Hello, my girlfriend and I had something really scary happen to us recently. Basically we were going to spend the day together in the Parisian suburbs with his car. Around 7 p.m. we stopped in a small town to walk around a bit and eat something.

On the way back, on the way to the car, we noticed a slightly shady guy, like a young kaira who was talking loudly on the phone. The guy came closer to us as he changed sidewalks, and I really thought he was going to call out to us but he seemed to turn off at the last moment. At that time the street was deserted, I think it was just the three of us. I found his behavior a little strange but I didn't pay any further attention. After that my girlfriend saw him trotting a little in front of us to go further down the street, I didn't mind.

In short, we continue on our way without any worries and when we get to the car we see this guy standing right in front. At that moment we both found it strange but I didn't feel in danger either, I figured he must be waiting for someone or something. So we both headed towards the car with confidence, telling ourselves that he would move when he realized it was ours. So we went around him to find ourselves behind him, ready to open our doors. At that moment my girlfriend and I noticed with terror that he was holding a kitchen knife alongside his leg. I think we both felt like a lead weight was falling on us at that moment. This was followed by a really weird period of hesitation where my girlfriend and I were a little shocked and above all the guy had his back to us with his knife along his leg, he didn't move an inch. My girlfriend quickly locked the car again with her keys and we exchanged a look to tell us to get out of here quickly. So we continued on our way as if nothing had happened, walking away from the car.

What's weird is that the guy didn't follow us right away, and I only noticed after a few meters that he seemed to have started following us. So I told my girlfriend to take the street on our left and we walked quickly around the block. We waited a bit but the guy didn't seem to be following us. After a few minutes we returned very discreetly to the car and the guy had disappeared... phew.

My girlfriend and I don't understand this man's behavior. Did he hesitate to take action? Was he expecting us to do something in particular? And also how did he know it was our car? Or is it a big coincidence and this guy was there for another business? Anyway, luckily nothing serious happened to us but the vision of this guy with his back to us with his knife in his back was still chilling, we were hot.

It was a typical Friday night in my small town, and I’d just finished a late shift at the local pub. The streets were mostly deserted as I made my way to my car, parked a few blocks away. I was tired but looking forward to a quiet night in with a takeaway and a film.

As I walked, I noticed a man standing near my car, fiddling with something in his hands. At first, I thought he might be looking for something he’d dropped, but as I got closer, I realised he was watching me. I felt a knot tighten in my stomach.

“Excuse me,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Can I help you?”

He looked up, his expression blank. “I just need a lift,” he said, his voice low. There was something off about him—he seemed a bit dishevelled, his clothes a size too big, and he had an unsettling intensity in his gaze.

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” I replied, hoping to sound polite while maintaining my distance. I started to move towards the driver’s side, but he stepped in front of me.

“Come on, just a quick ride. I’m not dangerous,” he insisted, but his tone made me doubt him. My heart raced. I could feel the panic rising, and I wanted nothing more than to get away from him.

“Please move,” I said firmly, trying to sound confident. But instead of backing off, he took a step closer, invading my personal space.

In that moment, I remembered the pepper spray I kept in my bag. I fumbled for it, my fingers shaking. “I really need you to step back,” I warned, feeling more assertive.

He hesitated, his eyes darting between me and the street. Then, just like that, he seemed to lose interest. He took a few steps back and muttered something under his breath before turning away.

I didn’t waste a second. I unlocked my car, jumped in, and locked the doors, my hands still trembling. As I pulled out of the space, I glanced in the mirror to see him standing there, watching me drive off.

That night stuck with me. I felt violated, like my sense of safety had been shattered. I started being more cautious, never walking alone late at night if I could avoid it. So to the man who thought he could intimidate me: let’s not meet again.

I was a child, between 5yo-10yo. I remember bits and pieces but some of it is what I recall my mother telling me years ago.

My mom had a friend we grew up with, Donna. Donna and her daughter came over to hang out with my sister and I numerous times, having sleepovers and the like. One time, Donna was fighting with her boyfriend and I guess had fled to our house during the breakup, or maybe she was already over when her ex freaked out.

Either way, I remember being hurried into my sisters room by Donna, along with my sister and Donna’s daughter. Donna flipped my sisters full sized bed on its side, and had us lay down against the wall with the mattress and box frame leaning against the wall above us, then moved the dresser to the door. I closed my eyes and covered my ears, because I was still afraid of the dark and my sister kept crying. This is the last I remember of the night.

My mother told me that apparently Donna barricaded us in my sisters room because her ex, Fred, showed up unexpectedly looking for her. My mother went to defuse the situation, and explained that Donna wasn’t here, we hadn’t heard from her, go somewhere else. Fred went to his car and came out with some sort of shotgun, while my mom fled back inside locking the door. Fred let one shot go as she went in the door, peppering my mom’s back with pellets and the front of our house. I guess very shortly after, the police arrived and subdued Fred without a fight. I’m not sure how long it took, or what happened between her being shot and the police showing up but I know we lived right down the block from the police station, and my mom had called when she saw Fred get there before she ever confronted him.

My mom’s boyfriend who worked nights rushed home, and was checking on my sister and I as my father (my parents were split co-parenting) shows up. Apparently my mom didn’t get to properly explain what happened in a phone call with my dad, so all he got from it was “Boyfriend shooting near kids” and came over. My dad punched my mom’s boyfriend in the face, putting him out cold, before being told he wasn’t the shooter. My dad and her boyfriend had never had issues prior, and didn’t after when my dad found out her boyfriend left work and rushed over to check on us first.

But yeah, my mom told me the truth about that night about a year before she passed away. She died with pellets still in her neck and back from that night that caused chronic pain, but for reasons beyond my understanding we’re not treatable.

Fred, stay the fuck away from my family.

Me (M21) and a couple of friends (4 girls and 2 guys including me) planned a trip to Phili for Halloween. It was simple we were just going to walk around and visit clubs while drunk. We stopped at a liquor store and got something for us to enjoy. When we were all piling into the car the two girls in the front started saying there was a guy in a mask in his car like reclining his seat and peaking at us in his parked car. so of course they get scared and we leave and this car starts driving with its lights off. Our friend sped up to get away and he turns his lights on and speeds to follow us. keeping his distance behind but following us. At first we were joking, i dont know why honestly but we were trying to convince ourselves it was just a weird Halloween prank that someone was pulling, but they never stopped following us. To put it into perspective they followed us from Laurel Lake NJ all the way until Philidelphia. It was over an hour, we were scared and slowed down enough to get his license plate. My friend said it was from Mexico. Anyways to make a long story short in the traffic in Philadelphia we stopped our car and me and my friend got out of the car and chased the guy. I had a broken piece of my camera mount i had gotten from the trunk and i had bashed the back of the car with it. i'm fine with sending video and photo evidence of this shit. i dont think we got the guy and his mask but we definitely recorded this guy following us over various parts of the drive. I just want to know if anyone has ever had a similar experience and can shed light on this shit. Why would someone follow us for so long into another state like that with a jason mask? even if it was a prank i feel like that takes an unnecessary amount of dedication for one guy alone in his car. please if anyone can shed any light i would appreciate it.

(Also i havent slept yet I got home not too long ago and have been talking to my mom and sister about this)

I only remember bits and pieces but my mom and husband filled me in. This happened in 2018. My parents, my husband, and I were driving to Indianapolis to see some family. I’d found out about my husband’s four emotional affair with his unstable ex and I was really struggling and i felt extremely alone. His ex had tried to break us up and I was afraid she’d succeed because of how manipulative she is.

I lied and told my husband I was having a cigarette while actually i went to the bar. I ordered two double vodkas with a splash of orange juice. I was really connecting to the bartender when she said they were closing. She gave me another bar that was close by. I was already feeling relaxed when I got to TGIfridays. I ordered two more double vodka and I was wasted. So I went outside to. Have a cigarette to wake me up.

I was leaning against a light pole in the parking lot. Time passed and I suddenly realized I was being walked and pushed into a car. Suddenly I heard my mom yelling to stop that I was her daughter. This creepy man was challenging her on whether we were related. It was insane and I don’t remember much but I do remember his trying to steal me.

This guy would not give up and was basically holding me hostage. That’s when my mom said she’d call the police. He drove away so fast his passenger driver was open.

My mother and husband told me later that they tracked my phone and came to where it said I was. I had my phone in my purse so idk if the guy got rid of it or what but it’s fucking scary. They found my phone discarded. Then my mom called 911 because I was extremely drunk and am not making sense. I woke up in the hospital. I was tied down because apparently for my safety. When I actually woke up I had huge bruises on my arm from the guy trying to get me in his car and also an incredibly huge bruise on my chest. I didn’t know what happened but felt guilty and never really understood what happened. Update- my husband and i worked it out and we’re good now.

This started when I was at my childhood friend’s apartment for what was supposed to be a fun little movie night.

We hadn't hung out in a while and we were catching up. Her place was cozy, a little disorganized, and full of girly decor. We were in our comfiest sweatpants about to watch princess movies. Her apartment isn’t the most tidy. Things are a bit scattered around, but it’s clean and so authentic, which always made me feel at home. We decided on ordering pizza for dinner.

She mentioned that Sherwood, someone I hadn’t met yet, would bring the pizza over. At first, I was not happy to hear that. I thought that meant she had invited other friends (a boy) over to join us, which wasn’t what I had in mind. But I was in for a surprise.

Sherwood turned out to just be our delivery guy for the night. He wasn't joining us. When he got to the apartment, there was this awkward air about him. He was obviously nervous, fumbling a bit with the pizza boxes, and not quite making eye contact. My friend introduced us quickly, and it was clear from her overly thankful demeanor that Sherwood did a lot more for her than just fetch dinner.

After handing us the pizza, there was this brief moment of forced small talk. My friend was super nice to him despite his awkwardness; he wasn’t the best conversationalist and seemed really out of place. Then Sherwood asked for my number. I was in a tough spot because our mutual friend was sitting right there, so I just gave it to him. Yeah, we chatted for maybe five minutes before my friend gave him a cue to leave with something like, “thanks so much for dropping this off.” He seemed to get the hint. We both gave him a hug before my friend said something like "drive safe," giving him another kind of cue to leave.

When I asked my friend what that was all about, she basically explained that Sherwood was her unpaid personal assistant. He did her grocery shopping, he dropped off pizza, and he did all this other stuff. I think Sherwood was just a really lonely guy desperate for interaction, especially female interaction. My friend and I were both young and immature back then, we were about 23, but I think we both knew something was seriously wrong with Sherwood. It was a little hard to articulate because we couldn't point out exactly what his problem was.

Sherwood started a group chat with my friend and me. He just sent a meme or two every week. It felt like he was trying to stay relevant without being intrusive. Maybe he was used to being sidelined or even blocked by other girls in the past. It felt like he was trying to make me remember him but also carefully trying not to give me a reason to block him too. I can't speak on his behalf. That’s just what it felt like.

Sherwood also offered help with errands. The first time, I said "thanks for asking but no." He asked every weekend after that. One day, I made the mistake of accepting his help. I knew better.

I had recently found a great deal for a new washing machine on Craigslist but I had no idea how to pick it up and install it. When I mentioned it in the chat, Sherwood excitedly volunteered to take care of the whole thing. He handled the whole pickup and installation like a total champ, which saved me so much hassle.

I tried to pay him for his efforts because I wanted to show appreciation. But he wouldn’t accept any money. I insisted. Eventually, he suggested that I could repay him by joining him for a hike—like what? I was uneasy about this—it felt a bit too personal and almost like it could be mistaken for a date. But Sherwood framed it as nothing more than a friendly outing, like a transaction to balance out the favor. I agreed to the hike. I rationalized it by telling myself it was fair trade for installing the washing machine and that it was genuinely a form of payment—especially since I didn't think he had too many friends. This hike felt like maybe a way for him to have some companionship. I thought it might be nice helping him. Part of me was still uneasy about spending time with him in such an isolated setting.

