out of anything, just like she had her whole life. But this time, reality hit her hard. The gun was registered in her name, and it was found a block away from the scene with casings that matched.

She had no alibi. And the friend who had driven her. They had no idea she planned to kill the guy. Once they realized what had happened, they testified against her in court. The jury took two hours, including their lunch break, to find her guilty. She now faces life in prison with no possibility of parole. When I told my wife what had happened, her response was, well, I guess you really did dodge a bullet, and honestly, that might be the funniest thing I've ever heard. I love her so much. It's strange, looking back at everything now. Some people do terrible things their whole lives and never face any consequences.

My ex was one of those people for a long time. She lied, manipulated, hurt people, and always seemed to get away with it. Until she finally did something so heinous that there was no escaping the fallout. It's heartbreaking that an innocent man had to lose his life and that a child will now grow up without a father. It's a tragedy beyond words. But at the very least, my ex is finally facing the consequences of her actions. I don't believe in karma, but if it does exist, this would be a pretty strong case for it. I've gone through every emotion imaginable since finding out about this.

Shock, disbelief, horror, and even guilt. Not guilt because I did anything wrong, but guilt because I once loved someone capable of something this evil. I shared a life with her. I planned a future with her. How could I have been so blind? How could I not have seen what she was? But then I remind myself that manipulation is her skill set.

It's what she was best at. She had me wrapped around her finger, just like she did with so many others. And in the end, the only thing that saved me was her deciding to leave me. If she hadn't done that, where would I be right now? Would I have stayed with her longer? Would I have seen her unravel firsthand? Would I have been stuck in an abusive? marriage with a monster. I'll never know. But I do know one thing, I got lucky. She dumped me.

She abandoned me. And because of that, I got to live the life I was meant to live. I found an incredible woman who loves and respects me. I built a life that is stable, happy, and full of love. I healed from the damage my ex caused, even though some scars remain. And while I'll never understand why she did what she did, I do know that I was spared from something much worse. My ex made her choices. She took a life, and now she has to live with the consequences. But I don't have to carry her shadow anymore. She's out of my life for good, and I can finally, truly move forward. Let me take you back to the start of this ridiculous, gut-wrenching roller coaster. I'm a 28-year-old woman, and my ex-boyfriend, ugh, that word still burns, he's 30, met under the flash of party lights,

skin glistening in pool water, drinks clinking and people laughing too loud. It was this fancy Hollywood-style party thrown by a mutual friend, some actor we both knew, and yeah, I was already a couple glasses in, lounging in the hot tub with a friend when he walked over. We didn't really notice each other at first, he was doing his own thing, I was vibing with my girls. But as the night got darker and the drinks heavier, things escalated. You know how parties get when everyone's had a little too much to drink and people start acting like extras in a soap opera. He slid into the hot tub next to me, and after a few flirty exchanges, his hand found my thigh.

Then lower. And yeah, I was shocked at first, but honestly, I was into it. I hadn't felt that kind of spark in a long time, so I let it have. happen. My friend gave us a knowing smirk and left to give us privacy. It didn't stop there. We slipped away to one of the upstairs bathrooms and locked the door. What followed was hands down the most passionate, steamy hookup I'd had in ages. It was like a movie, no, scratch that, it was better. After that wild night, we started seeing each other more seriously. Real dates, real feelings. I fell for him fast.

We were that kind of couple people stare at on the street, not out of disgust but out of envy. Holding hands, laughing too loud at brunch, traveling to places like Thailand for no reason other than to enjoy life. That Thailand trip. Magical. Like our own personal dream. We snorkeled, we rode elephants, ethically, don't worry, and made love under mosquito nets like the world didn't exist.

When we got back, it felt natural to say. start meeting families. First up, his. His parents were warm, super chill, the kind that ask about your dreams and actually care about your answers. His grandma made me homemade empanadas, he's got Spanish roots, and I helped her fold them like I was already part of the family. His mom was already mentally planning the wedding, and honestly, I didn't mind. When you feel that sure about someone, you lean into the fairy tale. Then it was his turn. to meet my family. My parents live in San Diego, so we flew out there for a quick visit. At the airport, they greeted us like royalty. Red roses, hugs, tears, the whole shebang.

My little sister, 18 at the time, was grinning ear to ear. But something odd happened right then. My sister tried to give me the bouquet, and my mom held on just a little too long before handing them off, to my boyfriend. I brushed it off, but yeah, now I see it differently. The four-day trip went smoothly enough, and we flew back feeling all loved up. But something shifted in him once we got home. He started acting off. Pulling away, avoiding kisses, barely touching me, like someone had flipped a switch.

I assumed work stress. Guys are weird like that sometimes. They bottle stuff up. So I let it go. Go. Fast forward a few weeks, Christmas rolls in. Both our families came to celebrate at my place. I've got this big house I bought a couple years ago, five bedrooms, four bathrooms, enough

space to host a village. My mom was weirdly clingy to my boyfriend the whole time, though. Like always in his orbit. Laughing at everything he said, finding excuses to be near him. My sister noticed too, which really made my skin crawl. One night, Christmas Eve, I woke up and he wasn't in bed. I waited, listened. No toilet flushing, no fridge opening.

Just silence. By morning, he was back like nothing happened. I asked about it while we were getting dressed, and he fumbled hard. Turned red, mumbled something about a stomach ache and using the downstairs bathroom. I wanted to believe him. I really did. So I let it slide. That day was fun on the surface. We exchanged gifts, drank too much eggnog, took a million family photos. Then came the presents. My mom gave my boyfriend his gift and, brace yourself, it was a freaking bondage set. No, I'm not kidding. Ropes, blindfolds,

cuffs, the whole 50-shade starter pack. The room fell in. dead silent. My dad choked on his wine. His parents looked like someone had slapped them with a fish. I tried to laugh it off, made some stupid joke about my mom being quirky. Later in bed, I asked him if he ever planned on using that weird gift. He laughed nervously and said probably not, it was just a joke, something my mom gave him because she didn't know what else to buy. I was uneasy, but I forced myself to believe it. Again. That night, same thing. I woke up to an empty bed.

Stomach problems again, apparently. Only this time, I couldn't go back to sleep. Something was gnawing at me. The next morning, I noticed the sheets in the guest room, supposedly empty, were messed up. Like someone had been there. I started spiraling. My gut was screaming, but I needed proof. So I made a plan.

I set my alarm for 2 a.m., around the time he'd gone missing the previous nights. And yeah, when the alarm went off, he wasn't there. My heart sank. I grabbed my phone, flashlight on, and started searching. First the second floor. Nothing. Then the downstairs bathroom, empty. Kitchen, nada.

Guest room, still no one. I was freaking out. Where the hell was he? Only one place left, my parents' room. I peaked in quietly, only to find my dad sleeping alone. My mom was missing. My pulse exploded in my ears. I woke up my dad, told him something was wrong. We checked my sister's room, no mom. We searched the whole house, whispering in disbelief. We peaked outside and spotted steam rising from the hot tub. My dad's face went white. We crept closer, and I'll never forget what I saw. There they were. My boyfriend. My mother.

Naked. In my hot tub. Using the bondage set she gifted him. Moaning like they were starring in some sick adult film. It was the most revolting, surreal thing I'd ever witnessed. I couldn't move. Neither could my dad. Eventually, we stepped out, full confrontation mode.

But you know what they did? Nothing. They didn't even flinch. They just kept going like we weren't even there. They said, well, we're caught now, might as well enjoy it. Like it was some big joke. I could have thrown up. That night, my dad and I packed up their stuff.

I kicked my boyfriend out, and my dad did the same to my mom. My sister, bless her, was just shaking and crying. She had no idea what was going on until we told her. She was horrified. We all were. The next morning was the most awkward breakfast of all time. My ex-boyfriend and my mom came downstairs like they'd just returned from a spa day. I handed him the car keys and told him to get the hell out.

His parents were mortified. When I told them what happened, they just said. sat there, stunned. They didn't defend him. But eventually, they said they had to stand by their son. Cowards! Then came the cherry on this toxic cake. My ex and my mother looked us dead in the eye and said they were in love.

That they'd never felt a connection like this before. That they wanted to get married. And have kids. I snapped. I screamed. I cried. I told them to leave and never come back. They did.

Two weeks later, my dad filed for divorce. Signed it. Sent it off. Done. We didn't hear from them again for a few months. Radio silence. Until last week. We got a freaking wedding invitation in the mail.

Yep. You read that right. They're getting married. My mom and my ex-boyfriend. My ex My mother A wedding And now I'm stuck with this ridiculous question

Do I go? Do I crash it? Do I send a gift? Or do I burn the whole thing down metaphorically and stay as far away as possible? I still can't believe it. Sometimes I think I made the whole thing up. But no, it's real. It's horribly, disgustingly real.

To be continued. Eventually, two detectives strolled in, all business. You know the type, shirts a size too tight, eyes like hawks, and zero humor. Before they even opened their mouths, I cut them off. I'm not saying a damn thing without a lawyer, I told them. That's my right, and I'm using it. They looked annoyed. One of them even smirked and said something like, you can wait longer than, sweetheart.

I shrugged. I'd already wasted two hours in here. What was another couple more? They eventually handed me a phone. But here's the catch, I didn't know any lawyers. Not a single one. Never needed one before. So I did what felt safest, I called my dad.

I didn't even consider my mom or my sister. After everything, especially everything involving him, I wasn't sure they'd even pick up. Dad, I said as soon as he answered, voice barely holding itself together, please come down to the station. And bring a lawyer. A few hours later, they both showed up, Dad and a defense attorney who looked like he walked straight out of a courtroom drama. We huddled in private before the detectives came back. The lawyer told me what to say, what not to say, and how to keep it together even if things got tough. And things did get real tough. When the detectives came to, back, they threw down a pile of crime scene photos like a poker hand they were damn sure would win them the round.

And there he was, my ex-boyfriend. The man I once loved more than my own heartbeat. The same man who decided to hook up with my mom. And now. Now he was dead. And guess who was the lead suspect? Me. They asked every question you could imagine, did I do it?

Was it revenge? Did I plan it? I told them no, again and again. I was with my mom, my sister, and his parents when it happened. But then they dropped the bomb, he was killed just ten minutes before we were seen entering the church for the wedding. The timing made me look guilty as hell. And honestly, I couldn't blame them for suspecting me.

On paper, it looked bad. Really bad. But I didn't do it. I swear, I didn't. Problem was, they could hold me for 24 hours without charging me, and they were going to use every damn second. I spent the night in holding. Cold concrete bench. Thin blanket.

No sleep. The next morning, they let me make another call. I tried my mom. She answered. Mom. I said, already choking on tears. You killed him, she screamed, completely losing it. You murdered him.

No, wait, Mom, please, click. She hung up. I was stunned. The one person I wanted to believe in me, didn't. A few hours later, my dad and sister showed up. My sister squeezed my hand and said, I told them we were together the whole time. I know you didn't do it. Dad just hugged me and whispered, we'll get to.

this. The truth will come out, and for a second, I believed him. Until they found the damn gun. Yep. The gun that killed my ex. And guess what? It had my fingerprints all over it. I lost it. I mean, I completely broke down in that cold, stinking cell. How? I yelled, banging the wall. How could that be? No one had an answer. Instead, they packed me up and transferred me to a proper jail, the kind where women don't just steal your lunch, they'll shiv you over it. And let me tell you, prison is nothing like in the movies. It's worse. Days passed.

Weeks. I barely ate. I barely slept. I was always watching my back. Every noise made me flinch. Every glance from another inmate felt like a threat. Then came court day. I sat in that courtroom, hands cuffed, hope slipping away like sand through a busted hourglass.

My lawyer tried his best, but with the gun evidence and the motive? It was like trying to stop a freight train with a paper umbrella. The judge handed down the sentence like she was reading off a grocery list, 15 years. First degree murder. Fifteen years. Fifteen years for something I didn't do. I felt my knees buckle, but I didn't cry. I couldn't.

There were no tears left. Back in prison, I begged my dad, my sister, even my lawyer, please don't give up on me. Please. I didn't do this. I didn't kill him, and, thank God, they didn't. My lawyer dug deeper. He found witness statements that had been brushed aside. A couple people had seen a middle-aged white man.

maybe in his 50s, running from the scene right after the murder. One even saw him toss something metallic into a dumpster, the gun, maybe. And just like that, the case was reopened. I was granted bail, but I wasn't free. They slapped an ankle monitor on me and told me I couldn't leave my backyard. Cop sat outside my house like vultures, watching every move I made. But at least I wasn't in that hellhole anymore. security footage from nearby cameras confirmed the witness's story.

There was a man running. There was a car. They tracked the plates, but the rental company had no ID. No passport. No license. Just a ghost. We waited for footage from another security firm that might have caught the guy's face. But the delay.

Agonizing. Each day dragged like a broken leg. My mom still wouldn't speak to me. She didn't believe me. Not even after everything. And my sister. She tried to talk to her, but my mom thought she was covering for me. I dropped weight like crazy.

Stress ate away at me, bite by bite. I was a hollow version of myself. Then, one random afternoon, my lawyer called. Get to the station. Now, I tried calling Dad, no answer. So, in a last-ditch move, I called my mom. She picked up. I almost dropped the phone. Mom, it's me, I know this is weird, but, I know, she cut me off. Her voice was different. Tired. Regretful. I'm coming to get you. We'll talk on the way, what the hell was going on.

When she pulled up, I climbed into the car, my chest about to explode from the nerves. I asked her over and over, do you know something? Do you know who did it? She just nodded. Yes. But I think the police should tell you, and that was when everything changed. At the station, an officer approached and dropped to his knees. He took off my ankle monitor like it was just some old piece of tape.

You're free to go, he said. What? In the room waiting for me was my lawyer. The case is closed, he said. You're cleared, I blinked, my brain refusing to believe it. Who did it? I demanded. Tell me now, one of the detectives motioned me to follow him. We walked into a room with a one-way mirror. On the other side?

My dad. No. No. No. My stomach dropped through. the floor. I couldn't breathe. My dad. My own father. Sitting there, calm, silent, caught. They explained it all to me, how he'd hated that my ex had left me for my mom. How he thought he was protecting me. How he'd planned it out and framed me, thinking I'd never be blamed. He was wrong. And the cost? My life. My freedom. My trust.

The betrayal hit harder than any sentence the court could have given me. And so now, here I am. Free, but shattered. My world turned upside down by the man who raised me, the man I thought would do anything to protect me, not hurt me. I don't know where to go from here. My mom's heart is broken. My sister is in shock. And me?

I've got scars no one can see, but they're there. deep, permanent. But I swear this, I'm not done fighting. I'm going to find out everything. Every piece of the puzzle. Every hidden motive. I'm not just going to walk away from this and pretend it never happened. I deserve the truth.

And my ex-boyfriend? Even if he betrayed me once, he didn't deserve to die like that. This story isn't over. Not even close. The end. If you are here because of Kingston's picture, thank you for taking the time to read. It's a bit emotional and quite long, but it kind of gives my thought process regarding euthanizing my dog and owning a pit bull dominant bully. Needless to say, this has been one of the hardest things of my life so far and the people on the internet have been a lot kinder than the

people in real life. So thank you to all of you. I probably won't go on this account again, but I have formed some key sentences and I hope that people who had the same problems that I dealt with for so many years can Google this and can read this story and really make an educated decision before they make a catastrophic mistake. The story is for anybody who has ever thought to get a pit bull an American bully or any other mixed breed of this nature. This is anybody who already has their own babies to deal with. This is for people who are struggling with making the right decision. I've used this throwaway account as an outlet and I'm going to throw it away but again, I hope this can be educational for us. other people, I would like to preface this by saying that this is not only about the breed of my dog. I hope that everyone who is thinking of getting a puppy can read this and really consider

their decision and the repercussions of their actions or lack thereof, and learn from this very sad story. If you are a sensitive person, I would not recommend reading this. I'm not sure how it will affect you. Consider this trigger warning for whatever you think you might be triggered by, there's gore and sadness and pain in this story. I had originally posted on reactive dogs, but it was locked. Before it was locked, the people who commented helped me to understand what it was I was truly up against, but I will repost it here with the final edit. A lot of people will read this and give me the initial spiel of I don't know why anybody would want such a horrible dog. Again, I will preface. This was the best dog I have ever met in my entire life, and I love him dearly.

If you've never been in true danger, and had an animal or friend fiercely protect you to the point that they might die so they can protect you from harm, don't ask me why I would ever have the dog. Save your fingertips the trouble and be grateful that you don't understand. Title, Rough Day on the Farm, My Dog Killed My Dog Killed My Five Hundred Pounds Lama. It has been a chaotic 24 hours, to say the least. I found myself on Reddit this morning because I truly don't know what to do. I have a dog named Kingston. He was given to me by my very aggressive slash abusive X and I raised him from a puppy.

