Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Three Days Ago, Everything Changed My Life Derailed in Just Ten Words PART2 #23

Episode Date: September 10, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #mysterydeepens #part2horror #psychologicaltwist #slowburnterror #tenwordscurse  In this chilling continuation, the cryptic ten-word message that derailed the narrator’s life continues to torment them. Sleep becomes impossible, familiar places feel hostile, and people around them seem... wrong. As paranoia sets in, they dig deeper—into memories, past events, and patterns they never noticed before. Are they being watched? Followed? Or is this all inside their head? The story teeters on the edge of madness and supernatural dread, blurring the line between coincidence and fate. Just when they think they’ve found clarity, a new twist sends everything crashing down again. The horror is no longer in what was said—but in what’s coming next.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, mysterioussequel, psychologicalunraveling, fearbuilds, tenwordmystery, part2story, deepeninghorror, mindtwist, somethingiswrong, unseenforce, storycontinuation, horrorclues, lostinreality, creepingterror, mentalcollapse

Let me start by saying thank you to the person who told me to go back and actually look at what I wrote before hitting Post. You were right. I was a mess. I was terrified and panicked and rushed into it. And even though that Post was kind of a scream into the void, it helped. A lot. You don't know how much just reading the replies did for me. So, thanks.

But I'm back now. I've been hold up in my room for the past week. Seven straight days of locking the door, lights off, barely eating, just lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling like some kind of ghost. I've read the same message threads on my phone a hundred times. I've scrolled back through old family pictures until my thumb got sore. I've cried until I couldn't breathe. And honestly, I still don't know where to start. There's just too much.

But if I don't write it out now, I think I might explode. So here it is. Let's rewind. Let's go back to last week. Back to when I thought the world still made sense. If you've read my first post, then you already know some of the setup. If not, here's the speed run version, I, 18m, grew up thinking I was the only child in a super-loving, open-minded, perfect little family. My parents, 59m, 59F, were the kind of people who other parents get compared to, fun, supportive, affectionate, woke, you name it. We had in jokes, weekly routines, camping trips with mom, cooking nights with dad. I thought they were my heroes. They raised me to believe that they didn't believe in hiding stuff. They always said things like, you can ask us anything,

or will always tell you the truth. So when they told me that my three older half-siblings, Donna, 38F, Kelly, 36F, and John, 33M, had distanced themselves because it was too painful for them after their mom passed. I believed them. I didn't just believe them. I clung to that version of events. It explained everything, why my siblings weren't around, why I only had vague memories of John from when I was super young, why I never got to know them. It painted them in a gentle, tragic light. It painted my parents as respectful. Sad, but respectful. Everyone was grieving. Everyone had made hard choices. And they still loved me enough to send birthday cards and letters every year. I believed that version of my life until exactly seven days ago. Here's what really happened.

When I arrived at Kelly's house, at least, who I thought was Kelly's house, I was already unraveling. I'd taken a long bus ride across the state, too jittery to sleep, too anxious to eat. I remember staring out the window the entire ride, obsessing over what I'd say, how I'd greet her, what her face would look like when she saw me. Would she cry? Would she smile? Would she slam the door in my face? I didn't know.

But I wanted answers. I needed them. So I got off the bus, called a cab, and showed the job. driver the address. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. When we pulled up to the house, a cute two-story home with a bright red front door and this perfect little garden, I just sat there in the cab, frozen. For a full minute. The driver even asked me if I was okay. I told him yeah, paid him, got out, and immediately panicked. My legs gave out. I sat down on the sidewalk in front of the house, gripping my

backpack, shaking like a leaf. Then I just lost it. Full-blown anxiety attack. I couldn't breathe. My face was soaked in tears, and my chest felt like it was caving in. I thought I might pass out. And then I heard someone yell my name. Lee. Are you okay? That voice snapped me out of it. I looked up, wiping my face with the sleeve of my hoodie, and there she was, a woman I'd only ever seen in pictures. Donna. I was stunned. I thought I was at Kelly's place. Why was Donna here? Weren't they supposed to be estranged? I mean, my parents said they'd all split after their mom died, that they couldn't even look at each other because it was too painful. And yet, here she was. Right in front of me. Donna rushed over, crouched beside me, and asked if I was all right.

