Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Terrifying Encounters in Safe Rooms From Creepy Parties to Unexplained Intruders #41

Episode Date: October 3, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #creepyparties #unexplainedintruders #saferoomhorror #nightterrorstories #truehorrortales  This chilling set of stories explores how even the places meant to keep us safe can become the stage for terror. From creepy parties that take a sinister turn to safe rooms invaded by unexplained intruders, these encounters remind us that horror often finds its way into the last places we expect.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, saferoomhorror, creepyencounters, unexplainedintruders, hauntedmoments, nightterrors, survivalhorror, eerieparties, supernaturalencounters, truehorrorstories, disturbingtruths, spinechilling, stalkerhorror, mysterythriller, darkencounters

My first brush with a so-called safe room happened back in 2010, and believe me, it's a memory I'll never shake off. The setting? An insanely beautiful house right on the beach, perched by the Timor Sea on the west coast of Australia. Think glossy real estate magazine cover level. I was just starting my first year of college then, and my entire political science class had been invited to this party. The occasion. celebrating the resignation of the prime minister. Yeah, I know, only in certain circles does that count as party worthy.

I didn't know the host. Not even in a friend of a friend way. But my professor did, so we all got the nod to come. The place was enormous, like this could be a hotel enormous, and yet somehow, every single room was packed with people. You couldn't swing your arm without elbowing a stranger in the ribs. Glasses clinked, people were networking, others were stuck in boring political debates, and I was just there with my classmates, trying to blend into the chaos. Since I barely knew anyone beyond my own circle, I spent most of the early evening hanging out with my friends by the pool, sipping champagne and avoiding awkward small talk.

The vibe shifted pretty fast once a few people got tipsy. That's when the dares started, removing layers of clothing and jumping in the pool. Before long, six people were in there, splashing around in their underwear, squealing like they were in a movie montage. I figured, great, any judgmental stares would be aimed at them, not us. My best friend Tanya and I exchanged the, why not, look, helped each other out of our dresses, and sat at the edge of the pool with just our legs in the water. We weren't going full dive in, but we were game for a little fun. Somewhere in the mix, this younger guy appeared, around our age, definitely not one of our classmates.

He had this easygoing vibe, refilling our glasses without being asked. He introduced himself as Hugo. Naturally, Tanya and I immediately joked that he'd better not be slipping anything into our drinks. He laughed it off. He wasn't a waiter, just some guest, probably thinking he was charming us. We knew what he was doing. hanging around, hoping to keep us giggling long enough to get an pin. And, yes, he got a nice view of us in our lacy underthings while we sat there. But here's the thing, Tanya and I both had our limits.

We cut ourselves off before we got too tipsy, got dressed again, and headed back inside. About 40 minutes later, after a bit of mingling and drifting between groups, I realized I'd lost track of Tanya. coming out of the bathroom, I spotted Hugo waiting at the end of the hallway. When I walked over, he grinned like he'd been planning this all along, then pulled a rose from behind his back. It was so corny it actually softened me for a moment. Next thing I knew, we were making out in the hallway, tucked beside this big old grandfather clock. He pulled back just enough to say he knew a more private place. I figured he meant somewhere to keep making out without a crowd walking by every two seconds, so I went along. He led me into what looked like a

quiet office, no one was in there, the door was open, and I thought, fine, no harm. But then he took me further, toward a sliding door half hidden behind a curtain. He opened it, and we stepped into a smaller, windowless office. It had a desk, a chair, and a couch, nothing else. I stepped inside for a quick look and then it hit me, this wasn't just a random room. Wait, is this a panic room? I asked. He nodded, and before I could say anything else, he pressed a button on the wall. A heavy metal door slid shut with a solid, echoing thud. It wasn't like a normal door, it was more like an elevator door on steroids. No one can hear us in here, he whispered, leaning in to kiss my neck.

Now, I don't know if he thought that was supposed to be sexy, but it sent a spike of pure discomfort through me. I broke away instantly. Uh, no way am I doing this in here. Open the door. For a second, his face flashed confusion, like I'd just broken some unspoken script. Then irritation set in. Come on, don't be like that, he murmured.

I tried to pivot toward the door, but he stepped in front of me, blocking the way. Please, I get claustrophobic, I said, keeping my voice steady. Open it. Instead, he tried to soothe me with another kiss and a low, don't worry about it. Let's just use the couch. His hands slid onto my waist, trying to guide me backward. No. Open the door first. That's when he physically pushed me toward the couch. Not violently, but firmly enough that my brain flipped into okay, I've been polite, now it's defense mode.