He is an XL American bully and has been a big part of my life for seven years. My ex-partner would physically assault me in front of the dog, torment the dog by baiting it to attack me, which he never did, but when Kingston was young it would confuse him, by saying, get M, and trying to sick the dog on me. He even would hit Kingston sometimes if he would come home drunk. It was a very crazy upbringing for him and I am obviously responsible, sadly I was only 18 years old when I got him and didn't understand the true responsibility

of this little life that I now had in my hands. It was my responsibility to protect him from trauma. Throughout this relationship, while King was a puppy, I did my best to socialize him as much as I could by brining him to dog parks, allowing him around other animals, people, children, etc. Around three years old, I made the mistake of letting him in a fenced baseball diamond with another dog. Kingston seems to have dominance issues, because when the German Shepherd attempted to mount him, Kingston snapped on him.

We pulled them apart and that was the first bad interaction we had. He even accidentally bit my ex's finger when he was separating them. From this point, I limited the interactions but still did not keep him away from other dogs entirely. When we left my ex, Kingston became very protective over me as we were now living alone. I worked seven hours a day, and when I would come home I would see he had acted out by using the washroom inside even though he was potty trained. He began breaking out of his crate, digging through cupboards and garbage, opening doors, doing whatever he could to cause havoc in my house while I was not home. He used to be able to be left without the crate, but he changed. I blamed this on not giving him enough exercise.

We lived in the city for many years, so he was rarely allowed off-leash unless it was in the middle of the night and no one was around. I trusted my dog, and when it really mattered, he would listen to me. I thought that even though he was a little weird, that I had him under control. I stepped it up on training and walks and things seemed to get better. Until one day, Kingston broke out of his crate again and broke into the garage. He dug through the garbage and whatever he ate gave him a bad allergic reaction. When I came home, he had scratched out his own cornea from the itching.

Something else about this dog, he is beyond sketchy with medical procedures. When he was two, he started peeing blood and kneaded bladder stone removal surgery. He woke up on the operating table, apparently, and since that, I have been unable to administer any type of medical care, even some grooming has to be very carefully managed. When he scratched out his cornea, he was terrified of the eye drops. and I was so frustrated, taking countless days off of work to stay home with him and attempt to administer his eyedrops. Every time I would try to give them to him, he would try to bite me, or warn me he was going

to bite me. Eventually I put the muzzle on and tried that, but he lost it and began ripping it off of his face while simultaneously trying to take chumps out of my stomach while I was giving him the eye drops. It was clear I was losing my fucking mind and at that point I said to myself, after calling trainers and asking for advice, that I would have to just leave his eye alone. I stopped attempting to treat it, it healed and he immediately returned to normal behavior. But before that point, I had to make a decision. Either my dog goes blind or I lose a couple fingers trying to give him his medicine. At this point, I also considered behavioral euthanasia. Kingston has a lump

growing under his belly and due to so many vet visits where he would become extremely volatile and frightened. I just couldn't bear something accidentally happening. I knew I was was going to get there eventually because I had gotten this issue checked out before and they had told me that if it got bigger I needed to come back. But the fact that I couldn't administer medical care was really scary for me constantly asking myself whether or not he would let me do what I needed to do, or just bite me, always just backed down and had to trick my way into getting it done, which could often be dangerous. I was moving on relationship-wise. My new partner has a male dog as well, similar breed but different genetics. Here is where I

failed my dog again, we introduced the two and they had a bad scrap. The same-sex aggression was too much and so they never met again and we kept them separate. Imagine, I had my bully for seven years and had no idea about same-sex aggression. My negligence put my dog in a bad situation when I had already seen that he had issues with other dogs that needed to be fixed. Finally, we decided to move to a farm so that all of the animals could live on the same property. After everything I had been through in my life, I was trying my best to move forward. I had made a lot of accommodations for Kingston as I'm sure everyone does for their own pet, but I needed to move forward from where I was.

It was mandatory. Kingston was to have his own apartment, with an extensive fence built as well as a lot of other uses for myself to spend as much time in there as possible, as well as scheduled exercise and training. His apartment was to be converted into my office as well as our home gym and movie theater. I spent countless hours bottling my mind as to how I was going to make enough time for him when he got here. He was to live with my mom until this stuff was all ready, but due to unforeseen circumstances she forced me to pick him up before I could afford the fence. I had to get him two days ago. My parents didn't understand the particularity of the situation. They didn't care about my financial position and were only concerned about the imposition of the dog on their own lives.

From the words out of their mouth, Kingston was an angel and a blessing to have her around. Sadly, the issues between my mother and I had gotten way of her understanding where I was coming from in regard to not being able to afford what he needed at the time. Kingston needed a compound. It was going to run me a couple thousand bucks from the way that I thought I wanted to build it. I didn't think it needed a roof or a concrete pad. I thought a six-foot fence would suffice. Mind you, we have 11 acres.

Kingston's recall is relatively great so since he has gotten here, he has been allowed off-leash. We have lived here for about a month so far and the other dogs are allowed off-leash and have had no issues. Our other bully, Rex even recalled from the chicken coop. We have some livestock, for llamas. Yesterday morning I was having exercise time with Kingston, throwing his ball across the property. He had never seen the llamas before, and mind you, our other dog had been led in the enclosure quite a few times only chasing them around. We realized it was wrong to have the dogs near the llamas and didn't let them in again. It was my duties to protect the llamas, the previous owners just passed them off onto us and told

us that they eat the grass, and that's pretty much it. I didn't understand the responsibility there as well and had to do a lot of research to bond with them and learn to care for them. But yesterday, my dog ran right up to the five-foot fence, jumped right over it, ran after my largest male llama and took him down. Kingston would not listen to me no matter what I did. His prey drive was extreme. I stuck my fingers in his butt, put a lead, yanked him, hit him, did whatever I could to stop him

from murdering the llama. He wouldn't stop. It was very disturbing, because the llama is also my pet. To see it die because of Kingston was very disturbing and stressful. Watching him eat it alive while it screamed and moaned was vivid imagery out of a crazy movie. He ripped his face off and heart out while he was still alive. I realized I could not make him stop so I decided. I decided I would block him off in there with the llama so he wouldn't try to go for the others.

He was in frenzy mode, after taking down such a large creature I didn't know how he was going to behave. I was trying to find out if I could get a tranquilizer, they're illegal where I live, I was freaking out and almost called animal control on my own dog. He stayed on the llama, eating it while it wailed in pain for over an hour. At least I should have had a gun, so that I could have ended the llama's life instead of having it prolonged by such a gruesome death. Who knows, the gunshot probably would have startled Kingston. Maybe he would have stopped. Either way it doesn't matter anymore.

When Kingston was done, he came out onto the grass covered in blood, looking around for me. I ran outside screaming, What did you do? What did you do? He calmly followed me back to his apartment, but he looked exhausted but also satisfied like he had just killed something. I was scared of him. But when I walked in there, it seemed as if he didn't understand what he did at all or why I got so physical with him. He came to me with his head lowered and tried to kiss me, and let me give

him a bath. I put blankets on him and put him to sleep. I have been awake all night, there's a dead llama on my property, and it seems like I am about to lose my son. I love him, but I know that if he is to stay here I need to build him his own sanctuary separate and protected from everyone else and he would need countless hours of my day. You don't realize how much access the dogs have if they are just around you in the home. Because he has to be separated, I am constantly feeling like I am not doing enough. I don't know if I can afford it, financially or mentally. I feel guilty for thinking about putting him to sleep, but he needs more for me. I feel like he killed that llama for sport because he was away from me for a bit and became jealous.

I just want him to be at peace. I have tried so hard, but it seems like I am constantly putting him in situations where he is not protected. It's so confusing for me. Is this my baby? Is he changed forever. Is there ways I can keep him? Do I have enough energy and time in me that he deserves? Should he just be put to sleep? These are the questions I keep by asking myself. Lots of regrets, lots of confusion and pain. I want to go and cuddle with him right now and was thinking about giving him a nice day with car rides and snacks and cuddles, and then call the vet this evening. But I can't seem to do it. I am truly broken over this, and seeing my partner's dogs in the house is just making me feel so sad. I've tried calling some bully rescue organizations, but after giving

it some thought I don't know if I feel comfortable just pushing my problem off onto someone else. I don't want him to be rehomed and feel unwanted, only for him to act out with someone else and they euthanize him without me there. People like to say euthanizing is wrong, but I know this dog will feel so displaced and alone if I give him up. This is so sad for me, because it was one split second where I couldn't control him and he did something that will alter our lives forever. Luckily the llama was mine and he didn't get into someone else's livestock, because they would have shot him on the spot. I also would have been in some legal trouble. All of this was an eye-opener for me.

When I called my sister, she was shocked. My whole family was shocked, because up until two days ago, he had been living with two toddlers, two cats, and lots of bustling love and commotion. Two days later, he murdered my llama. I'm exhausted of typing this, I need some advice. Edit, after speaking with a behavioralist it's obvious that this type of behavior will not be trained out of him, and that he will attempt to attack livestock again. The behaviorist mentioned that aggression may turn towards humans. If he stayed alive, I would be taking my chances with him, not biting me, which he has

never done, but he would also never be allowed around any other animal whatsoever the sanctuary extensive fencing would need to him separate, a literal compound. No other people either, it would be all on me to provide for myself, take care of my home, job, other dogs, responsibilities, and still find a way to give him the attention that he needs. I just don't have enough hours in the day to be with him because he is outside of the home. We called the breeder of our other dog as well, as my partner did his research when getting wrecks. We asked him for advice and he said that any time his dogs are out in front of a large animal. They always obey him when he tells them not to go for it. After that, I called my cousin

who hunts and also has a female bully. He said that she goes after animals and kills. them, but only if they're smaller than her. She's the same size as Kingston, but she would never attempt to go after any game nor would she ignore recall. Final edit. I have typed versions of this edit out about seven times, but keep accidentally exiting. Very frustrating. Decided to move to notes for the final draft. Not sure if this is the correct place, but I wanted to give those who advised me a conclusion to this as well as touch up on the importance of understanding and managing a reactive dog. Especially anything related to the pit-ball breed. First off, thank you to all of you who took the time to read this far and comment.

Re Original Reactive Dogs Post I was so lost in your sound advice and kind reassurances amidst the chaos were greatly appreciated. I did decide to move forward with putting Kingston to sleep. I know this is not a pit bull thread, but I do hope that I can help answer a few questions with this final insert for anyone asking themselves, what do I need to know before I get an American bully, which should be everyone who wants one. I promise, what I just had to do was one of the hardest things I have ever done. I've done a lot of hard things, that hurt.

Kingston was the first living individual whom belonged and relied on me. He protected me countless times from very real physical danger. He never hurt me. I slept soundly every night for seven years. When I called to him he would come to me, place his head on my chest and make me feel safe and loved. He lived with my niece and nephew without issue, protected them and respected them, played with them with so much joy. He was an amazing dog. He respected and loved every one of my friends and never once showed them any sign of harm. I will remember, miss and talk to him every

day for a very long time. A lot of people were afraid of my dog. A lot of people told me that the breed was bad and that he would one day turn on me. I understood the possibilities, but I never believed them or at least knew that it was my responsibility to respect him and his own way. Nobody was there on the nights that I was getting beaten or raped as he clawed at the door trying to stop the fighting. Nobody understands why he gets vocal as the volume gets louder in the house. Nobody understands why yelling makes him run around and jump. No one understands why he flinches. Nobody was there to comfort me after the many bad things that have happened to me in my life.

Kingston was. Kingston licked my tears. Kingston gave me a home. I gave him one. I tried to. It was very sad to see him do something like this, and yesterday morning after I made the call, my boy was curled into me cuddled up, snoring like a piglet while I gave him head massages. It was very painful to see the animal that I loved so dearly, peacefully sleeping in my arms while I had such vivid imagery flashing through my mind. I know he didn't understand what he did was wrong, and that he was probably just confused as to why I had to hurt him while was in the midst of enjoying a crazy big, interactive, steak.

But at the end of the day, I couldn't control my dog. Before I made the choice, I called Kingston's dad. I had informed the abusive X what had happened, because I wanted him to understand the consequences of his actions as I had to understand the consequences of mine. I begged him to take the dog back, but he lives in a country now that will not allow his breed off the plane. He angrily told me that if this was my only option, to at least make sure he felt like he didn't do anything wrong and made me promise to baby him and give him the best day ever. My parents sent me to foster care when I was 15 years old, and though I

know none of this is their fault and we currently have an active yet strained relationship, I didn't have the best examples for how people were supposed to take care of their loved ones. This was a hard feeling to process, as I was doing to my dog what it seemed like they did to me, giving up on him. But as you can see, rehoming him wasn't an option. This is what I wish I knew, before I was naive enough to think this couldn't happen to me. Don't neglect your dog, get off your phone, stop ignoring the animal and give it the affection and attention it deserves.

Don't yell when they cry. Take them outside. Take the treats outside and make the 15 or 20 minutes the best 15 or 20 minutes of his entire life by guiding him and him. I neglected Kingston in many different ways. I didn't think of all the ways that me and this little animal could become entangled into disaster together, I didn't understand the responsibility of his life. The day I said yes to the picture of that puppy was the day king became my responsibility.

The laziness, lack of urgency to train, inability protect him from voluminous. situations, inadequate exercise all came to a head, and the result was I lost the biggest emotional, mental and financial investment I have ever made. I know it could have been stopped. Two, please train your dog and manage their environment. It's truly for them. A key factor as to why I made my decision was the complete lack of recall. I did everything I thought I knew, I didn't know I was supposed to choke him out. I never expected that something like this would happen, especially every time I put off buying those treats and working with my dog. Or when I looked into investing in school, and didn't want to budget the money thinking I would

just do it myself, but not putting in the effort. I thought, as long as I can manage everything and everyone around him, things will be fine. I know my dog, right? When I bought Kingston, I had no idea that one day I would live on a farm and buy a family of llamas, but this was a change that I wanted to make for him as well. Over the years it became very clear that I couldn't continue to live my life around the dog, and I should have trained the dog to be optimally integrated into my life. In the coldest of terms, an asset opposed to a liability. At the end of the day, his prey drive was very strong, but if he would have obeyed, he never would have gotten over the fence. That's my fault. If I had known that the initial interactions with the

large animals needed to be extremely monitored, I would have done it. All this information comes from research and training. Not playing it by year. Three, stop getting the dog for what it looks like, I was with a pretty big jackass, Kingston's dad, and it became very apparent that his due diligence was not done when purchasing Kingston. I was not involved in the purchasing process, and there is very clearly something genetically different about him in comparison to Rex, my partner's dog. He was made to be very dangerous and scary looking at the right times. These people, like my ex, think it's cool to have a wild animal that will run through a barbed-wired fence and take down something the size of a sumo wrestler. A lot of really bad people

would jump at the opportunity to put my dog up to fight. Part of the reason why I wouldn't dare rehome him. I was scared. Who was I kidding? If you hadn't seen it yourself, didn't know the dog and didn't have to try to rip him off of it, it sounds pretty impressive. Kingston would have died for me, I know that. But what happens when you can't make him stop?

You get your arm bit off and have to kill your own dog. It's not gangster at all to put the dog's life on the line for you, for any reason. It's your responsibility to protect him. the dog, not for the dog to protect you. That comes first, they protect you all on their own. At the end of the day, the dog for him was an image. That's why his ears were cropped, that's why my ex thought it was cool when he lashed out, because it was always about the image.

These dogs are not just cool-looking. It's important to actually know why you want that type of dog, how you're going to deal with him and if you are truly prepared for shit going south. This is what shit going south looks like. Your hand in the ass of a dog that could rip your face off while he brutally destroys another living creature. Where I live if you would have gotten onto anyone else's property, they could have forced me to kill him within 48 hours.

Not sure how I would have felt if the choice was taken away from me. Although I didn't do this to my dog to follow the law. Fuck that. I did it because in life sometimes things are hard, you fuck up and you need to fix it. Three, pay serious attention to genetics, watch where you get your dog. A lot of people want to be dog breeders nowadays, and they haven't bred out very vicious traits or even foster them. First of all, people really need to know what kind of dog they're getting.

After dealing with my two very different dogs that interacted with both of us separately so lovingly, I really spent a lot of time on YouTube and read it all over the place talking to people that I knew and breeders figuring out the difference between my two dogs. Throughout this experience, I learned about a dog named Kimbo, from which majority of pit bull dominant American bullies derive from. If you want a good dog, learn what to look for. Know who you are getting the dog from. Have references.

