Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Six Years of Love, Loss, and Leashes How I Finally Freed Myself from Vicky's Grip #69

Episode Date: August 7, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #toxicrelationship #freedomjourney #abuseescape #emotionaltrauma #breakingfree  After six years of love, manipulation, and emotional chains, the narrator escapes Vicky’s grip, reclaiming their life and identity from a painful past marked by control and loss.  horrorstories reddithorrorstories scarystories horrorstory creepypasta horrortales toxicrelationship abuseescape emotionaltrauma breakingfree control heartbreak survival mentalhealth healing recovery

It's been almost three years since my ex-girlfriend had broken up with me. Let's call her Vicky. We had been in a relationship for a little under six years. The way our relationship started wasn't good, but it was a change I had welcomed. See, I had cheated on my girlfriend before her with Vicky. I'm not proud of that and I understand that what I did was wrong, but it was a situation where I fell out of love halfway through that relationship but didn't have the courage to speak up.

I'm not justifying that action, just accepting it. My relationship with Vicky had developed when I was working as a housekeeper for a hotel in the town I went to high school. The job offered cheap seasonal housing to its employees, which I took, as I was 18 at that time and had been kicked out of my father's house. The only problem with this was that the season was ending, and I needed to find somewhere to live or partake in urban camping. That's when Vicky made me an offer.

She was living with her grandmother in a small town an hour from the Canadian border. She told me that, if I wanted, she would talk to her grandmother about letting me live with them. Seeing as I had been friends with Vicky since the sixth grade and had come to view her as a good friend, I accepted. A few days later, Vicky let me know that her grandmother was all right with it, as long as I helped with work around the property. I agreed, and at the end of the season, Vicky, her grandmother, and her mother, and her mother, and her mother, I moved what little belongings I had and myself three hours north. Over the course of a couple of months, that's when the feelings started to grow. After my relationship had ended between me and my girlfriend before Vicky, we started to date. I would do the outside property work, Vicky would

bring me water and food and make sure that I wasn't overworking myself, all while her grandmother would be at her job. Then, her grandmother told us that we would be moving, all three of us. Just to a city that was closer to her job. We were all excited. It was a three-bed, two-bath house, with an unfinished basement on an acre and a half of land. Sure, it was part of an HOA, but it was really nice land. It took some time to get everything moved over, but once it was done, life seemed like it was going well. Then, as time went on, I got to really know Vicky's parents. Her father, Daniel, was a no-nonsense kind of guy. Having worked a number of manual labor jobs in his youth before finally becoming an architect for private housing. Her mother, Marie, was a woman who worked part-time but was mostly a

homebody. They seemed like good people at first. I had a couple of dinners with them and had always offered to help whenever Daniel came over to fix something with the house. Then, the problems began. It started with Marie. Something about how I don't think when I speak and how I speak in I should watch what I say. I didn't hear about this from Marie. I heard it from Vicky. And honestly, that bothered me. I've always been the kind of person who wants to talk things out and find common ground.

That way, there's no misunderstandings, and I don't end up hurting anyone's feelings. But when I told Vicky that I would have a conversation with Marie about it, Vicky stopped me. Don't do that. She won't like that. It'll only make her complain about you more. She'll just think you're confrontational. I thought about it for a second and decided to drop it. It made sense in the moment.

It was a small matter, and at the end of the day, insignificant. But that wasn't the end of it. Marie kept saying things about me behind my back, I don't trust him. He doesn't fit in with our family. He's just a bum from the streets. He's just leaching off of it. you for his own benefit. All of this I found out from Vicky. And every time I heard something new, I said the same thing, let me talk to her. I'm sure if she just heard me out, she might understand.

And every time, Vicky said the same thing, don't do that. It'll just stir the pot and make things worse. It was upsetting, but I pushed through it. I kept putting in my fair share. paying rent, doing house chores, helping out where I could whenever someone needed it. After all, it was just one person in her family, it's not too much. But I was wrong. Because, one day, Vicky told me something her father said that had actually hurt. He has potential, but he doesn't have promise. It took me a moment to understand, but I eventually did.

