The Lets Read Podcast - 136: I'VE SEEN THE DARK SIDE OF FURRIES | 21 True Scary Horror Stories | EP 124

Episode Date: May 24, 2022

This episode includes narrations of true creepy encounters submitted by normal folks just like yourself. Today you'll experience horrifying stories about MORE Valentines Day, House Parties, & Furry Conventions... HAVE A STORY TO SUBMIT?► www.Reddit.com/r/LetsReadOfficial FOLLOW ME ON - ►YouTube - https://www.youtube.com/c/letsreadofficial ► Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/letsread.official/ ► Twitter - https://twitter.com/LetsReadCreepy ♫ Background Music & Audio Remastering: Simon de Beer https://www.instagram.com/simon_db98/ PATREON for EARLY ACCESS!►http://patreon.com/LetsRead

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BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with iGaming Ontario. I'm sorry. In early 2016, I was writing local event pieces for the Boston Globe. Generally speaking, I covered all the routine annual events that were held in Boston and the surrounding area. Things like St. Anthony's Feast, the St. Patrick's Day Parades, or the Marathon. But every so often I got asked to cover something a little different. For example, one particular year I was asked to cover the live reenactments of the Boston Massacre and the Battle of Lexington that are held on the respective anniversaries. Seeing all those historical society guys in their get-ups was impressive, but the way they spoke and acted was like stepping back into a time machine.

Truck Day is also pretty surreal, when a legion of die-hard Red Sox fans cheer for the team's equipment truck when it departs for spring training down in Florida. But the one single event I covered that sticks out most in my mind was something called Anthro New England in Florida. But the one single event I covered that sticks out most in my mind was something called Anthro New England in 2016, and was the second annual Massachusetts gathering of what are known as furries. For those that don't know, a self-described furry is someone interested in the subculture of anthropomorphic animal characters with human personalities and characteristics. Examples of anthropomorphic attributes include exhibiting human intelligence and facial expressions, talking, bipedal mobility, or wearing human clothes. For most people, their enthusiasm for such things begins and ends on the

internet, where a vast array of websites and forums cater to their rather unusual but benign tastes. After all, having fur, a snout, a tail or paws isn't a dream they can ever truly realize, but as I myself discovered in the spring of 2016, some aren't deterred by the fact that they're trapped inside of their fleshy, furless human bodies. The most rabid furries create or hire what they call a fursuit. A large, life-sized costume with a helmet-style mask that covers the entire head and face. Then, with these often bulky, always colorful suits, they gather together for a weekend that mostly consists of fantasy fun. I say mostly because, from experience, I can tell you that not everyone who attends those conventions are there for innocent fun, and some don't take too kindly to people questioning their unusual inclinations.

The convention was being held at the Hyatt Regency Hotel over in Cambridge on the weekend beginning January 22nd. I caught the tea over on the Friday afternoon, only to find that there was an underlying theme to the already themed convention. There were plenty of so-called furries hanging around in their suits, but many had what appeared to be a sporting theme to their outfits. When I inquired, I was told that the theme that year was sports ball, which I assumed was a nod towards all the Super Bowl hype for the upcoming Broncos vs. Panthers game. The $25 entrance fees seemed pretty standard for a large-scale convention. And aside from the fact that most attendants were wearing all those furry suits,

the convention felt much like any other. People from all over the country had descended on the Hyatt Regency to share ideas, sell arts and crafts, or simply to socialize with people who shared similar interests. And for the most part, they were incredibly welcoming to outsiders. All except one guy, who took a great deal of offense to what was an innocent, albeit skewering analysis of their costume capers. On Saturday, the second day of the convention, I began to feel much more comfortable engaging with some of the attendees. I asked plenty of questions, all as politely worded as I could make them, and found out a great deal of information on one of the strangest communities of people I'd ever come across.

Unusual, but mostly well-intentioned, that was abundantly clear. As much as I discovered a seedy underbelly of furry eroticism that tended to attract all the usual unsavory suspects, most of the convention eschewed what they referred to as not-safe-for-work aspects of the subculture. But then one guy I was interviewing, who had to talk pretty loud for me to be able to hear him clearly through his head, had a question of his own for me. He wanted to know my genuine opinions on furry culture after having spent two days mingling with those who enthused over it. Now, I have always been brutally honest. I know how to use my vocabulary to soften the blow of a harsh opinion, but I'm not in the habit of lying to people.

I told him that I could clearly see that the majority of the attendants had nothing but a wholesome interest in mascots, cartoon characters, and fantasy creatures in general. But that the whole thing still had an element of escapism to it. I believed and still believe that putting on those fursuits is an attempt to relinquishing the pressures and responsibilities of the modern world, and that generally speaking, anyone who wears a mask or a disguise in such a way is trying to lose themselves, so to speak, and in doing so, avoid dealing with an acute mental issue or something more existential. He paused, then confessed to agreeing with some of my statements while disagreeing with others. What followed was an intense but civil discussion on the furry subculture, and subcultures in general, one that eventually caused quite a little audience to gather.

Much like my original interviewee, those that gathered accepted that they used the hobby as a form of escapism, but were quick to assert that it was just as healthy as any other kind of fandom, a good example being those that dress up as Star Wars characters and attend sci-fi conventions. I spoke to a variety of people during that conversation. Pretty much everyone who'd gathered wanted to set the record straight. All except one furry. A person in a black and white wolf costume who didn't say a single thing during the entire exchange. In a situation where everyone seemed to want to make their opinion known, this person was content to remain in silence. A silence that, in the end, was so deafening that I simply had to involve them directly in the conversation. At first, I thought I was just unable to hear their response through

a combination of convention ambiance and their costume head, but as it turns out, they were giving me the silent treatment, just staring at me in what I understood to be an attempt at intimidation. I tried to ignore the awkwardness that followed, and a handful of his furry companions even apologized for his behavior, but all were quick to inform me that the black wolf was acting so standoffish because I'd made Shadow angry. Shadow seemed to be the nom de fur of their lupine friend, and it was a nickname that suited his disposition. I'm not one to be intimidated by people.

I have encountered my fair share of belligerence in my time as a journalist, and I am not easily unnerved. But something about this person in their costume had me unusually on edge. Maybe it was the odd combination of the aggressive body language and the goofy happy expression on their fur head. Or maybe it was the fact that this person could see my face through the little mesh visor and that I couldn't see them at all. And that they spent the next hour and a half following me around the convention center and looming over my every interaction. They followed me right up until the moment I left the Hyatt Regency 2 and I know that because as I was walking through the parking lot, I looked over my shoulder to check for cars and saw the black and white fursuit of shadow standing in the entranceway of the hotel.

I start my write up that evening, finish it on the Sunday, then I email it off to my head department. The article itself wasn't huge and only appeared on the Globe's website, but I still made sure to be kind in light of their generous and welcoming nature. I condensed my in-depth critique of the subculture down into the phrase harmless escapism and focused on the sports mascot side of things in an attempt to play to your average sports-loving Bostonian. The published article had both my name and Twitter handle attached to it, and over the next couple of days I started to receive some predominantly appreciative messages from furries that had actually attended the

convention, as well as furries from around the country that had been unable to make it. But then one message was from a user whose handle and display picture was immediately familiar. It was from Shadow, the person in the black and white wolf suit that had attended Anthro New England. I can't remember the exact wording, I only skim read it before quickly moving to report and block the account, but the intention it conveyed was utterly chilling. Shadow seemed enraged that I had referred to his furriness as escapism. He explained that being that suit enabled him to be his true self, how neurotypical people would never understand. I remember that word

because their message was the first time I'd ever laid eyes on it. Then came the threats, exotically worded threats regarding the obscenely violent things he was going to do to me for painting furries as perverted losers and loners. Their words, not mine. That was the only part that really made me want to respond because I didn't think I'd painted them that way at all. I'd specifically worded the article to be as inoffensive as possible. But then Shadow wrote something that got to the root of why I found them so unnerving in the first place. They said I would never be safe, but I didn't know what they looked like outside of their suit. When I'm hiding away in my skin suit is the way Shadow phrased it.

It was genius, really. As much as it was a terrible thing to say, an attempt to play on their paranoia, it was kind of genius. Because Shadow was right. I had absolutely no idea what they looked like. They could be my neighbor, or my Uber driver, or my freaking toaster repairman, and I wouldn't have a clue. That's the only part I've found legitimately frightening. Like I said, I'm used to people taking objection to my profession, things that I've written, or my identity, but those people tend to make themselves known in various ways. But with this guy, I could be sat next to him on the T tomorrow and I'd have no idea. Shadow didn't get over it either, never has.

Every so often I get a DM or an email from some seemingly benign looking account name, only to find it's somebody anonymously telling me how they're going to pull my eyeballs out of my head. Anonymous, but I know who it is, and they like it that way. This isn't an indictment against furries or anyone involved in the fandom in any way. I understand I just had an isolated incident with some unhinged weirdo and that most furries are generally nice, even if they are a little kooky. But there are times I really wish I hadn't written that Anthro New England article because I feel like sometime soon, Shadow isn't just going to be content to send me messages or have things mailed to the globe's offices addressed to me. I have a horrible feeling I'm going to run into them too,

and that they're going to follow me home one night, and I'll never know it's them, not until it's far, far too late. Hi everyone, my name is Scarlet. I'm a female red panda and I use she, her pronouns. I have a story to tell that involves a visit to a furry convention in the UK called Confuzzled. But first of all, I feel like I need to set a few things straight regarding the furry fandom in general. Lots of different people have different ideas about what it means to be a furry, but generally speaking, a furry is someone who expresses an interest in anthropomorphic animals and creatures. They may express that interest in a variety of ways, through art and stories, to roleplay and performance. How deep or meaningful being a furry is depends to vary from person to

person. For me, Scarlet, my red panda fursona, play on the words persona, is just a bit of fun that started with me drawing animal cartoons in my school textbooks. I felt cute drawing myself as an adorable little creature and red pandas have always been my favorite animals so it just made sense. I don't feel like Scarlet is the real me or whatever, there's nothing spiritual about my connection with her, but like I said, that can be very different for other people. Some furries believe they have a deeply spiritual connection to a particular animal which is typically their fursona and often say they are an animal in a human body. There are a million different aspects of furry fandom and it's entirely up to you to what you believe.

Not all of us are attracted to anthro animals, but it's a phenomenon that does actually exist and we call those people furverts. But there's been a conscious effort over the past few years to create a clear dividing line between that kind of thing and the rest of the community. We don't want the smallest, seediest part of furry fandom to define us. But like any other and welcoming community, we have our fair share of bad apples, and I was unfortunate enough to run into one at a furry convention back in 2019. It didn't put me off getting involved in the community. In fact, other furries were the people who helped me get over the trauma that followed, but I do consider it a warning of the kind of people that are out there. So in 2019, Confuzzled was held at the Hilton Hotel in Birmingham, and because I'm the only person in my social circle who has a fursona, I made my way down there on my own. I had a ticket for the Saturday, and it was probably one of the best

days of my life. All the love and support you get from the other furries online is one thing, but feeling that all translate into real life was honestly one of the most joy-filled things I'd ever experienced. I mean, I knew there were unusual people just like me out there, but to see them in the flesh was almost surreal. Now, I don't wear a fursuit. Instead, I opt to just wear a little homemade badge with a drawing of Scarlet on it. Buying and maintaining a fursuit is way too expensive for me, but I had a massive respect for anyone that has one and bothers to cart it all over the country with them. And to see so many fursuits all in one place was absolutely unreal. I quickly got talking to another girl there who had exactly the same kind of badge as

I'd made, then that was that, and made a friend for the entire day. She and I still talk actually, almost two years later. But anyway, we get talking to all different kinds of furries and that's the first time I really got to grips with just how eclectic and diverse the furry community really is. Like I said, it made for an amazing time, but Confuzzled has a few bad memories for me too because it's where I met Ryan. Ryan was one of the handful of people that just sort of snowballed into a little group of us that explored Confuzzled that year. He was awfully quiet at first, just a small skinny

guy who wore a pair of white wolf ears among a few other furry accessories. He told me that his persona was an arctic wolf and that expressing himself in a wolfish or dogish way just felt so right and natural to him. Ryan was definitely like one of those people I mentioned before, who felt like being a furry was a way for them to connect to some kind of spirit animal, and despite him not wearing a fursuit, he seemed to take the whole thing more seriously than anyone. We had quite a long conversation about how it made him angry when people didn't take his fursona seriously, and I had to talk him down a little bit, explaining that not everyone is as open-minded as people like him and I.