Meet adult dogs who have come from the same breeders. Make sure your breeders know the importance of breeding out aggression and can show proof of it. Better yet go for a dog with parents in dog shows. Breeders that are actively willing to communicate with you about any ongoing issue you may have throughout the rest of that dog life. If I had not met Rex, I would have thought Kingston was normal. I knew he was an XL bully, but obviously a pit. Rex, also an XL bully.

Kingston was 20 pounds smaller with a massive head. Rex is very sturdy. Kingston will run through a pane of glass, Rex tiptoes past the dishwasher. My partner has never had to be afraid of cleaning his dog's ears, or brushing his teeth. With us, bath time was always a long-lasting nightmare filled with bribery, growling and bullshit. And mind you before King woke up on the operating table, he let me do all. all of this. The trauma was absolutely detrimentally horrible for my dog, but it awakened something that was already inside of him. My partner once told me that he thought Kingston originated

from Kimbo, so this was not the first time I had seen the name mentioned, but I did not know nor did I want to admit to myself that my ex bought me an attack dog. Having an attack dog is not cool. Making your dog aggressive in order to protect you and neglecting proper protection training after he already has a genetic predisposition to go byzirk is fucking crazy dangerous. think your dog will do whatever you say and will never hurt you, you may think you can beat your pit bull into submission or scare him into listening to you. For Kingston and I it seems things have spiraled out of control, I had to made a hard choice and let the memory of him never having hurt me remain.

What also made the decision easier for me, in regard to genetics, was the face he made. While he had the animal, I kept going back to check on him, seeing if he would let me pull him out. After he had the llama for about forty minutes, mind you, still alive, I filmed the video. The look on his face was vicious. Ears pointed back, the back of his skull looked like it had doubled in size as the fur on his face was pulled back by his snare, pupils black and dilated and the whites of his eyes blood red. I get it, his instinctive prey drive was activated. After watching the video, I realized something very important.

This was the same face Kingston has been making from a puppy, when my ex would grab the back of his neck and pull it to make the dog go buckwild at not even 12 weeks old. I realized that was the same face behind him. the muzzle when I take him to the vet. Rex doesn't have this characteristic or feature that I used to call pit bull mode. When I would tell Kingston we were going for a walk in my old house, he would smash himself into the wall from running down the stairs so fast and proceed to zip around my house like a bat, throwing furniture everywhere. This was pit bull mode, not necessarily dangerous just all around insane. Rex doesn't act like this. He truly is 100% mindful of every step and

doesn't ever go into pit bull mode, unless he is off-leash outside on the property running around, as dogs do. He never hurt the llamas, only chasing avoiding kicks, even standing right beside them at some points until he was recalled. Rex isn't trained any more than Kingston is, his genetics are different and he's had a very peaceful life thanks to his dad. On any regular day, it was both mine and my partner's impression that Kingston was a better listener than Rex. He just didn't listen that day, which goes to show that my other dog isn't safe yet. My partner was trying to do whatever he could to support me, although this was also very hard for him, considering that he has his own I didn't want him to close to the situation, which is why I decided to carry myself and let him stay in the house.

To be honest, about an hour before they came I asked him to come inside and say goodbye, and he bawled his eyes out, telling me that we didn't need to do this and that he would pay whatever needed to be paid to make sure that he could live a good life with us. But I had already made my decision, and I asked him to go inside the house and spend some time with his dogs and smoke some weed and relax or relax. something. He didn't know when they arrived and I had to carry his body out and I didn't tell him. Seeing him ugly cry made things a lot worse, I think. To conclude to this, because as this goes on, I need to remind myself that this is not about my emotions but about my experience with my first dog. I loved my dog, I wanted to do better for him and this is how I could have. Said no to the picture of the puppy, sat down with myself after falling in love with that dog, and understanding that I wasn't ready for him. It's going to be hard to see my other dogs enjoying what I wanted

to build for him, now that I have the land. I was going to build him an agility course from the skids, tires, and wood that I had so that he could finally get the exercise that we had been missing after all those years in the city. But by the time I knew what I needed to do, or truly decided to do it, in regard to attentive management, affection, etc., it was too late. I dreamed of a life like this, a home like this for him. Now it's tainted. So yeah, Oh yeah, don't be like me. And this goes for adopting too. I would have absolutely tortured myself every single day wondering if somebody would have made

the wrong move around Kingston like grabbing his ball out from under the couch while he's trying to get it without politely asking him to back up first. Something only I would know that could result in disaster only for him to have the same result without me there. People really need to be careful what they're getting themselves into, if you are committing to an animal, let this be a lesson to anyone who has read this far to do the most that you can for it. Go above and beyond. Especially if it is a highly active blood sport breed. My heart goes on anybody else reading this who is going through any similar situation,

I know this isn't a B-thread, and I am a different person from all of you. This hurt me a lot, but there is relief in my heart and mind, knowing that my dog is safe from harm and not getting himself into any more trouble. I am still grieving, but again I have made peace with my decision, I think. Once, he broke out of his cage and opened two steel doors, and went to the down two flights of stairs to end up in my garage sitting in the passenger seat of my car. He jumped through the window. The doors were closed. I think he was waiting for me or something, wanted to go for a ride. Thank you all again for your advice. Moving forward, I have definitely learned some very important lessons, sadly at the expense of the life of my best friend.

I know a lot of people might not agree with me. I mean fuck, I called the deadstock people to pick up the llama and their caller ID said pet food supplies. He was eating some of the thing he was supposed to eat anyways. I will go back and forth in my mind for a while, but I hope that my mind will rest soon. But at least we are both relieved and he is safe. In the reactive dog forum, a lot of people were apologizing to me for what I had been through in regard to the whole event, saying they were really sorry that I had to see that. When bad things happen in life you just have to power through them. My best friend is a paramedic in the inner city where I live, and she sees her fair share of gore and death. I gave her a call as she had just recently.

lost her lifelong pal within the last year to cancer, I also remembered that even though I just moved to a farm, everybody else around me knows that dogs kill livestock and pick the livestock over the dog. Because they kill again, and the livestock are their livelihood. For normal people who have never seen the heart ripped out of a beloved pet while two others watch in horror by the creature you share a bed with, yeah, I can assume it might be pretty fucked up to read this. I'll add it to the list of horrors that I've seen in my life and the skeletons in my closet. Just be grateful you haven't seen the video and that Kingston wasn't your loyal friend. When the veterinarian arrived with his technician and they got stuck in the snow on my driveway,

they had to walk on foot Kingston's apartment. When I opened the door, he was obviously pretty freaked out so instead of letting them in there I closed the door. I had told him he was an American bully, but the first words out of the vet tech's mouth were, that's not a bully that's a pit bull. She was extremely hesitant. That would have offended me before learning that Kingston may truly be genetically related to one of the most dangerous dogs ever bred.

I didn't want my poor dog, having a second of stress on his last day of life so reason with the vet to let me give him the sedative on my own, they don't need to be hurt by him and I knew that I could sneak it somehow. I didn't want him scared. After asking them to wait in the barn, I locked myself inside of his room and took out a big bag of treats. I pet him and held him while he enjoyed a snack for the final time. Our final day was filled with cuddles while the sun shone on us, as I laid with him, speaking

to him in my my head with his nose to mine, reasoning with him about why this needed to be done. I'll never forget his beautiful face. I kissed him all over. I didn't care if I hadn't washed off all of the llama blood. I made him two big packs of bacon and gave him more treats than he's ever had in his life of all different kinds of varieties. He had cheese, chews and liver treats. A couple days before all of this happened sadly, he lost his ball.

I know he really would have loved to have it. It makes me very sad that I didn't dig through that snow to get it for him and when the snow melts and I find it it's going to break my heart. Maybe I will keep it forever. He was distracted by the bag of treats. I took the opportunity and gave him the sedative in the back of his leg. I wish I had known. Wish I had known all the times I got frustrated with him that I should have just been more creative. I couldn't tell you how many that trips I had where he was scared shitless and I was just holding him while he freaked out.

Maybe I was his safe spot, too. Even when I thought he would turn on me for trying to rip him off of Jeff Michael, he looked back at me and realized who I was and just continued. Pretty much telling me to fuck off. He had his own mind, but I know he didn't want hurt me. I know that he loved me very, very much. This type of thing was obviously out of my range of things that I've dealt with before so I called anybody I thought could help me. I had people telling me I was going to have to shoot my dog and that he was never going to be the same after this interaction. What was sad happened after?

He broke out of the barricade that I made in the llama hut and stepped out onto the snow covered in blood looking for me. I was afraid of him for a little bit. I didn't want to go in there and after about three hours, I decided to go inside. I wouldn't let my partner inside because I just didn't know what was going to happen and I didn't want him to feel freaked out at all. Let me give him a bath in the sauna with a bucket and water. He let me wipe his face. He even let me clean inside of his ears. his ears. Something he hates. He gave me a kiss and followed me to his bed like a good boy.

Like he's done his entire fucking life. This was the day after. After he had become sedated, I put him on his favorite carpet that he slept on all the time at our old place. He was still a little bit aware of what was going on, so I took a blanket and covered his head and mine together, and I put my nose to his and he died hearing my voice and feeling my hands around his face telling him how much I loved him and how he was safe now. He was snoring like he He was in a big nap, happy I was touching him. As I said, previously in the post, my negligence in regard to not having my driveway not plowed forced me to have to carry my dog's dead body in the blistering cold about 400 feet or so in

dash 20 C wind gushes. On a hill. With snow drift. I tucked him in and bundled him up in the blanket in the back of the truck. To make matters worse, they got stuck on the way out too, and I had to push the car with my bare hands out of the driveway. It was fucking awful. If there's a god, he will let me see my dog again, but if this is a lesson to anybody who

thinks they want an American bully or a pit bull or any other type of high energy, blood sport breed just because they are awesome, please be aware that this could happen to any of you. It starts with picking the wrong dog. It starts with not knowing what to look for. It starts with not knowing what the fuck you're doing. What solidifies something bad happening is you're not caring enough to do what needs to be done for the dog, even after the fact of realizing you're in the wrong with how you are treating the responsibility of ownership. A lot of people where I live have these kinds of dogs, maybe even

dogs directly related Kimbo, just like Kingston. At the end of the day, I think that Kingston would have been able to go his entire life without me without snapping if it wasn't for such a large kill. Sadly, after a lot of professional advice, it's become apparent that it was very, very satisfying for him and he will not stop. Some of these dogs are amazing and despite my failures, and despite what happened, Kingston still lived to seven and a half around two babies and protected me and them his entire life. I knew the potential of his power. I don't think that he would have done that if I managed his behavior.

It was very sad to look at my friend and not know whether or not I could trust him after this. A lot of people told me that it's possible for him to move from livestock to people if the environment was right, so to say. Do right by your dogs. Thanks for reading. Also if you've gotten this far and know of any place that I can post. my story where it will get to the right audience then please let me know. I spent almost a decade on Reddit, looking for information that wasn't completely biased. I'm 26 years old now.

Kingston was my first love, my first baby. But as I sit in my living room right now, looking at my other pets, I realized the vast responsibility that I carry to protect them, even if it means from themselves. I love them, but I obviously don't love them the same way that I love him. They were a new addition to my life. He's been around through a all. He didn't deserve the life that he had. It scares me to think that I won't truly connect with these two dogs, but I'll swear on everything that's important to me that I will do everything I can for them and everything I failed to do for Kingston in respect of him. Rest in peace, Kingston. I'll post a picture of you somewhere else. People deserve to see how handsome you were.

My wife of 22 years was busily packing a few of her most cherished items in plastic storage boxes humming to herself like she was doing a casual spring cleaning. I in turn, was standing in the doorway of our family room watching Amanda with tears flowing down my face. Despair and a sense of total powerlessness rippled through my soul knowing she was minutes away from the sudden abandonment of our life together. Part of me already hated her for the betrayal she had so unemotionally informed me just hours ago. But truthfully, part of me also hated myself for breaking down like I did and even now with me silently crying. I guess a real man like her lover, Mike Jericho, would have acted out in some other fashion. But he wasn't the one

being betrayed, he was the man my wife was going to live with in California. Standing there, with Amanda seemingly oblivious of my presence, I ran the events of the past few months through my head trying to make sense of everything. It had started about six months prior with Amanda's employer, a national insurance company, hiring Jericho as an efficiency consultant. He supposedly was the best in restructuring companies by cutting waste and the usual other business-related bullshit. The contract Jericho had with Amanda's employer had him there for six to nine months. Amanda as a department head was tasked to work closely with him to make the reorganization

as smooth and quickly as possible. That's where things now obviously went to shit. Before this asshole Jericho showed up my wife had never given me the slightest hint that she would ever be unfaithful. She was the type of wife that got semi-hurt if I casually looked at another woman while we were out in public. She would then make her usual comment about how I was the love of her life and couldn't begin to imagine being with another man.

Jericho must truly be one amazing man because it only took two months to get my wife to willingly spread her legs for him. This day had started as usual with me making reservations at Amanda's favorite restaurant, which I was going to surprise her with that evening. Instead, I got a call from her after lunch asking me to return home now. Of course I rushed home to find her unnaturally calm sitting on the couch. My first thought was that something had happened to our kids. Sally, our oldest, was a nurse in New York City and Kevin was in the Army stationed at Fort Lewis, Washington. Please sit down, Bruce, she said. I have some difficult news to tell you, are the kids okay?

I asked immediately as I sat next to her. Yes, they're fine. It's about you and me and something that I never expected to happen, like some surprise attack Amanda admitted she was in love with another man and was leaving me that day. She also told me flat out it was Mike Jericho, someone she had mentioned only a few times in passing since he had arrived. I met the guy once when I had to pick Amanda up from work because her car was in the shop. Standing in the lobby watching Jericho interact with others, it took less than a minute to realize he was the type who believed his shit didn't stink.

That the flashy clothes he was wearing, complete with the rings on his fingers and a gold Rolex on his wrist, along with his greasy charm and good looks could get him anything he wanted. Never in a million years would believe my wife would fall for that shit. Amanda tried to explain it this way, that when she began working with Jericho she felt an instant connection that only got deeper as the days and weeks passed. That she was sorry for how this happened and that I had been a wonderful husband, but she knew it was time to start a new phase of her life. I can't believe you're seriously doing this Amanda, I said watching her secure the lids

on the storage boxes. This is crazy, you really don't know Jericho and while I accept that things between us may have gotten stale. But I can't believe you're going to throw away our life together like this. I said in a whimpering voice that offended me on many levels. Mike has completely explained his past to me, my wife replied back with a strange look I had never seen before. It took a second to realize the difference,

for our entire marriage when Amanda looked at me there was a special soft smile and glint in her eyes that told me I was loved. That look of love had helped me through a bunch of difficult times from the death of my father to my sister's cancer fight. Amanda now looked at me with a combination of cold indifference mixed with annoyance. In an afternoon of blows to my soul, I think this was the worst.

I knew then that there was no hope, she was in some form of love with another man. Bruce, she said, please try to understand and be happy for me. Are you fucking serious, Amanda? I yelled back my body shaking from the insane words coming out of her mouth. It was at that moment Amanda rushed over and grabbed both of my hands and pulled me close. I wasn't foolish enough to believe she had suddenly come to her senses, but then again I didn't pull away. "'Bruce, I've made my choice. "'You're going to have to let me go.'

"'She said, then releasing my hands and turning back to the two boxes she had packed. Amanda attempted to lift them herself off a table, a task that was difficult, but she got them to the floor and on the hand truck we kept for such tasks. Realizing that she was done with me as both a husband and person, I allowed her to maneuver the boxes out the front door on her own and over to her SUV. After popping the rear hatch I saw two large travel cases in the back, which had to contain the clothes she was taking to start her new life. When Amanda explained the situation about her leaving with Jericho, she told me that in the coming divorce I would get the house and both cars.

Amanda also added that she had told her lawyer not to pursue alimony. My stomach clenched because the way Amanda made those statements it was like she was trying to pass those things off like a grand consolation prize. At that moment, my thoughts flashed to the old game shows that offered up a year's supply of ricerone to lose her contestants before they were booted off the stage. All Amanda wanted in the divorce was half of our joint savings, a sum that came to $65,000. She was leaving behind the 3,000 square foot home we had lived in for 15 years. A house that she had obsessed over from everything to the foundation all the way up to the roof. Every item in the house, from the fixtures, to the paint on the walls, to the make of the

furniture and appliances were chosen by her. She loved that house in a way I often couldn't understand. Given all the time and effort she put into its creation and development, I couldn't help but wonder if Amanda had suffered a brain injury that had altered her personality. Bruce, along with the divorce papers, I've left contact information on the desk in your office in case something happens to the kids. She said getting into her car. Tell the kids I'll be in touch in a few weeks. Screw you, Amanda. I said with anger building. I will not be relegated to some messenger between you and our kids.