I dealt with a stalker neighbor years earlier, so I always carried a discreet little self-defense tool, a tiny ring with a hidden pen tip under a fake pearl. I popped the pearl off with my thumb, exposing the point, sat upright, and gave him one last warning in a sharp tone. I'm not kidding. Open the door, he dropped to his knees, placing his hands on the inside of my thighs. When he leaned in again, I cupped his face with my left hand, and then drove my right hand forward, slamming the pen point into the side of his face. I missed his eye, but it came close enough. He recoiled instantly, yelling like a cat that had just been stepped on. I bolted, pressing the button to open the door, and slipped out the second the metal parted. I pushed my way through

the crowd inside the house, not caring who I bumped, until I found my professor and some classmates. A few of them were leaving, so I hitched a ride without explaining anything until much later. when Tanya came back to the dorm. In hindsight, yeah, I probably should have warned someone right then, Hugo could have tried the same stunt with someone else that night. But I figured the sting I'd given him would keep him, well, not in the mood for quite a while. I never saw him again. Was he planning to assault me?

I honestly don't know. But locking me in that room against my will. That's all I needed to call it creepy as hell. People can argue about mixed signals all they want. I asked him to open that door multiple times, and he didn't. Funny twist to this story, years later, I actually ended up working for a private security company with my main gig being a safe room technician. Yeah. My job was to maintain, test, and occasionally repair panic rooms and vaults. Breaking into them rarely happened. I've only had to physically force entry twice.

Usually, it's police business if someone's inside and refusing to come out. Most people cave when they get hungry or thirsty. In more urgent cases, the cops drill a hole and drop in a smoke grenade to flush them out. One time, negotiations failed, and the person inside shot himself. I had to cut through the door with a plasma cutter. When it slid open, his body toppled right onto it. my boots. But the second forced entry I did, that one still haunts me. The police called me about a house that was for sale. The real estate agency wanted the safe room open so they could

show it off to buyers. I warned them that if it was locked, someone might be inside. They brushed it off, nobody had set foot there in months. I ran tests on the control panel. It was sealed from the inside. Short of blowing the door and risking structural damage, the only option was for me to cut through. They weren't thrilled, but I was more worried I'd find another corpse. I did. When the door finally opened, the smell hit me first. On the floor lay the shrivelled body of a man, face down, both hands braced on the inside of the door, like he'd been trying to push it open. His legs were broken in three places each, probably from a sledgehammer. He'd been trapped there, unable to even reach the button.

I checked the wiring later and found it had been tampered with. Someone could have sealed him in from the outside. That night, my brother-in-law said, like the guy at the end of Saw. The comparison made my stomach drop. This man had died slowly, starving, alone, knowing no one could hear him, and even if they had, they couldn't get to him in time. The killer. Never caught. The real estate agency kept it quiet, though the house stayed a crime scene for months. That case changed me. Even on my worst days now, I remind myself, at least I can see the sun. But that wasn't my last brush with

safe room nightmares. Back when I lived in Nova Scotia, I worked for a guy who flipped houses. Sometimes I got sent to inspect places after renovations. One rainy July night in 2000, thunder rattling the roof, I was alone in a house. The master bedroom had a connected safe room, so I stepped inside to jot down some notes. That's when I heard footsteps on the stairs. The security cameras had been set up but weren't recording. I glanced at the feed, a dark figure was moving up from the kitchen. No one else was supposed to have a key.

I hit the button to close the safe room door. On the monitor, the figure paused, then glided down the hall, peeking into each room before stepping into the master bedroom. I froze. Seconds passed. Then I heard a soft, steady thumping on the safe room door. No camera covered that angle. I sat in the chair, staring at the screens, my phone useless, no reception.

The thumping stopped, replaced by faint muttering. One word came through, Barry, the night dragged on like an eternity. I stayed awake for six hours, eyes locked on the monitors, checking every camera for signs the figure had left. Nothing. At dawn, I finally opened the door, braced for the worst. No one was there. But outside the safe room door, about an inch long, was a smear of red. Fresh. I left so fast I barely remembered grabbing my stuff. Later, I sent friends to check for

forced entry, there was none. People say maybe it was a ghost. But in my mind, I see a man with a bloody face, pressed to the door, whispering my name. There's always a reason to be afraid. The end.