He was saying that I have the ability to learn and grow, to become a better person, not just for myself and society, but for his daughter as well. But he didn't think that it would matter because I wouldn't apply any of it. That hurt. All the times I had helped him out, asked if he needed assistance with a project he was working on, or even just showed interest in something he was doing so I could learn his handyman tricks. None of that mattered to him. Turns out, the reason he said that was because whenever he would turn me down after I asked if he needed help,

he didn't want me to just ask. He wanted me to just do. He saw me as lazy. But when I told Vicky that I would talk to him, I got the same response, don't do that. He'll just think you're challenging his words. It'll stir the pot and make things worse. And that wasn't the last time I would hear about what Daniel thought of me, he's lazy. He doesn't know what he's doing. He's not going anywhere with his life. He is just mooching off of you for cheaper housing. And every time, I would say the same thing, let me talk to him. I want to understand what I can do better. And just like every other time, I got the same response from Vicky, don't do that. It'll just stir the pot. You'll make it worse. It was becoming more and more frustrating to deal with.

But I figured that if something was going to change, then I needed to be subtle with how I was. went about things. I started to play into Marie's narcissism, giving her compliments, admiring the things she got with her husband's money, showing her that I was doing good things for Vixie. I got a job that Daniel would respect, building houses, learning the trades, and vocalizing that when I knew enough, I would end up building a house for me and his daughter. But none of that mattered. They still talked badly about me behind my back, and what's worse, they even started getting other members of their family to think these things of me, he's a mooch. He's just kissing ass. It won't change the fact that he's just a stray dog. It made me realize that nothing I do

would make them change what they thought of me. So, I decided that it wasn't worth my time to work to please them. So, I stopped. I started doing things that I actually enjoyed, dressed the way I wanted, and put my opinions out there, even if they were different from everyone else's. And sure that made things worse. They didn't like how I didn't conform to their ways. They started to actually criticize me directly. Nothing big, just enough for me to notice. But I got used to it. Hardened my skin to it. Let's slide off. Then, the incident. The thing that tipped me over the edge. Vicky and I were planning a trip to a really big event. We had done work for a local Renfair, an invitation to go to their next show in the next date. It was going to be a 16-hour drive.

We had to plan on it months in advance. Setting aside money, planning out meals for the week, calculating how much gas it would be for there and back. Vicky had left before I did, going with one of the performers. I planned on riding with my best friend, and when the day came for us to leave, I thought I had everything in order. But I was wrong. See, what I was didn't know was that before we left, a bag of trash was left in the bed of my truck. For most, it's not a problem. But we lived in northwest Montana. Prime Bear Country. While I was 16 hours away, a black bear had come into Vicky's grandmother's property, climbed into my truck, and began tearing into the bag. The grandmother saw this and drove the bear away, banging pots

and pans to scare it off. She sent me pictures, convinced it was all my fault that a wild animal wandered onto her property. I did take some blame for that. I should have checked the bed of my truck, but I genuinely didn't know it was there. And that wasn't the end of it. Vicky told me that her family group chat was blowing up. All of it was how I had put her grandmother in danger, how I didn't have the common sense to no basic wild animal safety. Vicky showed me the text. He's a moron. He's shit in my nest for the last time. This is the final bridge he's burnt. He'll never learn. Rage filled up inside of me. For years, I put up with their two-faced behaviors. Tried to be the person they wanted me to be, tried to live as one of them.

But none of it mattered. They were always going to think of me like this. And I was tired of it. tired of not being heard. Tired of being treated like the shit on their shoe, all while they lied to me with fake smiles. And I was going to confront them about, I was going to say my peace, and Vicky wasn't going to stop me. I stood up quicker than I had intended, but clearly, I was mad. Where's my phone? I asked. Why? Vicky responded, because they're finally going to listen to what I have to say. I'm tired of this behind my back bullshit. Vicky didn't like that, she tried to stop me, tried to tell me that I was being rash, that I was letting my anger win. In truth, it was, but I was done being treated like this. When I didn't listen, other people got involved. People who were in our camp,