You're going to have to explain your actions to the same. them personally. And I know our kids, they will not accept Jericho in their lives and they might cut you out completely. That statement seemed to pierce the thick affair fog for a moment crashing the beautiful delusion that had consumed her. Of course she quickly shook it off and got in her car and cranked it up. Just when I thought Amanda would just drive away, she rolled down her window. Bruce, she said, I'll have a driver return my car. You can keep it, give it to one of the kids, or sell it. I won't need it where I'm going. With that she rolled up the window, pulled out of the driveway and drove away.

It was then that the neighbors learned what had just transpired because I collapsed on the ground sobbing uncontrollably. Luckily for me one of my oldest friends was a lawyer who could handle divorces. Robert Carter and I went back to our days playing high school football. He was the person I called a couple of hours after Amanda had driven off to begin her fairy tale come true. This took place after a few neighbors found me lying on the driveway and carried me back into the house. In the following days, Robert found Amanda's lawyer easy to work with since she had clearly laid out to him that this was to be an uncontested divorce. Amanda had already transferred the $65,000 in our joint savings to another account.

And with her attorney, signed away any claim to alimony and the house, and her car which was returned the following day. All I had to do was wait from 30 to 90 days for the divorce to make its way through the bureaucracy. Robert assured me, though, that my weight would more than likely be around the one-month mark. I don't remember much of the following weeks. Luckily, my boss and co-workers at the engineering firm I worked knew what happened with my marriage and took care of the few unfinished assignments I had at the time. Once they were squared away, my boss even used a little-known company hardship policy to get me an extended leave of absence.

My kids, Sally and Kevin, had thrown their full support behind me once they learned of what their mother had done. They both desperately wanted to return home, but the demands of their own adult lives made that impossible. As far as Amanda contacting them, you would think a mother who was suddenly leaving their father after more than two decades of marriage would have called her kids to try and explain. But no when I reached the kids after talking with Robert, I found out they hadn't received any communication from their mother in several weeks. God damn, that Mike Jericho must have one magic dick. After talking with Robert and the kids, I pretty much shut down after that, refusing to leave the house or talk to anyone else. A few weeks later some sense of self-awareness finally crept back the morning after Robert called to tell me it was time to sign the papers. Of course that would have required me to be presentable in public.

So I stumbled into the master bathroom, where Amanda had taken a full month to decide on the decor and proper fixtures, and looked at myself in the mirror. For the first time ever I saw a thin, hollow-eyed stranger with a thick, unkempt beard full of gray. Thinking back at that moment, I couldn't remember the last time I had a real meal. I lost at least 30 pounds since Amanda left and honestly looked so close to death it scared me. I became so mad then that how I had been used and betrayed I did something totally out of character for me. I punched the mirror with my fist. The glass shattered all over the sink, my right hand was badly cut with blood going everywhere. It took a visit to the emergency room and a few stitches to finally clear my head.

I still had enough time afterwards to get cleaned up and go to Robert's office. Robert looked on with some concern as I signed the divorce papers in his firm's conference room. Who would have thought that a hardened divorce attorney who had gone through his own marital nightmare could still have empathy for a stupid client who still loved his errant wife? Well, Bruce, you are officially divorced, Robert said in a way that was supposed to bring me some relief. Yay me, I said with spite. Bruce, he said standing up bringing an end to our meeting, I know this sucks, but I've got

to say you came away from this divorce mostly unscathed. Losing just $65,000 in the settlement, given your shared wealth, is a win in anyone's book. With this state's divorce laws, I've known cheating wives that have taken almost everything from their former husbands. I stayed silent, taking no comfort in Robert's words as I stood up to shake his hand and leave. It was then that I caught sight of the pretty paralegal entering the room, a blonde somewhere in her 20s looking at me visibly overwhelmed with pity. A more dynamic and smarter version of me probably could have milked her emotions for a rebound pity fuck. But in truth, that talent for me never existed, I was clearly no Mike Jericho. Having Jericho take my wife and live rent-free in my head was almost too much to bear.

I walked out to my car wondering just what in the hell I would do now. My wife and kids held all the meaning in my life. The kids were grown and out on their own, so Amanda had become my purpose. I fucking cried after getting in the car totally oblivious if anyone saw me break down. At some point, I guess a self-preservation instinct kicked in and I regained. my composure. It was the last time I cried over Amanda. A couple of weeks later I'm back at work trying to rebuild my life. I think the worst thing was the looks that the others gave me. There were several variations, I was mostly looked at with deep pity. But there were a few

looks of suspicion with some whispering there had to be a reason why Amanda threw away what on the surface looked like a perfect marriage. The real hell for me was when I returned to the house we shared. Amanda's ghost was everywhere given all the time and effort she had done to create what for her was the perfect home. It was so overwhelming I had dreams each night of her returning to me begging for forgiveness. It was obvious what my next move would be. Just a few days later a moving van rented by a used furniture dealer backed into the driveway. I sold him at a bargain price just to spite Amanda's metaphorical ghost, almost every item in the house that wasn't bolted down. When he and his workers left there was only a bed for me, the large screen television,

the basic kitchen appliances, a couch, and my recliner. The house was a house was so empty, any sound echoed through it like a cave. I wasn't done yet. Even when the kids were living with us Amanda's creation was insanely too large for a family of four. I had no intention of living in it alone any longer than I had to. I called a real estate agent the next day. A few weeks later I found a nice patio home for sale and snapped it up immediately. The big house was also listed at a bargain price and bought by a family with four young kids. Seeing the wonder in the eyes of the mom and dad as they walked through the empty rooms of their new home brought me my first joy in months. A little over four months had passed since Amanda destroyed my world and I was developing a new normal for my life.

Especially heartening was that both Sally and Kevin had in no uncertain terms cut their mother out of their lives. Apparently Amanda and Jericho went on a two-week-long cruise after arriving in California and she didn't try to contact the kids until well after it was over. It was a little after the six-month point of Amanda leaving that I got a phone call from an unknown number. It was late in the day and I had just cooked a frozen pizza and popped the top on a beer when the phone buzzed. I declined the call and went back to the movie I was watching. At some point it occurred to me to look up the area code and I laughed when I learned it was the one from the San Francisco area. I figured it was probably from a telemarketer, but I found it comforting how much I didn't care one way or the other if it was Amanda trying to make contact. It was the eight-month mark when everything blew up.

I got a call from Amanda's sister, correctly named Karen, because she was one, informing me that Amanda had tried to contact me. I instantly thought back to the unknown call from the San Francisco area. Well, Karen, I said, I'll take your word for it, but I haven't received any call from her. And frankly, our marriage ended on really bad terms, so I don't have any desire to talk with her. Plus, according to your sister's own words, Mike Jericho is her true soulmate. If it involves the kids, whatever relationship she can rebuild with them is on her. Not only will I not help my ex-wife with anything, I really don't know if I would piss on Amanda if I saw her on fire.

Karen and I only tolerated each other at the best of times, so not surprisingly she hung up without saying another word. Though, I couldn't help but ponder what might have gone wrong between Amanda and Jericho. If Amanda had run head first into some form of reality with her lover, she was going to be in a world of trouble for someone to save her. My former father-in-law and mother-in-law were dead and Amanda's sister and her husband were taking care of his aging parents. And even if Sally and Kevin were speaking to their mother, neither had any way for her to live with them. Oh well, I thought to myself as I took a sip of my beer, Amanda should have $65,000 to cushion any return to the real world.

I did realize that I hadn't mentioned to Karen that I had sold the house and everything in it. It was a month later when the final shoe dropped. I was sitting in the office I should. shared with another engineer when the phone on my desk rang. Hello, this is Bruce Evans, can I help you? I said, not paying attention to the number on the screen. Yes, Mr. Evans, a female said, I'm Dr. Sylvia Altman calling from Sacramento Regional Hospital and I need to inform you that your wife, Amanda Evans, is my patient. She was in a car accident a couple of weeks ago and has just regained consciousness. Her Illinois driver's license records have you listed as her next of kin, needless to say,

Dr. Altman was taken back when I chuckled. Yeah, Dr. Altman, we've been divorced for about eight months. My ex-wife should have updated her emergency contact information. She's in a relationship with a man named Mike Jericho. He's the one you should contact. That's just it, Dr. Altman sighed, with Ms. Evans' unconscious, the police ran the license plate on the car and contacted Mr. Jericho. He has disavowed any responsibility for Ms. Evans

and has stated they were not in a long-term, committed relationship. Oh wow, I don't know what to tell you, doctor. As I stated, she and I are divorced and a breakup of our marriage for me was unexpected and brutal. I really don't see how I can be of help to Amanda. Not to get petty, but she burned our bridges thoroughly and the last thing she said to me was her certainty that she and Jericho were meant for each other. Yes, Dr. Altman began, Mr. Jericho has gone as far as to have his lawyer make it clear to the hospital that he wants no further contact from Ms. Evans. Dr. Altman, Amanda has money, she got $65,000 out of the divorce. I responded now knowing where this was going.

Ms. Evans says that money is gone and that she doesn't have any medical insurance. Mr. Evans, your ex-wife has repeatedly asked about you and has some idea you'll help her. I'll be on the first flight I can get, I said to the doctor, not believing the words coming out of my mouth, do you want to speak with Ms. Evans? The doctor asked. She still has a long recovery ahead of her, but your ex-wife wants to speak with you. She said, obviously relieved that someone would come to her injured patient. No, I replied.

I need to speak with my lawyer before talking to her. Dr. Altman didn't push the point and I believed she fully understood the nature of how our relationship ended. We talked for several more minutes getting some of the details about how the car wreck happened. What I began to understand was that Jericho and her were having a fight with Amanda fleeing his residence in one of his cars. My ex-wife was never a good driver and being in control of some high-end vehicle on unfamiliar roads in bad weather explained everything to me. What Dr. Altman only alluded to was that after examining Amanda, she had evidence of physical

abuse on the part of Jericho against her. After talking with my lawyer, I got a red-eye flight to Sacramento and arrived at the hospital eight hours later after a long layover in Dallas. It was early morning when I met with Dr. Altman. I wanted to talk with her and fully explain my position before seeing Amanda. The doctor wasn't happy with what I told her, but didn't stop me from proceeding since Amanda had done nothing but asked for me since becoming conscious. I walked into Amanda's room to see her awake and sitting up.

Her right arm was heavily bandaged and it was obvious she had suffered numerous cuts and lacerations. I also noticed the broken nose and black eyes but didn't really know if that was from Jericho or the car accident. When she saw me it was immediately clear that Jericho delusion was broken. Looking at me she had that soft smile and twinkle in her eyes that said I was the love of her life. All I could think was, oh damn. I knew you would come save me, Amanda said before breaking down in uncontrolled sobs. I've been such an ungrateful fool, she blurted out between howls of what

could have been either shame or relief that I had arrived. Amanda's nurse showed up then and wanted to administer a sedative but was waved away several minutes later Amanda had regained some control of her emotions. That's when she noticed I was still just. just standing inside her room, that I had neither walked over to her bedside nor was showing any emotion at seeing her. "'Please come here,' Bruce,' she said, starting to have an inkling I wasn't going to be her shining white night. "'I know what I did was unforgivable, that I threw our life and family away for a man

that began abusing me just a few weeks after I left with him. She finished, still looking for some reaction from me. "'Tell me everything that happened, Amanda.' I said coldly, grabbing a chair near the foot of her hospital bed in taking a seat. I listened as Amanda began telling her story of how Jericho had manipulated her into believing her life had been wasted. That Jericho had used his charm to delude her into wanting to start a new and wonderful life with him.

How many times did you two fuck before the day you packed up and left with him? I asked. Bruce, please I don't want to talk about that. Amanda said quietly and looked away. Answer the question, I said in a tone of voice that must have scared her. We started having sex about a month after we began working together. She answered obviously ashamed. When did you first get a hint that you had made a mistake?

That Jericho wasn't the soulmate you said he was while sitting on our couch at home. Amanda started crying again, but answered the question. He took me on a cruise to the South Pacific just a few days after arriving at his home. A few days into the trip he became very controlling, warning me not to embarrass him around others on the ship. He compared me to other women and told me many times that I wasn't equal to them. that he was doing me a favor by being with me. What was the deal with crashing his car?

Amanda looked down for several seconds, remaining quiet before speaking. About three months after returning to his house he started beating me. It was then I realized how badly I had been deluded, that I had made a huge mistake. I wanted to call you and ask if I could come home but Mike had long since taken my cell phone. If I wanted to make a call I had to ask to use his. Then came a day when he left his phone on a table while talking to one of his equally strange friends. I took my chance and called you. Your phone rang a few times then went to voicemail. I was devastated and wanted to try again, but Mike walked back inside. He knew I had tried

something and beat me so badly I had to be taken to another one of his friends who was a doctor. He treated me without reporting the abuse. This doctor and Mike had a huge laugh over my black eyes and when we returned to his place, he raped me. Amanda broke down again, I had to give her credit, she was coming clean. After recovering she continued her story. Mike left me alone in the house for several days, he said I was an embarrassment and that he didn't want to be seen with me. Since I couldn't reach you or the kids, I gathered enough courage to steal one of his cars and head east. I had this blind desire to return home where I was going to beg you to take me back. Somewhere I went off the road near Sacramento and was unconscious for several days.

What about Jericho? What did he do when he found you gone? The car's registration led to him and when a informed of my condition he didn't want anything to do with me. The car I wrecked was just written off. Just a few days before the cruise he convinced me to transfer my money to him for safekeeping. So I guess my money went to paying off the wreck. We just looked at each other in silence for several minutes. Some small part of me wanted to comfort her, hell that sliver of caring wanted me to grab her, and take her home. But the main problem was that there was no home anymore, and more importantly, I couldn't forget nor forgive the cold indifference shown the day she left. There was no way in hell I could ever trust Amanda again, I really couldn't trust anything

she had said or done during our entire marriage. What do you want me to do about all of this, Amanda? I finally say, wondering what she would say. Amanda started crying again, and I honestly believe they were true tears of regret and sadness. I was sure it wasn't some emotional meltdown lamenting the disastrous end to a romantic gambit. I felt bad for her because she must have felt utterly alone. Bruce, Amanda, said gathering her courage, I want to go home. I want to sleep in our bed, wake up the next morning beside you and work the rest of my life to make up for what I have done to us, and especially you. Amanda, there's no easy way to say this, because what you did to us was a nightmare. But the home you and I built is gone, I sold everything to recover some of my

self-respect. Your ghost was everywhere in that house, I couldn't live there anymore with everything reminding me of you. It hurt too much. I bought a small home. on the other side of town. I live by myself and have come to like that way of life. Despite the roller coaster of emotions in that room, Amanda was stunned into silence. I sensed a similar level of overwhelming disbelief from her that I felt when she suddenly informed me of her affair and that she was leaving me. Can we start again in your new place? Amanda asked. I can't imagine not having you in my life. She finished leaving me amazed she could utter those words with a straight face. After Amanda made her appeal to come home and start

again I looked at her with an indifference I would have never imagined possible one year ago. Back then I believed our lives were irrevocably intertwined, so much that I would have used the naive word, soulmate, to describe how I felt. But in the space of a few months she threw that all away. She even cruelly broke with our two kids with only a vague statement to me about contacting them later to explain. Her actions were so short-sighted, selfish and narcissistic it was impossible for me to even consider accepting her back in my life. The injury she had inflicted on me was just too grave. Our lives were definitely once intertwined. But now I only saw deadwood that needed to be cut out of my life. I searched for anything to say to her request.

It was her last words to me months earlier that popped into my head. Amanda, you made your choice and I let you go. Now's the time for you to do the same with me. I replied feeling a sudden sense of relief. My ex-wife started to say something but must have remembered those words that I had just echoed back to her. The look on Amanda's face was one of stark terror. Her hope of rescue by me was destroyed and now my ex-wife realized she was not only completely alone but penniless. I'm leaving you a check for $10,000, I said standing up to leave. My lawyer recommended against this since you signed away any claim to the house or alimony. So consider it a gift, it's a little cash to restart your life. How you go about that is up to you. Whether or not the kids let you back into their lives is up to them.

