Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - I Trusted the Wrong People—and It Nearly Got Me Killed More Than Once in My Life PART2 #66

Episode Date: September 16, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales  #trustbetrayed #dangerouspeople #survivorstory #darkencounters #realhorrortruth  In Part 2, the horror deepens as the narrator reveals even darker betrayals and near-fatal moments tied to those they once trusted. The line between friend and foe blurs with chilling tales of manipulation, violence, and survival against impossible odds. The story exposes the terrifying reality that evil often wears a familiar face—and escaping it is never easy. This part intensifies the emotional and psychological trauma, bringing the reader closer to the brink of despair and hope.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales,part2thriller, darkbetrayal, trustgonewrongagain, nearfatalencounters, emotionaltrauma, survivalinstincts, dangerousrelationships, chillingrealities, horrortruths, mentalhorror, humanmonsterscontinue, unnervingexperiences, fearandhope, twistedtrust

It's wild how one moment you're laughing with your friends, and the next, you're running for your life, adrenaline pumping so hard it feels like your heart might explode. That night felt like a movie, but the kind you wish you could walk out of. It all started when we were out just messing around, thinking we were slick, thinking we were untouchable. We weren't. Not even close. We heard the car before we saw it. Slow, creeping, like a shadow slithering down the block. Then it stopped. Dead silent.

One of the back doors cracked open, and a guy stepped out. I remember the way my skin prickled, like every nerve was screaming at me to run. Then I saw it, the gun. He raised it right at us. I froze for a second. That one second felt like an eternity. Then, just as he pulled the trigger, we moved. The shots rang out. One after the other, bam, bam, bam. The sound echoed

through the street. A parked car nearby caught a bullet and shattered. We didn't wait around to see what else they'd hit. We ran like hell, legs burning, long screaming. As we turned the corner, police sirens wailed in the distance. Relief washed over me for half a second until I saw the the cruisers pull up on the opposite side of the street. That's when the real chaos broke out. Gunfire erupted again, this time between the shooters and the cops. We ducked under a stranger's porch, hearts pounding in sync with the bullets flying through the air. More police arrived, sirens screaming past us. We kept our heads down, trying not to make a sound. I was bleeding, I didn't realize it until I felt the warm trickle down my leg. But we did.

didn't dare move. For five minutes, it was just gunfire, shouting, sirens. And fear. So much fear. Eventually, it stopped. The cops had the guys surrounded. They yelled commands, got them on the ground, and slapped on the cuffs. The moment we saw it was safe, we crawled out and limped our way down another street. Jamie called his brother, who showed up fast, helped me into the car, and got us us out of there. Back at his place, he patched up my leg with shaking hands while Jamie explained what happened. None of us could believe it. That night was the kind of thing you hear about, not live through. When Jamie's brother finally drove me home, I stumbled inside, stripped off my blood-stained clothes, and stuffed them under my bed like that would erase everything. I collapsed

into bed, pulled the covers up to my chin, and just stared at the ceiling. I'm not religious, but That night I prayed, begged, any God who'd listen to keep me safe. I didn't sleep. Not really. Just lay there, frozen. Days passed, and I still couldn't sleep. Every little sound had me jumping. I kept thinking they'd come back for me.

They knew where I lived. I walked through my days like a ghost. Eventually, my parents noticed something was off. They thought I was being bullied or going through. through something at school. They sent me to live with my aunt in another state. Months later, I found out the guys were locked up. Finally, I could breathe again. But that fear never really goes away. Now let me shift gears and tell you about another night. A different kind of fear. More personal, more invasive. This one happened just last September.

So, I live in a second-floor apartment with my fiancé and our cat in a chill suburb. The landlord had just pulled out all the AC units for some renovation project, so I cracked open every window to let the cool night air in. I figured we were safe. I mean, who the hell climbs up to a second-story apartment at 2 a.m.? You'd have to be insane. At some point in the dead of night, our cat started growling. Not the playful kind. The kind that raises the hairs on your arms. I got up, half asleep, and wandered into the hallway to see what was going on. I needed water anyway.