The day of the hike, Sherwood picked this trail that was nearby. I had been there before. It's gorgeous. As we walked along together, he chatted about ordinary things like work, the weather, and his hobbies. Everything seemed normal until he suggested we go off the main path to see something "special" he wanted to share—like what could that even mean?

We reached this secluded spot and there—oh my gosh—was a dead body. My heart pounded so violently as Sherwood stood there, so eerily calm and nonchalant. The casualness in his demeanor made me feel even more uneasy. It felt like he wasn’t just showing me a dead body but also revealing this darker side of himself. It smelled bad, but not like in the movies. I didn't know how long it had been there. I am not a biologist, but my guess is that it had smelled a lot worse before, but now it had gone down.

At that moment, I mumbled some excuse about needing to get back quickly and started walking briskly towards the main path. I was urging Sherwood to follow me. I thought maybe this was some twisted mind game, like a way to intimidate me or show that he wasn’t just some "harmless little boy." Maybe he was trying to send a message that said "you should know I'm familiar with things like this." Oh there's another possibility. Maybe he just wanted me to think about him more. Sometimes when I talk to people, I feel like they only notice me for the time that we're together, and then they won't think of me again until the next time we meet. It's possible Sherwood felt that way with me, and maybe he thought showing me a dead body would make him less forgettable. I have no idea.

But on the surface, he seemed oblivious to how inappropriate this was. As we walked back together, I was in full fight-or-flight mode—instinctively looking around to see if there were other hikers or rangers—anyone who could make me feel like I wasn't alone. The moment I spotted someone else on the trail—I called out! Not to expose Sherwood but just asking for directions back to the parking area. I wanted to make sure Sherwood and I wouldn’t be left alone together. I asked this gentleman to walk us back to the parking lot. I wasn't going to take no for an answer. I kept pretending like I was confused about his directions and eventually he agreed to just walk us there.

Getting help from that guy was my way of re-anchoring myself to safety and normality while I was still under the shock of what Sherwood had shown me. We got to the parking area. There, I called my friend and told her I was with Sherwood. I suggested he could drop me off with her and that we'd be there in 20 minutes. Sherwood agreed. That was my way of making sure that if anything happened, it was on the record that Sherwood was the last person to have been with me. Also, I immediately texted my friend what had happened to get that on the record too.

When I got to her apartment, we said thanks to Sherwood and kindly told him to go away. I had already told her through text but then I started going into all the detail. The fact that the body had insects, the fact that the face was decomposing but still recognizable, etc. Her reaction was pure horror—not just about the dead body but also how nonchalantly Sherwood had treated the whole situation! She confessed she always sensed something was off about him even though she’d never imagined anything this disturbing!

We both agreed that we needed to remove Sherwood from our lives. She admitted she felt stuck and she had become too reliant on Sherwood to just fire him cold turkey.

We planned out how we would do it. It was this gradual phasing out plan. We would limit our interactions to times when others were present. We would slowly reduce our responses to his texts. I would never ask for his help again, and my friend would ask for less and less help.

Sherwood kept texting during weekends offering to run errands or asking if we needed anything—to which my friend would reply “I'm trying to work on being more independent but you've really been such a help.”

Eventually—as my friend started dating someone new—she introduced Sherwood to her boyfriend. Sherwood never contacted her after that.

I had called the cops the same night of the incident, but it was a while before we heard more news about it. At least a full month later, a news report confirmed discovering a dead body in that area where Sherwood had taken me hiking. They made an arrest, not of Sherwood, but of this other guy that Sherwood followed on Instagram. I have no idea if Sherwood was connected to the murder.

Reflecting on everything, I think there's one clear moral of the story. Trust your instincts.

I was 16 and I had met this kid down the street from my house.
He said he saw me around and we should hang out.
I figured why not.
So I gave him my number and told him to hit me up.
The next week comes around and I get a text from him asking if I wanted to play Basketball. Of course I did.
He asked if I smoked (Weed) I did, and asked me to bring some. Which isn't out of the ordinary for teenagers.
I brought a couple friends, since we were going to play sports.
To be honest I was really f*cking stoned by the time I got there.
It was a little out of our neighborhood, but it wasn't a bad hood, so I wasn't bothered.
I was an idiot.

It was a gang. Who ambushed us as soon as we got outta the car.
They violently beat me and my 2 friends, and I got it the worst.
There were 3 of them on each of us.
They stabbed my best friend (not very bad)
They choked me unconscious, held a gun to my head and pistolwhipped me.
They ran my pockets and got my cell phone and wallet.
I swear at one point I actually died, because I literally shit myself when I went unconscious
I was DRENCHED in my own blood.
My nose was broken. both eyes swelled shut later.
They had to wake me up because I drove a stick shift and nobody could drive my car.
My attacker literally had to resuscitate me in order for me to leave.

I stopped at a gas station because I had shit in my pants and I couldn't see with blood in my eyes.
As soon as I got in, the clerks jaw dropped... "Where's the bathroom?" I said. He pointed the way.
I cleaned up the best I could, then drove home.

I got home called the cops and showered.
The cops obviously thought it was my fault for being an idiot.
Nonetheless, an undercover showed up and knew exactly who robbed me because we lived on the same street 2 blocks apart.
Turns out they had turned him informant and he reneged on the deal and robbed the buyers in the controlled buy.
I told them how violent they were and swore they would kill someone.
I did a photo line up but they all looked the same to me. So no case.

2 months later, the cops knock on the door.
My mom was super pro-cop and told them I was asleep in my room and turned them loose on me.
They woke me up and held up a photo and said,
"Who's this?"
ME: "How would I know? I've never seen that person before."
"You called this person from your cell phone."
Me: "The cell phone that I reported stolen in a violent robbery to the police?"
They looked stunned (and STUPID)
Me: "They beat me almost to death, you should probably go read that police report."
They apologized and explained that my cell phone had been used to set up a robbery and the person in the photo had been shot to death.
Me: "I told you guys they would kill the next guy."
They came in blazing glory and left in shame.

I have PTSD now and have kept tabs on my assailant for 17 years.
I have no ability to trust anybody, not even those closest to me.

Let's not meet again.

You hear stories about people unknowingly squatting in other peoples homes but never think it would actually happen to you. It happened to me.

About 10 years I (31F) was living alone in a 2 family house on the second floor with my then toddler. For the story to make sense, I need to try and explain the layout and the backstory.

My brother’s close friend at the time lived on the first floor and is the one who referred me to the landlord. We had private front entrances but a shared back entrance with a staircase that ran from the basement all the way to the second floor. I would frequently leave my back door unlocked because I had a habit of locking my keys in the house and my downstairs neighbor could let me in the backdoor.

The downstairs neighbor had a friend who was kind of down and out. He had a history of substance abuse but was supposedly clean at the time. He was a relatively nice guy and my neighbor had been letting him stay on his couch for a while. The neighbor had a 4 year old daughter and having someone constantly sleeping on the couch without any plans of finding a permanent living situation was becoming disruptive to their everyday lives.

Neighbor tells him he needs to go. It was summer time so the friend decides hes going to sleep on the couch on our covered porch. We tell him thats not acceptable and when we asked him to leave, we meant the property in general. It had also become abundantly clear that he was using again and his behavior had become somewhat erratic. He was also making a lot of unsolicited advances on me which had become increasingly uncomfortable. He wasnt happy but it wasnt our problem. He stopped coming around and we no longer saw him around town.

Fast forward a month or two and I noticed things going missing. Jewelry, small amounts of money left around the house, lighters. Inconsequential items I had written off as lost.

This house was old with paper thin walls. The back door in question was right next to the bathroom along one side of the shower. It also made a very distinct noise when opened.

One day my car was at the mechanic so it probably appeared that I wasnt home. Im showering and I swear I hear the back door open. I freeze, practically stop breathing but after a few minutes when nobody murdered me american psycho style, I wrote it off again. Im a notorious wimp and had a history since childhood of thinking every strange noise was a potential murderer.

This was a long time ago so I dont remember the exact length of time, possibly a few weeks. The basement was really big and shared and the landlord also stored stuff down there. It was very packed with some very dark corners. We rarely went down there. The landlord comes by one day and goes down to the basement. He hears a strange noise, grabs a baseball bat and find this man in our basement. The man pushed the landlord down, runs out of the house and down the street.

We call the police who fine him hiding in a trashcan around the corner (cant make this shit up. Upon further investigation, we find the basement window had been ever so slightly propped open. In a back corner behind some boxes was a nest of blankets filled with our missing items plus some drug paraphernalia. It reminded me of kreachers nest under the stairs at grimmauld place (if you know, you know).

He had also left his flip phone behind in the chaos where we found A LOT of pictures of me sleeping. This man had been high on crack, living in our basement and regularly entering my apartment both when I wasn’t home and when I was sleeping for months. While he seemed like a nice guy, he was regularly high on hard drugs and that changes people.

I still get chills knowing he could have done anything to me and my child and I would have never seen it coming. The worst part is that the charges somehow got dropped and they never even consulted us and they never gave us an option as the victims. This was not even close to his first criminal offence.

My state is notoriously soft on non-violent criminals, regardless of whether it was a victimless crime or not. My local police department is also notorious for making deals in exchange for information on even small time dealers. We didnt get any justice.

Luckily this didnt have much lasting effect on my mental health, just more of a wtf, cant believe that really happened. It feels like a fever dream.

Jason, lets not meet.

I'll keep this short. I’m not sure if this post really belongs here; if not, please feel free to take it down.

So, I'm currently focusing on taking care of myself (therapy, psychiatrist, etc.). Over the past few years—especially since I had a very toxic relationship—I began noticing certain behavioral patterns I've always had. These didn’t really bother me before, but they've started to affect my daily life.

Since I was young, I felt a bit invisible at school. I remember that even though I did well academically and had high grades, most teachers and students wouldn’t remember my name and would act surprised when the rankings came out. Many teachers would read my name among the top three and ask, “Who is this?”

One of the first things I remember doing, which seems strange looking back now, was becoming obsessed with this girl. She was a year ahead of me, Japanese, and seemed really shy. During lunch breaks, I would spend most of my time watching her, noticing who she hung out with, etc. Over time, my interest kept growing until one day, I used the lunch break to go into her classroom and look through her things, just to find her name. I managed to do it without anyone noticing.

I started following her on social media out of nowhere, and she didn’t even know we went to the same school. We talked for a while. I even told her I was in another class and that I was “interested” in her, but I never explained how I found her profile. I just said something like, “Oh, we have mutual friends” (I made sure to actually have mutual friends before sending her a friend request).

I remember one day, I decided, out of the blue, to tell her things about herself that I shouldn’t have known because we’d never talked about them: her address, old blogs she had, the church she attended. I started this as a way to mess with her a little, but I loved how she reacted, slightly frightened, so I kept going until she was actually a bit terrified. After that, it felt too strange to maintain any kind of friendship. (I had even followed her home once before, and she noticed.)

At the time, it didn’t seem like anything too problematic—just the kind of “weird stuff young people do.”

Fast forward to today. I'm older now; I have a job, live alone, and overall have a pretty stable life. But I still deal with mental health issues, which I didn’t understand the cause or condition of until recently. I've had a few relationships, most of which didn’t end well—some because of things I did, others because of things people did to me. I remember feeling a strong impulse for revenge against those who broke my heart, fantasizing about stalking them, making them feel afraid, etc.

I won’t go into detail about every relationship, but the person I ended up dating had serious mental health issues as well (borderline personality disorder, depression, and more). She was very wealthy, so our lives were very different. She was also younger. Every now and then, she would bring up the idea of opening our relationship or mention how she and her friends thought she should “enjoy life more” before settling down. We began a cycle of dating and breaking up. Everything started spiraling, and each time we got back together, the relationship felt more and more distorted.

Eventually, we both cheated on each other, and the relationship ended for good. But for some reason, my broken mind couldn’t let it go. I was so hurt by everything that had happened, and this time, it was much harder to resist those impulses toward violence, stalking, and instilling fear.