But Ryan seemed fixated on revenge and violence, getting back at people, really unhealthy things like that and seemed to intertwine a lot of his furry fantasies with those kind of darker themes. I really didn't want to be mean, but by the end of the conversation I was so disturbed and frustrated by his attitude and the things he was saying that I almost wanted to tell him to grow up. Everyone had a hard time in life on occasion, especially when you're a little bit different, but wanting to hurt people as a result is just wrong. When we were all leaving, we made the decision to swap contact info, and I was far too polite not to give Ryan my number. Foolish decision, but I'm just not in the habit of standing up for myself sometimes. When he texts me, I decided

to tactically ignore it for a few days, but he follows up with a few messages like, please don't ignore me. Now I felt guilty but I really don't like confrontation so any chance that there had been me accepting his request just totally disappeared in that moment. Call me selfish but I really didn't need his kind of negativity in my life. Anyways, a few days later my phone starts buzzing with an unknown number. With it only being the week following the convention, I still hadn't saved everyone's numbers, so I figured whoever was calling was from Confuzzled and I'd be happy to hear from them. Right on one account, wrong on the other. I didn't recognize the voice at first, but when they told me who it was, my heart sank. It was Ryan. And Ryan had yet more bad news for me. He told me he thought we'd really vibed at Confuzzled and

he'd like to see me again. I tried making soft excuses at first like, well, everyone was getting along pretty good, hinting that the connection we shared wasn't particularly special or unique, but he just didn't take the hint. The way he phrased it, no one had ever listened to him or talked to him as deep as I had, and as a result, he'd imprinted on me, so to speak. A little bit about that word right there. Imprinting is something only animals like ducks do. Like the babies hatch, they see mummy and they imprint on them. Dogs and wolves were once thought to imprint but a lot of zoologists now believe otherwise. So Ryan thinking he could imprint on me is just complete pseudoscience but, you know, different people believe different things and it's not really my place to go around dictating people's feelings to them, is it? I figured Ryan would just calm down after a while and leave me alone.

Like I know for a fact that all it takes for a guy to move on from you is meeting another girl. Any girl, too. Doesn't matter if they're pretty or popular or not. And eventually Ryan did move on. But not before two really serious incidents that had my parents on the verge of calling the police. The first incident came from Ryan somehow working out where I went to college. I'm not entirely sure how he worked out where I was studying, but since there's only two colleges and Leeds offering comprehensive illustration courses, which we discussed and confuzzled,

I guess it was only a matter of time before he figured it out. He actually phoned my head of departments and asked if I was a student there, then was really rude when she refused to give any information to him. Whatever he said was so horrible that my tutor ended up calling my parents and letting them know. That's how it all came out that I basically had a stalker. Dad was really angry that I hadn't said anything to them. Mom just got really upset. I told them I'd already blocked him on everything,

which is why he was taking drastic measures like phoning up my college. The only silver lining was that, because my tutor hadn't shared any information, Ryan still didn't actually know where I lived or studied, but he was getting dangerously close. The only step I hadn't taken in shutting him out of my life was changing my phone number. It just seemed like way too much trouble. Changing my number on all my online stuff, texting my friends and relatives to make sure they all had my new contact details. It just seemed quicker and simpler to just block Ryan's number and have done with it.

Big mistake. Because one day I get a video message from a number I didn't recognize. It was silly of me to even watch it. I should have had the presence of mind to realize who or what it is. But I didn't. I messed up and I watched the video. I gasped as soon as it started. It showed a pigeon lying on its side in some grass, flapping frantically with one broken wing.

The video got all shaky as a black boot appeared in the frame, kicking at the wounded pigeon before a hand then shot out to grab the poor little thing where it lay. Then the video changed camera to the front facing one and suddenly I watched as somebody sank their teeth into the pigeon's belly. I couldn't quite see who it was yet. It was still really shaky and the person was spitting out feathers that wafted in the way of the camera, but I could tell that they were tearing into that poor little thing with their teeth. Finally, the person stopped chewing pigeon meat and feathers and steadied the camera on their face, but they had blood and feathers all around their mouth. They looked

inhuman, but I could tell who it was. It was Ryan. After that, I suddenly found the motivation to change my phone number. It was just as much a pain in the butt as I thought it was going to be, but it was worth it to know that I was finally free of him. I can tolerate a bit of quirkiness. I'm all about quirky. But Ryan took it way too far, and I found his video to be seriously upsetting and disturbing as anyone would.

I suppose that's one of the downsides of living an alternative lifestyle, that sometimes you're going to run into people who gravitate towards alternative ways of thinking or living. I don't mind that, but I sincerely hope I never meet anyone like Ryan ever again. On the morning of September 24th, 2016, a California police dispatcher received a call informing them that there was a disturbance at a house in Fullerton, a city just over 100,000 in Orange County. But unlike most 911 calls, which come from adults, the dispatcher immediately recognized that the caller's voice belonged to a young girl. A young girl that sounded completely and utterly grief-stricken. When the dispatcher asked the little girl where her mommy and daddy were, the girl's tearful reply chilled her to the core.

They got shot, the little girl said. They're dead. Two responding police officers rushed over to the address with lights flashing and sirens wailing, pulling out their sidearms as they approached the house. They were greeted by the sight of an open door and two weeping, terrified children waiting for them on the porch. One of them was the nine-year-old girl that had made the call, trying and failing to comfort her sobbing little sister. Soundtracked by the horrific screeching of the two young girls, the police officers burst into the home to find it had become the site of a grizzly triple murder. Dead bodies were all over the house, each with a sizable amount of blood oozing from gruesomely devastating gunshot wounds. 39-year-old Jennifer Goodwill Yost, along with her husband Christopher and their friend Arthur,

had all been executed in a spray of buckshot after what must have been a swift and brutal early morning attack. What was worse, Jennifer's 17-year-old daughter, Caitlin, nowhere to be found. Just three days after the murders, and to the infinite relief of her relatives, Caitlin was found to be alive and well, but the police had to break the bad news to her concerning her parents' deaths. As you can imagine, Caitlin was utterly devastated. No one so young should ever have to suffer through the death of a parent, but the police did have one small piece of good news, that they had arrested two men in connection with her loved one's murders, and there was a good chance that justice would be done. But when Caitlin was told the names of those taken into custody, she was inconsolable, because 21-year-old Joshua Acosta and 25-year-old Frank Felix were no

strangers to young Caitlin, they were two people she knew quite intimately, given that they were part of the same unusual subculture known as furry fandom. Dedicated fans of anthropomorphized animals who typically flock to cartoons and fan fictions depicting adorable animals that walk on two feet. Although it's not entirely clear how Caitlin and Joshua met, there's a good chance that they met at a regional furry convention, one of many events that brings together those that share a passion for furry fandom. Both Caitlin and her mother, Jennifer, were active among furry forums and message boards going by the nicknames of Daydreamer Fox Wolf and Jen Ma, respectively. And it's clear that Caitlin in particular used such message boards to talk to males in her age group.

She and Joshua messaged back and forth for quite a while. while, but when Jennifer learned that a 21-year-old was flirting with her underage daughter, even going so far as proposing furry dates, she put her foot down. Jennifer explicitly banned her daughter from talking to Joshua and at one point threatened to confiscate her phone if she was believed to be communicating with him. In doing so, she believed she had adequately dealt with the potentially scandalous situation, which she could never have guessed what a vengeful, violent person Joshua was. Just a few days prior to the murders, Frank Felix, known by his fursona, Antifeliz, posted a vague but intriguing Facebook status, one in which he confessed that he was stressed out about something.

It was later shown in court that when asked why he was stressed by one of his Facebook friends, he replied with a message stating that he and a close friend of his were planning something heavy, something that involved killing an animal. We can therefore deduce that the murder of Caitlin's parents was no spur-of-the-moment thing, no sudden and passionate act of violence by a spurned romantic partner. It was planned, carefully and methodically, and when Josh and Frank hit the Yost family home that Saturday morning, those inside never stood a chance. Joshua, known by his fursona, Lennon, even planned the attack for a time of day when Caitlin would be

out of the house, which suggests that he believed that even after he had murdered his potential girlfriend's parents, that she would choose to be romantically involved with him. Then, on the morning they had planned to make their move, Josh Acosta quietly broke into the Yost's family home armed with a 12-gauge shotgun and a smaller caliber pistol. After creeping through the kitchen, he came across the sleeping Arthur Buescher. Acosta brought his shotgun to bear and blew the 28-year-old's head clean off as he lay on the couch in front of the TV. Somehow, Jennifer hadn't quite realized what the loud noise was downstairs and was still under her duvet in a state of half-awoken confusion

when Acosta burst through the door of her bedroom. Those final moments must have been terrifying, having thought she'd actually gotten Joshua out of her daughter's life. Yet there he was, clear as day, a furious young man with a shotgun pointed at her head. It was a sight that was to be the last thing Jennifer Yost would ever see. But when Joshua turned to Caitlin's stepfather and attempted to execute him too, his shotgun jammed and Christopher attempted an escape.

For a moment it seemed like his life was saved but Acosta cleared the jam and took Christopher's head off as he tried to open up a nearby window. Then, just as quickly as they arrived, the murderer disappeared, leaving the two young girls to stumble across the gore-streaked scenes of their own parents' murders. Over four years later on December 14th, 2018, Joshua Acosta was sentenced to three consecutive life sentences with no possibility of parole, and was incarcerated at the Calipatria State Prison in Imperial County, California. But during the trial, some extremely sinister revelations emerged regarding a third person involved in the triple murder. Just after Acosta and Felix were arrested by police,

it was announced by the department that another person had been taken into custody, one that was a juvenile and therefore couldn't be named. This was on the exact same day that Caitlin was discovered alive and well. Then during the trial, it was revealed that Caitlin had received immunity from prosecution for her testimony. But what could the teenager possibly have to hide concerning her own parents' murder? When Caitlin took the stand, the courtroom was gripped by a shocking account that turned the entire narrative on its head. She confirmed that she had told Josh Acosta that Christopher was not her real father,

just her mother's husband, and that because they were Josh Acosta that Christopher was not her real father, just her mother's husband, and that because they were not blood relatives, Christopher had been touching her from time to time and she was only seven years old at that time. Caitlin then confided this to Josh who was naturally enraged by the idea, vowing to take revenge for such a hideous crime. She insisted that killing those in the house was not something she had ever suggested to Josh and come to his murderous conclusions all on his own. All she had asked of him was to help her run away when the moment was right. Whether or not we choose to believe Caitlin's allegations is irrelevant, as Josh certainly

believed them, enough that he was able to enlist a friend of his and fellow furry to assist him in committing the murders. And now we understand what Felix's cryptic reference to killing an animal meant. He wasn't referring to Jen or Caitlin's furry fandom, he was referring to the predatory nature of the alleged child abuser, Christopher. He and Josh didn't think that they were enacting some hideous revenge. To them, they were Caitlyn's guardian angels, protecting a fellow furry from routine indecent assault that was sanctioned by her own mother. But as the saying goes, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. It seems that lies, deceit, lust, and violence can pervade

the furry community just as much as any other. Yet despite their concerns, I don't think people will use such an incident to stereotype furries as being violent deviants. But the fact remains that a hideous web of lies, potential abuse, and murder stemmed from a chance meeting at a convention center, and who could have guessed when two fursuited young people gave each other a wave in some hallway or corridor that it would end with a December 7th, 2014, the fire alarm at the Hyatt Regency Hotel in Rosemont, Illinois began to ring.

Many of the hotel's guests didn't even bother to leave their rooms to check things out, with a few believing that the alarm had been caused by a lazy smoker setting off their fire alarm while trying to stealth a cigarette in another room. Some even thought it was a drill or simply a false alarm, anything to keep them having to climb out of their nice warm beds. It was frightfully cold outside that night and we can understand another person's reticence to venture out into the icy air, but soon, those that had remained in their hotel rooms heard the fists of both staff and guests alike hammering on their doors along with the voices out in the hallway, imploring them to evacuate.

Voices that shook with a great and obvious terror. Yet it was only when they ventured out into the corridors that they realized how serious the unfolding incident really was. Rancid toxic odors hit the guests as they walked towards emergency exits, with fumes so intense that their eyes began to water, making their escape even more difficult and stressful. People gagged and retched as they made their way down stairwells and through corridors, with some being so affected by the guests that they actually began to pass out, collapsing to the ground to the terror of their fellow guests.