I must have looked like a disaster. But she wasn't judgmental or cold. She was warm. Comforting. She sat with me on the grass, rubbed my back while I tried to steady my breathing. She gave me water. Made jokes to lighten the mood.

And eventually, when I calmed down enough to speak, she smiled and said, okay. So, who the hell are you? I told her everything. And I mean everything. I told her about growing up with my parents. How amazing I thought they were. How I thought I was their only child.

How they'd told me about her, John and Kelly, and about their mom dying before I was born. I told her all about the letters and the holidays and how I planned this whole dramatic reunion for when I turned 18. It all came out of me like I was vomiting memories. I couldn't stop. It just kept pouring out. years and years of wondering and dreaming and hoping.

Donna listened. At first, her face was soft, then confused, then alarmed, then just, shocked. Like actual, jaw dropped, what did I just hear, levels of disbelief. And then she yelled, out loud, right there on the lawn, what? The hell, turns out, pretty much everything I knew was wrong. For starters, their mom didn't die before I was born. She died when I was around three or four years old. Which, yeah, explains why I do remember John a little, he was around.

In fact, he handled her estate after she passed. And here's the kicker, their mom, Nala. She was my godmother. I had no clue. Not a single clue. No one ever told me that. Apparently, she even left me some of her stuff in her will. Donna said they tried to stay in my life after she passed.

That they wanted to. But someone made sure they couldn't. And that's when the front door opened. Kelly walked out with John and some older man I didn't recognize. All three of them looked shocked to see me sitting there with Donna. But not angry, just surprised. ran down the steps and gave me the tightest hug I've ever received. John did too. They both looked so happy, like, relieved, almost. And then it happened. John turned to the older man, the one I didn't

know, and said with the biggest smile on his face. Dad, this is Lee. Lee, this is our dad, Winston, I couldn't speak. I felt like I'd been electrocuted. My ears rang. My vision blurred. I looked at the man, Winston, and he looked at me. His face was kind, gentle, but confused. He said hi, extended his hand. But I didn't take it. Because I couldn't. Because in that moment, my entire reality shattered into dust.

Winston. Winston was their dad. But I thought my dad was their dad. What the hell was going on? What came next was hours and hours of talking. Donna brought me inside, sat me down, gave me tea. Kelly held my hand. John paced the floor like he was trying to keep from punching a wall.

They told me the real story. Not the fairy tale I'd grown up with. Apparently, my dad, the man who raised me, was not their biological father. He was my mom's second husband. He married her a few years after Nala passed. away. The three of them, Donna, Kelly, and John, were already in their teens or early 20s by then. And here's the dark part. When my parents got married, they told Winston, the real father, that they wanted to, create a new family. My mom told Winston it would be too confusing for me

if he stayed involved. She asked him to step back. To give me a clean start. And for reasons I still don't understand, he agreed. Maybe he thought it was best for me. Maybe he just didn't want a custody battle. But it didn't stop there. My mom and stepdad, I'm still not used to calling him that, didn't just keep Winston out of my life. They erased him. They told people he didn't exist. They told me he didn't exist. They told my siblings that they weren't welcome. They cut ties. Just like that. I sat in that house and listened to my entire child would be unspulled like a bad magic trick. Every memory, every bedtime story, every birthday card, they all had cracks in them now.

I realized how much had been hidden from me. How much of my identity had been built on a lie. They lied to me. They chose to lie. They told me my siblings left because of grief. They told me their mom died before. I was born. They told me Winston was no one. And the entire time, there were people, beautiful, kind, loving people, who wanted to be part of my life, who were pushed away. When I finally

left their house that night, I was numb. They offered to let me stay, but I said no. I needed space. I needed to think. I needed to cry. And when I got back to my room, I locked the door and haven't come out since. I haven't spoken to my parents. I don't know what I'll say when I do. All I know is, they lied to me for 18 years. They took my family away. They decided for me who I was allowed to love. And I don't know if I'll ever forgive them. To be continued.