I seemed like a normal person at work, in the office, but in my mind, there was this voice that really wanted vengeance. At some point, it became unbearable. After work, I started hanging around places near her house—supermarkets, parks, any spot we’d gone together. I made sure she knew I was or had been there.

Doing this made me feel better, less anxious; my mind would feel at peace for a while. We never talked directly about it, nor did she confront me. Eventually, I managed to get over it and started controlling these impulses again until they disappeared.

When I began treatment and started talking about all this and other issues—like my lack of empathy, struggles with socialization, and mimicking emotions I didn’t really feel—I began to see just how messed up these behaviors were. Now, I’m in treatment, and I’m close to a diagnosis, though since it’s not 100% confirmed, I don’t think it’s helpful to share it here.

If you’re feeling things like this, seek help. I’m not the type of person who wants to give in to bad thoughts or impulses. I want to be a good person, despite everything. Apologies to anyone I may have hurt with my actions.

Thank you for reading.

Hi, it's me again, the only (tired ass) mod around here.

I don't know what's going on lately but I have had to remove more stories than usual for violating the fictional names rule. I don't want to remove stories but rule violations = auto removal because if you didn't read the rules then you probably didn't read the guidelines and that often means the story doesn't belong here. Even if I don't catch it, the post ends up receiving multiple reports from users, so you're annoyed your story gets removed, I'm annoyed, the users are annoyed, no one wins.

I have seen a lot of comments from users frustrated with the state of this sub lately, so I know it's not just me. I feel you guys and wish I could fix it, but I can only deal with the content we have. As a reminder: posts here must have been life threatening in some way, extremely unusual, or you found something extremely disturbing. Because of that, it's expected that this would be a slow subreddit. Please read this post for the type of stories that should be posted here with examples given.

If your story has been removed because of it being a wall of text or the fictional names rule, you can message modmail for re-approval.

THE RULES:

1. NO FICTION, NO PARANORMAL - self explanatory

2. NO PROMOTION - if I see any posts or comments asking for permission to narrate a story for your YouTube channel, the offending material will be removed and you get a temp ban. No exceptions. People do not post on this sub just to be content fodder for others. Do not provide permission in the body of your post, either, whether it's pre-emptively or edited in.

3. No stories focusing primarily on rape or sexual assault/harassment (including flashing, catcalling, or other lewed behavior) - however, I've noticed stories that even just mention it get reported. Please stop doing that. Stories mentioning assault or rape as a part of an experience is not grounds for removal. If a story would still fit in this subreddit without that element, especially if it's just a sentence or two saying "this happened" and giving a trigger warning, the story does not "focus" on rape or sexual assault.

4. No series - do not break up a story that has already concluded prior to you writing it (if you go over reddit's character limit, you can continue in the comments). If you write about an encounter and something else happens after that, an update post is fine.

5. No stories that happened to others - you must be able to recall a story from your own memory - no stories that happened to mom, dad, aunt, uncle etc. Stories that technically happened to you but you can't remember on your own (ex: you were a baby when it happened) are kind of a gray area*

6. No "missed close call" posts - if you worked with or knew someone who did horrible things but not to you personally, the post does not belong here.

7. FICTIONAL NAMES ARE REQUIRED - BUT DO NOT USE PHRASES LIKE "LET'S CALL THEM X" BECAUSE WE ALREADY KNOW THEYRE FICTIONAL BECAUSE OF THIS RULE AND REDDIT'S POLICY ON DOXXING. Additionally, don't use initials - it makes it harder to follow along in a story.

• speaking of doxxing - none of that. If it's not freely available information (as in anyone with enough info could Google it and find a news article), don't post it. Doxxing could get this subreddit banned.

8. No walls of text - use paragraph breaks by double pressing enter after each paragraph

9. Don't be an asshole - this is more for comments than anything, but don't be a jerk. We have a zero tolerance policy on victim blaming. Do not start or engage in slapfights. If someone is being a dick, report their comment and I'll take care of it.

10. Keep personal appearance or house/street layouts to a minimum - it is hard to visualize two paragraphs about the specific layout of a street or house. Additionally, in the past when I have seen personal appearance descriptions in stories they just contribute to harmful stereotypes about who gets creeped on or why. Being targeted by a predator is about vulnerability and the predator, not how attractive you are. I've been catcalled in sweatpants and zero makeup. It's not about how you look.

11. No stories focusing on road rage or being briefly followed on the road - This subreddit is for life threatening encounters (an argument can be made that being in a car at all is life threatening...but that doesn't mean it fits here.) If you have a road rage incident and get the shit beat out of you or a gun pulled on you, that fits for sure. But getting flipped off or followed on a highway because you flipped someone off but eventually they give up is unhinged as hell and frightening, but not on the same level as stories like "no good deed goes unpunished."

12. No stories taking place entirely online - stories must have some real life component to them to fulfill the "life threatening" part of the requirements for this subreddit. Stories taking place entirely online belong on r/onlinehorrorstories

*Given the lack of suitable stories lately and the fact this is a gray area, I'd like to hear from the community on whether to let stories like this through. They're not super common, but I have seen a few here and there. I'm also considering loosening up on the no family member's stories, as at least one of my favorite stories from this subreddit is from someone's uncle and I can think of another classic story that happened to the OP's stepmother. Maybe we could loosen it up to if it's not your story, it must be an encounter from someone related to you by blood or marriage? A different subreddit I mod has a rule like that and it works pretty well. Let me know what you think. No other rules are up for debate at this time.

Please continue to report stories that break the rules. If a post doesn't belong here, it may be suitable for r/creepyencounters, which was created to take the overflow from here for stories that aren't life threatening, but still creepy/disturbing in a milder way.

This is my first post on this subreddit, but I recently can't get this story out of my head and need to put it down so that I can move on and forget.

I met Leo (18m at the time) during my (17f at the time) junior year of High School. Leo was an immigrant from Guatamala and was new to my school. We had many classes together, but we both enjoyed choir a lot. One day, we were coming back from a choir trip. I mustered up the courage to sit with him on the bus and begin a conversation. He charmed me immediately, we talked for three hours and enjoyed the time so much. He gave me a cute origami boat with his number and snapchat on it and I had fallen hard.

We spent the next ten days messaging and snapping every single day. We sat next to each other in every class and started eating lunch in the library together. I began to notice a few red flags that I chose to ignore because I thought I was being crazy.

The first was that anytime I invited him to an activity or hangout outside of school he would blatantly refuse. There was never any excuse or reason, the answer was simply, "Nope." I invited him to several things, even some with my family, and he would never even consider it.

The next red flags started when he would ask me questions but never allow me to answer them. He'd ask a question and right as I'd begin to respond he would interrupt it with a much more personal question. Example, "What are you doing today?" "Oh I'm going to--" "How many boyfriends have you had?" It was really strange.

On day ten I was walking my dog and I got a strange message from him. "I had a dream and I want to tell you about it."

At first I was thrilled and was curious, but then when he started sending a bunch of messages through: I got really sick. The dreams he had were a bunch of very descriptive sexual fantasies about me. All of them were sickening and objectified my body in ways that no one would be comfortable. He started telling me the types of nude photos he wanted to take of me and the things he wanted me to be doing to myself in them. It wasn't sexy, it was scary.

Then he told me how he wanted to meet up in secret several times a week. That nobody would know. That's when I responded "No, please never talk to me again." I blocked him on everything.

I called my friend who had him on snapchat as well and she frantically told me that he was adding photos to his story. All of them were pornographic photos of girls that looked a lot like me. They had the same body shape, hair color, skin tone, etc. He did this for two months until he graduated and announced to the class that he would be moving to California. Throughout those two months he would constantly try to talk to me at school the way he first did when we were harmlessly flirting but I shut it down and told him to go away.

I thought I was in the clear. But that was not the case.

All summer I would get messages from random numbers, "You look pretty in that pink shirt." "What did you order? I ordered the burger." "It's a nice day for the fair right?" Anytime I went out with friends, he was there. I would never see him but he would message me something so that I would know he was there. All of the numbers were burner phones. At the same time he was posting photos on his Instagram of being in California. His new life there, and how he was getting a new job, house, etc. None of the pictures had his face in them though.

I deleted all of my socials. I changed my number. Eventually after I graduated my family moved to a new town and I followed. He clearly no longer knew where I was but I would still get messages, emails, fake profiles of him trying to stalk my friends and family. It continued for three more years until one day he just stopped. I've never heard from him again. Eventually I got my socials back but made everything private. I'm now married, and killing it at my job. But I will never forget this awful experience. Every few years it resurfaces and plays through my mind on repeat for months.

So, Leo, let's not meet!

This is my story about being stalked. Dealing with this has been difficult and throughout the ordeal I felt out of control, so I’m sharing this to gain control over my story. This story is long as it  spanned over two years, so I’ve split it into parts to make it easier to read through. 

Part 1.  

Several years ago I moved abroad to begin a two year study course. When I arrived at my apartment I met three of my roommates. Sam was funny and sarcastic, while Bella and Poppy were both nice, sorority-type girls. We decided to go out for dinner and I offered to invite our fourth roommate in room 1C, next to mine. 

Sam warned me not to invite her, saying she was ‘odd’. I was worried because I didn’t want to live with a bunch of caddy girls. How were they fighting in less than a day? I smiled and told Sam that she just made a bad first impression and I would invite her to get to know her better.

Sam grumbled as I left the kitchen, approaching the door next to mine. I knocked and the door opened. A short, petite girl with long brown hair and a child-like face stuck her head out. I introduced myself and invited her to dinner. The girl’s face lifted at my invitation as she nodded in agreement.  

Our excitement about the new school year kept us lively as we arrived at the restaurant. I decided to befriend the girl in room 1C, since we were sharing a bathroom. I learned that her name was Nellie, we were the same age, from the same state and in the same program. I ordered a Jack and Coke as Nellie leaned into me and asked if I actually drank alcohol. I nodded, thinking her question was odd, we were both in our twenties, of course I drink alcohol. 

Nellie focused her attention on me while we ate. As I got to know Nellie, I kind of felt bad for her. She was born in Sri Lanka, but immigrated as a kid and since she had an accent and lisp, I assumed she was bullied. Nellie was different from me. She was shy and claimed to not have hobbies, or friends, but I figured that, since we were in the same program, I could befriend her. I asked if she wanted to sit with me in class and she happily agreed. I felt content knowing that I was befriending her, like I was doing a good deed. 

Part 2.

My first two weeks abroad went smoothly. I got used to my surroundings, made friends, and got along with my roommates. Sam, Bella, Poppy and I would often cook and eat dinner together while chatting about our days. 

Nellie and I got along, but she was socially awkward. I made it my goal to befriend her, which was easy, because we sat together in lecture everyday. We even opened our bedroom doors in unison. I would open my door, then Nellie would open hers, and ask me where I was going. One night, I left my room to go grocery shopping when Nellie’s door opened and she asked to join me. I agreed and she hurriedly put on her sandals and neon pink coat. 

I walked through the aisle, Nellie silently followed closely behind me. Eventually, I found everything I needed, but Nellie said that she wasn’t buying anything. After I paid for everything we began to exit the store and the alarms went off. I stopped to show the security guard my receipt and he looked in my bags, confirming that I had not stolen anything. 

I didn’t think much of this incident, but when I stood at the front of the store with Nellie, for the fourth time, as my bags were searched by security, a thought crept into my mind. The alarms never rang when I was alone, or with friends, they only rang when I was with Nellie. I shook my head. Nellie couldn’t be stealing, I was with her the whole time. She was a perfectly nice, normal girl, and I was rude to think anything contrary. 

Part 3. 

The harmony in the apartment only lasted two weeks. One morning I shuffled into the bathroom and saw that the toilet was completely filled with two or three rolls of dry, unraveled toilet paper spilling onto the floor. However, what concerned me the most was the huge wad hair that sat directly on top of the toilet paper. I knew then that it was Nellie who had done this. She was the only other person with a bathroom key and her hair color was a match. 