However, to many of the evacuees, there was something oddly familiar about the debilitating stench, as it was one that seemed to remind them of public swimming pools. Within an hour of the initial fire alarm, the hotel had been swarmed by FBI agents, Homeland Security officials, police officers, firefighters, and news reporters, with hazardous materials technicians waddling in and out of the lobby wearing spacesuit-like protective clothing. And it wasn't long before many of the hotel guests had their suspicions confirmed. The intense fumes they smelled were the result of chlorine, the oxidizing chemical commonly used as a cleaning agent in swimming pools. The gas can be fatally toxic when leaked into the atmosphere,

causing respiratory problems and irritation of the eyes, and infamously yielded horrifying results when used on British troops by the German army during World War I. But the gas attack became a national sensation, not just because it was a potential terrorist attack, but because its apparent target had been the attendance of the Midwest Fur Fest, one of the largest and most well-known furry conventions in the United States. Held once a year, the event sees over 4,000 fursuited visitors from around the world descend on a hotel or convention center somewhere in the Midwest, many of whom engage in role-playing as anthropomorphic animals while

dressed in head-to-toe fursuits. In the weeks that followed, the Rosemont Police Department was bolstered by a variety of state and federal law enforcement officers who assisted them in the launch of one of the largest investigations in the department's history it threw no fault of their own and despite having access to all the money and federal assistance they could ask for rosemont pd were unable to follow up on any serious leads and were completely at a loss for a suspect an incident report filed by the rosemont police department shows the case was assigned to a detective on December 29th of that year and closed on July 29th, 2015, over a year and a half of solid investigation yielded nothing of note. And that's okay for some of the people who survived

that night, who laughed the whole thing off as a dumb prank. But others see the incident for what it really was, a failed attempt to gas them while they slept and mull over the many unanswered questions that remain. Who would have done it? Was it a furry from the inside who was looking for attention in this sort of messed up way? Asked Tommy Bruce, a Maryland-based photographer who was caught up in the gas attack. Tommy managed to grab his camera before he was evacuated from the hotel, and some of the photos he took of the aftermath are still available online. Most tinged with the red and blue lights of attending emergency vehicles, but

all show some degree of panic and chaos. One image shows a woman on a gurney being wheeled into the back of an ambulance. Another shows a man gasping for breath as he clings to someone in a white fursuit for support. After the firefighters who arrived at the scene that night began to smell the chlorine, they used a kind of gas detection device to lead them to the source of the highly poisonous fumes. Wearing their respirators and heavy oxygen tanks, they followed the readouts of their sophisticated gas detection device to the ninth floor of the Hyatt Regency, where the device recorded extremely toxic, concentrated levels of chlorine gas. So much so that the readouts on their devices were detecting

double the amount of chlorine required to cause some pretty nasty, serious respiratory disease, and an amount that would be fatal to those with already weakened lungs. But it was only when the firefighters reached a stairwell leading from the 9th to the 10th floor that they found the source of the gas attacks. Lying on the stairs was a white powdery substance, along with a broken mason jar, and to their horror, they noticed that there was a yellow-green liquid actually dripping down the walls. Given this was a situation far worse than they'd initially anticipated, they backed off until hazmat technicians could arrive with their even thicker, more durable protective clothing.

Samples taken from the scene proved impossible to analyze, but from the smell and the coloration of the liquid present, it's safe to assume that someone manufactured or obtained highly concentrated chlorine powder, then mixed it with some kind of liquid in order for it to form a gas. To make things worse, that same year the FBI and Pittsburgh police investigated a string of social media posts that threatened the furry convention with violence, including the use of bullets and bombs. Although no one was actually arrested as a result of the inquiries in the aftermath of the gas attack, it just goes to show that the list of suspects in the case must have been a mile long, considering the extensive online threats that FurFest received. Some say the chlorine

incident at Midwest FurFest has had a lasting impact in ways that aren't always obvious to the observer. Following the 2014 gas attack, convention attendees noticed a higher police presence at venues, and some people opted not to stay at the Hyatt Regency because they were concerned about the potential for another attack at the convention's main grounds. One furry in particular also packed a rebreather to the following year's events, a device that recycles oxygen in case it becomes restricted, and not even for personal use. The girlfriend uses a wheelchair and, if there was another incident, she might not be able to escape so easily.

What makes it all the more difficult for some survivors is that the person who committed such an atrocious act has never been caught For all we know, the same perpetrator could be out there right now Planning an even larger attack in the knowledge that their test method was somewhat successful No matter how unusual a person's social life may be, there's no reason to harm them Especially when they're not harming anyone else in the first place. And it takes a really sick individual to think up chlorine gas as a way of terrorizing and murdering their fellow man. We can only pray that this same gas attacker

doesn't try something even bigger in the future, releasing an even higher dose of gas into a confined space, because if they do, it might be a lot more than 19 that end up in the hospital, and a happy little furry convention might more resemble the Western Front in 1916 as opposed to some wholesome, innocent fun. I've been involved in the NYC furry scene for the past few years. My journey into furry fandom has been an incredible one. I've been to some amazing anthro conventions all over the country where I've met some wonderfully special people of all different ages, races, and gender identities. Each one was unique and special in its own way and I wouldn't change a thing. But the convention that holds some of the worst memories for me is the one that was held in my

home state during November of 2019. I don't want to name any names or anything like that. The last thing I want to do is shame anyone or end up getting sued or whatever. The convention itself wasn't even all that bad and the organizers worked their tails off to make sure everything was as perfect as could be. But let's just say the setting wasn't exactly the wisest given her own unique niche. So, it was a cruise. The convention took place on a freaking cruise ship and consisted of four days sailing and three docked in Bermuda. A great idea on paper. Like what could go wrong with a mix of convention and vacation, and all the while escaping the cold, rainy New

York for the sunny Caribbean. But I don't think the organizers thought the whole thing through. It was 70 degrees in the shade on some days, and the weather in general made it unbearable to wear our fursuits. We had two cases of heatstroke on our first day in Bermuda. I literally watched a zebra girl named Bella pass out on the beach during a photo shoot. After that all the costumes were made pretty bare bones. I mean, this is aside from the fact that it took like three weeks to get all the sand out of my suit. The beach was not so good an idea for a furry convention. This is on top of the fact that the local Bermudans just didn't understand what we're

all about and weren't very friendly as a result. But our community aren't strangers to abuse or controversy so we didn't let people's closed mindedness get us down. But the real disaster happened when we were on our way back to New York. Like I said, the trip had been something of a washout. A bunch of strangers spending a week together with very little to do had left people bored, cranky, and disgruntled. So on the first night of cruising back to NYC, a bunch of people decided it would be a good idea to get really drunk and go out onto the lounge deck to blow off some steam. It was getting kind of frigid outside so a few of us saw this as pretty much the last chance to hang out in their fursuits without getting heatstroke. I got a knock on

my cabin door to tell me we were having one last hurrah and I was only too happy to join everyone on deck to take a few photos of everyone in their suits. They looked absolutely amazing but thanks to all the boos and high spirits, things got a little out of hand. Out of absolute nowhere, we all just heard this scream, turning to see a few of our number leaning over the side of the ship looking down into the water. I remember just knowing what had happened as soon as I saw people looking down over the side of the ship, but I suppose I didn't just want to believe that it was true. The implications were heart-wrenching, but in the end I had to face facts, especially when I myself looked down in the dark waters and saw something colorful splashing around.

Someone had fallen over the side of the ship and if we didn't do something fast they were going to drown. I felt sick, like I just didn't know what to do, but thank god that there were people there who knew how to conduct themselves in a crisis. Someone probably saved their life right there when they threw in one of those orange floaty ring things. I can't remember what they're called, but boom. In a split second, someone had taken their head off and retched one of the orange things into the water while other people ran to raise the alarm. The whole scene was just chaos for a little while with some people crying and others going into full-on crisis mode. And word quickly spread that the cruise had a man overboard. The cruise ship

got in touch with some country's coast guard and sent out one of the ship's own smaller boats to search for the person. They were later told that it was darn lucky that they were wearing such a colorful costume. A couple of more minutes in the water and they might not have made it. All was okay in the end. The person got rescued and the whole event brought us all much closer together. Relief was followed by more celebrations, only much safer ones this time, and we all ended up meeting again in early 2020 before the whole pandemic thing happened. And thankfully, no one almost died that time. It was definitely the worst thing that's ever happened at a convention for me.

Probably one of the scarier moments of my life, too. But it's definitely not made me shy about attending furry meets, as, like I said, you meet some amazing people. People you most definitely don't want to see drowned in the Caribbean Sea, after falling off a freaking cruise ship. My name is Rory and I'm a security guard here in Scotland. The company I work for mainly does nightclubs and construction site security, but for some reason I always end up getting the weirder jobs. But that suits me because they tend to be in the daytime and I'm just not cut out for night shifts anymore.

Anyway, so my boss asked me if I wanted to work a Saturday shift over at the Macuor Hotel in Livingston. They told me it would be a solid 10 hour shift providing security for a convention they had on. Easy money, basically. I asked him what kind of rage convention needed security guards, but he's not got a scooby, all he knew is it was called ScotiaCon. There were no clues in the name, like, so needless to say, I'm a wee bit curious about what this whole thing is about. Turns out it was a big meetup for people called furries. What I'm about to tell you is all learned on the fly so don't hold any of it against me but furries are basically people who think they're animals.

So they dress up in these big daft suits and wiggle their butts but don't get me wrong they all seem like lovely lads and lassies but the whole thing was proper dafty. They were selling each other all kinds of artwork, clothes they'd made. Some of it was a wee bit pervy, like, but there didn't seem to be any kind of kids there, so no harm no done, eh? Like I said, lovely lads and lassies, but there was one wee bugger who I take exception to. There were a few good hundred people there, a lot of younger people too, hardly the kind of thing I picture when I hear the word convention. They didn't seem too leery or anything, there was just a lot of them, hence why I was there, but I really didn't see anything kicking off. So when I got the call that

the security team was needed in the main convention hall, I was a wee bit shocked I'll be honest. So I'm following this other guy I'd not worked with before down a corridor and into the main hall and immediately you can see where the trouble is. Everyone is looking over into one particular corner where you can hear this wee argument going on. Me and my colleagues make our way through the crowds of oddly dressed but well-meaning folk until we come across the culprits. Most of the noise was coming from one wee lad with a dog collar on. He had ears on, all sorts of dog-themed stuff on his backpack and clothing. Basically, dogs were this kid's thing. I started asking what the big song and dance is

about and he told me he'd been arguing with the stall owner over the price of a piece of artwork. But the bloke who owns the stall just wants him out, saying he's been threatening him and all this other stuff. All I do is try and separate them. I can't really be throwing people out, but this lad's causing trouble so I start trying to move him away. At first the dog boy seems like he's just going to walk away, but suddenly he doubles back and throws a kick at the guy's stall. Not just that but he seriously starts barking at this guy like proper loud ruff ruff ruff ruff. It was intense man. Naturally I then go to grip him and the kid actually bites me. I went to throw

an arm around his neck to get control of him but he just caught my arm and sunk his teeth into it. Now luckily I'm wearing my branded security jacket and the fabric is just tough and plasticky enough to have this lad's jaw slip off the meat of my arm. But Jesus H, if he'd have gotten a grip on me, I might have a chunk bitten off me. The lad was near rabid. As the other security guys are dragging him off, I can see him trying to bite him, but I can hear this noise too. And it actually took a wee second for the penny to drop that it was the sound of his teeth clapping together, like this sharp snap, snap, snap sound.

Proper scary, that. How mental some people are. I get my arm looked at by the medics, police turn up and take the lad away. Definitely the most eventful thing that happened and the rest of it was a wee bit boring after the initial furry shock. Nice people though, wouldn't mind going back. Brooklyn Farthing was born on August 26th, 1994. She grew up in the small town of Berea, Kentucky with her mother, Shelby Walker, her stepfather, Randall Walker, and her two sisters, Tasha and Paige. When she was much younger, Brooklyn had been a Girl Scout

and was a loyal and enthusiastic member of the organization for the majority of her life. She received a great deal of praise during her time in the Girl Scouts. She volunteered to make care kits for those affected by Hurricane Katrina, visited the elderly and spent a lot of her time helping out her fellow Girl Scouts whenever they found things tough. Brooklyn then blossomed into a spirited and lively teenager with a boundless love of the natural world, and especially for anything four-legged and furry. She also had an aptitude for athletics and was described as a tell-it-like-it-is, straight-talking kind of girl, which didn't always prove popular with her peers. Brooklyn also has a huge passion for baking,

and would spend a lot of her nights baking chocolate chip brownies for the whole family. She was a very family and community oriented person and unlike a lot of girls her age, she actually seemed to enjoy spending time around her mother and father, two loving parents who thought it was their duty to help pay for their girls' driving lessons and eventual tests. On June 21st, 2013, Brooklyn and Paige took their driving tests. While Brooklyn passed with flying colors, Paige failed spectacularly, something that became a bit of a running joke around the Walker Farthing family for the remainder of the day. That night, the family attended their grandfather's 70th birthday. As he had been gravely ill in the months preceding his birthday,

and had only just made something of a miraculous recovery, the occasion was important to everyone in attendance and a great deal of enthusiasm was shown by all. Just weeks ago, they thought the man wouldn't see his next birthday. But now, here he was, celebrating as heartily as everyone else. After what was undoubtedly a rather subdued and emotional birthday party, Brooklyn and Paige attended another party on Red Lick Road, along with their cousin. This was a considerably wilder affair, given it was attended by teens in their age group and there was rumors of there being a stash of booze at the party. According to Paige, her sisters knew the majority of those in attendance

and was extremely excited to get to a much livelier party after hanging out with their grandparents. After drinking and dancing for a few hours, Paige and the cousin decided to leave sometime between the hours of 7 and 8pm. But Brooklyn, who had pre-packed her overnight bag, made plans to stay with a friend who was also at the party, so they could sleep off their hangovers away from the judgmental gaze of Brooklyn's parents. Yet it came time to leave, Brooklyn was disappointed to hear that instead of sticking to their plan of a sleepover, her friend had her heart set on spending the night at her boyfriend's house. Naturally, this made Brooklyn rather angry,

and an intense argument unfolded as a result of this impromptu change of plans. Other partygoers who witnessed the disagreement claimed that Brooklyn was so annoyed that she ditched the party altogether. But in order to see her way to that, she had to catch a ride with two men she'd never met before that night. The identities of those men are currently being withheld pending results of a police investigation, but what we know for certain is that, when questioned by police, one of the men said that they drove Brooklyn down to Floyd Branch Road, apparently to look at some horses. After that, the man giving the account was dropped off back at his house and didn't see either Brooklyn or his friend again.

