Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Kidnapped by a Family Friend The Day My Trust Was Betrayed and My Childhood Was Stolen PART3 #77

Episode Date: August 28, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #justicequest #survivorstories #healingprocess #betrayaltrauma #familybetrayal  This third installment reveals the intense emotional battles and the pursuit of justice following the traumatic betrayal. The story explores the fight to break free from the shadows of the past, legal struggles, and the fragile hope for closure. It highlights the strength it takes to confront demons and reclaim one’s narrative.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, justicequest, survivorstories, healingprocess, betrayaltrauma, familybetrayal, legalbattle, courage, traumarecovery, strength, hope, survivorjourney, mentalhealth, victimvoice, resilience

After I finished doing what he told me, humiliating myself in ways I never imagined, I pulled my clothes back on with trembling hands. My fingers felt numb, clumsy, like they weren't even part of me anymore. All I could think about was getting out of that car alive. I kept my head down, my eyes glued to the stained carpet of his old sedan, afraid that if I looked at him, I'd see something in his face I couldn't handle. Get back down on the floor, he said, voice as cold and flat as a slap. of concrete. We're going back into town, I didn't argue. I didn't even hesitate. I just curled myself

back up on the floorboard, my cheek pressed into the carpet that reeked of cigarettes, sweat, and spilled beer. Every bump in the road sent a jolt of pain through me, my body still aching from what he'd done. I wanted to cry, but there were no tears left. It was like I was hollow now. From the driver's seat, he muttered under his breath. I couldn't catch everything, but a few words slipped out like poison, next time, smarter pick, don't screw it up. My heart pounded so loud I thought he could hear it, but I stayed silent, knowing that one wrong word might set him off. A while later, he spoke up, louder this time. I'll drop you off on a corner, he said casually, like we were talking about groceries.

Then I'll lay low for a while, maybe find my next boy once the heat dies down. My stomach turned to ice. I clenched my fists and bit my tongue to stop from screaming. Just get out alive, I told myself. That's all that matters. And then it happened. A sharp, searing pain exploded in the back of my neck, so sudden and brutal I thought I'd been electrocuted. My hands shot up instinctively and grabbed the handle of a knife sticking out of my skin. For a moment I couldn't comprehend it, couldn't process that he'd actually stabbed me. I yanked the blade out, my hands slick with warm blood. My head spun and black spots danced in my vision.

I pushed myself up onto the seat, barely able to stay upright. Why? I croaked, my voice weak and trembling. I did what you wanted. He didn't answer. He kept staring straight ahead, knuckles white on the wheel, his jaw tight. I pressed my hand to the wound, trying to stop the flow, though it felt like trying to hold back a river with my fingers. Do you, do you have a rag or something? I asked, panic creeping into my voice. I'm bleeding a lot, nothing. He didn't even look at me. Warren, please, I said again,

louder this time. Help me. His eyes blinked rapidly, and for the first time since I met him, he looked, uncertain. There's a towel in the back seat, he muttered finally. I twisted around slowly and grabbed the dirty towel lying there, careful not to let my blood drip everywhere. That's when I saw it, beside the towel sat a half-empty whiskey bottle and a massive butcher knife. My stomach lurched.

Clutching the towel to my neck, I sank back down into the seat. The car slowed and stopped in front of a small, run-down house. I peeked out and saw an old woman staring at us from her window, suspicion written all over her face. Warren's shoulders shook. At first I thought he was laughing, but then I realized, he was crying. Warren, I whispered. What did I do wrong? He rubbed at his face with both hands, smearing tears across his cheeks.

The knife, it wasn't on purpose, he said. said hoarsely. It fell off the dashboard. I grabbed for it and, it went into your neck. I stared at him, not sure if I believed him. He sounded broken, almost human for a second. For what felt like hours, he sat there pouring out his life story. He told me how, when he was ten, an older boy in his neighborhood had done the same thing to him. It changes you, he said in a hollow voice. You grow up and you do it to someone else. That's how it works. I wanted to scream at him that he was wrong. That I would never, ever hurt someone the way he hurt me.

But my lips stayed shut. You'll understand someday, he said, staring at the dashboard. When you're older, you'll see, no. I'd never understand. I chose you because I thought you wanted me to, he confessed, voice cracking. You looked at me, you smiled. I thought it meant you wanted it. I felt sick. How could he twist reality like that?

Finally, he admitted the truth. I wanted to get caught, he whispered. I'm tired of running. Tired of hiding. Prisons where I belong, he turned to me, his bloodshot eyes locking on mine. You didn't do anything wrong, Carl. I'm the problem. Not you, the old woman was still watching from her window. She must have sensed something was wrong because, later, she told police she called 911

after seeing me clutching my neck and looking terrified. Time to go, Warren muttered suddenly. He started the car and drove off. But we didn't make it far. Red and blue lights flashed behind us, and a siren wailed briefly before falling silent. A police cruiser pulled up close. Warren sighed, his voice barely audible. Don't say a word.

Understand, two officers got out, one approaching each side of the car. Evening, sir, one of them said, Can we speak with the boy for a moment? I looked at Warren. He stared ahead, silent. I guess our fun time is over, he said quietly. The door opened, and I stepped out, my legs wobbly and weak. One officer gently placed a hand on my shoulder, guiding me away. Son, are you okay? He asked softly.

I stared at him for a moment, then whispered, he raped me, his face hardened. Tell me everything, he said gently. So I did. I told him the whole horrible story, from the moment Warren offered me a ride to the moment those lights saved me. The officer spoke into his radio, his voice low and urgent. Moments later, the other cop drew his gun. Out of the car, sir. Face down. Hands behind your head, Warren didn't resist.

They cuffed him and led him to the patrol car. Another police cruiser arrived, and the first officer helped me into it. We'll wait here for your parents, okay, he said. I nodded, staring down at my bloody hands clutching the towel. Somewhere deep inside, it finally hit me, I survived. To be continued.