I tried to think of any reason that Nellie would do this. Maybe she clogged the toilet, then stuffed it with toilet paper to hide her business, but that didn’t explain the wad of hair. I couldn’t harp on the issue though. So, I made a maintenance request to have someone unclog the toilet and when I came home from class, the toilet was unclogged. 

I studied for two hours before going back to the bathroom. I was annoyed when I found the toilet clogged again, toilet paper, hair and all. This obviously wasn’t a mistake anymore and now we were out of toilet paper. I knew I had to say something, but I didn’t want to directly confront Nellie about this awkward topic. So, I sent a passive, non aggressive text.

“Hey if something goes wrong with the toilet can you make a maintenance request right away please?” I sent the message, careful not to make it accusatory. I didn’t want there to be tension with Nellie, especially since she still sat with me in class. 

Nellie never acknowledged the situation. She still opened her door with mine, hung out with me and sat with me in class. For the next two months I just dealt with the constant toilet paper and torn out hair. I tried sending more texts, but it didn’t help. Nellie would clog the toilet, I’d make a maintenance request, a staff member would clean Nellie’s mess, and then she would do it again. Eventually, after twelve clogged toilets, I was so annoyed that I decided to confront Nellie. 

“Nellie I know you’re clogging the toilet and you need to stop. If you do it again I’m going to report you.” I pressed send as I walked to class. 

I decided that I wouldn’t sit with Nellie anymore. I had different friends to sit with, who didn’t clog my toilet. As I sat down with Reagan and Charlotte, I felt bad seeing Nellie sit alone across the lecture hall. I promised myself that I’d still be friends with her and that everything would be fine.

Part 4. 

I was happy that the holiday break was soon and that Nellie never addressed me not sitting with her. My message had worked. Nellie stopped clogging the toilet and we were still friends. But, I came home one day in early December and my nose scrunched in disgust. There was a sickly sweet, rotten-yogurt-like smell coming from Nellie’s room. I didn’t want to confront Nellie so soon after messaging her about the toilet. So, for two weeks I avoided the problem.

I didn’t address the issue until two weeks later when all of our food started to rot almost immediately after buying it. Bella, Sam and Poppy were complaining about how maintenance hadn’t found the source of what was causing our food to rot, when I brought up the horrible smell and an accompanying fly infestation.

The girls went to go smell the hallway outside of Nellie’s room and returned a minute later coughing and gagging. We posited about what may be causing the smell, when Sam brought up seeing Nellie at 2 a.m skipping through the woods. Sam was heading back from the club and Nellie was skipping around like a ‘possessed doll’, according to Sam. 

As we spoke, Nellie entered the kitchen and everyone fell quiet. Sam bluntly asked Nellie what the smell in her room was and Nellie just silently shrugged her shoulders. Annoyed by this, Sam stood up and grabbed Nellie’s arm guiding her into the hallway as the rest of us followed, covering our noses with our sleeves. 

Nellie claimed not to smell anything, but her eyes were darting rapidly between the three of us. Sam made a sarcastic comment toward Nellie as we returned to the kitchen without Nellie. Sam was a bit harsh and part of me felt bad for Nellie. At least Christmas would be relaxing.

I spent two weeks at a friend’s house with her family for Christmas. They were all welcoming, so I didn’t miss home too much. My friend knew about Nellie, so she bought me scented candles for Christmas. When I returned to the apartment I felt rested and equipped to face the new year. 

Part 5.

My January exams were online and pretty easy. So, I was surprised when Nellie texted me asking if I would cheat with her on the final exam. I politely declined and she asked if I would go to lunch the next day. I had no plans, so I accepted her invitation. I spent a lot of time with her, but she never actually spoke much. So, despite everything, I wanted to get to know her better.

Once we were at the restaurant, I racked my brain for things I could talk with Nellie about. Attempting to break the awkward silence, I asked her what her favorite show was. Nellie told me that she loves to watch Sofia the First. I was confused. Sofia the First is a Disney toddlers show that came out when we were teens.  Why was she watching a show for toddlers in her twenties? 

I didn’t know how to expand on what she said, so I changed the topic and asked what her favorite hobby was. 

Nellie giggled and said, “I do this a lot actually. I listen to you through the walls. They’re so thin, I barely put my ear against it. I hear you talk to your parents everyday.” I tried not to look horrified as I sat there confused and a little scared. 

Nellie started laughing, “You’re like a mother, but I’m an aunt and we’re sisters together.” I smiled awkwardly and nodded. I had no clue how to respond.

In a desperate attempt to change topics I asked her about her childhood in Sri Lanka. Nellie slammed her fists on the table, sending my rice flying off the plate. Nellie yelled that she was not from Sri Lanka and I apologized, even though she definitely told me she was from Sri Lanka. 

Nellie began to laugh again. “I have plans for us tonight. We’ll go to the graveyard and walk around. You’ll be scared, but I’ll have fun with you.” Nellie's eyes were opened incredibly wide and her mouth seemed to open more than usual. 

She was scaring me and I didn’t want to be rude, so I said I’d invite our other roommates too. At that, Nellie let go of her fork and quickly moved her hand on to mine. She insisted that we had to go alone. I pulled my hand back, attempting to hide my grimace and stuttered out a disingenuous ‘maybe’. Nellie leaned back slowly rolling her head from one side to the other and mumbled about how fun ‘it’ will be. 

The rest of our lunch was silent. When we got back to the apartment I said goodbye to her and went into my room. I didn’t call my parents that night. I went to bed early, hoping to quell my anxiety and get some much needed rest. 

Part 6. 

The next day I did laundry, went shopping and by 2 p.m I was meal prepping for the week. I jumped when Nellie asked me to go to the movies with her. I hadn’t heard her come into the kitchen, but there she stood, her head down and eyes turned up staring at me. I declined her request, but she repeated her question. I politely declined once again, trying to offset her bizarre vibe. Nellie didn’t respond and retreated back to her room, then left for the movies. 

An hour later I went to the bathroom and when I opened the door, I gagged immediately. The smell was bad, but the sight was worse. The walls, floors, door, sink and toilet were covered in smeared poop and blood. I could see distinct hand prints. I closed the door, trying not to puke. I was shocked that Nellie had done this, but my shock turned into anger as I messaged Nellie.

“What you did is weird and disgusting. You need to clean it. I’m going to report you.” I pressed send. I no longer cared about being friends with Nellie.

I felt gross so I went to our shower room next to the bathroom, but Nellie ruined that too. There was toilet paper shoved in the shower drain and wads of toilet paper crusted onto the walls. I was livid at this point, but I had to wait until Monday to report her. So, I laid down to take a nap. 

Two hours later I was awoken by Nellie slamming the front door. I heard her footsteps until her feet were visible through the crack under my door. I expected her to knock, but she didn’t. Instead, Nellie began to continuously chirp like a bird. She briefly paused then began twisting my door knob in unison with her chirps. I stood there unnerved as Nellie did this for five minutes. 

Then Nellie began to rapidly knock on my door and call my phone. Seven times she called, hung up, then called again, while still rapidly knocking. Nellie then began to ram her body into my door, over and over again. The shock of it made me stumble back onto my bed. Then, as suddenly as it started, Nellie stopped, her feet still visible under my door. My phone buzzed and I slowly unlocked it, staring down in horror at Nellie’s text. 

“The cockroach screamed. Why do this to me? Because you couldn’t be positive in a negative situation, the doctor said. The doctor pulls off the cockroach legs and it cries. The doctor has no choice, the cockroach must be killed and its family taken away. You are the funny cockroach.” 

I was terrified as Nellie began to knock and chirp. I was scared to call the cops because I was on a visa and if they didn’t believe me, I could be deported for making a false report. I texted Poppy and Bella, who had heard everything. 

Nellie stood there for an hour straight, occasionally pushing her fingers through the crack under my door. When Bella’s boyfriend arrived, his presence scared Nellie away. We met up and talked about what had happened before going to bed. That night I barely slept, I was too scared.

Part 7. One too Many Followers

I awoke the next day anxious about the previous nights’ events. I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t that bad. However, as I peeked into the bathroom, its condition suggested otherwise.

Charlotte and Reagan were skipping class, so I sat alone. I saw Nellie enter the room, bypass her regular seat, weave through the aisles and inspect each row as she passed. I sank in my chair as she got closer, horrified by the realization that she was searching for me. With the last night's memories fresh in my mind, I froze in fear when Nellie found me and robotically bent down to meet my eye line as she sat next to me with her mouth twisted up in a sinister smile. 

I did nothing as she sat next to me, too scared to move and worried that any tiny shift may cause her to attack. When the professor dismissed us I shot up, frantically packing my things. Nellie asked where I was going and I lied to her, saying I was going to the cafe. I didn't want her to know where I was. So, I went home for lunch and as I stood in the kitchen, the door opened.

“You weren’t at the cafe.” Nellie’s eyes darted up to me, she was looking at a knife on the table. 

I apologized and told Nellie my plans had changed. My heart raced as I asked her if she liked the lecture. Nellie didn’t respond. She just stared with her head tilted and mouth agape. I asked again, but she still didn’t answer. I faced her, afraid she’d use the knife on me. She glared so intently that her veins were protruding. She stood there for ten minutes, before leaving.

Later on I walked to the library and froze as I saw Nellie’s pink jacket behind me. I turned to see Nellie staring at me with vacant eyes. She followed me into the library, up to the third floor and then sat directly behind me. With her threat still fresh in my mind I moved to a different spot, but Nellie followed me. I tried again, but she still followed. I was scared to be isolated in a library with her, so I decided to leave. I quickly weaved through the bookshelves, desperately trying to reach the lobby, but Nellie matched my pace. I was nearing a heart attack when I ran into my guardian angel, Sam. 

“Nellie’s following me!” I blurted out. Sam looked at Nellie who had stopped five feet behind me. Sam nonchalantly told Nellie to fuck off. I was surprised when Nellie did just that. After Sam and I spoke for a bit my phone buzzed. It was Nellie, inviting me to the graveyard that night. Sam told me that I’d be smart to move out and she was right. I needed to report Nellie and move out. It wasn’t safe for me to live in that apartment anymore. I needed to get away. 

Part 8. Reagan’s Refuge 

I went to Reagan’s apartment, as she was the closest person I had to family while I was abroad. She gave me refuge while listening to me retell the last 48 miserable hours of my life. She reassured me that I could stay with her and as I held back tears, my phone buzzed. Sam texted  that she needed help and to go to the apartment asap. I was hesitant to go back in there, but I couldn’t just abandon Sam. So, I grabbed my stuff and told Reagan I’d be back soon. 

I walked to my apartment and stared up at it, feeling a lot like the priest in the Exorcist movie. When I got to my door I was immediately greeted by my three roommates' distraught faces. I followed them into the apartment and my eyes grew wide as Sam pushed open the kitchen door to reveal a truly demonic sight. 

Huge amounts of congealed red and orange liquid pooled across the floor leading beneath our table where a small bird laid dead with its wings outstretched and its head missing. I felt sick. The windows don’t open, so it didn’t get in here by itself. Nellie had either found this bird and brought it in the kitchen, or she killed and decapitated a living bird, and then put it in the kitchen. I didn’t like either of those options. I assured my roommates that I would report Nellie that night, and that’s exactly what I did.

I spoke to the School Safety Board and things moved fast. I discovered that Nellie had lied to us about her name and age. Officials in hazmat suits came to clean the kitchen and Nellie’s room. The Board had me send them photos of myself daily in case Nellie killed me and they had to identify me. I quickly moved out and since Nellie avoided the other girls, they decided to stay. I declined to submit Nellie for expulsion because I felt bad for her and thought that moving would stop her obsession with me. I was incredibly misguided. 

Part 9. 

I was happy that my new roommates were normal and no Nellie incidents had happened for two weeks. I did have a large uptick in random daily Facebook and Instagram follower requests from blank profile users. I knew who was behind this, but I was avoiding any Nellie related thoughts. I was having night terrors and the more I thought about her, the worse they got. 