This other guy took Brooklyn home with him to a house located in the 100 block of Dillon Court, just off US Highway 421. As the house was actually in foreclosure at the time, there would have been no running water or electricity. At around 4am on June 22nd, Brooklyn called her sister Paige and asked if their cousin could come pick her up from the address at Dillon Court. But their cousin had been drinking heavily and was in no fit state to be driving, so Paige had to pass on the bad news that their sister didn't have a ride home that night, which obviously put Brooklyn in a very awkward situation. She could either call her mom, waking her up and making her drive all the way out to Dillon Court

and possibly having her discover she'd been drinking, or she could contact her ex-boyfriend and get a ride home from him instead. Obviously to Brooklyn the first option was completely unthinkable, for her ex was working that night and it would be a couple of hours before he could drive out to pick her up. But it seemed Brooklyn was so terrified of being caught drunk that she chose to simply wait it out in a dark, foreclosed home, shacked up with a total stranger. By the time Brooklyn's ex finished his shift and he was able to get back to his phone, he found he had received several messages from her. He opened up the text thread to see that her longer, more drawn-out texts had cut down to

just a few words. Her messages said things like, can you hurry, please hurry up, and I'm scared. But on the drive over to Dillon Court, Brooklyn's extremely worried ex-boyfriend received yet another message that simply read, never mind, I'm okay, going to a party in Rock Castle County. Her ex tried to call multiple times, but she wasn't answering her phone. He then sent her a text asking who she was with, but Brooklyn didn't reply to that either. In fact, she would never reply to anyone's texts or calls ever again. Later that day, on June 22nd, Brooklyn had made plans to attend a car show in Somerset, Kentucky with a few of her friends,

but she never showed up and wasn't replying to texts or calls. It wasn't like Brooklyn to miss a car show, so naturally her friends were deeply concerned and instead called Paige in the hopes that she'd know where her sister was. But Paige had no idea that Brooklyn had it made at home that night, and when she learned the news, she began to panic. After calling to tell their mother that Brooklyn might be missing, Paige began to frantically call around her friends, trying to learn the names of the two guys who gave Brooklyn a ride. Luckily, she got hold of one of their numbers and managed to actually speak to the guy whose foreclosed house she'd gone back to after looking at horses.

He was open about the fact that he had been at the party that night and even admitted to giving Brooklyn a ride back to his place. But after that, his story began to get a little weird. He said he'd left Paige alone, in a house with no running water or electricity, because she'd felt uncomfortable sleeping with him, apparently having only recently broken up with her ex. The guy said he respected her decision but instead of giving her a ride home, or at least calling her in a taxi, he chose to leave her in his home alone to give her space. He said the last he'd seen of her, she was sitting on his front porch smoking a cigarette and talking about a party she'd heard about in Rockcastle County. Paige was immediately skeptical and planned on giving the man's name and number to the cops should she have to contact them. But just minutes after she hung up the phone,

the man called back to tell her that he was scared. He was scared because according to him, when he'd gotten back to his house after giving Brooklyn some space, he found his front porch was ablaze. He called the fire department, who promptly drove over to put the fire out, but when he got inside to survey the damage, he found that all of Brooklyn's belongings had been left behind, but that she was nowhere to be found. Paige and Brooklyn's mom rushed to file a police report, and once it had been officially 24 hours since she was last seen, was formally declared missing. The police drove over to the address at Dillon Court to retrieve

the items she'd left behind there. They quickly noted that the only things missing from the collection were Paige's cell phone and the clothing she had been wearing. Their next move was to check her cell phone records, finding that in the 24 hours she'd been missing, she'd been called more than a hundred times by a plethora of different numbers, a measure of just how worried people were about her. And they were right to be worried. According to a statement by the local fire department, the porch fire they attended to at around 7am on the 22nd was extremely suspicious

and appeared to be a work of arson as opposed to a lit cigarette. On the Sunday after Brooklyn's disappearance, Kentucky State Police began conducting interviews. The owner of the foreclosed house where Brooklyn was last seen was obviously amongst those first questioned, but nothing about the meeting has been publicly released. In the early days of the investigation, police requested that property owners in Estill, Rockcastle, Jackson, and Madison counties check their land for any signs of the missing girl. They were told to pay close attention to freshly turned earth and unusual smells, ditch lines, and remote areas, which proves to be a disturbing insight into the minds of police who almost

certainly believe that she was already dead. Law enforcement officials and volunteers alike searched more than 16,000 acres of land spread out over three Kentucky counties. For three weeks, large-scale searches were conducted in the Red Lick area and nearby Owsley Fork Lake by police with sniffer dogs who were aided by military cadets and volunteers on horseback. A team of highly trained police divers were also called in to help search in a few large bodies of water, but still nothing was found. A month into the investigation, a fundraiser was held by Brooklyn's family to help fund a cash reward for whoever could find their daughter.

On top of that, a local body shop began selling $5 car decals with all proceeds going to the reward fund. But still, there was no luck finding her. So in July of 2013, as painful as it was to make the decision, the county sheriff declared that all foot searches for Brooklyn were to be called off, and although they wouldn't come out and say it, the police had all but given up on finding her, dead or alive. The investigation and media coverage of the events shifted dramatically when a number of scandals began to severely hamper the efforts to find Brooklyn. A local woman named Amanda Griffey openly admitted to scamming those who wished to donate money to the search. When a number of concerned neighbors were going door to door

seeking contributions, Amanda joined them, but all the money she received was funneled into her own private bank account. Amanda only stole a measly $40, but to the local community, it might as well have been a million. Their outrage knew no bounds, and Amanda was shunned by all who knew her after she was arrested for theft of identity of another and theft by deception. But shockingly, it was not the only case of someone exploiting Brooklyn's disappearance. Another person, this one aptly named Randy Gross, was also arrested for scamming co-workers out of money, telling them he was collecting for the fine Brooklyn fund, yet simply padding out his own account. Brooklyn's parents tried to court the media's good graces again, throwing a benefit at the Madison County Fairgrounds which featured a car show in honor of Brooklyn's passion for them, a silent auction and live music. But the scandal had soured the public's affection for the couple's cause,

and never again could they get the kind of national attention they needed to make any real progress. Then in April of 2015, a man scouring the Kentucky backwoods for mushrooms discovered a set of skeletal remains. The police braced themselves for a DNA sample to come back which confirmed that it was Brooklyn. But it wasn't her, and her family was filled with hope again that she might just turn up alive. The Virginia Commonwealth Attorney's Office have confirmed their continued interest in the case and are in constant contact with the investigators. They claim that a dedicated team have followed countless tips and examined the case files for things that might have been missed or overlooked during the initial investigation, and they say all tips continue to be followed up on. But despite their best efforts, the case of Brooklyn's

disappearance remains open and active. Perhaps the most terrifying thing is that police seem to believe that someone in the local community has information as to what happened to Brooklyn, that whoever made her vanish might actually still be living amongst them. But even with a $14,000 reward being offered for information leading to her return, or the capture and conviction of those responsible for her disappearance, police are still no closer to getting any definitive answers. No answers, but plenty of theories, most of which revolve around the idea that Brooklyn was kidnapped sometime after 4am. She was not depressed and according to her family had no reason to run away or walk out on her life.

In their eyes, the only reason she could be missing is if someone had actually taken her. Police have talked publicly of their deep suspicion that the final text sent to her ex, the one that mentioned the party in Rock Castle County, was faked and sent by someone else. And since her belongings were left at the Dillon Courthouse, it must have been the place she was taken from. But whether or not the home owner has anything to do with it is an entirely different question. He did indeed leave Brooklyn alone, in the dark, in a home with no power or water. But does that mean that he called someone in to kidnap her, in an effort to detach himself from

the crime? Or did a gang of savage predators get lucky enough to barge their way into a house with no burglar alarm, with a lone intoxicated female trying to sleep in an upstairs bedroom? Only the full results of the police investigation will be able to tell us that. In the years following Brooklyn's disappearance from that Kentucky house party, Tasha feels she needs to be the voice for her sister and, as such, has taken part in numerous interviews regarding her disappearance. She has taken numerous steps to keep her sister's name in the public eye in the hopes someone will see the coverage and come forward with information. Currently, her case is classified as endangered missing and she is yet to be declared legally dead

but it is only a matter of time before the clock runs out and we have to assume the worst. That through malice or misfortune Brooklyn Farthing went to a house party one evening and never came home. On Saturday, October 19th, 2019, a house party was taking place in the British town of Milton Keynes. Those attending the party are in their late teens to early twenties, and for some of them, this is the first time they'd been to an actual no-parents house party. The sense of freedom was almost as intoxicating as the things in the bottles they drank from, with good music and close friends

to make the night one they'd never forget. But for all in attendance, that night would be memorable for other reasons. Horrible reasons. Because it wasn't just friends that had gotten word that there was going to be a party that night, and while those inside reveled in the atmosphere and drank away their cares, something terrible was approaching, and they would never be ready for it. The partygoers were completely ignorant of the fact that creeping through the darkness outside were five armed men, wearing masks and dark clothing. What occurred next was savage and brutal, but the buildup was far more unsophisticated. Two of the men crept up to the front door of the house, making sure to stay out of sight of the main windows, while the other three went around the

back of the house. Those inside were making plenty of noise from an open back door to the house, and the masked men knew the rear would be an easy entry point. These were experienced criminals, members of a local gang known as B3, and knew exactly how to inflict a great deal of terror and violence in the most effective way imaginable. Then in an instant, the armed men were storming through the back door and into the house, barely giving those inside time to react. They were heavily armed, and not everyone attending the party was a target. They were looking for specific people, members of a rival gang known as the M4. In the weeks before, one of the home invaders, Ben Potter, had been set upon by members of

the M4, who drove him out to a secluded area near Westcroft before subjecting him to a terrifying series of humiliations and mock executions. The rival gang members beat him mercilessly, stripped him naked, and then marched him through the trees. When Ben begged for his life, the rival gang took out their cell phones to capture the young man's fear on video. Time and time again he was told he was about to be choked out and buried alive in a grave they dug for him, or they were going to cut his head off while filming his decapitation on their phones so they could send the video to his friends.

Ben thought he was going to die, but it turned out all to just be scare tactics, as the rival gang had no intention of killing him, only scaring him, but nevertheless, he wanted revenge. The gang tore through the house party, barking threats and brandishing their knives at those in attendance, but it was only when they spotted 17-year-old Dom Ansah that they actually turned violent. A court later heard that Ansah was a senior member of M4, and when he saw the masked men barreling towards him, he immediately turned to flee, but at some point during Dom's escape attempt, he slipped whilst running through the home. His pursuers were on top of him immediately, and Don was stabbed all over

his body a total of 47 times. The knives came from almost every direction, he never stood a chance. Most of the party goers were so terrified of the men that burst into the house that they ran as soon as they saw them, but the armed men posted on the front door of the house made sure no one could escape. The armed men had turned the place into a kill house, with those trapped inside subject to their most violent whims. Only one person tried to help Dom while he was being attacked, one of his oldest childhood friends, a young man named Ben Gillum Rice. Ben tried to grab a knife from one of Dom's attackers and was almost successful, but in seeing the imminent danger in a partygoer grabbing one of their weapons,

Ben Gillum Rice was stabbed through the heart, killing him almost instantly. The gang then perused the trapped partygoers to ensure that there were no more members of their rivals present, and when they were sure that there were none, they departed as quickly as they'd come. Despite being stabbed over 47 times, Dom Ansah fought for his life and actually made it to a local hospital while still unconscious. He was even lucid enough to tell police officers exactly who'd stabbed him and spent some time talking to his mother who had rushed to be at the hospital when she got the news of the stabbing. For a while, it looked like Dom might pull through, but the sheer trauma of the wounds he sustained made his condition extremely unstable, and a couple of hours after he was admitted, he died suddenly.

It was simply a case of tracking down those that Dom had named, and within 24 hours, the police had every single member of the invading B3 gang in custody, and one by one, each admitted what they'd done. At their trial, the judge commented on the senseless and tragic killings he said came through a culture of violence and knives, which was promoted through social media. Addressing Ben Potter, the B3 member who had been kidnapped and tortured, the judge said, I have no doubt that your motivation related to the traumatic experience of the assault you had suffered yourself at the hands of M4 two years earlier,

but that did not begin to justify your participation in these murders. Dom Ansah's mother, Tracy, added that every day she felt she had to put on a mask and a brave face to look at the violent young man who had taken her son from her. Ben Gillum Rice's mother, Susan, said she had felt physically sick from being so close to her son's killers during their trial for murder. She called the use of knives cowardly and added that she was hoping to seize some remorse on the faces of the juveniles and was disgusted that she saw none. They just smirked and walked out with a smile, she later said to gather journalists. Smirked. These young thugs had raided a house full of innocent people to stab one of their friends to death before their eyes

and all they did was smirk as they were being sentenced. Perhaps this is because they felt like revenge was served, and that any kind of prison time would be worth the feeling of vindication, knowing they'd taken bloody vengeance against someone who had harmed and humiliated one of their own. And in considering that fact, we might have stumbled onto an idea far more terrifying than a violent home invasion, that some young men are plunged into an inescapable cycle of ignorance, poverty, and violence, to the point they can take another's life and simply smile at their murder trials. The scary thing isn't so much the stabbing,

it's knowing that it's going to take place time and time again, all over the world, forever. I'm a police officer here in Manchester and like most of my colleagues, I've been having a great deal of trouble policing the lockdowns. A second round of increasingly harsh lockdown measures were introduced by the government fairly recently and although I'm all for trying to contain and manage this, it's obvious that people are getting pretty sick of it. We've had to attend more and more incidents of people gathering in groups that exceed their social bubbles and people are really not happy about us showing up. I can promise you, the last thing we want to do as police is stop you from seeing your friends and family for the first time in months, but we do have a job to do, even if we don't like doing it sometimes. But recently I had to attend a call about a social gathering that ends a lot worse than just a few harsh words

being exchanged. A call that, at one point, I didn't think I'd walk away from. Like I said, we get a few calls coming from the Levenshum area about a house party that's gotten out of control. Not only are these people gathering way in excess of the social distancing laws, but they're flaunting it, shouting at neighbors, playing loud music, and generally making a nuisance of themselves. The property of the party was occurring and was known to us as an Airbnb and was located in what was usually a very quiet area. Now there were no concrete figures relayed to me by radio but before I pulled up to the house, I was told there would be around 15-20 people at the property. But in reality it was more like 200.