people who didn't know the full story, people who only saw my anger. They talked me out of it, had me sit down, and tried their best to calm me down. I eventually did. I eventually did. and I just did what I could to let this whole thing slide off my back. Then, the next day, Vicky wanted to talk to me in private. I had this not in my stomach, but I couldn't figure out why. When we were alone, she told me that my outburst the day before had scared her, that this wasn't the first time I was frustrated that her parents would talk about me behind my back. She said the outburst made her realize that I had become unpredictable, even to her,

and it made her worried about what I would do. For the sake of keeping myself safe, I think we need to break things off. Just for now. Maybe we could revisit us later, but I believe there are things that you need to work on. The words hit me like a ton of bricks, I was in shock. I wanted to plead, to beg her to reconsider,

but I couldn't say anything except, okay, I understand. The rest of the week was a blur. I was juggling emotions back and forth. forth. Anger, sadness, frustration, guilt. I honestly don't remember much until we got back home. When we did, there was no relief to be found. Vicky, her grandmother, and I sat down and had a conversation. Words were had, emotions flared, but it all boiled down to one thing. Her grandmother didn't want me to live on her property anymore. She gave me 30 days to find a new place to live. It sent me into a panic.

I spent the next few weeks looking at apartments and roommate options on Facebook, but eventually, my friend, the same one who came with us to that run fair, offered me a place to stay. I lived with him for a couple of months, until finally I found a little one-bedroom apartment. It was the cheapest in the county, and I was lucky to have got it. I moved in and settled for a time, all the while I stayed in contact with Vicky. See, Vicky had made it seem like if I just changed, made her feel secure in my emotions, that we could have that relationship we had. So, I started to change. I thought I was making myself better, but in reality, I was just shaping myself to fit into the little mold she wanted,

taking away bits and pieces of myself. Friends of mine gave me warning, telling me that she didn't actually intend to get back with me. I didn't believe them, but I should have. Almost a year had passed, and I kept trying to show Vicky that I made myself better for her. Then, one day, it happened. She texted me and told me that she just didn't see herself getting back with me. She told me that she saw me more as a really close friend or a brother. She said she had started to have feelings for someone else, one of my friends. I broke.

Six years of my life, spent with a woman that I thought one day I would build something with. A woman that I changed for made myself someone I didn't even want to be. And the worst part about all of it was that for that year we spent a part, she had strung me along, made me think that we could have built back what had crumbled. I was devastated, I cried, I shouted, I wanted to break something. I felt something. A little voice in the back of my head that I hadn't heard from since I was 15 years old. The little voice that convinced a teenage me to put a rope around my neck and try to cease my existence in this world.

I called a friend of mine and told him I needed him to hold on to something for me. When he got to my place, I went into my closet and handed him my shotgun. He knew immediately what was going through my head, but he didn't know what he could do. Later that day, I texted Vicky and told her I needed to talk to her privately in person. It took some convincing, but she agreed. Later that evening, she texted me that she was there and wanted me to come outside. I did, but when I spotted her, I saw she wasn't alone. She had her new romantic interest with her, my friend.

I looked at him and said, I wanted this conversation to be private. He looked at me and said, Vicky wanted me to be here just in case. I wasn't happy with it, but I accepted it, okay, then let's go inside. He responded, she wants to talk. talk outside. That wasn't acceptable. I laid out my terms for the conversation, and Vicky still wanted to have things go the way she wanted them to. Not this time. For once, in the six years I had been with her, things were going to go the way that I wanted, and if they didn't, things weren't going to happen at all. Fine, I said, then this conversation isn't happening. But stay here,

I have things for you, Vicky. I went back inside, grabbed everything. she had gifted me that I felt was of significance to our relationship, went back outside, and put them in her arms. I took a breath and said, I've tried my hardest to be what you thought was best while still trying to be myself. I thought I was doing good, I thought we were fixing things. Clearly, I was wrong. You've hurt me, badly. I've known you for a long time, and I'm not about to throw a 13-year friendship away, but I need time. There's feelings that I still have about you, that you clearly don't have about me, and I need time for those feelings to go away. I'm not saying that we'll never talk again, but I need to disassociate from you for a minute.