I blocked another user as I sat down with Reagan and Charlotte in an almost empty lecture hall. Charlotte nudged me as Nellie entered the room, bypassing her usual seat. I felt myself freeze up as she entered our row and began walking toward me, staring at me with her dead eyes. 

“Don’t fucking sit next to me.” I said, shocked by my bravery. Nellie responded by sitting ten seats down from me, not breaking eye contact and I considered that a win. 

After class I went home and then walked to the store. I forgot to grab a cart, so I quickly turned around to fetch one and ran into someone standing directly behind me. It was Nellie. 

Did she follow me from my apartment? Does she know where I live? My heart stopped as I backed into another aisle and Nellie followed. I walked to another aisle, but Nellie followed me, matching my pace until I went to another aisle and she began to run. I ran away terrified and Nellie only stopped when I got to the security desk. Security offered to call the police but I declined and gave them my email to send me the footage of Nellie chasing me. I had to report Nellie, but since I still had class that day, I decided to report her the next day.

Two hours later as I waited for Reagan to walk with me to class, I caught Nellie staring at me across the street. But she didn’t approach me and walked with a crowd toward campus. Minutes later Reagan found me and we headed to class together.

I walked beside Reagan, past the buildings and alleyways, until a rock caught in my shoe and I bent down to fix it. Reagan switched to the right side of me to look at a billboard and when I removed the rock we began walking again. 

I turned my head to speak, when Nellie jumped out of an alleyway and onto Reagan. Her hands were outstretched and clasped around Reagan’s neck. Words can’t explain how terrified I was. Nellie let go immediately and Reagan grabbed my arm, walking forward. Nellie began walking shoulder to shoulder with me, her head turned sideways at an unnatural angle. The look in her eyes was not human. Reagan told me to run and we bolted across the street. Nellie paused, but walked away, traffic stopping her from crossing. 

We stopped and Reagan leaned against the fence as I bent over and covered my mouth trying not to vomit. After a while we continued our walk to class in silence. We made it to the lobby and headed for the staircase, but Nellie stood at the bottom of it. 

“I won’t let her walk behind me.” I said, voice shaking. Reagan nodded and we followed a large crowd after Nellie walked upstairs, only to find her holding the door open for everyone. Nellie stared at me through the crowd until everyone but Reagan and I had passed through. 

“It’s okay, you can go first.” Reagan said while smiling at Nellie. I was shocked at how composed she was and even more shocked that Nellie listened. When we sat down in class Nellie tried to sit behind me, but someone was saving the seat for his friend. So, Nellie left. 

I didn’t pay any attention to that lecture. I sat there shocked and terrified, while Reagan hunched low in her seat, rubbing her neck. I felt horrible for bringing Reagan into this Nellie crap. I knew then, that Nellie needed to be expelled no matter what.

Part 10.

The next day I reported Nellie to the Student Safety Board and they raised the issue to the Disciplinary Board. I submitted a lengthy report detailing everything Nellie had done. I included Reagan, Bella, Poppy and Sam as witnesses and gave photographic evidence of the threats, the calls, the smeared poop and blood, clogged showers and toilets and the stalking. 

The next week I met with the Disciplinary Board to go over their conclusions. They informed me that they had reviewed my report, met with Nellie to give her a copy of my report, discussed my accusations and had come to a conclusion. They acknowledged that everything I reported was factual, but they didn’t think Nellie had any malicious intent. So, they would grant a no contact order, but Nellie wouldn’t be expelled.

I was completely perplexed by their conclusion and asked them what Nellie had said about all of this, but they refused to tell me anything. I was at a loss for words. I couldn’t believe Nellie was given my full report, knew everything that I said and knew the witnesses names. The school put us all in danger. Yet, they wouldn’t allow me to know if Nellie had even denied her actions. 

I was devastated. I felt my mind go numb. I knew at that moment that they didn’t care, they were going to prioritize a predator. So, with no other options I agreed to the no contact order.

The worker tried to get me to sign a non-disclosure agreement so that I wouldn’t speak about what Nellie did to me, or how the school dealt with my case, but I refused to sign it. The next day I received an email confirmation that Nellie had agreed to the no contact order, but I knew that meant nothing. Nellie wouldn’t get help and she would never stop stalking me. 

Part 11.

My sophomore year was plagued by a relentless pattern of Nellie stalking me from place to place, sitting next to me in class, standing next to me in hallways and staring at me daily. Her actions were so unnerving and obvious that multiple strangers warned me about her. I reported these incidents every time they occurred and the school always responded by stating they would remind Nellie of the no contact order. They never took any further steps to help me. 

In sophomore year Nellie found other roommates and in them, new victims. She was evicted from an off campus apartment and her new roommates, who once sat with her, began to sit far away from Nellie. They looked terrified. They looked like me. 

Having incidents happen weekly, and having to see Nellie daily made it impossible for me to move on. I was always in flight or freeze mode, terrified by what Nellie had done and still might do to me. I became a sunken in, miserable and defeated version of myself.

I wanted revenge. A natural result of the boiling rage I felt, now at a constant simmer after Nellie was coddled by a university that failed to shell out even a minor consequence for the terror that she imposed on me. I wanted Nellie to suffer in the exact same way she made me suffer. 

I know if I had just grown a pair at any point in those early months, I likely could’ve saved myself and others from suffering. Nellie was likely stalking me from the moment I met her, I just hadn’t realized it and it weighs heavily on me to know that I played a large part in my own suffering

No matter what I write, I can’t begin to recreate the evil that radiated off of Nellie. I have daily night terrors. I don’t go into new situations, I don’t speak to new people and I don’t make friends. I’m not nice to strangers because I don’t want to invite something like this into my life again.

Revenge came on graduation day, when Nellie’s name didn’t appear in the book of graduates. She had failed second year. But, despite everything, I couldn’t help but think that I was a bad person for being content with Nellie failing. Maybe I was just happy that I could finally move on.

It was autumn in 2015, I was 23 years old (I am now 31). During that time I lived in Lancaster as I was studying at Lancaster University; for those who may not be familiar, Lancaster is a small and rather quaint town in the north of England. As a student, you could either live at the university campus or in private accommodation in the town — I had decided to live in a newly built, renovated apartment in a nice side of town (and yes it was expensive!)

I had already been studying for two years and had reached my third year. By this time, I had grown accustomed to the layout of the town and felt comfortable and safe living there semi-independently (with two other friends who were also studying at the university). Since my first year, I had decided to improve my fitness by taking nightly runs around either the campus or the town. As we were living in the town centre by my third year, I would run either with my housemate or alone.

The important thing to note about Lancaster (and this will be important later) is that it has quite a large residential area that is hilly and far removed from the bustling centre, which at that time was a hub for the students or the local northern folk (probably drinking in pubs or eating pies). Occasionally I would run with my housemate, however, I preferred to run alone and listen to some kind of heavy metal — a big fan of Deftones during that period.

On this particular day — as I said, a chilly, autumnal evening — I had decided to run alone. It was about 8pm and I had my earphones in; I had started to run up to the more isolated district that led up to a very pretty residential area and a large green called Williamson Park (it had a butterfly museum at the top of a hill). Next to the park was a very large graveyard, the kind that is miles wide and had different areas — large yew trees, crumbling graves, a crypt in the centre overrun with leaves and ivy. What was especially creepy about this particular cemetery was that it had the ruin of an old mental asylum or hospital at the other side — you could actually sneak in if you walked across the width of the cemetery and crawled through a small hole in the fence that led to the asylum grounds. This was not advised, though, as guard dogs roamed the derelict building. It was not a place you wanted to be during the night!

So, I had made my way past Williamson Park and up to the entrance of the graveyard. Immediately, my eye was drawn to something small standing at the imposing gates of the graveyard (they were kind of tall, black iron gates that were at the bottom of a little winding path). I felt a little apprehensive but it wasn’t unusual to see people walking their dogs etc out of the graveyard, so I started to slow my pace to a walk in the direction of the “shape”.

As I drew nearer, I realised that the “shape” was a child around 9-10 years old, and they were running towards me frantically. They looked panicked and scared, I think they were crying. I vividly remember that the girl was not wearing a coat — only a thin dress that would not be suitable for the harsh Lancastrian autumn.

She asked me if I could help her — she was desperate and seemed to be frightened of something; she kept looking back into the graveyard which at this point was totally pitch black beyond the gates. I mean, there was absolutely no light beyond the path. As the graveyard was quite large, it was chilling to see the depth of the blackness and the vulnerable child standing at the mouth of the gate, helpless.

I don’t recall what the girl said exactly, but I then offered to call the local police. I had typed 999 into my phone and had it on loudspeaker. The girl immediately changed — she was not happy about the fact I was calling the police, that was clear. She stopped crying and she seemed angry, almost demanding, and insisted that she did not need the police to help.

I reassured her that it was best to inform the police, even offered to walk her to the station which was about 20 minutes back down the hill.

This is where the story gets weird and a little terrifying…

The girl turned and ran back into the graveyard. She ran directly through the gates into the eerie blackness — she didn’t turn back, just ran as quickly as possible until she had completely disappeared. It was then totally silent.

I was spooked beyond belief — now standing in a darkened street, completely alone. I had so many questions: who was the girl? Why was she alone? Why was she scared of the police? Why wasn’t she frightened of the dark? Who might she be running to, or from?

I turned and ran all the way back down the hill, not stopping until I had reached a well-lit, built up area. Safe to say, I didn’t run on my own at night again.

Anyway, it’s a mystery that has plagued me ever since. Little girl in the graveyard, let’s definitely not meet again!

This took place about ten years ago.

I had recently moved into a lovely house owned by a very nice married couple who were rarely home. The house was large and they were renting out two of the rooms, for financial purposes and also just to have people there to look after the home since they were rarely there.

Pretty quickly after I moved in, they found another occupant: Hannah (not her real name). Now, this is one of those "always trust your instincts" lessons. I could tell that something was very "off" with Hannah from, quite literally, the moment I met her. I can't describe what caused me to have that feeling, because she really came across as normal, but it's something I just felt right away.

However, at that particular time in my life, I was a really wild and self-destructive person. So, it would only be appropriate that Hannah and I became really fast friends. We were very quickly partying together all the time.

As soon as Hannah began drinking, she turned into a very angry person (not meaning to come across as judgemental, because I was no angelic drunk) but her behavior was completely over the top.

She had recently come out of a relationship, and had a lot of anger towards her ex. One night in particular, (I don't even know if we'd been drinking) she asked me to go somewhere with her. I said sure, where? To visit a friend of hers.

We went to an apartment complex I wasn't familiar with, I asked her who we were going to visit and she didn't answer. She parked, and walked towards a window and began to look inside. She didn't knock on the window, she just stood there. She was watching the people in the apartment. It was her ex and his new girlfriend (I don't even remember how I realized that's who it was).

I freaked out and begged her to leave, but before we could leave it was too late, he saw us and demanded we leave or he'd call the police. We left.

Dumb me at the time decided that wasn't enough to end the friendship (I was 22, lesson learned).

Hannah was always kind of evasive on how she made money, but I learned she was making money from men she met on the Internet. I'm not judgemental of that, however she'd often make comments on how I could easily make money from the same websites she used. I told her it wasn't my thing.

One night she asked me to go with her to the bar for a drink. A bar we didn't usually go to. I said sure (I know, I know). She quickly finds a table where an older -extremely unattractive gentleman was seated. I quickly realized what happened; she'd recruited me for a date. I demanded me leave.

There were other, way crazier (than you could imagine) things that also happened but that would be too identifying. However, we both moved out and it became clear I needed to cut off all contact. Her behavior became dangerous.

Fast forward to now. She's reached out to me several times on social media. Begging me to come back into her life, saying she has no other friends. She's pretended to be other people, them begging me to come back into "Hannah's life" (even though I know it's Hannah herself talking). I've told her to stop contacting me, that I would reach out to law enforcement, to no avail. I'm a fixation for her. She even, at one point, reached out to my parents making up lies about me.