Even when most of my available backup had arrived, we were still dangerously outnumbered. And in the time it had taken for them to get there the people at the party had noticed I was there and they most certainly weren't happy about it. Before we approached the property I'd had all manner of abuse thrown at me, not to mention having a number of items literally thrown at my car too. I didn't think it would be an easy call but what happened next gives me the sweats just thinking about it. We managed to get into the house to turn down the music before informing all in attendance that they would have to leave. Not a single person's wearing a mask,

the only people with facial coverings are police officers. I won't get into the politics of mask wearing here but let's just say I was not best pleased to see so many young people just flagrantly ignoring some pretty serious government health guidelines. Most younger people are also pretty scared of the police and a lot of the noisy house parties I've had to attend calls to have ended in all the kids just legging it out of the various doors and windows. The party just sort of stops itself. But never have I been to one where no one seemed to care that we were there. We weren't in the least bit intimidating to them. And very quickly, the atmosphere went from tense, to resentful, to violent. There was this feeling in the air that the kids knew that they had us totally outnumbered, and it was most definitely not enjoyable to see them

start realizing it too. They started ignoring us, sitting back down, telling us to F off. One lad even went on this big rant about how he couldn't have a birthday or a proper Christmas, and now we're taking this away from him too. He was quite impassionate, really. I understood where he was coming from, but I didn't understand why he and his friends were so quick to do something as reckless as attack police officers One lad tried to punch an officer from behind as he was talking to another two kids He then tries to get a hold of this lad and the kids mates jump in The last thing I heard before things descended into chaos were all kinds of younger male voices saying things like, Get him! Get him!

And then there's just a flurry of bashing and shouting. It was all batons, tasers, and pepper spray. Anything to keep those kids off us. To keep them from gathering up and just kicking the life out of us right there in that house. I remember fighting towards the area of the kitchen that had all the kitchen knives and one of those fancy holders and just locking that down so none of the kids could get a hold of the kitchen knife. We had a really hard time that night, but it could have been so much worse. If all those teenagers had really made the joint decision to actually go for us, there's no

way we'd have been able to fight them all off. And when people lose control like that and start being little more than a mob, people lose their lives too, and we're extremely lucky we managed to keep a lid on things. Police officers have died in similar situations like that before, and I'm sure there'll be plenty of times in the future when they'll be in danger of mob violence again. But to be there, actually experiencing the level of chaos and fear in the flesh, it's something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. It really was horrific. And now we're stuck in a pattern of that sort of behavior, it's only going to get worse with the lockdowns. Like I said, I understand the need for them, but we as police are stretched

to our absolute limit right now, and sooner or later we're going to have to deal with another situation where a lot of angry people start to lose control, be it from fear or stress or just being cooped up at home, and I really hope I'm not there to see it again. Back when I was a senior in high school, a buddy of mine's parents went on this anniversary trip down to the Florida Keys for a weekend, leaving him as the sole occupier of their three-bedroom house. His older sister was off at college, so he literally had the entire place to himself. So, he did what any self-respecting teenager does when faced with that kind of situation. He threw a house party. And not just the kind where two dozen or so of your closest

friends come over for some drinks. He threw a rager. The kind of party that half our entire high school managed to get an invite to. I mean not everyone made it but there was at least 200 people there at the very minimum. The old house was bouncing for real. Now I know people were playing fast and loose with the kinds of people they told about the party. There was no planning involved basically and my buddy wasn't the kind of guy to put the effort into making sure only a select bunch of people got it so he basically just was like bring all y'all's friends over to everyone he knew on Facebook. So people we didn't even know just showed up like oh yeah I know xyz etc etc and whoever opened the door to them would just be like whatever and let them inside. This turned out pretty cool for the most part and we ended up meeting some pretty decent randoms as a result.

But not everyone that showed up was cool or there to just chill. And we ended up learning the hard way that you don't just throw out invites to your house party unless you want some bad hombres to show up once in a while. So, the party was in full swing, music is pumping, people were drinking and dancing. It was an awesome time. Then some drama apparently kicks off in an upstairs bedroom when one of the randoms that showed up gets caught stealing by someone who knew my buddy. This person is being an all around good guy by taking it personally and wanting to keep our buddy's house safe so he starts telling this random thief to leave the party before

he gets knocked out. These guys are stepping to each other, the thief's boys step in, but they're outnumbered by everyone at the party so they just went back down and headed for the front door to the house. But as they're leaving, this mutual friend of ours is walking them out, talking smack, telling them he does MMA and they're smart not to mess with him, etc, etc. Just drunk guy stuff, you know. He was probably showing off in front of his girl or something too, who knows. Anyway, the guy walks them all the way out, opens up the front door then sings Na na na na, hey hey hey, goodbye.

Song like in their faces before he slams the door behind them. Now, I didn't see this next part, so I'm just telling you guys what I've been told happened. Apparently, the guy like stands in front of the door, fists on hips, puffing his chest out in some Superman pose like, Yeah, I kicked these idiots out. Get me. People were literally clapping for the dude like he was some kind of hero and then out of nowhere, people just start hearing these cracking sounds coming from the street outside before our hero just slumps to the carpet. One of the thieves we just kicked out turned out to have a gun on him and he was so angry at the way our buddy just

tried to humiliate him that he pulled it out and fired it right at the front door. He ended up shooting this guy four times in the back and neck. We immediately called 911, got the guy on a stretcher pretty quick but one of the bullets nicked an artery or something and although they got him to the hospital in good time, he didn't make it. The shooter handed himself in to the hospital in good time. He didn't make it. The shooter handed himself in to the police the next day. Apparently he had no idea that there was anyone still behind the door and just wanted to damage some property while scaring the people still inside. He had no intention of actually hurting anyone and threw

some sort of plea bark and I know he managed to pretty much get off a second degree murder or something. Basically he'd get a super lenient sentence. And this all happened about 14 years ago too so I'm pretty sure that guy is getting out soon. And that scares me way more than knowing that there's a dude who murdered someone at a party that I was at. And he's just free to walk around the city like the thing he did wasn't even that big of a deal. Like how he was supposed to just act like nothing happened all those years ago. Does he just try and forget? Because although I'm really glad I didn't actually see anyone get shot, it's not something I've ever forgotten, and nor am I likely to.

And honestly, my biggest worry right now is bumping into this guy in the grocery store or something. I'm not sure I'll be able to hold it together if I see him. Here's hoping he decides to make a fresh start someplace else. That's what I'd do. I just wouldn't be able to hang around the same old people knowing I murdered one of them. Last summer, I went to a house party in the Gary Owen neighborhood of Limerick here in Ireland. We were right in the middle of lockdown restrictions and I know it was really stupid and selfish of me to go,

but I was just so in need of a stress release. I'm a really social creature and I need to spend time around people. Like I was actually going mad being stuck inside all on my own. I do actually really regret going, but breaking restrictions isn't the reason I wish I hadn't gone, because I saw one of the worst, most horrifying things I'd ever seen in my life at that party, and it's something I don't think I'll ever get out of my head. So the party is going swimmingly for a few hours and I'm occupied being the little social butterfly that I am. But then I walk into the kitchen to get another drink and this big argument is unfolding between

this couple that seemed to be based around allegations of infidelity. It was super intense and awkward being in there with them so I just quietly grab my bottle of wine from the fridge and then head back to where I was gabbing away with some new friends. I didn't really think much of it. House parties can be weird like that after all. One room people are passed out, another one has people dancing around while some rooms host little arguments between couples that usually don't turn into something hideous. Only this one did. The guy in the argument storms out of the party and then for a few hours, everything has good vibes again. But then at some point later in the night, the guy comes back to the party. People knew his face by that point, so they don't really have any

reason not to let him in. I'm guessing he didn't give them any clues as to what he was about to do, otherwise they'd never have let him back into the house. The guy then searches the house to find the girl he'd been arguing with. I'm not really sure if they were a couple, I just heard them arguing about sleeping around. When he finds her, he confronts her, starts screaming at her, then reaches into his jacket, takes out a bottle and then appears to douse her with the contents. People thought he was just being a jerk throwing vodka on her, the outrage partially stemming from the wasted alcohol as well as the undue aggression. He then legs it from the room

while she's screaming. From the people I've spoken to about it, the one who were in the room when it happened, they first thought her screaming was her being a bit melodramatic about having some drink chucked on her. But then she took her hands away from her face, and it's covered in what looks like burns. It wasn't alcohol he'd thrown onto her face that night. It was acid. Luckily, someone there was a chemistry graduate. They realized what was happening almost straight away and then grabbed something from under the kitchen sink that would neutralize the acid. I don't know exactly what it was, but it was some other chemical that probably didn't do her much good either, but it definitely stopped the damage from being any worse than it was.

I heard the poor girl had to have a skin graft from her leg though, like even with the help she got, her injuries were absolutely horrific. The bloke who did it went on the run for a bit too. Like the Gardae, what we call the police in Ireland, didn't manage to get cuffs on him for like a month and we were all so relieved when they finally did. I can't imagine what kind of monster does something like that after an argument. I don't care what over. To use actual acid to try to permanently disfigure someone's face, that takes a special kind of evil, don't you think? I ended up getting invited to this pretty wild house party back when I was a teenager. Definitely the craziest party I've ever

been to. It was good while it lasted, but the reason it sticks out in my memory is far from a good one, as I'll get to explaining. So like I said, this house party was off the wall. There were like kegs in all the downstairs rooms. People were getting naked and dancing in the backyard. Some dudes upstairs tore down a bedroom wall with a sledgehammer. It was literally insane. Now with a party that intense, it's not entirely unusual for a bathroom to be fuel of puke with random people like passed out all around the party. And the dude I really noticed was lying on the couch in the TV room downstairs. I figured he must have really overdone it, because the whole time

I'm there he's completely passed out, like to the point where he just sort of became part of the furniture in there, like he's claimed the couch to himself. In the end, people just let him be and the party continued. People dancing around him, walked around him, drank around him, all night too. At the end of the night, I was way too drunk to call an Uber so I figured that I'll just pass out in an upstairs bedroom and make my way home in the morning. So I have a terrible hangover sleep, wake up, gather my stuff and head downstairs. On the way out, I got to pass this dude who was wiped out on the couch all the previous night. It didn't look like he moved all night and I just didn't sit right with me. So on the way out I try to wake him.

Have you ever touched someone only to realize they're actually dead? They really do go cold and they really do go stiff. And I promise you, it's one of the most mind-breakingly awful things you'll ever experience in your life. I immediately yelped when I feel how cold this dude's skin was, which then has a few other sleepy people filing into the TV room to see what the deal is, which was basically me begging people to call 911 because there was a dead guy on the couch. It really messed people up, mainly because like I said we were dancing and drinking and partying around this dudes possibly dead body like all night, and there he was, lying in the exact same position he passed out in.