That's when I saw it. A figure, standing in the kitchen doorway. Tall. Motionless. Just, there. I blinked, confused. Renee. I mumbled, thinking maybe it was my fiancé.

What are you doing up? No response. Then it hit me. That wasn't Renee. That wasn't anyone I knew. My brain kicked into gear. I bolted back into the bedroom yelling like a madman. Renee shot up, screaming.

I shouted at her to call 911 while I dove for my dresser and pulled out my 9mm. When I turned back, the guy was in our doorway. I aimed. He ducked and sprinted back. down the hall. I gave chase, gun drawn, heart thundering. He dove out the window like some kind of lunatic and dropped two stories onto the pavement. I heard him scream as he hit the ground. He tried to get up but couldn't. Turns out he broke a leg. Within half a minute, a cop car screeched up. The officer cuffed the guy, and more backup arrived to take our statements. Turns out he was

high out of his mind and had a knife on him. He'd been arrested before for burglary. Who knows what he was planning? All I know is, if it weren't for my cat and my gun, we might not be here. I still can't believe it happened. I check every window and door before bed now. Every single night. And yeah, the police said he used a ladder my landlord had left outside. You'd better believe I had words with him after that. Anyway, enough about me. Let me tell you about my cousin Dylan. This story still haunts him, and honestly, after hearing it, it haunts me too. Dylan was just a kid when it happened, second grade. He used to do this extended day thing at school since his parents worked late. On certain days, his older sister Alyssa would pick him up. Pretty normal setup. One chilly March

day, Dylan was outside playing on the school playground. Around 4'10, a teacher named Mr. McCann told him it was time to go home. They walked inside, and Dylan saw a young woman waiting in the lobby. Mid-20s, dark hair, nose ring, tattoo. She looked friendly. She knelt down and asked, are you Dylan? He nodded. She said her name was Heather and that she worked with Alyssa, his sister. said Alyssa had to work late so she was picking him up. He didn't question it. He was seven. They walked to her car, and she offered him M. Animus, he took them. They were real, thank God. Everything seemed fine until they drove past his street. Dylan mentioned it, but she brushed it off. Her tone had changed. No more sweet smile, no more friendliness. Just cold, flat silence. Just cold, flat silent.

Dylan, still trying to process what was happening, asked if they could stop for a happy meal. She snapped at him, told him to shut up. When he asked another question, she said something that froze him to the bone, who's Alyssa. That's when he knew. Something was terribly wrong. He started crying, panicking. She yelled at him, even slapped him. Then she pulled over, grabbed duct tape from the console, and that was it, he started. He thought he was done. But fate had other plans. Just as she reached for him, a cop car pulled up behind them.

Heather panicked, dropped the tape, floored it. They sped through town, doing 60, maybe 70. Dylan was terrified. But the cops were ready. Two cruisers blocked the road ahead. Heather slammed the brakes and skidded to a stop. She jumped out, tried to run, but the officers tackled her. One of the cops drove Dylan home.

Alyssa was there, sobbing. She hugged him so tight he couldn't breathe. Their parents came home later, scared out of their minds. That night, they had the talk. Stranger Danger All of it. Turns out, Heather wasn't her real name. She had no connection to Alyssa.

Nothing. Her ex-boyfriend was on trial for child porn and sex trafficking. It's possible Heather was trying to take Dylan for him. What's worse? Mr. McCann, the teacher who sent Dylan to Heather. He got fired. Years later, Dylan saw him on the news. He'd been accused of molesting a student and killed himself before trial.

To this day, Dylan wonders how that woman knew his name. His face. His schedule. He thinks maybe McCann was involved. Maybe not. But something dark was going on. Something twisted. So yeah. Be careful out there. Lock your windows. Check your surroundings. Teach your kids. And trust your gut, because sometimes that feeling in your chest is the only warning you'll get. To be continued.