The contact ceased for a few years until a few weeks ago. I get a message request on Facebook Messenger. Not knowing who it was first (Hannah now goes by another name), I accepted the request and quickly received a long message.

It was Hannah, having sent a bizarre message relaying an incident to me that never happened. An incident where I was in distress and she was a grandiose hero. It simply never happened. I didn't respond and blocked her immediately.

I then began to do a little digging (which I should have done years ago) and realized everything was a lie. Everything she'd relayed to me, from where she was initially from to where she graduated from was a lie. Even her damn real name was a lie. That's not all.

That same day, I received a message from a guy she used to date when we lived together. Asking, "have you talked to Hannah?", I didn't want to bring up the message she sent me so I said "no, not in years".

He responded, saying she had recently sent him a bizarre message. He (we'll call him Joe) told me the last time he spoke to her was 10 years ago, when she traveled to his home state and tried to find him so they could hang out. Joe said he purposely avoided her and they never met up.

The freaky part about this? I remember that trip. I remember her going, saying Joe had asked her to come see him and she couldn't wait. When she came back from the trip, she was so happy and said she was hesitant to actually meet up with Joe at first, but he begged her to come see him and they had a great time hanging out like "two old friends".

I was flabbergasted and freaked out to my core. I still am. Hannah was a good person, but struggoed with mental illness and I can't help but feel sympathy for her but also her behavior is frightening for me, especially since I seem to be a fixation. It now makes sense why she never seemed to have other friends.

I'm considering contacting law enforcement to get a VPO, but I don't know if this even warrants that. Still trying to figure it out. Let's not meet.

I wasn’t exactly the most popular kid in high school. I was just this average girl—not cool enough to hang with the popular crowd, but not quirky enough to get bullied either. Honestly, if you asked most of my classmates today, they probably wouldn’t even remember me.

I grew up in a big city. I won’t say where, but think of places like Detroit, Chicago, or Philadelphia. I grew up in a place like that. My neighborhood was this mix of faded brick buildings and concrete jungles. There was always noise—honking horns, sirens, and stuff like that. It had its own kind of charm, but sometimes it felt a little heavy. And yeah, there was definitely a fair amount of crime.

Like I said, I wasn’t super popular. My claim to fame was that my dad owned a junkyard with an iron shredder. It might sound a bit odd, but honestly? It was kind of fascinating! A few people wanted to come by just to watch that machine shred old washing machines and rusty bikes into tiny bits. The first time I saw it in action, I was about ten, and the noise was like thunder! I remember feeling scared watching how the metal twisted and crumpled—it was oddly beautiful in this destructive way.

All the girls in school were crushing on this guy named Marco, and of course, I was too. He was a basketball star who worked out all the time. Plus, he always seemed super smart—like he had stocks figured out or something! Everyone knew he had some family problems but he still radiated confidence.

One night during a football game, he came over to talk to me! My heart literally raced. I half expected someone to pinch me to wake me up from this dream. He didn’t say much though. He just said he wanted to talk to me and asked where he could find me at halftime. I said we could meet at the front entrance.

At halftime, we slipped away to his car. He said he wanted to go to McDonalds. That felt so random but I wasn’t going to complain. This was my first chance to hang out with Marco and it was starting to feel like a date.

While we were driving, he suddenly pulled over and asked if he could show me something. He took out a gun. My heart dropped into my stomach. I was not ready to see that. He said “I need you to get rid of this.” Everything around me went blurry.

When someone holds a gun in front of you, all rational thought vanishes. I was terrified. I didn’t want to be in that situation. I couldn’t really say no, because he was holding a gun. My mind raced with all the things that could go wrong. It felt like the weight of the world rested on my shoulders. I didn’t ask questions. I just nodded, hoping to make things better. He told me to text him later saying, “It was nice seeing you at the game today” after I got rid of it.

We went through the McDonalds drive thru but I didn’t have any appetite. That was seriously weird. I almost felt like I was being kidnapped. In a way, I kind of was. He didn’t force me to get in the car with him, but I couldn’t really tell him to let me go either. In a way, it felt like I was intimidated into being in his car. Anyways, he gave me the gun and dropped me off at my car in the school parking lot. We said goodbye from there.

I went home and grabbed the keys to the junkyard, praying my parents wouldn’t catch me. Thankfully they were upstairs. The keys were on the fridge. It felt like I was living in some sort of bad movie.

I drove to the junkyard, but then panic set in hard. What if opening the gate was too loud and someone heard me? What if an alarm went off? What if someone showed up while I was there? What if the gun got stuck in the shredder? I had never operated that thing alone. What if I accidentally hurt myself? What if I couldn't figure out how to operate the shredder in time? What if this whole plan backfired and made everything worse? I knew this wasn’t going to work out.

So instead, I went back to McDonald’s, ordered a large meal (because fries make everything better), and carefully slipped the gun into a bag with fries and a burger. I looked on Google Maps, found a park about thirty minutes away, and I drove there trying to stay calm.

When I got to the park, I felt strangely detached from everything around me. I tossed the McDonald’s bag into a trash can. Then I sat on a bench with my heart racing while trying to think of what to say if someone asked what I was doing. If anyone had approached me that night and asked if I was ok, I would have just asked them to call an ambulance for me. I felt so guilty that I literally felt sick. I have no idea how long I spend trying to calm down but eventually I was ready to go home.

Later on, I found out Marco’s sister had gotten mixed up in something truly horrific that night. She was involved in a violent robbery where she had used a gun to threaten a store owner. The storeowner had not cooperated with her and she had beaten the man’s head with the gun, leaving him bloodied and dazed on the floor. Thankfully, no one was killed, but the brutality of it all felt is terrifying and sad. That victim was an old man. I was caught up in something way darker than I'd ever imagined.

When Marco’s sister was arrested and charged, I was terrified someone would find out what I had done and link it back to me. I felt like I was carrying around this heavy secret and I was suffocating.

The thought of being questioned by the police or worse, becoming a suspect haunted me. I never brought up the incident. I saw Marco around school and made sure not to even make eye contact. Thankfully, I never heard anything more about it, the rumors faded, and life went on. When girls talked about Marco, I said just enough to pretend like everything was normal.

I still visit home occasionally and have seen Marco around. He’s always surrounded by friends laughing and carefree, but we never talk. It’s terrifying how easily I was intimidated into participating in something so horrific. Each time I see him it leaves me with a chill.

OK so I'm not sure If this belongs here or somewhere else, but I want people to learn from my mistakes. For context when this happened I was 17 im now 18, and this was right before i turned 18. I was on a lot of apps to help me make friends as I'm autistic and struggle making friends irl. I'm femme and non binary and also asexual,so bc the nature of these apps I stated that I was asexual on my bio. I also stated other things like my interests. Then I met this one guy who lived like an hour away and I was looking for a friend to smoke with, and he said he would. I know I know I was very naive. nonetheless we planned a time and I waited outside for him. he brought me a breeze and we took turns hitting his cart. we had very meaningful deep conversations we immediately just clicked, which I thought was amazing, well until a bit later when I was very high, bc I'm impulsive and don't know my limits well. it was getting very cold I told him i should get back inside he agreed and started to walk me towards my window. I was stumbling unable to see straight. once in my driveway he asked for a hug before he left and me, thinking it was kinda cute did give him a hug. then next thing I know he was behind me. He had a knife to my neck, at first I tried to fight back but realized that was getting me nowhere. Fighting back even severely hurt me. in the heat of the moment I thought I was gonna become just another true crime murder story, so I started listening to him. I was hoping he'd spare my life but at the same time was trying to leave as much evidence as possible just in case listening didn't get me out of it, and it didn't. then I saw scars on his thighs I managed to appeal to some sort of humanity he had in him, my exact words were "I saw your scars your just like me your hurting but this isn't gonna stop the hurt only temporarily soothe it". I don't know how I was able to think so logically in such a panicked state, but it ended up being what saved me. he ended up letting me go only if I agreed to meet him again, so I agreed then went inside, and tended to my cut thumb. then i blocked him on everything and kept his chats in my phone just in case I was ever brave enough to go to the police. obviously didn't meet up with him again and never will. what scares me most is how much we had in common with our mentality and personality. it's scary, I know predators like this say stuff they don't mean, but our deep convos felt real. Anyway please listen to my advice and don't ever meet someone from online.

I worked with this man for a little over three years. We worked pretty closely on some projects over the last two years and even sat near one another at work. In September I showed up and saw about 10 detectives at my place of work. I was a bit startled as this was quite unusual for my area. I looked around and saw that my coworker was in handcuffs and looked quite disheveled (which wasn’t out of the norm to be honest). I walked up to the detectives, introduced myself and let them know who I was in relation to him. I asked what was going on and they filled me in on why he was currently being arrested. For the sake of the case I won’t share more than he was a disgusting person.

Over the course of the next 3 hours I watched as they dismantled his work station, went through his belongings, took evidence pictures and so on. I was pulled in an out of rooms answering questions about his character, what I knew of him and my feelings about him as a person. I told them he gave me a weird feeling in my gut. That I’ve always told my husband I wouldn’t be surprised if the cops ever did come looking for him. That my husband even thought he was weird, and if I ever went missing that he’d be the first person to be suspected (didn’t realize how real this almost was).

The detective on site told me that they served a search warrant at his home and were looking there for any evidence. It sounds like they found more than they anticipated and were looking to see if there was anything else, unrelated to what they were currently investigating. I was asked my name and my husbands name for confirmation for something they found- which I did think was odd but I let it go and called my husband to update him on the happenings of the day thus far. However, the last hour I was pulled in for the final time and advised by one of the lead detectives, who couldn’t even look at me, that I needed to ensure I was safe and protected in the event they didn’t book him that day. Come to find out, he had been journaling about me over the course of at least a year. Saying he wanted to be with me but the “problem” was that I was married.

His journal then lined out a plan to set my husband up for “cheating” on me. And the end resulted in my death- caused by him (my coworker). The officer said that everything in between was more vile than he’s ever heard- to the point he was crying when he was telling me to make sure I was safe… crying- A DETECTIVE- and didn’t want to “scare” me. Thankfully, he was charged and it looking at a long long time in prison. But I still think about it. It keeps me up at night. It just shows you never really know someone- even your coworkers.

This isn't something I would normally post, and I hope I don't regret it somehow. I saw someone briefly mention this subreddit in a Youtube video and thought it would be the perfect place to share the story of a horrific thing that happened to me-a story I've never told anyone. I'm not sure if anyone will see this but I'm sharing in hopes that it will inspire someone to stay safe-safer than I was.

I'm not sure if "trigger warnings" are needed or suggested here but just out of consideration of others, I'd like to warn everyone that I will be briefly mentioning sexual assault (with as little details as possible).

One year ago, around this time, I was bored and scrolling the web (nothing unusual for me), when I decided to go on Omegle. Omegle was a (now shut down) website that allowed you to talk to strangers, via video or text chat. It was around for a long time, and I used it frequently when I was younger as a time waster. There were plenty of creeps on there, sure, but I've had an equal amount of pleasant interactions and conversations on the site.

On Omegle, you could type in "tags" (basically, keywords that describe the type of conversation or person you're looking for) and you would match someone with the same ones. I always used "alt" (for alternative). I feel like it weeded out a lot of rude people and connected me to more people my age. For reference, I was 19 at the time.

I connected with someone, who called himself Kane, and we started chatting via text. He said he was 23, and I said my age back. We exchanged some small talk and before I knew it, we were talking all night. I mean, all night. We lived in the same time zone, and I had stayed up until 6 am chatting about philosophy and life and our interests just because he was entertaining and I was having fun.

When we were talking about our general areas that we live in, he said abruptly, "We should meet up some time!". I laughed but it turns out he was serious, and it turns out we only lived 3-4 hours away from each other so he was really considering this. I am an anxiety ridden person, but for whatever reason, I thought that he might be "normal" due to the fact that I just spent hours and hours talking to him, and I didn't pick up on any red flags. So I said sure, why the hell not. I know, I know. This is an incredibly stupid mistake. I have a big heart, though, and frequently make the mistake of giving others the benefit of the doubt.