There was no telling at what point he'd actually slipped away. No telling just how long we'd been partying around an actual corpse. I heard it was an overdose but never really got that confirmed by anyone. Like I barely knew anyone at the party just that there were good people and it was a real shame how one of them went out. I'm extra careful around drugs and alcohol now too and I tell my kids if they want to get into drinking or smoking or whatever they want to do, that they do it safely. I know I can't stop them from misbehaving, especially what age they're at, and it's not even the substance I'm worried about them touching. I just never want any of my kids to have to know what it feels like. Touching flesh that's gone

cold, looking at someone's face and knowing they're no longer with us I don't want them to know what death feels like I live in a place called Royden here in Essex. Last summer, during lockdown, one of our neighbors decided to throw a house party. Yeah, an actual house party in the middle of a pandemic that went on way into the night. Needless to say, my mom and dad weren't best pleased and I thought it was really selfish of them to do something like that but anyway. I'm up in my room trying to get some sleep and

all I can hear is music and voices coming from the other side of the road. Like they weren't even bothered to keep the noise down. They were out in the streets talking to each other and stuff and it was so annoying. And so there came a point where I got so sick of it that I got up out of bed and went to the window to just stare at them disapprovingly. I don't know why I thought that would do any good. None of them could see me and I wasn't going to stop the party just by staring at it. But I did it anyway and that's where I found myself for a few good minutes, just sort of watching them aimlessly wander around, slurring their words to each other. Then the next thing I know a car is pulling up outside the house. I actually start hoping that it's an unmarked police car come to shut down the party so I could get some sleep, and I think my hopes are confirmed when one of the

people inside the car calls one of the partiers over to the window. The bloke stumbles over to the car and at first it did seem like it was the police because all he was saying was stuff like, who are you now anyway? Who's asking? What's it got to do with you? Then out of nowhere I hear four big bangs and flashes from inside the car. Then the bloke who walked over to the car just falls backwards onto the pavement. We don't really have a lot of guns here in the UK, so it took me a minute for it to actually sink in what had happened, that the lads in the car had actually shot the fella who they'd called over. God, the noises he was making too. I've never heard someone in that kind of pain before,

those gurgling noises. I couldn't get those out of my head for quite a while. I rushed out of my bedroom and told my mom and dad what I'd seen. They'd heard the bangs too and had rushed downstairs to see what was going on, and when I told them that there had been a shooting, they immediately called 999. It was 100% the scariest night of my life so far. Just hearing those shots come out of nowhere is something I don't think I'll ever forget, but it's the effects of those gunshots that stick with me over everything else. How strong our bodies are, but how fragile they are too. I read in the papers that the guy had died in the hospital a day or two after he was admitted. I feel terrible for him, but I'm amazed he even made it that long.

From the sounds he was making, I'm surprised he didn't die right there on the pavement outside that party. I still don't think I'm fully over what I saw and heard that night. I'm sure I will be someday, but for now, all it takes is just hearing the word party, and all I can think about are those gurgling noises the guy made, lying on the pavement outside the last party he ever went to. In high school, there was this kid that was a super good student, quiet-ish, didn't really have the reputation for partying, and wasn't necessarily considered a part of the crowd that did party. Anyway, some of the party kids found out that his parents were going out of town for the weekend and, under the guise that they wanted to be his friend, messed up I know, convinced him to have a party at his house.

Come the weekend and the kid gets talked into throwing parties both Friday and Saturday nights. First party goes down without a hitch. It was fun. People weren't too reckless. All was good. Second party, same story only this time, some of those terrible kids that talked him into throwing the party steal thousands of dollars from his dad's super expensive computer equipment. Apparently he worked in some form of software engineering or something. The kid didn't realize until the stuff was long gone and he had no idea who'd taken it because

there were all kinds of people he didn't know just walking around his parents house like they owned the place. And by that point the house itself was completely trashed. Like spray paint on the walls, all the bathrooms are like a maelstrom of puke and urine and other stuff and the front porch of the house was completely broken away because a bunch of people decided to stand on it and jump up and down in unison until it broke. Anyway, from what I heard, there comes a point where all the people in the backyard start seeing someone climbing onto the roof of the house from an upstairs window. Because he climbed out near this big old tree,

they figured he's going to jump from the roof to the tree and start like chanting to encourage him to make the jump. Apparently this person just stares down at the people in the backyard, then turned and jumped off the roof. Only they weren't aiming for the tree, they were just looking to jump off the third floor roof, face first onto the concrete below. It was the kid who'd been talked into having the house parties. He was so distraught at what his parents would do, how disappointed they'd be, that he decided to take the easy way out and just jump off his own roof. Like I know his house was destroyed, but dear god, I can't imagine being so torn up about it that I'd actually try it off myself. But anyway, seems like the worst part about this story is that the kid actually survived the jump.

But like I said, he landed face first in the concrete of his backyard and it literally split his head open. I've heard the doctors had to actually piece the kid's face back together because it was split open like a clam shell. Poor guy had dozens of facial reconstructions and still looks all messed up. Not to mention that the brain damage from the impact has left him with severe learning difficulties. All of that from a freaking house party. Makes me glad I never had one when I was a student that definitely ended up being a night to remember, but all for the wrong reasons,

and I have to hold my hands up here and say it was 100% partly my fault that this even happened. Me and a few friends decided it would be a fun thing to do a sit outside the actual house that was happening and give the finger to any cars who drove past. Most of the time nothing would happen but occasionally we'd get a beep and the driver would flip us off back which made us cheer the car in approval. But this one driver sees us giving him the finger and slams on the brakes. We have this proper uh-oh moment as we see him bent over in the driver's seat, reaching for something either in the footwell or underneath the seat. The next time we see his face, he's wearing a mask,

and we watch as he gets out of his car, walks around to the boot, and takes out a hammer from it. At this point, we bail back inside the house running upstairs to just hide in one of the bedrooms. We don't even get to the bedrooms before we hear smashing glass from downstairs. This guy just went completely mental on all the windows and the door. I was convinced he was going to break his way in and smash our heads in with that hammer but I think he just drove off before the police could arrive. Lesson learned, don't flip off random people because you risk finding that one person who's

had a bad day and drives around with a mask and a hammer in the car. I hate telling this story not only because of how traumatic it was for me, but because it does show my age. My therapist tells me that I should learn to look for the positive in things so the only way I really know how is by making light humor. This was the early 90s and I was about 16 going on 17 working as a regular babysitter in our neighborhood. My parents had decided that the only way I was going to actually get a car would be if I was the one that saved up for the down payment. So every afternoon after school I would tutor kids or watch babies, whatever I could to earn a few extra bucks. There was one couple, the Moores, that always paid exceptionally well and on Valentines they had a special request for me to watch both their 6 year old and their 10

year old so they could go enjoy a romantic evening together. We'll be back by 8 they said and gave me about $50 just for ordering pizza, renting movies, whatever the kids wanted to do. I asked them both what they wanted and they both chimed in with a request to go to the kids wanted to do. I asked them both what they wanted and they both chimed in with a request to go to the local video rental store. I knew that the blockbuster wasn't very far but I insisted that I didn't want to do that until I got confirmation from their mom. This being the age before cell phones that required I had to look up the phone number in an actual phone book and call the restaurant where they were dining. Those two boys were so eager to hear a yes from their mom, I thought they might explode from excitement.

It took about 15 minutes for me to finally get in touch with their mom, who seemed a little frazzled that the only reason I was calling was so we could go to Blockbuster. Yeah, that's fine. Just don't spend all their money and nothing rated R,' she responded. When I told them, both of the boys squealed and ran to get their jackets. We left the house before it got dark and made it to the rental store in less than ten minutes. Not surprisingly, it was pretty empty save for the cashier and maybe one or two other customers. "'Go and pick out whatever you want, I told them as I grabbed some candy bars and popcorn. The oldest came back first with a VHS of some Disney sequel and asked

if this was okay. I told him yes and then asked where his brother was, only for him to be surprised that I didn't know. Both of us went down the aisles looking for him and for a split second, I got scared thinking that he had decided to play some terrible prank and run off. Finally, I saw him standing near the edge of an aisle talking to a tall lanky man wearing an actual trench coat. It was very strange. And as soon as I saw this guy, I got a weird vibe and grabbed the younger boy's hand. Sorry, I hope he wasn't bothering you, I nervously told the stranger. He immediately smelled funny as if he hadn't taken a bath in a while, and he had this weird crazy look in his eyes that told me he was trouble. I just had a feeling and I desperately wanted to be wrong about it,

so I yanked the kid away and berated him as we made our way towards the cashier. When were you telling him anyway? I asked. Just that we was renting some movies and that we were home alone, the kid said innocently to me. And I don't know why that didn't make alarm bells go off in my brain right away, but I guess I was too busy paying for the movies and dragging them out of the store. When we were walking back towards their house, it finally registered what he had told me. Did that man ask if you were home alone? I asked. My heart was starting to beat a little faster but I didn't want the kids to think that I was worried

and out of the corner of my eye I thought that I saw someone following us. I mean he seemed friendly, asked a lot of questions about me. The boy responded. I picked up the pace and told them that we needed to hurry back to the house. I was positive now that we were being followed. I remember I looked back several times to see where the man was, but every time it felt like it was just barely out of sight. Once inside their house, I slammed the door shut and chided the kid for being so stupid. Don't ever talk to strangers,

that man could have done some serious harm to you. I remember thinking I should punish them both by having them go to bed early, but I had no idea how right I would be about my warning of the stranger. I glanced out the windows to see if I could spot him and after calming down I went ahead and let them pick a movie. I was also trying to convince myself my paranoia had been my imagination. Less than ten minutes later, as we were watching the Angels in the Outfield movie, I heard a knock at the door that made me realize maybe I hadn't been cautious enough. I went to the front to peek through the blinds, curious to see that no one was outside. My heart was pounding now as though I saw the man in the trench coat standing over near the bushes. I immediately told the boys to pull the blinds

closed and then to turn off the lights. Next, I started to hear this stranger banging on the windows with what sounded like a stick. Was he just trying to frighten us? I remember wondering. If so, he was doing a stellar job because I was terrified. Turn off the TV. Let's go to the bathroom, I said. I remember the Moors had a house phone up in their master suite, so I was trying to calmly herd the kids there as this wacko kept rattling against the outside of the house. The kids were getting scared now, especially the youngest and he was beginning to cry. Be quiet. Please don't be scared right now. I told him as we ran to the bedroom. I know that was a stupid thing to say and I told them both to stay quiet as I reached for the phone

only to find that the line was disconnected. This was the moment when a real sense of panic and dread was starting to overwhelm me. It was just past 6.30, meaning that their parents would not be home for at least another 45 minutes and now with the phone lines down I was positive that this stranger was going to try and break in and do us harm. Still, I insisted that they needed to remain quiet and calm. I got the older one to assist me in moving furniture to the front of the door as a blockade just in case this guy actually tried to break in. And it's a good thing I did because about 20 minutes later I heard the shattering of

glass and realized that was precisely what he had decided to do. I told them both not to make a sound as I tried to listen to where the stranger was. The one thing about this whole experience I will never forget is that the stranger started to whistle for us, like he was whistling for a dog. It was a loud, sharp, insistent whistle when he kept saying, Here boy, here boy, come here boy. I swear I'd never been more scared in my life, and I ordered the boys to hide under the bed as footsteps came up the stairs.

I was pretty sure, and felt as if though we were actually about to die. It happened just like a horror movie too. He was standing outside the door because I could see the silhouette of his shadow peeking under the master bedroom door. Then the blockade of furniture started to rattle as I heard him fiddle with it. He shook it violently for a while but to no success and then another long indescribably quiet moment I thought maybe he had given up. The kids were trying their best not to squeal or scream or even cry but it was so hard to be perfectly still. At any second I knew that he was going to be back.

Then he slammed his body against the door and it came slightly ajar. I remember jumping and holding the boys closer as he did it again, and then again, until at last he could squeeze in past the wedged furniture. All I could see was his shoes, leather boots that looked coated in mud. He walked slowly over to the bed and sat down, perhaps puzzling over where we were. He started whistling again and I had to cover the younger boy's mouth as he let a leash fall over the edge of the bed. Did he know we were here? What sort of weird fetish was this supposed to be? He walked around the room, moving to the closet first and checking for us there.

Then we heard the sound of the garage door downstairs, and I had never in my life felt so relieved. The stranger immediately ran down, and I heard shouts of alarm as Mr. Moore likely saw him trying to escape. And a few seconds later Mrs. Moore was in the bedroom frantically searching for us and calling out her children's names. I crawled out first and helped her youngest get out as she grabbed him and hugged him as tight as possible. Downstairs Mr. Moore was trying the landline again to contact the cops but it obviously didn't work. Honestly I thought the crazy guy was going to come back and do us more harm so I didn't even want to step outside the house until my parents came to pick me up. Mr. Moore told me that I was very brave and paid me extra for helping keep his kids safe. My parents also told me that I acted swiftly and decisively

and it could have turned out a lot worse, but I didn't feel very proud. I had trouble sleeping for a week after that and any sound of a dog bark or whistle could trigger the memory and make me want to curl up into a ball and hide. I can honestly only share it now after all these years thanks to a bit of therapy. Sometimes I do think about what could have happened still had the parents not shown up. We were unable to contact the police and they didn't show up till a substantial amount of time after because we had no cell phones or any mobile devices available to us at that time.

Would he have harmed us or killed us? The cops never did catch whoever the guy was so the worst part is the never knowing. Except I know that at least I stopped babysitting for the upper class after that. To be continued... You know the worst time to have someone break up with you? Besides the occasional story of a runaway bride you read on Craigslist, I'm pretty sure that Valentine's is number one on the list. I never would have suspected that my boyfriend Caleb would actually dump me last year. Even though we had been going through some rough patches, I thought we had made it through. He hadn't given me any indication that things were going to take a turn for the worst. In fact, the week before Valentine's he had already booked us a reservation

at Red Lobster, gone out of his way to ask off for work and told me he planned to really go all out to treat me. Then, early V-Day morning, I got a text that changed my whole world. He decided to dump me. Who does that? Is this like high school? I called him immediately to demand a response. It's just too much for me, Molly. I'm sorry. I should have told you sooner. He responded. He told me a bunch of reasons why he had this sudden revelation, but a lot of it sounded like bull. I knew Caleb. He always rambled like this when he was trying to hide the truth, and the more he talked, the angrier I became with him. Just tell me you didn't cheat, please.