Of course Amanda broke down into tears again, and while it was cold-blooded, I took that moment to walk out not saying another word. I dropped off legal paperwork with the hospital saying that I, like Jericho, did not want anything more to do with the former Amanda Evans. A few hours later I caught a flight home with a completely clear conscience. On the flight home it occurred to me that even after the divorce I had let Amanda's choices restrict my own options in life. Seeing Amanda in that hospital room with her admitting the monumental mistake she had made with

Jericho had restored a good chunk of my soul. Along with that was seeing Amanda's face when she realized I wasn't there to rescue her, that whatever future she had didn't include me. This new feeling of vindication was liberating but also came with a curious burden. I had been living among the pieces of our broken marriage. It was on me to sweep away the shattered glass that was all those past commitments and fond memories. It was time for me to begin a new life. I'm a single man in my early 30s, and my younger brother, James, is 29. James and I have led vastly different lives. By the time he was 22, he was already a father, and now he has four kids.

His wife, Emma, and I have never gotten along. Emma is entitled, manipulative, and always acts like she's above everyone else, especially me. Anytime I challenge her behavior, she flips the script, playing the victim with a performance worthy of an Oscar. James and my parents adore Emma, though they know full well how manipulative she can be. My parents turn a blind eye, perhaps because Emma is conventionally attractive. However, her beauty is completely overshadowed by her toxic personality.

Emma has a degree but refuses to work, insisting on being a full-time mom, even though it's my mother who ends up doing most of the childcare. Meanwhile, Emma spends her days scrolling on her phone or complaining about how difficult her life is. James' job barely covers their expenses, so they all live in my parents cramped, outdated three-bedroom home. Growing up, James was always the golden child. Despite being younger, he got all the attention, gifts, and privileges.

My parents were blatant in their favoritism. When relatives pointed this out, my parents denied it, and eventually, they moved us 150 miles away to avoid criticism. This move only reinforced their bias, and James grew up with an inflated sense of self-worth. Anytime I stood up for myself, I was punished. James knew this and exploited it, bullying me physically and immoroughed. He even flirted with my first girlfriend until she broke up with me. When I complained, my parents dismissed me, telling me to, grow up.

By the time I turned 18, I couldn't wait to leave. Couch surfing with friends seemed better than living in a home where I was treated as less than. My parents didn't try to stop me, in fact, they seemed relieved. They didn't even attend my high school graduation. After leaving, I kept minimal contact, only visiting during holidays out of obligation. I've improved once I left. I had a stable job, a decent apartment shared with a roommate, and a supportive social circle. But then the pandemic hit in 2020. My company downsized, and I was

laid off. My roommate, who worked in hospitality, lost his job as well. We couldn't afford our apartment on unemployment benefits, so we had to give up the lease. My roommate moved in with his family, but I didn't have that option. My parents had always made it clear I wasn't welcome back. Desperate, I called my parents, asking if I could park my camper in their driveway temporarily. They flat out refused, saying their house was already too crowded with James and his family. They even demanded I pay rent equivalent to an apartment if I wanted to park there. It was absurd. Emma and James mocked me, calling me a, bum, and laughing at my misfortune.

With no other options, I sold most of my belongings and bought a $1,000 camper to attach to my truck. It became my home. My first night was terrifying, I parked in a store parking lot, afraid someone would break in. Over the following weeks, I searched for safe places to park overnight. Public bathrooms and gyms became my lifelines for hygiene. I ran an extension cord to public outlets to charge my camper's batteries and keep my refrigerator running. After months of this nomadic lifestyle, I landed a new job in a nearby city. My boss allowed me to park my camper behind the company warehouse and even hook up to the building's electricity.

It wasn't ideal, but it was a step toward stability. I saved every penny, eating cheap meals and avoiding unnecessary expenses. My camper, though cramped and often unbearably hot, became a symbol of resilience. By mid-2021, I was promoted at work and started earning a solid income. Determined to leave my camper life behind, I searched for a house. I found a modest three-bedroom home with a backyard, perfect for my needs. After negotiating, I bought it for $10,000 less than the asking price, draining my savings for the down payment. When I moved in, the relief was overwhelming, I finally had a space to call my own.

Excited, I shared my achievement on social media. Most of my friends congratulated me, but it wasn't long before my parents and James found out. A week later, they showed up unannounced. Somehow, they'd found my address. They barged in, acting as if they owned the place. Emma smirked as she inspected every room. My parents kept commenting that the house was too big for someone like me. James suggested I moved back into my camper and let his family take the house,

even proposing rules for when I'd be allowed inside. I refused. When Emma started screaming, claiming I was selfish for not giving up my house for their growing family, I recorded everything. Eventually, I had to threaten to call the police to make them leave. Over the following weeks, they returned multiple times, trying to guilt. me into giving them the house. My parents called me selfish, saying, family comes first, but I reminded them how they treated me when I was homeless. The situation escalated when James and Emma broke

into my house, drilling out the locks and moving their furniture in. I called the police, and with video evidence, I proved ownership. They were forced to leave, humiliated. Not long after, James discovered Emma had been cheating on him. A DNA test revealed their youngest child wasn't his. He divorced her, and her manipulative world came crashing down. She lost custody of most of the kids and was left struggling to make ends meet. Meanwhile, my parents began trying to reconcile with me, realizing their favoritism had destroyed our relationship. James, now humbled, apologized for his behavior, and I loaned him my camper to help him start over. I remained cautious but appreciated their efforts to mend our broken ties. My house became a sanctuary,

and my life finally stabilized. I rented out spare rooms to tenants and started focusing on my future. Emma, now an outcast, faded into obscurity, while I moved forward with peace and independence. Through all the chaos, I learned the value of standing up for myself and building a life on my own terms. Part 1. Three months ago I, 31F, discovered that my current fiancé Frank, 32M, and my ex-fiance Jason's, 32M, parents were lying to me. They had lead me to believe that he had died in a shootout between police and drug dealers. I am about to get married in three days' time I just wanted somewhere to vent about this.

Let me start at the beginning. When I was 20 years old Jason was a neighbor of mine. If I were to say I was unimpressed with him, that would be an understatement. He would let people push him around and didn't seem to stand up for himself. At the time I was a model. I didn't make a lot from modeling, but it was enough to pay for my rent and necessities with a little left over for myself. I had always heard that there was always the danger of stalkers, but I hadn't believed it until it happened to me. He had developed an obsession with me and would always appear at the

places I was modeling as well as events I attended. Up till this point, I was able to ignore it to a degree. But then he started appearing where I shopped and even near where I lived. And somehow Jason had heard about it and would walk me to my car and even offered to go shopping with me. I remember I was actually a bit rude to him. After all, how could someone so cowardly protect me? But somehow I actually started to feel safe and comfortable when he was around. I started getting feelings for him and even asked him out for coffee a few times. And then apparently the stalker started to get jealous or something because one of the days the stalker suddenly attacked me with a knife in the parking lot shouting that in

death we would be together forever. Luckily Jason was there. When he tackled the stalker and put him in a headlock he looked so heroic. He didn't even flinch when the knife cut his arm. I think that was the moment I fell in love with him. When the police came all I saw was him. Until this moment I had thought he was a coward, but in that moment I saw what I believed was the real him.

Without the stalker I was terrified that we would go back to being strangers. It's funny how he went from being a nuisance to someone that I couldn't imagine not being around. And then when he asked me out two days later I was so giddy. I had never felt this way before. After a couple of dates he came, clean, and told me he was a cop. That was how he had heard about my stalker and that he couldn't just stand by and do nothing. And when he told me that I couldn't tell his family because of Frank's trauma.

His family wouldn't understand and it was just upset them and I believe this. A couple of months later we went to meet his parents. And Frank was there. He had this smug grin on his face and undressed me with his eyes. I couldn't stand him. From the way Jason spoke of him, this was not what I expected. And every time I was alone with him he tried to. to flirt with me. To be totally honest, he disgusted me. And this seemed to upset him. A week later,

he crashed his car and Jason lent him his which he didn't even watch because it got stolen. I still remember thinking that he had been petty and crashed his car on purpose because I was interested in him because he knew that Jason would lend him his. And when they found drugs in the car, I remember thinking that it wouldn't surprise me if it was Franks, but now I know the truth. Three years later Jason proposed to me and I said yes. That was the happiest day of my life. I was already planning out the wedding. And then eight months later I found out I was pregnant. We were both so happy and the future looked so bright. And then two months later his parents phoned me and asked me to come over they had something important to discuss

with me. When I arrived Frank was also there and you could see that his mother had been crying. They told me that Jason was dead, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He had been and shot in a gun fight between police and drug dealers. I remember thinking that he must have been one of the cops and that I couldn't tell them because I didn't want to tarnish their memory of him. And I also felt that if I told them the truth that would mean it was real. He was never coming back. Frank offered to help me with the baby and to be there for me and his parents insisted I take

him up on his offer. I was so heartbroken and saw that I just agreed. And over the next two years he didn't make a move on me and was just a friend who I came to rely on. But then we started to have feelings for each other and then three years after Jason died we started dating. We had the full support of Jason's parents. Two and a half years later Frank proposed to me. I turned him down saying that I was still mourning Jason and wasn't ready for marriage yet. We had an argument where he shouted that he couldn't understand why I was mourning that drug dealer. I remember in the heat if the moment I shouted back that he was a cop not a

drug dealer. He was so shocked that I thought Jason was a cop that for the first time ever he had a look of shock on his face. And that's when he told me the truth, or at least part of it. He told me that the truth was that Jason was one of the drug dealers. I refused to believe it and so he called Jason's parents and they corroborated his story. They apologized to me for covering it up but they didn't want to tarnish Jason's memory with me. I remember just breaking down and crying. Two days later I agreed to marry Frank and I finally moved on. until six months later Jason came back from the dead. Or to be more precise, prison.

Frank and his parents apologized saying that since Jason had been given a 30-year sentence they were scared that I wouldn't move on. And he was only released because of a technicality. I refused to see Jason and didn't want him to see my son, but his parents insisted that I let him see his son once a week. I agreed as long as I wasn't there. But after a few visits I decided to be there to make sure he didn't hurt my son. he still tried to tell me had been undercover.

He still expected me to believe his lies. So I told him that I knew the truth. That Frank and his parents had told me he was just a common drug dealer. And that I was no longer that innocent girl that would just believe his lies. After this I refused to speak to him or let him see my son. His lies weren't going to hurt my family anymore and now I am just focused on my wedding and my future with Frank and my son. Part 2.

My wedding was three days ago. The last three days are a blur. After the wedding apparently my parents took me home but I was in such a bad state that I had to be taken to the hospital and placed under psych evaluation. They were scared I would hurt myself. Today I am doing a little better but since I still can't talk about what happened they encouraged me to write about it, so here I am. I still remember how beautiful that morning was and how I kept telling myself it was the

happiest day of my life. It was an outdoor wedding, Frank had chosen the vineyard. The caterers had arrived early and started setting up, when Frank's side of the family started to arrive. He had told me about them, they were related to his bio-dad, not to his adopted parents, though they were also invited. I remember hearing the revs of motorbikes and then a bunch of heavily tattooed bikers arrived. I remember that they had an air of danger about them.

The leader, an older gentleman, had come to me and introduced himself as Capone. I remember Frank had told me about Capone, he was like an uncle to him and was called Capone because he looked like Al Capone. Maybe before he got all the tattoos, but right now I couldn't see the resemblance. They were a rough bunch and made me very nervous, but they were important to Frank, so I thanked them for coming and chatted with them for a while. I remember greeting Frank's parents and how happy they were. I remember thinking that when Jason introduced me to them, they were nowhere near as happy.

Eventually I went to get ready before Frank arrives. It's bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding. It was a beautiful white wedding dress. I had actually chosen this wedding dress almost seven years ago. I couldn't bring myself to return it after being told Jason had been killed. I was going to get a new dress, but Frank told me he really liked this dress and wanted me to wear it on our wedding. Putting it on actually made me cry a little. I remember telling myself it was just nerves.

I remember my father walking me down the aisle and seeing Frank standing by the podium looking so dashing. I remember seeing my son Jason standing there smiling, my little ring bearer. I remember when we got to the vows my mind went blank while Frank was saying his vows. And then suddenly chaos. Suddenly some of the staff suddenly attacked the bikers while men in tactical gear rushed in tackling the bikers while shouting for everyone to keep their hands where they could see them. The bridesmaids were screaming, while I rushed towards my son Jason and just hugged him tight trying to shield his body with mine.

And Frank, Frank was still his confident self demanding to know what going on and that they would regret this. He only lost his calm one of the police took of his helmet. Suddenly he went pale and looked like he saw a ghost. He then rushed at this man and tried to hit him, but was easily thrown to the ground with his arm held behind his back. It was only when this man started listing off his charges that I suddenly recognized him. It was Jason. Frank had told me that Jason might try to do something at the wedding, but I couldn't believe he would do this. I saw red and started shouting at him, words that I now regret, how he was being jealous and petty and even worse stuff.

But he just ignored me and carried on listing the charges. I remember he got to the charge of attempted murder. How ludicrous, Frank couldn't hurt a fly. So I asked him who he had attempted to murder. And for the first time since he burst and he looked directly at me and said something that smashed my reality. It was him. Nine months earlier Frank had put a hit on him in prison and he almost died.

It was like I was doused in cold water. I had been in shock so I hadn't noticed that he was in a police uniform. And nine months ago that was when I had that argument with Frank and accidentally let slip that he was a cop. It was all my fault. Jason has almost died because I broke my promise to him about not letting his family know. Why didn't I trust him? I had a nervous breakdown and had to be sedated.

Why didn't I trust him? Why did I choose to believe Frank? His family have been trying to contact me, but I have told the nurses and my family that I don't want to see them. I am not ready to forgive them and I don't know if I ever will be. For six years they had lied to me. And not only that, they were the ones who had pushed for me to let Frank help me with the baby. And had helped Frank gaslight me in regards to Jason being a cop. Even when I had brought up that I had seen Jason in uniform and had seen his badge,

they had supported his reasoning of criminals dressing up as police to commit crimes. And what has also terrified me is once I calmed down I started to realize that all of Frank's family that had arrived were criminals. Criminals he had brought to my wedding where my son was. I had allowed a snake to enter my home and if Jason hadn't exposed him I don't know what would have happened in the future. I have had family members contact me angry that Jason chose this day to arrest Frank. I don't agree with them.

Even if Jason never forgives me I will always be grateful that he got Frank out of mine and my son's life. In a few days I will be allowed to go home but I don't think I can face Jason yet. I made a big mistake and even though it was because I was fed lies by those I trusted I should have had more faith in Jason. It feels like my heart is breaking. Like how I felt when his parents told me he was dead. Even though it hurts so much, how much worse must it be for Jason? At least I still have my family, Jason lost everything. Part 3. Three months ago I finally mustered up the courage to speak to Jason.

At first it was very awkward. I couldn't stand this awkwardness between us, so I started crying and couldn't stop apologizing and then Jason started apologizing. Turns out that the whole time I had locked myself in my room thinking that Jason hated me, he was also thinking that I hated him. We ended up speaking for a couple of hours and I felt so safe and comfortable. I had missed this. Jason is the only person that gave me such a strong sense of safety and of being loved unconditionally.

I don't remember when, but I fell asleep. When I woke up we were cuddling on the couch and I felt better than I had in over a month. I actually thought we would get back together after this and everything would be like it was. But he never asked me out or to move in with him. He visited us regularly and hung out with me and our son. But then the trial started two months ago and from what I heard the trial could take a year or two to finish, especially since it was such a high-profile case. And even though the trial has only just begun there had already been a massive bombshell.

And it hit Jason really hard. He was already struggling to forgive his parents, so after this I don't know if he ever will. Don't worry they didn't do anything illegal. No, the bombshell was that Frank is actually Jason's half-brother. And when I heard this I also thought what you are thinking Jason's mother, and had an affair with Frank's father, but no, that's not it. Jason's father, Alex, is both of their fathers. Apparently Frank's father was actually his grandfather. Apparently Alex had fallen in love with Ethan's daughter Stacy.

And since Alex had a good job and Ethan wanted his daughter to have a normal life he gave his blessing and they got married. And since and was one of her best friends she was one of her bridesmaids. And then six months later Stacy was pregnant with him and the happy couple were over the moon. And then three months later and became pregnant and she claimed that the pregnancy was the result of a one-night stand and she didn't know who the father was. But when Stacy was near term she came home a day early from visiting.

her father accidentally heard her husband arguing with her best friend about the baby. She heard enough to know her husband was the father. Apparently she had confronted them and after a big argument she had taken the car to go to her father. But she was in such an emotional state that she ended up crashing the car. Unfortunately she died two days later in the hospital but they were able to save the baby. Her father had been devastated. He had taken the baby and told his son-in-law that he was dead to him and wasn't worthy to be his grandson's father and so he would raise him himself. And then Alex had married Anne.