So, just like that, we started planning a camping trip. He was set on doing it just days after that morning because that was when he was off work next. I agreed, because I didn't have anything to do at the time. I asked for his number so we could talk somewhere else other than Omegle, about the trip. He gave it to me. I texted it, and noticed the messages showed green on my iphone. This indicated that he was using a samsung or an android. Teasingly, I said something along the lines of "What's up with the samsung?" After a few minutes, he texted back, saying that he had two phones and that one was for work. That was the first red flag that went off in my head. Why would he need two phones for work at his age? I mean, of course there's possible reasons, but it just set off that intuitive feeling. One that I regret not listening to. I asked what his job was, and he said that he worked for the state. He added that he isn't allowed to share details about his job because he signed papers saying he wouldn't, and that he could get fired if he were to violate this agreement. I was still weary of this, but I just figured he worked for a police station or the town council or something to do with law enforcement, and that I was probably overthinking.

Days passed, and the date for our camping trip approached quickly. He wanted to take me someplace close to where he lives, Nimham Mountain in New York. (Don't worry, this isn't near my house at all and I don't give a fuck about violating his fake privacy after what he took from me). Obviously I wanted to do at least a little research about where I was going, so I popped the name into google. A bunch of results popped up about the soil on Nimham Mountain being contaminated with arsenic, due to the old mines in the area. All of the government and state articles I read said that it was still safe to hike there, and that you should wash your skin and shoes after hiking. I still had a feeling of unease about the whole thing. I texted Kane, and asked him why we were going to someplace that could potentially be dangerous. He assured me that nothing would happen, and said he chose the spot because it's somewhere him and his friends frequently camp. This slightly reassured me. He does know the area better than me, after all.

My parents are definitely over suspicious of everyone. Strict is also a safe word. For good reason though, they are just protective. I told them that I was meeting up with a friend I met over a video game, and that I already known him for a month. I knew this would be less likely to freak them out than the truth. They were adamant that this was a horrible idea, but finally let me go off when Kane pulled into my driveway.

He didn't come inside, and waited outside of his car for me. After a brief introduction, my mom rushed out to meet him and asked a few questions about the area we were headed too, and then we were off. We pulled into the Starbucks by my house so he could get a coffee, since he was tired from the drive up. We sat in his car for about an hour and a half afterwards. During that time he asked me to rate the playlist he put on, and showed me how he writes down every single song he likes in a little notebook he kept in his car. I thought it was weird, but kind of sweet. Like what guy these days writes down songs?

After an hour or so passed, I told him we should get going so we can get to the campsite before dark. He kept saying, just five more minutes. After about 30 minutes of insisting we need to leave to make it on time, he finally let us start onto the road.

While we drove the four hours up to our destination, Kane mostly talked about himself. He told me long stories about his friends, and a girl that he used to date that he doesn't like. I thought this was strange. Who talks about another woman to a girl like this? After telling stories for about two hours I tried to deviate to a brighter topic and asked what kind of things he's into, hobby wise. I already knew the stuff he told me online but I was trying not to suffer from awkward silence-or any more of his weird ramblings. He said that he thinks that eating healthy is important, and that people who eat junk food are stupid. He also says he only wears sustainable clothing that's made from cotton or wool. I don't have a problem with being sustainable, but he was saying it in a really obnoxious way.

Then he turned to me and asked the first question about me since we got in the car-"What brought you to Omegle?". I told him that I was bored and that I like meeting new and interesting people, and that was about it. He nodded slowly in thought and grinned, showing the most expression I've seen on his face so far. He said he likes to go on Omegle and tell people that he's a soldier in Russia, and that he was torturing people as he spoke to them. I sat there in silence and kind of just stared at him, waiting for him to say that he was just kidding and that he was some fucked up sense of humor. But he didn't. He just laughed and said, "What?"

As we neared the campsite, I mentioned that i was getting kind of hungry. He said that we can stop at Whole Foods before going to camp for the night. In my head I sighed about this, knowing he was probably going to judge me for whatever I picked out there. But it wasn't a problem for me, and I was hungry, so I agreed.

In Whole Foods, he made me pay for both of our meals because "his card wouldn't work there". He didn't even try. This annoyed me, but I was just eager to get to camp so I payed and we sat down outside to eat.

After about an hour, we were finally ready to get to camp. We drive up the mountain, and he pulls into a small parking area with about 3 spots. Cars were parked there, and older men were surrounding the cars smoking weed. Nothing they were doing was wrong (at least morally, to me), but it just made me uncomfortable that they were there so late at night.

Before I could even mention it, Kane says that it's too cold for him to carry our supplies to the campsite (which was about a 10 minute walk) and set up camp. I was taken aback by this. I said, "What do you mean? I'll help you, we didn't come up here for nothing." He insisted and told me to get out of the car, to feel how cold it was. He said it would take a while to pitch our tent, and that it was too much for us. There was no way that I was getting out of the car and facing the men in the parking spot next to us, so I rolled down the window halfway and stuck my hand out. It was freeing, he was right about that. That night it was in the 30's, and the wind chill felt worse being higher up. I was annoyed, but I agreed to sleeping in his car for the night. I was sad that our trip was basically wasted.

He sat in silence for a while, seemingly uncomfortable that I was annoyed and unsure how to comfort me. I slinked back into the passenger seat and started to scroll on social media, trying to pass the time. He grabbed my phone out of my hand and said, "Come here." He patted his lap. I was already annoyed at the situation and confused on what he thought he was doing. I said, "You're funny." and reached for my phone, that he had tossed onto the floor of the car. Before I could get to it, he reached over and scooped me up out of the seat, and tossed me onto the backseats.

He then proceeded to rape me. I don't remember most of it, my eyes were squeezed shut and I was praying for it to end.

After he was "done", he pushed me back into the seats and got dressed. He smiled at me and said, "How was it?". I just stared back at him with tears in my eyes. He climbed back into the front seat, propped his feet up on the wheel and went to sleep.

I didn't know what to do. I sat there motionless in the backseat for about two hours trying to process what just happened to me. I considered calling my mom, calling 911. I thought about it for what felt like forever. I already had been assaulted once in my life, and it broke my parents' hearts. I knew that learning of this would absolutely destroy them, and I was also afraid of what would happen if I told them. I didn't want my dad or brother to go to jail for life because they were angry and got revenge against this guy. So I just sat there all night, watching the men outside stare into the car and smoke on their joints.

I don't remember falling asleep, but eventually I woke up to wind hitting the car. I was in a fetal position sitting upright, holding my legs with my arms. Kane noticed that I was awake and said that it is time to go. I was so scared of him, it felt like my heart was leaping out of my throat. Adrenaline was pumping through my body and I started scanning the backseat and our overnight bags for something I could use as a weapon in case he were to pursue me again. I ended up holding onto my full metal water bottle. It wasn't deadly by any means, but it could knock someone out and holding it made me feel safer.

I stayed in the back and Kane started driving. I asked where we were going and he said "To get breakfast", almost as if that was obvious and it was silly of me to ask. After driving down the mountain back into the city, we pull into a parking garage and he tells me to get out, that we're here. I get out of the car and cling close to it, not wanting to let him get behind me. I was thinking about making a run for it, but didn't want to risk getting chased and overpowered by him.

I followed him to a little Mexican spot on the corner and he told me to order pancakes "so he could have some". This obviously made me more pissed than I already was but I didn't say anything because I was afraid there would be consequences if I showed negative emotions at this point. I ate a few bites of my food and he happily ate the rest off my plate. He payed quickly with cash and took me back to the car, where he lay down in the backseat. He said he was going to take a nap because he didn't sleep well last night. I didn't want to argue with him so I let him sleep. How could he sleep so soundly after what he did to me?

He slept for about 3 hours. The whole time I was watching Youtube videos, trying to calm myself down and keep a clear head. It was about 9 am, and around this time my mom was waking up and texted me saying she wants me to be home. I told her that Kane was taking a nap and that I would be home soon. She didn't like the sound of that and insisted I come home. I was happy to have a reason to get the fuck out of there, one that might be convincing to Kane.

I woke him up and he became angry with me, saying "Don't wake me up next time. Play on your phone, watch Tiktok or something." I was shaking but I managed to say that my mom wanted me home and that we needed to go. He said to let him sleep for 30 more minutes, and told me to set a timer on my phone. I did.

30 minutes felt like 30 hours, and once it went off I woke him once again. This time, I filmed myself waking him up because I was afraid of what was going to happen. He was angry once again, and I told him that 30 minutes was up. I asked to leave, begged him to leave, and he said no. Over and over, he said we aren't leaving yet.

I was shaking uncontrollably, but put on a brave face and pretended like I was being playful. I said, "Okay, I'll just get an uber then." I turned around and started to open the car door when I felt his hand grab my shoulder and dig into it, yanking me back into place. I honestly think I blacked out from fear for a few seconds.

He said, "What the fuck are you doing??" His hand was still on my shoulder, his fingers squeezing into my skin. My mind was racing, and I was on the verge of tears. This caught his eye, and I quickly played it off by saying my mom would call the police to come get me if I wasn't home soon. I had mentioned earlier that my dad works in law enforcement, so this was a little bit more believable of a lie. At the mention of police something changed in his face, he looked frantic. He let go of me and unhappily agreed to drive me home. I felt a deep relief, the deepest relief I've ever felt, and swallowed the lump in my throat as he climbed into the front seat and started our 5 hour drive back to my house.

The drive back was much quieter than the drive up. I didn't say anything unless he initiated. I just gripped my phone in my hand and tried not to make eye contact with him. I wondered if he had any remorse for what he did in those moments.

When we reached the town where I live, it was 11:30 at night. Kane pulled onto the main strip to get to my house, and I saw flashing lights behind me. My first instinct was to be scared shitless because my dad is a cop, so I've always made extra sure not to break any traffic laws.

The police pulled us over, and two men stepped out of the cop car. I frantically rolled down my window so they could see my familiar face, the daughter of their boss. One of them greeted me and looked both concerned and disappointed that I was the in the car with someone getting pulled over. The other cop told Kane to get out of the car while I explained what we were doing out so late. I spared the illegal and horrific details. I was tired, scared, and I needed to be safe in my own home. I also didn't want them waking up my sleeping dad with such bad news.

I overheard the second officer ask Kane about his info, when he said, "What's your name, son?" Kane mumbled, and he said to speak up. The name he gave was not Kane. And he told the officer he was 22, not 23.

My heart sunk into my feet and I sat motionless while they explained to Kane that he missed a stop sign and that they're letting him off with a warning. They told me to get home and I nodded my head. When we pulled off, I let my emotions take over and started screaming at the stranger I was sitting next to. "Why did you lie to me?" "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He looked distressed from the volume of my yelling and told me to calm down, that he was sorry he lied. He said that he only lied about his identity for "his own safety." That honestly baffled me, considering he had just assaulted me. I screamed at him all the way to my house and as we pulled in I threw the car doors open and started throwing my stuff out onto the lawn, desperate to just get far away from him. He tried to talk to me, to offer more pitiful excuses for his disgusting actions, but I screamed at him to get the fuck away from me and that I never wanted to see him again.

I gathered my stuff off the lawn and hauled it into my room while my parents slept soundly, unaware of the terrible secret I had. I woke my mom up told her that I was home, as she requested.

Once I got to my room I broke down. What happened to me was starting to sink in. As I was sobbing silently into my blanket my phone lit up from with a text from "Kane". It read:

"I'm sorry about what happened, I really am. If it makes you feel any better, I just got pulled over so that is my karma I guess. Let me know if you want to talk."

I felt a wave of nausea hit me like a train. I screenshotted the message, blocked his number and deleted his contact. I haven't heard from him since, and I haven't hung out with anyone since, besides my boyfriend. (Who, thank god, is normal!!!)

I still think about what happened almost every day, and I still feel sick when someone I don't know gets close to me, even if it's just a stranger passing by in the grocery store.