I swear if you did, I'm going to hurt myself. I said between bitter tears. I was experiencing an emotional rollercoaster, but it was about to get worse from here. He promised that he hadn't cheated and insisted that I could still keep any gifts that he had sent, including the planned reservation. I know this is all very last minute, but I need space. I need to know where I'm going and what I'm doing with my life, Caleb told me. He promised that he would keep in touch, but I could already tell in his voice that it was over. I was devastated. Honestly, I can't remember the first thing I did.

Maybe I smashed something expensive or went to the bathroom and vomited. I was still reeling and it felt like I couldn't make sense of the world around me. To be honest, I thought about self-harm. And to anyone out there who is ever going through this, please listen to me and realize no man is worth that. I'm so thankful I have had that epiphany and I hope others do too. and come to think of it, this harrowing experience might have actually been my wake up call, as crazy as that sounds. But anyway, there I was, trying to find the strength to stand when one of my closest friends Felicia texted me and asked if she could come over. I needed a lifeline to cling to after this whirlwind of a morning so

I told her to come immediately. When she got there I think I fell into her arms and burst into tears. She was shocked but listened as I told her about what Caleb had done to me. And then she had this brilliant idea for us to go get drunk off of our butts and it sounded exactly the kind of distraction I needed. Felicia has always been a good friend and I knew that if I went with her I was going to have a good time. I changed my clothes, put on makeup and blocked Caleb from my phone. All of it felt very empowering. We went down to the lobby and called for a taxi to take us downtown, ready to live it up. When the taxi got there I remember

thinking that this day was turning out to be good after all. Felicia and I talked as the driver took us to what we thought was our destination. Felicia was extremely vocal about her disgust with Caleb and apparently all men. They always do this. Use us like playthings and get rid of us to move on to something newer and shinier, she said. I think I recall that the driver seemed tense whenever she talked like this, like it bothered him. I was so busy laughing or crying that I didn't pay it as much attention as I should have and also realized my memory is probably playing tricks with me because of how jarring the next thing that happened was.

We were merging off of a highway to a street when Felicia made some joke about Caleb's prowess in bed When the driver abruptly sped up and we zoomed through a light I remember being rattled and Felicia shouted to him to slow down Instead he just kept going, looking angry as a feral animal What's your problem man? She finally asked when he slammed on the brakes. I suddenly realized I didn't recognize the part of the city he had taken us to. Were we lost? Was something else going on? I can't tell you how much I wanted this to be

a normal thing. Then he turned around and pointed a gun in our face. Shut up and give me your phones, he ordered. Felicia and I immediately complied. He grabbed our entire purses after he took our cell phones and then started to drive again. Felicia and I were frantically trying not to be scared for our lives, but this guy was wasting no time getting us out of town. At some point, we crossed a bridge and he tossed our purses and phones into the river below Then he kept driving to the country There were several times in the drive that I thought about jumping from the car I didn't know how to tell Felicia what I was thinking though

We were both scared stiff by the sudden and surprising psycho driver that we didn't dare make a move I think it was probably 5 by the time the taxi finally stopped, and we had arrived at what looked like a rental cabin. Stay here, the driver ordered as he got out and went to his trunk. I had literally no idea where we might be, but I used those few precious seconds to tell Felicia that we should make a run for it. If we work together, we can overpower him, I told her. When he opened the door to his cab, I kicked him straight in the gut and shouted for Felicia to help me. She was right behind me and we tussled with this guy for what was probably

only two minutes. Sometime during the scuffle, he dropped his gun and Felicia ran to grab it. As soon as she had it, she pointed it at the driver and demanded that he let me go. The way this dude was looking, the thought he might try something even crazier. But surprisingly, he complied and released me. Give us your keys, Felicia demanded. He dropped them into the grass near my feet and leaned down to pick them up while my friend kept the weapon on him. We're leaving now, she told the driver. Slowly the two of us backed up toward the cab and just as Felicia was about to get in

the guy rushed towards us. I swung the keys in his face and made him fall backwards with a twist. Then I leaned into the taxi and revved the engine. I shouted to Felicia to go and she got on the passenger's side before tossing the gun out the window. I didn't want to think the nightmare was over until we got away from that cabin and as we drove off I could see the guy scrambling in vain to follow us. Neither of us spoke for a good 20 minutes. Then when I think both of us had the chance to really calm down I said, What. Just. Happened. Felicia had been going through the glove compartment and found a few clues.

The guy had kept clippings of articles about weird white supremacy and BDSM. Weird smut magazines and would look like a locket. When we got back into town, we gave it to the authorities and of course had to give statements as well. The whole thing honestly, truly felt wildly surreal and I later found out that that guy had been wanted in a different state for apparent murder. I know a lot of people say they come face to face with a killer without realizing it, and this was definitely, literally one of those times. It still scares me to think about it. I've been through therapy,

but it's just so hard to get over how close I truly came to dying, or potentially worse. All because my boyfriend decided to dump me. And I know it's not right to blame him. I wasn't thinking clearly and maybe Felicia and I were just at the wrong place at the wrong time. But it could have gone so much worse. I guess the reason I even mentioned Caleb again is because when I told him about the whole ordeal, he just brushed this off like it was nothing. I know it sounded a little unbelievable that we went through all of that, but at least he could have had a little sympathy. I still to this day don't know what was in our conversation in the back of that taxi that just

truly triggered that guy. Maybe because we joked about men or something like that. Who knows? Maybe that was just his intention from the very beginning. I have no idea. It was definitely the strangest, scariest, and most terrifying valentines I'd ever had. I worked at 1-800-Flowers as a driver and Valentine's was our busiest season. What that usually meant is customers would start ordering as early as January to get their orders ready. I'm not talking about dozens or even hundreds of flowers being delivered. This was probably tens of thousands.

As a driver, I knew I would likely be working almost the entire day. No one was allowed off, even though a few people did try. I did this for six years and we knew that V-Day was about as crazy as it could get. Drivers were given extra money to get the flowers to the customers on time and take up extra routes. There were a few times though that working this hectic schedule got the better of me. I wouldn't pay attention to where the address delivery of roses would need to be sent and get them mixed up. Typically customers wouldn't complain much, the company always offered a complete refund. But there were a few that got angry because of simple mistakes. This particular Valentine's I started really early, I think 4am.

The facility where the delivery trucks are parked is about 20 minutes away and I had to be there by 5. So I would grab a quick shower and swing by a local donut shop on my way to get a little pep in my step. It was cold and wet that morning, a precursor to this terrible day I was about to have. As soon as I made it into the facility my boss told me the first of several problems. Our printing machines were done, meaning that nobody had gotten route logs for the day and we would need to call into the main office if we didn't know how to find the addresses ourselves. I didn't want to let that bother me but then he also told me that my usual truck was in the maintenance shop and I had to drive a replacement. Typically that meant that

I was being given a rust bucket and this drive was no different. I'm honestly surprised the thing didn't fall apart as I went about my route. I did think that all of the deliveries I was going to make would be fairly easy since I was familiar with the area, so I went ahead and got started rather than waiting for my routing logs to be made. To be honest, I wanted to rush and get my hours in so I could go have a little romantic dinner with my own valentine. The storm didn't let up when I got out on the highway and traffic was terrible, but my first few deliveries weren't big issues. It wasn't until I was about two hours into my route that I made a big mistake and delivered a bouquet of roses to the wrong address. To be fair though, it wasn't entirely my fault. Here's what happened. Whoever had placed the order accidentally forgot to update their address

information, so instead of going to the new lover, I wound up delivering the flowers to the ex. I didn't know until an hour later when the guy called into customer service and complained. Apparently his ex got so upset that she went to actually slash his tires. Customer service insisted that I needed to return to deliver the flowers to the correct address. The guy insisted he didn't want a refund. He apparently didn't even care about his messed up car.

I just want the flowers to go where they were intended, was the response he gave. Easier said than done, really. Not only did I have to backtrack 20 miles, but when I got there, his ex refused to see me. Why should I even cooperate this? I threw those trashy roses away the second I saw them. He can lose his money for all I care, she said through the door. I apologized and asked if she could direct me to the dumpster where she had thrown the flowers out. I thought that maybe if I took a picture of them and sent it to customer service, the dude would reason that he wasn't going to be able to salvage them. It's downstairs around back. It's too hard to explain, I'll just show you.

The ex told me. She came about seven minutes later, dressed up pretty nice. Tight jeans, makeup. It looked like she was on her way out to a date herself. I tried to make small talk as she guided me down the fire escape. She blushed when I complimented her and said, I just wish I had a valentine's to share it with. You know any good fellas in the area? I got the impression that she was flirting with me and I flashed my wedding ring ever so casually as we made it to the dumpster. Seems like all the good men are taken, or they're cheaters, she told me angrily. She lifted up the lid of the trash and told me the flowers were in there somewhere and then stormed

off. I couldn't see the bouquet from where I was so I made a big dumb decision and climbed into the dumpster to look for them, anything to resolve this customer dispute and get back on my route. I pulled my phone out and I was using the flashlight to look for the flowers. Then I heard this loud lurch and looked up just in time for the lid of the dumpster to hit my head. I fell down in the trash as I heard another loud clang and then the woman's voice shouting obscenities at me. Pig, you probably cheat on women too and this is what you get. I tried to push up on the dumpster but she had apparently lodged something very heavy

on top of it. So instead I was fumbling around the trash trying to find my phone. Thankfully I left the flash on and found it pretty easily. Then I called the local fire department and told them where I was. I don't know how best to describe the next 20 minutes as I sat there in the trash waiting for rescue. It was frightening and suffocating. I have always been a little claustrophobic and this wasn't helping. Plus, I wasn't sure when the trash truck came and I didn't want to wind up in the compactor by accident.

I tried a few more times to lift the lid to no avail, but it just wouldn't budge. I admit, I got a little panicky. I screamed for help, thinking the fire department wasn't coming, and I even called my wife and told her that I loved her over the phone. It was bizarre to think that my whole day was going to be spent in a dark damp pile of garbage. At last I heard the firefighters arrive and they shoved off what turned out to be a heavy piece of sheet metal to get me free.

I provided them a statement and told them the apartment where the woman could be found. I was definitely going to press charges. Then I contacted customer service, reported the incident to my boss and got back to my truck. Of course I went ahead and clocked out for the day too. I needed to shower and also needed to calm down from that crazy scary experience. When I got to the lobby I saw the police were actually escorting the woman out and she was shouting and screaming. When she saw me she acted like some rabid animal. They actually had to taser her to keep her calm as I realized that she was literally going to break free and beat me up right then and there. It was honestly

the strangest thing I'd ever seen, a grown woman basically foaming at the mouth over a delivery of flowers. I had a good dinner that night and my boss did compensate me for my time anyway, but that guy that made the mistake in the first place still insisted he wanted to get flowers sent to his lover even if it was a day late. My response? How about you send another driver? This was a while back. My husband decided to surprise me with a Valentine's Day suite to a secluded treehouse resort in the upper Ozark Mountains. On paper, it sounded extremely romantic, a getaway for just the two of us with no distractions. I knew he was probably going to try to get frisky as well cause hey, it's Valentine's, so I wore something revealing

and teased the whole drive up there. Unfortunately for us, you could say that the brochure lied. The treehouse looked nothing the way it was shown online. Instead of this sprawling multi-tiered bungalow that spanned the tops of cedars, we basically got a rickety house on stilts. James was furious, and I was upset too. But we had already paid the deposit, and it's not like we could just cancel and go. This was a lot of money down the drain. Needless to say, it made the start of our getaway a bit of a downer. Then as we got into the small room, I noticed that it was beginning to storm. Should we worry about this place falling down or something?

I asked. I didn't want to be pessimistic, but it was easy to imagine this entire building collapsing because of a gentle breeze. Every time we walked, the whole thing kind of shook. We should probably stay close to the door just in case, he suggested. Even though things were pretty bad, I still wanted to try and get the best of our time together. After all, it wasn't just about the place. I wanted to really be with him, too. Let's get into the hot tub,

I suggested. James didn't object and got the water running, but it seemed like it took forever for it to get hot, and then it only stayed hot for a few minutes. It was very disappointing to say the least. Well, let's just go get a bottle of wine, he suggested instead. I didn't feel like arguing, a bit more frustrated now that everything was turning into a disaster, so he ran out to the car in the pouring rain and brought back a bottle of Chardonnay and a corkscrew bottle opener. You look sexy drenched, I teased him. He went to the kitchen cabinet and got out two wine glasses, pouring us some before offering a toast to making better memories. As we started to drink it, I had this weird vibe, or I guess a premonition so to speak. I was thinking it would be crazy if James somehow had bit the glass and

the wine shards would disperse into his mouth and cut him. A few seconds later, that was exactly what happened. He was taking another sip from his glass when this thing abruptly shattered in his mouth and he started to choke. I felt the whole room was moving in slow motion. I panicked and moved to hit his back, hoping he would choke it up. Then I asked if he wanted me to call 911. He shook at his head negatively and kept struggling to vomit up the blood. Silently he gestured to help him into the bathroom where he used his toothbrush to cause himself to gag. I stood there, holding up as shards of glass fell into the toilet.

