Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - My Narcissistic Grandma Put Staples in My Fiancé’s Food—We Left and Never Looked Back #28

Episode Date: September 1, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #toxicgrandma #familydrama #dangerousrelatives #narcissisticabuse #cuttingties  What started as a tense family dinner turned into a nightmare. My grandmother, known for her manipulative and controlling behavior, crossed a terrifying line—she embedded metal staples in my fiancé’s food. Whether it was a cruel “joke” or something darker, that moment made everything clear. Her toxic hold had gone too far. We left that house without a word and never looked back. I lost a family connection that day, but I reclaimed my sanity—and my safety.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, toxicfamily, narcissisticgrandma, dangerousfamily, familyhorror, realnightmare, emotionalabuse, darkfamilydynamics, disturbingdinner, manipulation, trauma, psychodrama, cuttingtoxicties, foodtampering, survivalstory

I don't even know where to start, honestly. This whole thing feels like a blur, but I guess I'll start at the beginning and try to piece it all together. Back in 2016, I was finally out of foster care. It wasn't exactly the warm welcome to freedom you'd hope for. I didn't have a lot of options, no real family stepping up to take me in, except for my grandmother. She was 79 at the time, and I thought maybe staying with her would give me a chance to regroup, figure out my life. and maybe even feel like part of a family again. I was so, so wrong.

It didn't take long for me to realize that my grandma wasn't exactly the sweet little old lady people imagined her to be. Don't get me wrong, to strangers she was perfect. She'd smile, bake cookies, offer tea, and chat like she was everyone's favorite person. But that wasn't her at all. That was the mask she wore. With us, her family, she was cruel, mean in ways that cut deep. She was controlling, manipulative, and she knew how to make you feel small.

And as she got older, the narcissism only got worse. Like, she lost whatever filter she might have had before and became unhinged in how she treated us. Then there was my fiancé. I met him a few years after moving in with her. He was everything to me, kind, funny, supportive, and she hated him instantly. And why? Because he's a different race. That's it. She didn't care about his heart, his character, or how happy he made me. All she saw was his skin color and decided he wasn't

good enough for me. She never said it outright, not at first. But the looks, the passive-aggressive comments, and the way she went cold whenever he was around said everything. By the time 2022 rolled around, I'd been living in her house for six years. Six long years of enduring her comments, her belittling me, and trying to maintain my sanity. But the last few months before I left, those were the worst. My dad, her son, died on July 4th that year. It was sudden. He had Stage 3 cancer, yeah, but he was holding on, still living, still fighting. That day he'd seemed fine. Then he had a heart attack, and that was it.

I was crushed. Completely heartbroken. My father wasn't perfect, but he was my dad. And my grandmother? She didn't even flinch. The day after he passed, I sat there crying in the kitchen, and she looked at me like I was pathetic. She told me to, get over it.

Just like that. Like my grief was an inconvenience to her. Then she said something that still chills me to my core. She told me not to bother calling the police or anything because, he's gone. I remembered how earlier that day she'd given him a pill, one of those strong ones that starts with A V&N's in Dan. He wasn't in pain. He wasn't asking for it.

But she gave it to him anyway. hours later, he was dead. I can't prove it. I have no evidence. But deep down, I feel like she ended his life prematurely. Maybe to avoid having to deal with him getting sicker. Or maybe just because she could. But as horrific as that is, that isn't even the worst part of this story. The real reason I'm even writing this is what happened a few weeks later. At that time, my fiancé had started staying over more often. It wasn't ideal, he hated being there because of how she treated him, but we didn't have another place to go. One night, he and I made dinner for ourselves. Grandma had already cooked something for herself earlier, so we didn't think much of it.

After we finished cooking, we went outside for a quick cigarette. It was supposed to be just a few minutes of peace. When we came back in, though, everything changed. We walked into the kitchen and stopped dead in our tracks. My grandmother didn't see us. She was standing over my fiancé's plate, her back to us. And she was messing with his food. At first, I thought maybe she was just picking at it, which would have been rude enough. But then we saw her doing something, more deliberate. She was sprinkling something on it, pressing little objects into the steak. We didn't say anything. We just stood there in stunned silence. A few seconds later, she turned and walked out of the kitchen, heading straight for her bedroom without noticing us. My fiancé and I

rushed to his plate. What we found made my stomach turn. There were staples, actual metal staples, pressed into his steak. Not one or two, but several. Small enough that if he'd eaten carelessly, he could have swallowed them and ended up in the hospital, or worse. I felt sick. My knees went weak. I had known my grandmother was mean, manipulative, and even cruel. But this? This was something else. This was deliberate. This was malicious. This was a crime. We threw the food away, both his and mine. I couldn't risk that she'd done something to mine too. My fiancé was livid.

He wanted to confront her right then and there, but I stopped him. I knew how she operated. If we confronted her, she'd deny it. She'd act confused and innocent. Then she'd cry and turn it around on us. That was her game. It always had been. So we didn't say a word.

But in my head, a switch flipped. Something inside me broke that night. I realized I couldn't stay there another second longer than I had to. This wasn't just toxic anymore, this was dangerous. The following week, we packed up everything we could carry. I didn't have a car or much money, but when the opportunity came to get out, I took it. We didn't tell her we were leaving. No goodbye.

No explanation. Nothing. I left her house like a thief in the night. The last thing I said to her was simple. I looked her dead in the eye and said, I'll never see you again. And I meant it. She didn't try to stop us. Maybe she didn't believe me.

Maybe she didn't care. Or maybe she knew she'd finally gone too far. Since then, I've been rebuilding my life with my fiancé. We found a small place of our own, not fancy, but it's ours. It's peaceful. No walking on eggshells. No crying myself to sleep at night. No more wondering if the person who's supposed to care for me the most secretly wants

to destroy me. Sometimes, though, the memories creep back in. I think about my dad and wonder if I should have done more to protect him. I think about those staples in the stake and shudder. What if we hadn't gone outside for that cigarette? What if he'd just sat down and started eating? And then I think about her. Alone in that house, still charming strangers and making them believe she's an angel.

But I know the truth. I know what she's capable of. People say family is everything. That you should forgive, no matter what. But I don't believe that anymore. Family isn't supposed to hurt you. isn't supposed to make you feel unsafe in your own home. Family isn't supposed to put staples in your food. So no, I don't feel guilty for leaving. I don't feel bad for cutting her off.

I saved myself. I saved the man I love. And I know, deep down, that I did the right thing. Maybe one day I'll hear that she's gone. That her health finally gave out or that her charm couldn't cover her cruelty forever. When that day comes, I don't know how I'll feel. Relieved? Sad? Nothing at all. But one thing's for sure, I'll never see her again. The end.