So, until I say differently, don't contact me, don't be around me, don't look at me. Until these feelings I have for you go away, I can't be your friend. This hurt Vicky. I could see it. She wanted to cry, but she didn't. I went back inside. Time passed and the romantic feelings I had for her went away, and eventually, I talked to her again. But the friendship we had wasn't the same. Eventually, I found someone new. Someone who wanted me to be myself for who I was. We'll call her bell. Our relationship started as long distance. We had met through a common nerd sport that regularly held weekend events. I was growing fond of her, and eventually, I had developed romantic feelings for Belle.

She helped me realize that I wasn't happy living where I was. So, I made the plan to move out of state. The move was rocky, but eventually, I settled. My relationship with Belle had continued to flourish, and to this day, it still does. I'm happy with her, and though we may have hiccups in communication, we never fight. Something I didn't get from Vicky. Eventually, we made a plan to go to a weekend event for our nerd sport. It was back up in Montana.

We had fun, shared drinks, and laughs. Then, on the last night, Bell had made a suggestion. This is where things get a little NSFW, so I apologize in advance. Bell came out of our tent, holding a collar and leash, and looked at me expectedly. She wanted to have me put it on, and we'd walk around the event site, only to camps that would be all right with this sort of thing. I agreed. The collar was a little too small, so we made a slip lead with it and the leash.

If she pulled on it a little too hard, the chain leash dug into my neck a little, so we kept that in mind. We walked around to the different camps, watching people's reactions to our display. Then, as we left one camp, we ran into her. Vicky. She stopped and chatted with us for a moment, and then she spoke. spotted the collar and leash. Yeah, this makes sense for you. She said. Half-heartedly laughed it off, and that's when it happened. Vicky reached out, quicker than either Bell or myself were expecting.

She grabbed the leashed and yanked down hard. I nearly fell to my knees. I was livid. I had to stop myself from rearing back up and giving her an uppercut from hell. I coughed and somehow, calmly, said, hey, let's not do that. A clear sign from anyone in those communities that I was not enthusiastically consenting. Vicky giggled, well, clearly, Bell here is your do-em. Let's see what she has to say. Bell, as calm as ever, said, well, if you're not going to take his no, I'm going to tell you no. Bell then quickly diffused the situation, distracting Vicky, and eventually, we got out of the area. It was only later that I found out that I found out that that little stunt Vicky had pulled Phil Bell with enough rage to want to pick Vicky up and

threw her at a tree. The rest of the event went fine. We got back home, but something about what happened still nagged at me. I talked to some friends about it and have confirmed that what Vicky did was, in the context of the situation, essayed me. She recognized what was going on, made a move that she wasn't given prior permission to do, and then tried to circumvent my consent. Once I understood this, it made me angry. It's been ten months since it happened, and I'm still angry. I haven't talked to Vicky since, but I know that she'll be at events that I plan on going to. When that does happen, I'll have to have a conversation with her boyfriend that Vicky isn't allowed in my camp.

I know she's going to throw a fit about this. She'll have this idea in her head that she hasn't done anything wrong to warrant this. She'll want to talk to me about it, try and find out why I made this decision, and plan to stand firm on it. I'm not opposed to this. I'll explain why. I'll tell her the wrongs that she did and why I don't trust her anymore. I have a plan, and it's going to go the way I want it to, and if it doesn't, I'll have event security escort her away from my camp, effectively still having go my way.

And the part that I find the most funny about it. I know she's on here, I know she looks at these kinds of posts. Her boyfriend does, too. Friends of hers who have heard my side of this do, too. She may very well find this and put the pieces together. I'm all right with this. There's a portion of my brain that wants her to. To have her learn that her dirty laundry is being aired out to random people on the internet

brings me a smile. So, Vicky, if you are reading this, thank you for helping me. realize that you are an unhealthy person, thank you for helping me learn that you are the same, if not worse, than the mother who brought you into this world. The end.