After that little ordeal, we cuddled up in bed and really didn't say much to each other Honestly I was starting to think this tree house was haunted or something And finally James made the suggestion that we should go get some food and called around local places to see who would deliver By this point the storm had gotten so bad every time the wind shifted our whole cliff house and it felt like it was actually shaking. It was frightening but I was trying to find the positive in this insane situation. It truly wasn't easy, especially after that choking incident. Looks like we'll have to do pizza, James denounced after calling 15 places and you could tell

his voice was really hoarse from that experience. It certainly wasn't as bad as it could be I suppose. I didn't really care because by that point I was just starving and could probably eat anything. Sounds great, I lied. And the driver claimed it would be there in 40 minutes so we grabbed a shower while we waited. For a moment it was nice to just forget about all the bad stuff that we had gone through. When the driver arrived to drop off our food, I was the one to answer the door. Not sure why I didn't bother to get dressed, I didn't see it as important I guess. He was a younger guy, probably in his mid-twenties and likely hadn't really been around women the way he was ogling me, and I wasn't even really wearing anything that revealing to be honest.

How much? I said when he seemed to forget why I had even come there. He stammered off the total price and gave us the pizza. My wallet's in the car, one second, James said running toward our vehicle. The pizza guy followed. I was standing there holding the pizza box, watching them both out of the corner of my eye when I saw something strange happen. It looked like the driver had possibly hit James on the back of the head with something. And I later found out it was a tire iron because

it had caused my husband to fall unconscious in less than a few seconds. It's hard for me to really properly describe that moment of terror. I knew what was happening but I still couldn't believe it. This young kid marched back up to me as I stood there, transfixed and paralyzed, holding the pizza box. He had a knife in his hand that looked like it could easily slit my throat and he demanded that I get on the bed and tie myself up. I climbed on the mattress as he instructed and did my best not to cry. I was sure this kid was about to have his way with me.

He demanded that I use the bed sheets to tie up my hands and legs and I was blubbering like a baby, telling him where my wallet was. Just take it and go, We won't call the cops, I swear. I told him. I didn't want him to hurt me and it honestly felt like if I had said one wrong thing, this kid was going to snap. This definitely felt like a crime of opportunity. He was nervous and skittish and was constantly waving the knife around as a threat as I finished up the bonds in my hands. I made sure that my feet were loose enough that I could still fight in case he had any other ideas. Then he took my wallet back to his car and returned with his smartphone. He started to video me. I don't know if it was for his own sick pleasure or what, but I was just too terrified to really say anything unless prompted. A few times he spit on me. Finally he decided

that he'd had his fun and left before my husband finally came too. I sat there tied up on the bed for a good 30 minutes before James came stumbling into the room looking frantic and confused by what had just happened. We called the cops immediately but would you believe they didn't even bother to send anyone that night. Instead we basically got no sleep because I was sure that Saika would come back. I attended to James' wounds and did my best not to think about the fact that we were basically stranded up here in the mountains with no money. James insisted that it was going to be alright but I was having a really hard time seeing the positive to any of this.

In the AM, the cops finally came by the resort and wrote down everything we had told them and we both did our best to provide a description of the driver and of his car. It really helped me to realize that I have a terrible memory because for the life of me I could only remember two or three things about this kid. He was white, he wore a baseball cap, and he had a southern accent. Not exactly helpful. But the officers promised that they would keep us informed on any developments, and we were supposed to stay there another day and night without any protection. I know it's crazy to think that this psychopath might come back,

but I told James that I didn't want to risk it. I don't care about the deposit. I just want to go home. And he agreed. He had already told his mother about what had happened over the valentines and she wired some money to his paypal so we could afford some gas. On the way back home I was busy calling and cancelling credit cards and trying my best to forget about the whole thing. James instead insisted that we both go take self-defense courses which I was not totally against. It just made me realize that he had been just as scared as me that day. A few months later after a lot of back and forth hassle with the company we did actually get most of our money back. They admitted in their email

that it wasn't the first time their customers had reported suspicious activity on the property. Next time we plan a vacation, I'm picking, I teased James. It's crazy how we kind of laugh about it now all these years later, but dear god, if things had gone differently, I'm honestly not even sure I'd be here today. My wife and I had an experience that was unforgettable last Valentine's for all the wrong reasons. I say that because not only did it end up with us breaking up and winding up separating about a week later, but we also had a creepy scary encounter with a waiter that I'm pretty sure wanted to do us harm. The whole thing started early that morning with a bit of an argument that requires some explanation. My wife is a social media influencer and works for a makeup company that requires her to

try on products and then advertise them online via YouTube. Ordinarily, this doesn't really bother me much, but I had been stressing for weeks that I wanted our romantic valentines to be a special day so we would both have no work that day. For her that meant no phones so we could focus on each other, exchange gifts and enjoy a good dinner. I soon found out that Sarah definitely had an addiction for social media. We trial ran an attempt to go without any electronic devices about 10 days before Valentine's and it was a failure which resulted in a fight. The problem that morning was about the same. She claimed that a client wanted her to film a long makeup video that would take about

45 minutes to an hour for her to upload and edit for her channel. I said I didn't mind it but it got under my skin and finally I had to speak my mind. You're just acting so selfish Justin, she told me when I got upset about the phone. This is what pays our bills you know. I'm not sure why but financial problems have always been a part of our relationship and this time it really triggered me so we got into a bit of a shouting match for about 10 minutes straight. If you've ever dated or been in a relationship for a length of time, you know what I'm talking about. And you know that like any typical couple, we finally decided to recommence our plans and go to dinner.

Somewhere before that decision to apologize to each other, I did something really stupid and cancelled our plans. We were supposed to go to this new restaurant that Sarah had her eye on for about two months. She had been talking about it and she knew I was supposed to take her. But because of the argument I got petty and decided to just delete the reservation. What? Did you really have to do that? She shouted at me. I thought maybe because it had been a last minute cancellation that the restaurant would think it was a mistake. But instead, when we got there, they had already given our table to someone else. Honestly, I shouldn't have been surprised.

It was Valentine's Day and we live in a fairly small town. Everything was going to be super busy. Of course, that irritated Sarah and she got back on her phone chatting to her followers or something while I tried to look and see where we could go. By this point I knew our night was pretty much ruined but I had no idea it was about to go from just couples problems to a full blown nightmare. Why don't we just go over to Olive Garden? They're almost never busy, I suggested. It wasn't her favorite but she conceded to it and we got there just in time for the dinner wine to be served. There were a few people there, but surprisingly not as many as I thought.

We were even able to get a private booth in the back of the Italian restaurant. Unfortunately though, by the time we were seated, I knew that I had my work cut out for me. Sarah's demeanor had turned ice cold and she was now deliberately ignoring me as we both looked at the menu. Then the waiter showed up. I really wish I remembered his name. He was about 6 or 7 years older than me, darker in complexion and a little taller. I was probably so focused on Sarah that I forgot the little details. I think his name was Brian but I'm not sure. Anyway, he offered us a sample of the house wine and we both declined, ordering our bread and soup instead. For a couple on Valentines, it sure doesn't seem like you love each other, he joked.

He had no idea how true that was, but I decided once he left to go ahead and broach the topic since it was out in the open. This wouldn't have happened if you had agreed to keep your phone off, I told her. Not sure why I decided to make it an argument, but Sarah jumped at the bait I dangled out, responding fiercely. It wouldn't have happened if you weren't such an inconsiderate jerk. You know my phone is my livelihood, and I'm working hard to pay the bills and give us a life we can afford. Again with the money problems, she was really starting to irritate me with those so I tactlessly responded. You know I wouldn't be in so much debt if you hadn't insisted on an

elaborate wedding. And who spends the most money for the house? Sure isn't me. You're just a child, Justin. This whole date proves that. She snapped back. Then the waiter returned with a whine, visibly shaken by our argument. At least I know when to set aside time for you. You can't even do that, I told Sarah. Then the waiter decided to interject with his own opinion. You both don't realize how lucky you are to at least have each other, he commented. I opened my mouth to make a sarcastic remark but then noticed just how angry this guy suddenly looked. He was looking off in the distance with his rage in his eyes

like he was trying his hardest to shut out a bad memory. Instead he told us his story. Hard for me to shake at now how frightening and sad it was. I doubt I can ever forget a word he said. I was married to my high school sweetheart for ten years. We both grew up in a small midwestern town and never knew how great our life was until one day it was taken away. I got in a speed trap and had an altercation with a police officer. I was placed behind bars and the cops trumped the charges up to an aggravated assault. Man, I wish I could have gotten my hands on him for real.

Because this was before dash cam so it was my word against his. My wife uses the last of our savings to bail me out and then we got into even more debt hiring a lawyer. It didn't help. The cop knew the judge and I was locked up for two years. Two years. When I got out, my wife left me. I'd lost my job. Everything.

And here you two are just wasting time arguing about stupid stuff. It's repulsive. Neither Sarah or I knew what to say, but after a very long, awkward silence, my wife offered her sympathy. That seemed only to make him angrier. He slammed his fist down on the table and started rambling about how he had tried so hard to be a husband, to take care of his wife, and she walked out on him, and how that no one deserved to be in love. I remember a few of the other patrons looking toward our booth in concern. Honestly, he was acting so erratic that I became concerned and stood up to try and calm him down.

He took it as an invitation to a confrontation and slammed my head into the table. Then he pinned my arm behind my back and shouted to Sarah to shut up. I'm not really sure how long I was there, maybe just 30 seconds. Sarah told me that he grabbed a knife and pressed it against my head as he started to talk about all the things he had endured while locked up. Then she started to cry and somehow it snapped the psycho out of it. He dropped the knife and stumbled backwards, mumbled an apology and just left. You would think that would have been the end of it, but it wasn't. When we walked out to the car after managing to convince the manager of our side of the story with the help of a few other guests, the waiter was out there waiting.

He had slashed our tires with another knife and was just about to jump us when my wife shouted for police and he ran. We had called for an Uber and she berated me the whole evening for not acting like a man. And I think that was the straw that broke the camel's back and I wound up staying at a friend's house that night and just getting super wasted. So thanks to the anonymous psycho waiter, who we ended up losing track of and never were actually able to get justice, your stirring speech and crazy antics from my wife and I got us separated and probably's until close to March. My 2020 valentines was a little different because my family had to move in early February so we postponed actual valentines until close to March. Then the pandemic hit and I was one of the first in our family to be exposed. My boyfriend said that we could still do our

valentines over Zoom so we agreed to the next weekend. Honestly I felt like one of those kids stuck in a bubble constantly. It was mind-numbing to see others going outside and I couldn't. I didn't have any symptoms, I didn't understand why I was being locked away like some kind of criminal. Still, my boyfriend Robbie told me that he was going to make Valentine's special and insisted that we couldn't miss it no matter the circumstances. Saturday rolled around and as planned I logged into Zoom, eager for the romantic surprise that he was going to pull off. Honestly, I didn't know what was going to happen but I doubt it was like anything he originally intended. He had his camera set up

right at an angle where I could see him in his entire room. Two windows that were partially open to let in a breeze as he wore a silly blue suede shirt and matching tie. He had candles going and soft jazzy music playing. It was cheesy so I couldn't help but laugh and giggle. Just trying to set the mood, he teased. So sexy, I told him, trying not to roll my eyes. Next, he waved a bouquet of flowers in front of the camera and said, Roses, your favorite. Don't they smell good? And that joke was actually in poor taste because thanks to COVID, my sense of smell was completely gone for a little while. Chocolates for you, he said next, waving a box of filled creamy chocolates near the screen. Then there was a strange noise right outside his window, like a scream,

and he told me to hold on. I stopped and waited as he got up and looked out the window, and immediately noticed that panic was gripping his body. He ran past the camera and I heard him go down a flight of stairs. Next thing I knew, I heard more shouting from his open window. He sounded like he was having an argument with someone. Admittedly my mind was frantically trying to figure out what was going on and I kept shouting his name, hoping he would get back inside. It actually took him almost half an hour to do so and I nearly called the cops myself. When he got back on camera, I wished that I had. Robby had a bloody nose and a black eye and I immediately asked what happened.

Someone just stole my car, he told me. I'm really sorry, I gotta go, he said. I didn't hear from him until the next day, and the cops found his car parked not far from where I live. According to them, the thief had activated the GPS and gone to the last location Robbie had put it. I suspected that maybe they intended to rob me next. The cops said they found traces of gunpowder residue in the car as though they had been carrying a recently discharged weapon. Robbie confirmed that they had shot at him when he tried to stop them

and that just made my heart sink even more. I didn't even hear the pop go off. I'm not sure why at the last second they decided to just abandon the car but Robbie admitted to me a month later that he thinks he knew why they stole it in the first place. I got you a promise ring and it was pretty expensive. I don't know why I didn't think to bring it inside, but I left it in the passenger side seat. I think that must have been what they were after, he admitted. It truly was the most and least romantic valentines I'd ever had. Hey friends, thanks for listening. To be continued... next video. And if you want to support me even more, grab early access to all future narrations

for just $1 a month on Patreon, and maybe even pick up some Let's Read merch on Spreadshirt. And check out the Let's Read podcast, where you can hear all these stories in long compilation form and save huge on data. Located anywhere you listen to podcasts. Links in the bio. Thanks so much, friends. And remember, don't get the drip slip.