And then the real reason they took in Frank was because they were the only living relatives. And they learned from the social workers that Frank had been heavily abused by his grandfather. He was already a drinker, but apparently after his daughter's death he spent most of his time drinking and gambling and he also came to resent Frank for his daughter's death. He used to hit him and tell him that if he had never been born, he would still have a daughter. When Jason's parents heard this they had felt so guilty, they had pretty much abandoned with his abuser. And they both still felt guilty about his mother's death and they had sworn to make it up to him. He became their priority and Jason was relegated to the background.

Jason is still coming to terms with this. This is just another one of their lies exposed. After my breakdown I had quit my job and had focused on my son and on my mental health. But I have also been thinking of the future. I have been thinking about becoming a social worker for a while now. Frank had talked me out of it. But now hearing about Frank's childhood, I have decided to study to become a social worker.

Jason has been fully supportive and even helped me sign up. I don't know what will happen with Jason. But I will wait for him no matter how long it takes. Part 4. It has been a week since the sentencing and it feels like a weight lifted off my shoulders. Over the last two years the relationship between Jason and our son has improved a lot. He hasn't called him dad yet, but I think that's just because it feels awkward. But he just needs a little more time.

Jason had asked me to leave our son with my parents while he takes me out. He had something very important to discuss with me. I was very excited. I wasn't sure if it was a date or not, but I dressed myself as if it was. When I got to the restaurant Jason told me how stunning I looked. I saw he had a folder with documents next to him, so I was a little disappointed, but I didn't let it show. We first had dinner while having small talk. Both of us avoided talking about Frank.

We talked about his mother. seems he has decided to give his mother another chance and forgive. His father hasn't even tried to contact him, he most likely knows that Jason wants nothing to do with him. After dinner and a glass of wine each, Jason opened the folder. He told me he had been given a commendation, but that he turned it down. Not only that, but he also handed in his resignation. Apparently he had already decided to do this two years ago and the only reason he waited was that he wanted to first see Frank sentenced. There was too many bad memories and he wanted to do something different but where he was still helping people. He was going to be a private investigator,

and specialize in missing person cases. He will make his money from high-profile wealthy customers and he will use this money to do pro bono cases for those without money. He showed me his business plan as well as his PI license. I was happy for him. And then he accidentally bummed one the documents onto the floor. He quickly apologized and ducked down to pick it up. Next thing I noticed he was on one knee with a ring in his hand. He asked me if I would marry him. I burst into tears, I must have said yes like ten times. I had started to think that he hadn't asked me out because he didn't want me.

But the whole time he had decided to pause his life until Frank was gone for good. And now we are at a new beginning. For Frank it is the end. For us it is just the beginning. Part 5. It's been a month since Frank escaped and decided to ruin everything. In the first week he organized an attack on Jason's offices. Jason has been trying to downplay the attack.

But not only did the attack cause lots of damages, but they stole also documents as well as computers and laptops. All containing sensitive info on cases he has been involved in regarding missing people. As of now we don't know what Frank is going to do with this information. And they started a fire when they left. And then he sent Jason those 15 videos. I don't know if Frank made them as insurance or if he was planning to send them to Jason after the wedding.

Jason thought the videos might be execution videos and wanted to forward the videos to police. I thought that they might be ransom videos and advised that we open one first. We chose the smallest file to download and as soon as we opened the first video I almost fainted. I felt like throwing up. That bastard had been recording us and I looked so disgusting in this video. I looked like an animal in heat and the way we were rutting, sweating made me nauseous. It was pure lust, there was no love. or emotion. Just looking at this video, I don't know what I ever saw in Frank. And I couldn't

even begin to imagine what Jason was feeling seeing me like that. But I never expected him to ask why I never showed him that expression. I tried to explain that that was just lust without love. I don't know if Jason understood what I was trying to say. He is feeling insecure and thinks that I am just trying to comfort him. But I honestly do think that Jason is far better in bed. Frank was like a drug where it was physically good but afterwards you just feel dirty and need a shower. Jason on the other hand made me feel good both physically as well as emotionally and afterwards I would bask in the warm afterglow. I don't think he realizes the effect he has on me. How I constantly think about him and want to be with him.

And how he excites me. After seeing that video I was devastated. Both because Jason had seen it and the worry of who else has seen it or who else will. After all this is Frank we are talking about. But then I started to worry about what else he would send Jason. Did he have me followed? Does he have pictures or video? So I bit the bullet and decided to confess to Jason.

After Frank's arrest we hung out together a lot but we didn't start dating again. I thought that maybe Jason was just trying to be friendly for our son. So after a year of my friends trying to get me to go on dates I finally gave in and went on dates. For the June 1st months nothing happened. I would go on a date and then turn down a second. However on month seven of dating I had a bad day and drank a bit too much on the date and I ended up sleeping with my date. There was no pleasure and I just felt dirty afterwards. And then a month later it happened again and again I just felt dirty.

And then a couple months later it happened again, though I don't remember drinking so much and just waking up alone in a hotel room. And when I showered I realized he hadn't used protection. I remember a couple of weeks later I was throwing up in the morning so I took a pregnancy test. It was positive. But then Jason phoned me. He told me that he had something important to discuss with me over dinner. And then that night he proposed to me and I was so happy. And that night for the first time in a long time I felt loved and I didn't feel dirty afterwards.

When I woke up I decided to have an abortion and that Jason didn't need to ever know. So I made up some excuse and went to the hospital and had it done. And then I kept this secret. And over the years the guilt has been a heavy weight. But I always felt that like he said when he proposed. That was a new beginning, everything else was the past. Honestly, when I confessed it was like a weight lifted off my shoulders. I could see that it really hurt him, but I believe we can get through this.

But for the last month he has been distant and doesn't want to even touch me. And at times he seems broken. I don't know how to get through to him, but all I can do is be there for him and when he is ready to talk I will be here. I will not lose him again. I will not let Frank take him from me again. I just want to preface this by saying a few things. I'm not trying to glamorize anything I write about. I was a lost, dumb kid with no guidance other than a group of savages and drug dealers that took me in when nobody else cared. I'm not looking for sympathy or pulling the hole, poor me this is why I was this way, card. Ick what all I'm going to write about on this account. But to be clear I chose to do

these things and be in these environments, I wasn't forced. I didn't really have parents. I watched my mom get stabbed in front on me when I was five, watched her get beaten at least weekly and would pee in my bed because I was too scared to go to the bathroom, then I'd get beat for peeing in my bed. Then she disappeared and later died. I dealt with every possible kind of abuse you can imagine during my childhood. I started selling hard drugs at 15 because my dad would steal everything I had, even the money I'd save up to buy my own clothes, to support his drug habit. Nobody cared whether I went to school and I didn't have any positive examples. The Internet wasn't quite what it is now back then. So the amount of information I had access to

was limited. I'm only saying that those things contributed, but I made the decision to live that lifestyle. I still chose to be in these environments and situations. Would I have been different if I had a halfway normal life? Almost certainly so. But still the these were my decisions. I've battled with these decisions, memories and feelings for years. After a lot of introspection, seeking forgiveness from whatever creator is out there in years of pain and PTSD, I've made a lot of progress as a person in general. Do I feel bad about any of it anymore? Not anymore. I've forgiven myself for everything I did and that's what matters to me whether someone else likes it or not. I used to want someone to, get me, or care on some level about

these things and understand why I was that way. Now I couldn't care less and don't want or deserve sympathy or understanding. But sometimes I enjoy telling some of my story. With all of that being said, here's the story of my first actual shootout. I was 17 and around a group of guys that were, for lack of a better word, bloodthirsty. We would hang out in the inner city a lot, the worst of the worst areas where violence was daily and almost casual. We lived in a suburb right outside of the city. But this suburb was already a shit-hole, drugs, shootings, groups of kids like us. But still we felt like we had to prove ourselves to the guys we were meeting out there. So one night we go to a block party.

If I'm not mistaken it was around July 4, gangs weren't a big thing in this city, at least not in the traditional sense. But it was more so neighborhood against neighborhood and little cliques of guys. There has to be 100 people at this party. The street is blocked off, there's a DJ, everyone is drinking, small, smoking weed and likely on ecstasy, which probably wasn't actually ecstasy in hindsight. If there were 100 people then there was at least 30 guns. Impossibly the only white person around LOL. Well, my little group of five guys or so are just chilling near my friend's car smoking.

We have another five guys or so that knows us and are cool with us. It's their neighborhood so all in all we're good. Some time goes by and a couple guys come up to us and say, hey bro, I know y'all aren't from here. There's some PPL on the way and it's about to go down. We don't want y'all getting hurt so you need to leave now. Again we wanted to get into something crazy. For ourselves and at least a little bit to show them that even if we're not from there that we can hang. We were idiots, obviously.

Sure enough after about ten minutes the shooting starts. It's dark as hell aside from some headlights, the shitty little DJ booth AMD the streetlights. When the shooting starts, you can see the flashes from the shots coming from all. all directions. It was confusing and disorienting. I'll be honest, I didn't know who was who and I didn't want to just shoot someone just to do it. But I see these flashes coming from probably 30 to 40 yards away that seemed more so directed at us. I figured that's a good as it gets for certainty and everyone else is shooting. I shoot probably three times before I second guess my target. This car comes speeding through the party. There's a guy hanging out of

the window shooting into the crowd. My best friend has a pump shotgun. guns, aims, hits the door that guy is hanging out of. He slips back into the car, car slows, rock side to side for a second and then speeds off. There's a kid younger than us that we were cool with. He has an old almost cowboy-looking long revolver. It's so old and cheap that he has to cock the hammer back before each shot, literally like a western movie. He empties the first six shots, reloads, gets shot through his foot while reloading and still empties the other six. After all is said and done, everyone seems mostly okay but there's one car in the middle of the lot that's not okay. This kid was 17, had a full scholarship to a Division I school and had nothing to do with anything.

He just happened to be from that neighborhood. We walked over and the interior lights were on. His brains were on the dashboard and he was still slightly moving. I remember his cousin screaming for help, crying and trying to hold his head together. That's the first person that I saw die in front of me. We all start getting into the cars, cops and ambulance are on the way. They took probably at least 20 minutes to get there by the way. We went to the hospital to take the kid that was shot through his foot.

We went back for a second to get some stuff that we left and the cops were there. They had cut open milk jugs and were just throwing the shell casings in, one-hundreds of them. They obviously didn't care about actually solving anything but who can blame them. They literally walked through the crowd, kind of half-heartedly mumbling, did you see anything? No. Yeah, figures. Not a single person or resident near there, saw anything. It was crazy to me to witness that. Oh yeah, my friend with the shotgun at some point came to me and asked to see my gun. I think this was before we went to the hospital. He took out the magazine and said, you only shot two or three times. Did it jam? I said, no, I just didn't know who I was

shooting at and I don't want to hit just anyone. He looked at me with this crazy look in his eyes, as serious as he could be and said, fuck that. Next time you empty that shit and hit anybody that isn't with us. Shoot anyone that you don't know, do you understand? Yeah, I understand. You'd think that would be fucking insane enough for me to make some drastic changes to my life especially at 17.

But it wasn't and I just went deeper and deeper into that rabbit hole of chaos and destruction. It's been 16 years since then and honestly it feels like a different lifetime. I almost can't believe I lived through these things and wanted more. At this point I don't think you could look at me and fathom that was my life. I'm fit, somewhat good looking, pretty well spoken, in the gym most days, I think a pretty good dad overall considering.

It's just crazy to remember some of this. The obsessive client, a few years ago, I worked as a stripper in several nightclubs. After a year in the industry, I already had an established routine, working both day and night to maximize my income. Occasionally, some clients became a little more persistent, but there was always security present to intervene if anything happened. However, there was one client who stood out for his persistence, and at first, I didn't consider him a threat.

A rough-looking man began frequenting the club where I worked. From the first time he saw me, he showed a particular interest in me. At first, I didn't find it strange and accepted his attention. After a couple of nights, we went to him. to the VIP area and he began telling me about his life. He said he was a truck driver and was only in town three nights a month. I gave him my made-up story, and it seemed like he could become a good regular client. In the following days, he kept coming to see me at different clubs and started talking about us moving in together. Although it sounded strange, it wasn't uncommon

to hear similar proposals from other clients. Over time, his behavior became more insistent, and he began following me from club to club. One day I told him I wasn't interested in men and that I had a girlfriend, which was true. Despite my response, he didn't stop. His attitude became increasingly invasive, and he started harassing me, asking me to quit my job and move in with him. Despite my attempts to avoid him, he kept finding me at every club I went to. Finally, one night, after rejecting his proposal again, he became aggressive and scared me a lot. I tried to get him banned from the clubs, but it wasn't easy. I changed my shifts to avoid seeing him, but he always found a way to follow me.

One night, as I was finishing my stage routine, I saw him enter the club. I tried to escape, but he chased me until he lifted me off the ground and started carrying me toward the exit. I began to scream and call for help. At that moment, the security guard intervened and rescued me. The man was kicked out of the club and threatened with the police if he came back. After that incident, I took a few months off work, scared of running into him again. I decided to tell the clubs I had quit so he wouldn't be able to look for me.

Fortunately, I never saw him again. I worked in the industry for a couple more years until I decided to change paths. The man in the dark corner, some time ago, I worked a night shift from midnight to 8 a.m. Every day I took the subway to work. My subway station was only a five-minute walk for my apartment, while the bus ride took about 30 minutes. One night, my boyfriend stayed at my apartment before I left for work. We lost track of time, and when I realized it, it was late.

I had to run to the subway station. That night, it had snowed a lot, which made it hard for my boyfriend to drive me in his car. I decided to walk to the station to save time. Most of my route was through well-lit streets, but there was one dark corner that made me nervous, right in front of the station. Although I lived in a somewhat dangerous neighborhood, I had never had any problems before, so I wasn't particularly alert. That night, however, I was in such a rush that I wasn't paying much attention to my surroundings. As I reached the dark corner, I felt someone grab my arm. I didn't see the man approach.

He was a man in his forties who tried to grab my other arm, but I reacted quickly and elbowed him in the stomach. Luckily, my reflexes were fast enough, and the man let go of me briefly. I took that moment to get away from him and ran to the subway station. When I got to the subway, I looked back and saw the man still following me. I ran through the station and exited through a different door, continuing until I reached my apartment. Fortunately, my boyfriend was still in the parking lot waiting for his car to warm up. I quickly got into his car and told him what had happened. He called the police, and I filed a report.

Though I never found out if they caught the man, from that day on, I always carry pepper spray when walking to the station and don't let go of it until I reach my destination. The strange man at the mall, I work in a clothing store in a large mall. I was recently promoted to assistant manager. After a couple of weeks of training for my new position, one night I was closing the store alone for the first time. We didn't have much staff at the time, so it was just me and an associate. I went to the front of the store to put something away and noticed a man sitting outside talking on the phone. There was nothing strange about it, so I just smiled at him and continued with my work.

A few minutes later, I asked my associate to help me help me have. hang a large sign advertising a sale we had. About an hour passed, and again I went to the front of the store. I saw the same man sitting on a bench still talking on the phone. He looked at me and began to whisper, though I could hear him perfectly. He said, I could probably get two, but at least one. Here comes one now. At that moment, I assumed the man was referring to stealing products, as we had recently had people snatching items from the front tables and running off. I decided to start folding clothes near the front so I could keep an eye on him. That's when he caught my attention and said, excuse me, miss, could you come here for a moment?

There's something I want to show you, I told him I couldn't, as I was the one in charge and wasn't allowed to leave the store. He asked me again, and when I said no, he told me he just wanted to show me how nice the sign looked. That's when I knew for sure something strange was going on. I took a few steps back into the store to put some distance between us. He got up from the bench where he'd been sitting and followed me into the store, pretending to browse items while still talking to me. I looked around for my coworker, but she must have been in the back of the store. Luckily, at that moment, the store manager arrived for the next shift.

She's older, larger, and generally much more intimidating than I am. As soon as the man saw her and realized she worked their job. Two, he quickly left the store. I took the opportunity to tell my manager what had happened, and she was quite concerned. She had to leave but told me to notify security so they'd be aware. Shortly after, a security guard passed by, so I stopped him and explained the situation. He told me they had received similar complaints lately about people trying to lure young girls out of the stores they worked in or shopped at. The guard assured me he'd keep an eye out and that we should alert them if anything strange happened.

At that moment, I saw the strange man again and pointed him out to the guard. The guard approached him, and a few minutes later came back to inform me he had told the man not to bother employees or customers but didn't have enough reason to call the police. I haven't seen the strange man again since then, and fortunately, there have been no more reports of missing girls at the mall. Midnight at the motel, a couple of years ago, I was looking for a job, as it was time. to find one. One day, while sending online applications, I received a call from my friend Joss. I told him what I was doing, and that's when he asked why I didn't go work with him. Joss worked at one of those

cheap motels and was pretty sure they paid minimum wage, but hey, a job is a job. I asked what I needed to get started, and he told me I just had to go to the motel and fill out an application. He mentioned they were looking to hire someone and that if I listed him as a reference, I'd probably get the job easily. So I took his advice and went to the motel the next day. It was my first time going there in person, and it really was as run down as Joss had described. But with rates of $50 per night or $50 per week, you couldn't expect luxury. I entered the motel office, if it could even be called that. It was basically one of the motel rooms with a split door.

where only the top half opened. Instead of a room number, it had the word office spelled out in plastic letters. Inside the office was a middle-aged man sitting at a desk, which was really just a small plastic folding table covered in papers. After asking me how he could help me, I told him I was a friend of Joss and that I was there to fill out an application. The man seemed excited and told me Joss had mentioned I'd be stopping by. After about 30 seconds of digging through papers, he finally found an application and handed it to me.

After another 30 seconds, he also found a folder for me to fill it out on. The application was very simple, one of those one-page generic forms where they only ask for the most basic information. After a few minutes, I filled it out and handed it back to him. He seemed to glance it over in a few seconds and then asked if I had experience with this kind of job. I told him no, and he asked about my availability. He explained how much and how often I would be paid, and that was it, three minutes filling out the application in one or two minutes of interview, and he asked me when I could start.

I told him I was available to start as soon as he needed. He seemed happy with this and told me that he and his wife would be going on a trip soon, so he needed to train me before they left. We agreed that I would start training the next day. I thanked him, we shook hands, and I left. I called Joss on the way home to tell him the good news and that I would be starting the next day. The next day I was a little nervous, but not too much. Having met my boss the day before, I knew he was kind of odd but also pretty laid back,

and he made me feel fairly comfortable. On my first day of training, I found out I would have to learn quickly since the owner would be leaving on a trip in a few days. Overall, it wasn't a complicated job, but I still had to learn a lot in a short time, how to check in guests, how to fill out different forms, process different types of payments, clean rooms in a specific way, how to solve various problems, etc. After three days of training, I would have to work one shift with Joss and then I'd be completely alone. The shift with Joss helped me a lot to build confidence since everything went well and I barely needed his help. On the next shift, I was alone. I had to work at night since the motel was open 24 hours. Joss assured me that this was the easiest shift, that most of the time nothing happened,

and I just had to kill time. Sometimes a guest would show up looking for a room, or someone would ask for something, but usually everything stayed quiet. Even though Joss said he'd be asleep most of the night, he gave me his phone number in case I needed to call him and had a problem. This gave me enough security, and I went to work that night without too many nerves. The first few hours passed with nothing interesting. I got a call from a girl asking if we had any rooms available.

I said yes, and she said she'd call back later. Other than that, I spent time looking at my phone. Around 2 a.m., I noticed a car pulling into the parking lot. A man got out and started looking around. When he saw the office, he began walking toward it. Though he looked a bit disheveled, nothing about him caught my attention much. He stumbled into the office and started looking around as if he had gotten confused. How can I help you, sir?

I asked. At that moment, he made I contact with me and stared at me for several seconds before simply saying, a room. I asked if he needed the room just for the night, and he nodded. I gave him a form to fill out and ask for his ID and credit card, which he handed over without any issue. As I was entering his information into the system, I noticed a strange movement out of the corner of my eye. I looked at the man and he seemed to be swatting away something invisible, like he was trying to shoe away a fly. I tried to ignore his odd behavior and continued. I finished the check-in, thanked him, and gave him the key.

He looked at me for a moment and then left. It was weird, but I didn't give it much thought and went back to looking at my phone. A few minutes later, the silence was suddenly broken. I heard shouting in the distance. Although I couldn't understand what was being said, I could tell it was coming closer to the office. Before I knew it, the strange man came back in, now more agitated, yelling that he couldn't get into his room. He started shouting things like, I can't get into my room. Why won't you let me in?

I felt somewhat intimidated by his level of hostility, but I tried to stay calm and professionally apologized, assuring him I had given him the right key for his room. This seemed to calm him down a bit. He took the key from my hand and left the office again, still hostile. I was almost certain I had given him the right key at first, but I was afraid I had made a mistake, so I tried to solve the situation. A few minutes later, as expected, the man came back and again, yelling that he couldn't access his room. When I saw him coming, I ran into a small back room. I knew he saw me go in there,

but I was scared. He started banging on the door, demanding that I let him out. He began walking around the office and talking like a madman. Though I couldn't understand much of what he said, I did hear something about healing and, someone has to heal. I didn't know who or what he was referring to, but I at least assumed he wasn't talking about me. Finally, he banged on the door again, and I told him I was on the phone and would be out shortly. I know I should have called the police, but I didn't want to do that on my first night alone. Also, I didn't want to bother my boss, who was on a trip. I told the man I would accompany him to his room to try and open the door, and if I couldn't, I would give him another room.

This seemed to calm him down a bit, so I finally felt safe enough to open the door. I took the key from his hand and we started walking toward his room. I walked in front with him behind me. I turned every few seconds because I didn't trust him and expected some kind of attack. When we got to his door, I noticed he was no longer behind me but instead several hallways ahead, standing in front of another room. He pointed to the door and asked if I was going to try to open it. That's when I realized he had been trying to get into the wrong room the whole time. This explained why both keys I had given him didn't work.

As politely as possible, I explained that he was at the wrong room. He looked confused, but when I opened the correct door and showed him that it was his room, he finally understood. I handed him the key to his room and he went in, closing the door quickly. I ran back to the office and never heard from him again that night. When I returned to work the next night, the man was already gone and I never saw him again. I worked at that motel for a year. I had many strange experiences during that time, but this was one of the most terrifying. The end.

My friend, Marcus Forster, has been missing since going for a walk on the 28th of January, near Springfield, Missouri. He left the house around 8 p.m. He started here, 37.26810818497, minus 93.457367981887, minus 93.56791817. and his car was found here, 37.283344717-107-285-735, minus 93.9-461-2303-36-25338. It is a white 2002 Ford F-350xLT DRW with the license plate TL8W1A. He probably jumped the fence and went along the gravel path. He goes there regularly, since his doctor ordered him to get more exercise and he likes hiking, as he would say, Spasier and Gehan. He has gone for a walk there for the last three weeks and

usually comes back after one to two hours according to his wife, Mary Forster. He is 33 years old, Caucasian, six feet, has short brown hair and a scarcely, brown beard. He wore a blue shirt in a black hoodie, jeans and a pair of black boots, one of which was found here, 37.28661-88739532, minus 93.4.47192.1 161915, together with his phone. Maybe someone on here lives in the area and has seen him get out of the car, or has seen the light of the flashlight, or has seen something strange in the area. Honestly, anything would help at this point. Mary started to search for him as soon as she discovered he didn't come in the morning. After she found his car abandoned, she contacted the local sheriff, family and friends.

We searched the whole area with dogs, divers even checked the small lake, but he was nowhere to be found, no sign at all. All that was discovered was the black boot, standing upright near the lake, with the phone propped up in it. It looked kind of intentional, like he put it there himself. I don't know if this makes any sense. It didn't look like a struggle had taken place. Where does someone go with only one boot in 44-degree weather, and why didn't the dogs pick up any scent? The dog handler was as puzzled as we were. He said it seems like my friend has just vanished into thin air.

Mary checked the phone as soon as we found it, but there was nothing helpful on it. No new messages, no new pictures. Honestly at this point I thought maybe he had an affair, as unthinkable as it is, and got picked up by someone in a car. But that doesn't make sense either, because the gate at the entry of the gravel path was locked when we arrived. If he really met someone, then why go to the small lake in the first place? Why not just leave the car at the gate, and drive off in the other car? And his phone, if he wanted it intentionally, then why not just leave it in the car? Why did he leave this one boot behind?

Nothing makes sense. I have never seen Mary so distraught. I really want to help her. She said that Marcus was unusually, unfocused, the last few days. They'd had some sort of disagreement about holiday plans, but nothing major from the sound of it. She didn't really say that much. Like I said, if anyone has any information, please comment or DM me. Edit, update, Mary called me on the phone.

She was in a state of panic, said I have to come over now. I couldn't get any information out of her, but I drove down to my friend's house as fast as I could. When I arrived, I found her sitting on the ground in their kitchen, hands in her lap, cradling his phone. Her eyes that had been read from all the crying the last few days were glazed. My skin began to crawl. She seemed so frail. She looked at me in a daze and whispered the notes app. I looked down at the display.

My friend had apparently made some audio logs. I checked the dates. The newest one was on 28th of January, 9.32 p.m. We listened to them together. I have copied them over to my phone and I am on my way home now. I will translate the messages and post them when I get back home. Disclaimer, my friend has no history of any mental illness whatsoever. He is most stable guy I know.

What's on these messages honestly doesn't make any sense. Edit Update. Sorry, forgot some context. My friend is not originally from the U.S., but from Germany. He and his wife met when he went on a school exchange back in high school. His audio logs are all in German, so I translated them. 31-4-24, 8.40 p.m., so, this is it. My way of getting fit. Honestly, it's good. I need to get rid of some of the weight I gained over the last 10 years. It's such a gradual process, and suddenly you wait. wake up and weigh 30 pounds more. I have only walked for 30 minutes, and I am already out of breath. Serves me right. I am looking forward to the day that I will revisit this audio log with a six-pack, laughs. Pause. The stars are unbelievable out here.

Really shifts your perspective. How small we are, how unimportant in the grand scale of things. Long pause equals reminds me of home. I love it out here, I do, but the forests back home are just something different. Maybe if we would have moved up to Canada, pause, doesn't matter. I am grateful for the cards I have been delied. Sigh, at least the frogs here sound the same as at home, laugh. Let's go back.

This is good enough. See you in the future. February 1st, 25, 902 p.m., so damn cold and still no snow. Ugh. I really don't want to be out here, but it is what the dock ordered. Pause, what I wouldn't give to go skiing, or at least cross-skaying. country skiing. Maybe next winter I can get married to spend Christmas at my parents, and then a brisk ski. Only kidding. Way too old for this now. I should have brought a thicker jacked,

it's just too cold. Maybe if this pond is freezing over, I can get married to go ice skating with me. Although, she would never hop the fence. Such a goody two shoes. Anyway, time to head back. July 1st, 25, 8.22 p.m., and here we go. I already feel better. At least I am out of the house. It might not be the same as back home, but it still does me good. What I wouldn't do for this typical forest smell? By a car freshener, she says, snorts, so ignorant.

Typical American. Everything comes out of a can. July 1st, 25, 9.12 p.m., apparently he is holding his phone into the wind, silence, Hey, I am not alone after all. Laughs. A, too-hoo, German for a... eagle owl. He begins to call the owl, U-H-U-H-U. Uh-huh. Laughs, feels more like home already. Maybe this forest is not so dead after all, at least,

the Americans didn't manage to kill all the wildlife, not yet at least. Shouts, see you soon, friend, September 1st, 25, 9 p.m., let's see if my friend is here. He calls out, uh-huh, uh-huh, silence. Nothing. Maybe I imagined it last Tuesday. Or I should probably turn off the flashlight. A small click, silence, then a sound can be heard over the wind, barely audible, ha-ha. There he is. Was probably blinded by the light. Calls again. Uh-huh-uh-uh-uh laughs. Silence, good to hear you, friend. L laughs, man, so I didn't imagine after all. And Mary said, there are no owls here. Seems like she doesn't know everything after all. Maybe next time, I can try to spot it and take a photo.

That will show her. 14-1-25, 8.10 p.m., car doors slams, walking on gravel can be heard, finally outside. I had the most amazing dream today. I dreamed that I was back at home, in the forest, where we used to play. Mary was there as well, but we were children. We build this amazing forest hut, out of old branches and moss. It was like a palace. And then Mary told me, we would meet the king of the forest soon, and we should get ready, and then I awoke.

I wish I could show Mary the old forest, next to our house where I used to play as a kid. The mushrooms that we collected, the block fords we build. Sniffs, I bet. If she could only see it, you know? Maybe. Pause, nah. I don't feel like talking anymore. 16-1-25, 937 p.m., damn it.

This underbrush is killing me. I heard the Uhoo in the small forest last time, but there is all this brush here, I can barely get through. Heavy panting for a while, then a sharp intake of breath, hello. Is anyone there? He'll low. I am just taking a walk. Hello. Silence, must have imagined it.

I thought there was someone standing near the trees. There are no bears here, right? Nah. Not in such a small area. Get a grip on yourself. Suddenly, a garbled sound can be heard, it doesn't resemble any bird cry I know, it sounds like a low rumble, mixed with radio static, no idea what it could be, we'll add the audio logs later, hello to you two, my friend.

Boo-hoo! Trying to catch his breath, honestly, I think I will head back now. I will need better boots next time, so I don't get stretched to hell and back, and it's already late, I should get going. 21-4-1-25, 9.51 p.m. With these boots, I am sure I will find our friend today and snap a picture. Better tell him I am coming. Ooh-hoo. Silence. Then Marcus continues to walk through the brush. Well, if I can't find it tonight, I guess I will not ever find the bird. Continues to walk. Close enough. Maybe I can take a small video and see if I, the garbled sound again, but much, much louder, Marcus can be heard, shrieking. It sounds like he fell to the ground, the awful sound continues for a couple of seconds, then cuts out, silence. Then, Marcus can be heard giggling, seems like the Uh-hoo is a little bit camera shy.

Shouts, laughing, I meant no harm. Uh-huh-uh-uh-uh. Anyway, where is my phone? A, there, picks up the phone, this damn brush snagged my foot. Maybe these boots are a little bit too big for me after all. Ah, look at the time. I need to get back. Good night, my friend.

Uh-hoo U-H-U, 23-4-1-25, 75 p.m. The idling motor can be heard in the background, damn. I forgot to charge my damn phone, 2% left. And I thought I would take a picture of the U-HU-HU for sure today. Damn it! Sigh, Mary hates it when she can't catch a hold of me, but what does it matter anyway, I will just leave the phone in the car, sorry future me, no live updates today.

I will tell you later if I have finally discovered the Uhoo's nest. 28-4-1-25, 8.20 p.m. It is time now, he told me last night in the dream. Everything needs to be normal. He told me. He called me, pause, Mary, if you hear this, he wants me to go home with him. Do you understand? The forest?

I don't. He wants me to join, he told me. But I want you to be there as well, I know it's been, there is there. This garbled noise again, Marcus emits a short grunt, he sounds like he is pain. He continues, whispering. Sorry, I am not allowed to. He doesn't like it. I need to leave this behind, he is waiting.

There, the recordings end. I am honestly not sure what to make of this. We searched the whole forest, but there was nothing there. No wildlife, nothing. And what were these noises? There is no confinable way that this is all a joke, or is there? I can see the sun is setting already, but I feel like I need to take a look at that forest again. Did we miss something?

In don't know. I feel the urge to go back out there. At least one last time, just to make sure. I will update this post when I come back. Hoo-hoo, I met somebody who I'll call Luke last year and about three months after we met he started coming over when he first came over. He was very polite and even asked if he could have a snack, but as he kept coming over which eventually became almost daily, he started taking about four or five snacks every hour just about and one thing that's annoying is he eats up. In my room when I'm not allowed to so I almost get in trouble with my dad when there's a half-eaten bag of Doritos on my little brother's bed.

Speaking of my little brother Luke is pretty mean to him like not letting him sit on his bed or kicking him out of me and his room and now it's gotten to the point where he rarely ever even knocks before coming in. He also takes my little brother's toys out of our closet and then doesn't clean them up before he leaves so I end up having to clean his mess. So I want to know if I'm overreacting or what I should say to him. Update. He just came over and we started playing Minecraft and he's being pretty mean not respecting my opinion and making up rules like you have to have cobblestone in your build or you can't have redstone in your build and he's getting annoyed that I'm on my phone right now and saying that I'm always on my phone when he's over when I make sure, that I'm almost never on my phone when he's over

besides for when he asks me to put on a video. He also took my phone without permission and said he was going to put on a song. That's just the start of it and I honestly don't know what to do. do. Another thing to mention is I just got over an extreme sadness I've been feeling for the past couple of months so I might still be a little emotional. Update 2, so he didn't keep his word about not eating up here and he got crumbs everywhere. He also is adding stuff to my build. He's going to leave in 10 minutes how do I enforce the rules to him? I saw that comment on kicking him out if he doesn't follow the rules, sorry if that's not what you said, but I'm a very shy

person most of the time and I also have anger issues that I'm working on so I don't want to do that. Thank you for all of your comments. They have given me a lot of ideas, but I do have some more things to say. Number one, he lives very close to me and my dad loves him and says he's a good role model. I've told him that Luke's way to comfortable and he just brushed it off. Number two, as I said before my dad likes him, so he or somebody else in the house would probably let him in. Number three, my dad or someone would probably hear me telling him I'm grounded and tell him I'm not. Number four, my little brother only tattles on me and he's not the kind of person to tell on other people.

One other thing I forgot to mention is that my little brother likes Luke and looks up to him even though he's mean to him. Also we go to the same schools so just ignoring him would be almost impossible. I'm not going to let him in the next time he comes over to see what happens. I'll continue to update this post as these events happen. I wanted to add a few more things before I go to bed so here they are. Number one I've had a manipulative friend before, I'm not saying Luke's manipulative, and I eventually made him become a better person and be nicer to me and not be manipulative. If Luke is manipulating me I probably wouldn't notice because I have a lot of self-doubt and

emotional baggage that I'm told I shouldn't have. I'm also told that I overanalyze everything. For example, if I breathed through my mouth I think somebody's going to think I'm weird. I'm working on fixing these problems with both my school and personal counselor. Also, as I mentioned before, I just got over an extreme sadness so that could be another factor in why I would be easy to manipulate. One more thing before I go to bed is one more way he could either accidentally be or purposely be manipulating me. I can't take people's word. For example, if somebody thinks I'm

cool, I think they're just trying to be nice. Another example is if someone I know doesn't say hi or something to me when I walk by them or they walk by me I think I did something wrong or they don't like me anymore and he knows because I've told him this before anyways I'm going to go to sleep before I misspell a word and think some random person hates me for it. Please leave more suggestions in the comments I really just need to know what to do. Hopefully with this new information you could tell me how to try and help him or how to get him out of my life completely without hurting his feelings to bad. Update 3. My dad said he would talk to him about it after I told my dad about it. Today I got sick and Luke didn't come over today so I'll give an update tomorrow.

So when I was 18 and still living at home, a friend of mine, 20, left a message on my home answering machine to help him rob a jewelry store. Dude used my real name, said the crime he was attempting location and to top it off he said, oh and bring cameras, you know, to shoot people, Bang bang. I just ignored and deleted the message. Later that night I hear he got arrested for attempted robbery. Cops were basically just waiting for him, I guess because he was calling everyone. So then he goes to jail but gets out after our boss bails him out.

He gets his own camera, and another friend who is his roommate tells me he was at home playing around with the camera, posing with it and generally just being an idiot. Rests the camera on his chin pointed upwards and it goes off narrowly missing him but shooting the ceiling in their basement. suite. Dude freaks out and runs outside, throws the camera into the bushes just in front of their house and keeps running. Calls back home after a short while. Dude, is everything okay? Roommate, no, WTF you shot a fucking hole in my ceiling. We nicknamed him shooter after this. I've been with my girlfriend for over three years and everything seemed perfect. She's kind, caring, and beautiful. But there's one thing I've been keeping from her, a secret that I thought would never come to light.

I used to be an extreme hoarder. I'm not talking about a little clutter, I'm talking about walls stacked to the ceiling with trash, clothes, and random knickknacks. It was a living nightmare. After a year of therapy and support for my loved ones, I managed to get my life together and kicked the hoarding habit. I thought I had left it all behind, but deep down, I knew I was just suppressing the memories. Last week, my girlfriend went to my parents' house to pick up some of my old stuff and stumbled

upon a bunch of old photos of me in my hoarding days. She saw the mess, the chaos, and the sheer destruction that I had created. She was horrified. Now, she won't even speak to me. She says she feels like she doesn't know me anymore and that she needs time to process everything. I understand why she's upset, but I feel like I'm losing her. Has anyone else out there had to deal with something like this? How did you handle it?

I'm at a loss and I don't know what to do. When I first met my girlfriend, I never imagined that a secret from my past could jeopardize our relationship. We built something strong together, full of love, trust, and deep understanding. She always told me I was one of the most put together and organized people she knew. If only she had seen me a few years ago, buried under piles of useless junk, drowning in chaos. But I never thought she needed to know. That part of my life was behind me, or so I believed.

Horting wasn't just a bad habit, it was a life. that consumed me. I was trapped in my own home, barely able to walk from one room to another. Old newspapers, broken electronics, piles of clothes that I never wore, everything had a reason to be kept, no matter how illogical. It was an addiction, fueled by anxiety and an overwhelming fear of letting go. My parents tried to help. Friends begged me to see reason. But it wasn't until I nearly lost my job because I couldn't find an important document buried under my own junk that I realized I had hit rock bottom. That's when I sought therapy, joined a support group, and with the help of my family, finally cleaned out my space.

It took months, agonizing, painful months, but eventually, my house became livable again, and so did my mind. I never told my girlfriend about this part of my life because, to me, it felt like another person's nightmare. The man she knew, the man I had become, wasn't that person anymore. I had moved past it, or so I thought. when she found those photos, everything came rushing back, not just for me but for her as well. She saw a side of me I had intentionally buried.

And now, she can't even look at me. She told me she needed time to process. That she wasn't sure if she could trust me after hiding such a big part of my past from her. I tried explaining, but every word felt like an excuse. I was afraid. Afraid of losing her. Afraid of being judged. And now, my worst fear is becoming a real thing.

reality. I've been giving her space, but every second without her feels like torture. My biggest regret is not telling her sooner, on my own terms, instead of letting her find out this way. Maybe then, she wouldn't have felt so betrayed. Maybe then, she wouldn't feel like she was in love with a stranger. I don't know what's going to happen next. But I do know that, for the first time since my hoarding days, I feel that same suffocating anxiety creeping back in. Only this time, it's not about stuff. It's about losing the person I love. At first English is not my first language, so sorry for any mistakes.

I've decided to post it here, because I need to tell it to someone, and because my GF is only person I truly trust it and tell her everything I have known who I can tell this. I know she and any friend of R is not using Reddit so they won't see that story. M27M and my GF 28F have been Taggator for a past two years. It's my first serious relationship, and she's only person I truly loved. I mean really love. I have four siblings and mother. I like my siblings, but I do not love them and I hate my mother, because she was abusive

physically and mentally. I've never been close with them and I always thought that if you are related by blood, you don't have to love that person, but I knew one thing, if I'll ever have kids I will love them no matter what. Becoming a dad was my most important dream. Not just a father, but a daddy. A man who will do anything for his family, who will watch when his kids takes their first step, when they sat their first words.

I just wanted to be with them, to look at them, to listen them, but now I don't know I still want it. My G.F. told me she definitely want to have kids and future because it was her dream too, to become a mom and she's more than happy to have happy family. We liked to make pranks with each other, but they were innocent jokes like doorway tape pranks, hiding small plastic spider in the drawer. It all happened in this week. In last week we lived like usual, there was no indication that my girlfriend was planning

a prank on me. On Thursday after I've come back from work, she was sitting concerned on our living room. I immidately noticed it and I sit next to her and asked what happened. She then pull out a pregnancy test and told me is pregnant. I couldn't believe it, I was more than happy. I hugged her tight and kiss her. She was still concerned, but I was telling her all excited that we will be a parent and we both know its big responsibility, but we will make it together. Then she asked me to not tell it to anyone yet, because she won't do it personally. I said it's not a problem, because on Sundays we often had dinner at her parents' house, so I tough she will tell them then.

I was happiest man alive. Before I find out about pregnancy I was looking for an engagement ring. I wanted to ask her to marry me, but I decided to wait, to buy her ring what she deserves, and do it like it should be. I was excited all day and wanted to spend all time with her, but she was not in the mood. I tough it was hormones, so I didn't push her and let her be alone, assuring her that I am there if she needed anything. When we got to bed she was still a bad mood, I've hugged her massaging her belly, telling

her that I loved her and we would make it. Before we fall asleep she told me she need to take day off work. I said it's fine and if she will fell bad to call me and I will come from work earlier to be with her. The next day I woke up before her and like yoususel went to work, leaving her a note that I wrote, You will be perfect mother. I wanted to assure her that everything would be fine. I texted to her few times during work, but she didn't respond.

I was a little worried and I've decided to talk with her later. When I've come back from work, she wasn't at home, so I texted to her and called few times, but she didn't repond. I've called to her mother and sister to ask if they knew where she was, but they didn't. I decided to wait a few hours while I tried to call her many times. After four to five hours she came back. I went to her and hug her asking if everything is fine and she told me, yes, now everything is fine. She told me we need to talk, so we sit and I was waiting what she wanted to say.

At the beginning she said that she was afraid of the pregnancy and knew that she would not be able to be a good mother. I interrupted her by telling her that she would be a great mother, and as an example I gave her how close she was to her niece, how wonderfully she took care of her, and how much she loved her. She told me this is a different situation and she don't want be mother yet, and with a little smile she told me, I had an abortion. I couldn't believe it, so I asked her to say it one more time, and once again she told me she had an abortion. My heart was completely broken when I heard that and my eyes started to watered with tears and I've asked, why? Why did you do it? You said you wanted to be a mother, I fell weak and fall on my knees next to sofa and started crying. I reached out

and placed my hand on her stomach, still asking, why, why, why? I looked her in the eyes and said, how could you? How could you kill my baby? I saw it in her eyes she was regretting it, but she wasn't answering. For last time I asked screaming at her, why you killed my baby. Then she started to crying, she was saying it's not like that, and I was all a prank. I've started crying even harder and sked her if she's still pregnant, but she denied. She said she never has been pregnant and all of it's supposed to be a joke. She huged me, saying she was sorry and she didn't tough I will react like this. After a few minutes of crying and saying she was sorry, I asked her why she did that, why she

tough it will be funny, but she couldn't respond to me. I've pushed her away and walk out saying I need to be alone. She wanted to stop me, but I told her to leave me alone and I walked out. I've took my car and drive off. I've stoked at parking place about 40 kilometers from place where I live. All the time my phone was ringing, I knew it was my GF, but I didn't want to talk with her, so I turn on airplane mode. I unfolded the seat so I could lie on it.

For a few hours I was laying on it and I wasn't thinking about anything, but I fell asleep. I woke up when my alarms start ringing. At first I wasn't sure where I was, but after a few seconds I remembered what happened yesterday. I've started to cry again. I was cold, because temperature was about 10 C. It was a Saturday, but I had go to work. I calmed down after a few minutes and went to work. One of my friends saw something bothering me and asked what happened, and because I'm not the a person who shares my problems with others I've just said I've slept bad and have a bad day.

He said, shit happens, gave me a smile and walk on his way. After my shift I drove off my work and during ride I cried again. I was always afraid of becoming a burden to someone, so I decided to sleep again in my car. My phone was dead, so I was just laying on car all day, thinking about what happened. Every time I was trying imagine myself as a dad I couldn't and each time I cried. My heart was shattered, and I didn't know what to do. Today, Sunday, I've decided to come back from home and talk with my GF. In next few days I will give update, I don't what to say to her, I don't even know how I will react when I will see her.

But I know one thing, she lost my trust, because she knew it was my dream to be a dad and I don't know if I can forgive her. If you only read the title, I might sound like a bad guy. But I'm not. I've known I wanted to be child-free since my early teens. My parents didn't oppose me, but they did say I could change my mind. Since I'm not an only child, they'll still get grandchildren. When I was 20, I got a vasectomy. When I was 22, I met my girlfriend.

I've been open about wanting to be child-free from the very beginning. I remember telling her about my vasectomy, but to be honest, I think there was already alcohol involved. So I'm not sure if she remembers. We were dating for a year and a half when she moved in with me. I'm now 25. Two weeks ago, I got home from work, and my girlfriend was standing in the living room smiling. She showed me the positive pregnancy test. Thinking it was a TikTok prank, I played along.

When she didn't reveal it was a prank, I knew what had happened, but I continued playing along. That night, I got up at midnight and started sending emails. I took a week off work and emailed my best friends the details, telling them to pretend they knew nothing and be prepared. The next morning, I left for work as usual, but I didn't go to work. Carl, one of my friends, was waiting outside. He had a cap and a hoodie ready for me. The whole week, we followed Katie, and on day three, she met up with her affair partner. We followed them to a motel, and then Carl followed him to his home.

The guy was married with kids. We devised a plan. I convinced Katie to go to her parents' house to tell them the good news last Saturday. While there, I gave my friends the keys to my home. At Katie's parents' house, we had lunch with the parents and siblings first, and then Katie told them the good news. Everyone was happy. After a while, I got a call I had to take. It was my friends telling me they were done and ready.

So I asked to make an announcement. I pulled Katie aside in front of everyone. I bet they thought I was going to propose. I started by telling how we met, how much she meant to me, and ended with, and that's why it hurts so much that you cheated on me and got pregnant by someone else. The room was silent. Katie looked shocked. She started telling me it wasn't a funny joke.

I said I'm not joking. The moment you told me you were pregnant, I knew you cheated. I got a vasectomy five years ago, and I go to checkups every year. So if you're pregnant, you have cheated. At that moment, her phone rang. I told her to answer it. It was probably, AP's full name. You know, the real father of your baby.

Probably wants to talk about you moving in. Not sure if his wife and kids are going to like that. What happened was that my friends had loaded up everything of Katie's in a U-hall and brought it to AP's home. When they called me, they were in front of his home for the final part. They rang the doorbell and asked the AP where they could put her things. He was confused, and they handed him and his wife a folder with pictures of him and Katie. And Carl said, since O.P. is kicking her out, she needs a place to stay.

We're just here delivering her things. And since you don't want the woman who is pregnant with your child to stay on the street, we assumed you would take her in. AP called Katie yelling that she ruined his life and he never wants to see her again. After hearing him scream over the phone, I said, Oh, so his wife doesn't want his mistress and they're a fair baby living there. So you'll have to stay here. With your parents, with that, I walked away, leaving a crying Katie and her confused

an angry family behind. My friends brought the U-Haul with her stuff to her parents' house after the AP refused to accept it. I went home where my sister was waiting for me. She knew everything. This was not part of my plan, but Carl knows me so well. I broke down and cried in my sister's arms. She stayed the weekend taking care of me, allowing me to grieve and process the betrayal. Part 2. It's been a week since I dumped Katie at her parents' house. My boys cleaned out my home and brought everything of Katie's to her parents. But because I didn't have time to mark everything that was Katie's, the boys didn't take everything that belonged to her. And they even took some things of mine. So I called her sister to arrange a meeting to exchange our belongings.

The sister agreed under one condition, a sit-down with Katie to hear her out. I would have just left everything there, but the tablet had some pretty important work stuff, so I agreed to hear Katie out. But I made it very clear that there was no chance of us getting back together. Katie was a shadow of her former self. She started with small talk, but I quickly told her I wasn't there for that. She wanted to apologize. Here is where I almost lost it. I wanted to yell at her for destroying our relationship.

I wanted to yell that I can't accept a simple apology for destroying my trust. But I didn't yell. I was quiet. I didn't accept the apology, I also didn't reject the apology. I just said nothing. She asked why I never asked. why she did it. I said there was nothing she could say to justify what she did. So it didn't matter which excuse she came up with. She said she really thought the child was mine because

we weren't using protection, vasectomy with yearly checkups. And she was hoping that I would change my mind about being child-free as soon as I saw that she was pregnant. I told her that was a very dumb assumption and she clearly did not use any protection with her affair partner. She told me she thought it was unfair of me to expose the affair to her family. I didn't have to do that. My response was, that's right, I didn't have to. I chose to. Just like you chose to cheat on me, just like AP chose to cheat on his wife. These are just the consequences of those choices.

She asked me if we still had a chance if she aborted the baby. I told her keeping or aborting the baby wouldn't change her betrayal. She can do what she wants, we are not getting back together. I was done, I heard her out, she didn't tell me anything I didn't already know. So I got up and took my stuff and was about to leave when she said, I love you. My response was, no, you don't. If you loved me, you would never have betrayed and hurt me like you did. I loved you, but you destroyed that too, with that, I left, and I could hear her sobbing.

I've also learned that the affair partner is kicked out of his house. They are divorcing. He ended it with Katie because he blames her for ruining his life. I don't know what Katie is going to do with the baby, but it's not my problem. problem.