I know that what happened was the product of my own irrational teenage actions. I know I shouldn't have met up with someone I didn't know. But I had faith that he would be a normal person, somewhat at least. I wish I would have listened to my instinct, and to my parents' warnings. I don't know what would have happened if I didn't make up that police story, and I don't even want to think about it. I will never meet up with someone I don't know again.

While trying to cope with what happened to me, I googled Nimham Mountain again. I found a link that said, "Kane Mountain North Trail Loop, New York".

-If you made it this far, or you take anything away from this story, please let it be this:

-Trust your instinct. Trust your gut. If something feels wrong, it probably is.

-Don't meet up with strangers, no matter how good they look or how normal they seem.

This was a lengthy story and I apologize for that. It was hard for me to share after all this time, after carrying the secret for this long. I am doing this in hope that it inspires someone out there to follow my advice and help keep themselves safe. What happened to me was disgusting and horrible and I never want it to happen to anyone else again. That being said,

"Kane", let's not meet again. Fuck you, and I hope you're rotting in jail or hell right now.

EDIT :

Thank you so much for all the kind words and support!! I really do appreciate the love.

I'd like to assure everyone that yes, I am getting help to cope with what happened. I go to EMDR therapy weekly, and my doctors/therapist/psychiatrist all know about the event.

I am not interested in sharing my story with my parents or friends, as it would just cause me more pain. I'm doing well now and will continue to get support. I never heard from "Kane" after the night I got home, thankfully. He has been pulled over multiple times that I know of so his name is already in the police database.

I pushed myself to share my story in hopes of spreading awareness about online safety and trusting your instinct. I give everyone permission to share my story. Share it with your little sisters, cousins, nieces, every young woman in your life who might make the same mistakes I did.

Please message me first if you plan on posting my story elsewhere, like on Youtube.

Love you guys!!

My name is Jules, and this story happened in 2022. At the time, I was a business school student, but my English skills left much to be desired. To improve, I decided to take a gap year and move to Toronto, Canada, for intensive language courses. Since the costs were high, I found a shared apartment with other students. It had three bedrooms, and one was still empty, waiting for another student to move in. My roommate, Sandro, was a Swiss German: tall, almost two meters and 120 kilos, but also very friendly. We quickly became friends.

A few weeks later, Sandro told me he was going on a week-long road trip through Canada’s national parks. He was set to leave on a Saturday morning, while I had been informed that the new student would arrive that same day around 3 PM. Sandro left the apartment at 10 AM, leaving me alone to wait for the new arrival.

Hours went by. 3 PM, then 4 PM, 8 PM, 10 PM… Still no one. I grabbed a bite to eat, watched a show on Netflix, and eventually decided to go to bed. Around midnight, I was suddenly awakened by knocks on the apartment door. I heard someone coming in. “That must be the new student,” I thought to myself, before hearing an unfamiliar voice explaining the apartment’s layout. I stayed in my room, too tired to go out, and fell back asleep.

But, a few minutes later, there were knocks on my door. Once. Then a second time, ten minutes later. Thinking there might be a problem, I eventually got up. I found myself face to face with a young Japanese woman, around 25 years old. I quickly explained a few details about the apartment, we exchanged Instagram handles, and then each of us went back to our rooms for the night.

In the following days, she often asked me to accompany her when taking the bus or subway. I gladly helped, showing her the stops and the good spots for getting around, and then returned to my routine, between classes and gym sessions. But gradually, something strange started to happen. Every evening when I came back, she would always be talking to me, either by message or when we bumped into each other in the apartment. The situation became increasingly heavy.

Then, one evening, while lying on my bed, I noticed a figure on the shared balcony, right in front of my bedroom window. She was leaning against the railing, staring at me. Her gaze was piercing, unsettling. When she realized I had seen her, she quickly turned away and went back into her room. I shivered but tried to convince myself it was just a coincidence.

Later, around midnight, as I turned off the lights to fall asleep, I glanced out the window… She was still there, standing, watching me. Our eyes met again, and she vanished instantly.

The scene repeated itself the following nights. Every evening, I would catch her watching me from the balcony, always at the same time, always with that fixed gaze. And every time, she disappeared as soon as she realized I had noticed her. But the night before my departure, the situation took an even more disturbing turn.

One morning, I had to get up particularly early for an appointment. It was 5:30 AM when I left my room; the entire apartment was shrouded in darkness, except for the faint light filtering from under the bathroom door, where I was brushing my teeth. Suddenly, I heard a noise behind me. The young woman emerged from her room, silent, her footsteps softly echoing on the wooden floor. She knew I was there, she saw the light under the door.

I froze, a chill running down my spine. There I was, in my underwear, toothbrush in hand, wondering what she wanted. But instead of turning back, she opened the bathroom door and came in, sitting on the closed toilet, facing me. She didn’t say a word. She just sat there, motionless, her gaze locked onto mine, with a blank, almost empty expression.

The scene dragged on for long, icy seconds, where the silence grew oppressive. Then, slowly, I gathered myself and left the room, closing the door behind me. I returned to my room very slowly, trying to show that I didn’t understand what was going on, but her English was too poor for us to have a proper conversation.

In the days that followed, I became increasingly cautious, watching her every move, but she continued to observe me every evening from the balcony, like a disturbing shadow in the night. Until, on the night before my departure, things took an even more terrifying turn.

I was having dinner in my room when I saw her again through the window, staring intensely inside. I looked away, hoping she would leave. Then, later that night, around 3 AM, I woke up suddenly from a nightmare. I turned my head, and there she was, still on the balcony, her eyes wide open, fixed on me.

My blood ran cold. This time, she didn’t look away; she remained motionless, like a statue. Then, abruptly, she turned and started running inside the apartment. My heart pounded. I rushed to lock my door, and I buried myself under the covers, hoping it was all just a bad dream.

A few seconds later, I heard footsteps behind my door, then an attempt to open it, gently at first, then more forcefully. She was pressing on the handle, trying to get into my room. Panicked, I remained still, holding my breath. And then, everything went silent again. I heard nothing more.

She must have gone back to her room, but the night felt endless.

I returned to France the next day; she was no longer in the apartment. I think she was just fascinated to see a European—after all, I don’t have a typical build, especially not for a Japanese person… I can bench press over 150 kilos, hehe.

Anyway, I also thought she might have been looking for an adventure with me or trying to steal my passport.

Take care, everyone; this story is entirely true, I still have the apartment’s address, the school’s name, etc.

Hey reddit! I genuinely don't know how to summarize this so I apologize for the length. I'm also not sure if this is the appropriate place for a post like this. This is very real, i'm not a great writer, this isn't meant to be a thrilling read, I just need input. Changing lots of details for anonymities sake.

Important context, Paul was a long time friend of one of my parents. It seemed like around the time this all started he stopped taking his medication. I actually had no idea about his disorder prior to the beginning of this whole situation. This has been going on for almost two years now. I live with my parents and sibling.

Early 2023:

• shows up at our house, appears to be on drugs? Police are called and after a while he is driven home
• his friend, (my dad, we'll call him ron) goes to Paul's house to check on him.
• Finds his meds, notices he's not himself. Witnesses him hitting his cat, is also not feeding it properly.

Heres where it gets tricky, (I'll admit this is where we went wrong) Ok, imagine your best friend of many years has a debilitating mental illness, stops taking their meds, beats their pet. And you think, hey until they get back on their meds, i'm going to take their pet because I love my friend and I don't want them to hurt the animal they obviously love. (When on their meds) This was a bad Idea, because even in that circumstance you are not allowed to just take someones pet. We loved his cat and we tried to make the best decision for him and his cat at the time. Following this,

• hundreds of texts sent to both parents, very angry scary ramblings
• Eventually I get some texts as well
• Lots of facebook posts calling us the villains, we try to look into getting him admitted into a psych ward, doesn't work out because he's an adult and they cant force him to stay
• Sends a friend to try and break into our house in broad daylight

(RIGHT after we change the locks because he threatened this prior)

• By now we have a caseworker who we've explained the situation to. He understands but says its not worth the struggle and suggests a mediated returning of Pauls pet.
• We do this despite being worried for the cats well-being
• Ironically he texts me after the fact, saying we were right to take his cat

(I wish I still had this message but I think I blocked him over text at some point and cant find it)

• Think its over?! Well think again stupid

Side note; the amount of texts we got during this time, was actually insane. They were all very angry, implied and even outright stated some very scary stuff. Additionally, many of the texts we would get, or posts made to scare and defame us were very jumbled and not well written, which seems to be par for the course for someone with schizophrenia according to our caseworker.

The new problem: When you are friends with someone for over 20 years, you gift them things, they gift you things. That is also true about Paul and Rons friendship.

Exactly a year after it happened:

• I get a text with some very colorful language asking for his stuff back. I don't respond because thats what i've been instructed to do

This past week:

• we have had two letters DRILLED, not taped or pasted, onto our back door within the span of a few weeks. This is the least time between contact since the very start of this ordeal. The letters were threatening, scrawled in big harsh lettering. This is what pushed me to make this post.

Now->

When this initially became a problem the police told us all to cut contact and to never interact with him for any reason, even to give borrowed and gifted stuff back. I'm starting to think thats a bad idea. Do we just give the stuff we know we were lent back? The main item being asked for is something we DO NOT HAVE. I don't believe someone in this state of mind can just be reasoned with but maybe they can? For the past year I have had this constant lingering anxiety and I'm sick of it.

I'm posting this here because I cant think of any good outcome from anything we try to do to solve this situation. He knows where we live, he has means to support himself without working, seems to act normal when the situation calls for it. Maybe people with Schizophrenia or people who know others with the disorder can chime in? Frankly i'm just scared. We have means of defending ourselves, we are getting a porch camera, but I kinda just feel like i'm waiting around for the situation to escalate. I'm scared of the unpredictability of someone with that disorder. We have contacted the police, they basically cant do anything, we don't meet the criteria to file for a report online.

TLDR; old family friend has been threatening us and showing up to our door step at late hours periodically for nearly two years and it seems to be getting worse

Hi there! I’ve told a few of my friends this story before and i did get advice about posting it on here by a few friends, so lets begin. (I also apologise as English is not my first language)

I was about 13 when this happened, and i lived right on the beach, if you walked about 1.5km down the beach from my house you would get to a place where some ocean would be left behind to form a sort of lake, where me and a lot of my friends liked to hang out, next to it were two dirt roads. Anyways, i had a German shepherd, and my mother used to kick me out of the house every weekend for a few hours to go play with the dog, which i did not mind, there was a cliff above the beach which you could take to walk to the lake which was overlooking the beach, but covered in forest, and on that day it was particularly hot, so i chose to spare me and my dog a hot walk and walk up in the forest, I’ve done this many times before and wasn’t afraid at all. As i was walking i hear muffled footsteps behind me, my dog was up far ahead of me off leash and i quickly realised that someone had to be sneaking up behind me because it was near impossible to walk on the dry foliage silently here, i quickly made run for it to the exit of the forest seemingly hearing the footsteps become audible behind me, no worries i was out at the lake now, it was plain , open and i could already spot a girlfriend of mine there.

My dog was already in the water as i went to greet my friend, when we notice a large man approach us, he must have been close to 2 metres and very slim, he started talking to us both very kindly, and without knowing any better we both were polite to him, i at the time did not associate the footsteps with this man but later grew to. He asked a lot about us, where we were from, if anyone was here with us and so on, and slowly slowly me and my friend got creeped out, we said our goodbyes saying we had to go off to meet our other friends and moved to a further distance down the lake, we sat down for a bit and started talking when my dog started growling, she never used to growl so this took me by surprise, i looked to see what she was growling at and low and behold the man was standing around 50 metres behind us, me and my friend had caught on now and moved again, same thing, but he was closer now. We were getting freaked out by now, we were being followed and we were all alone,my friend called her mother to come pick us up, though she was at least an hour away, that meant we were stuck with this creep for a hour or so. Joy.

The more we moved the more he came closer, i had leashed my dog by now as she was going completely rabid at this man, every time we looked at him he smiled back, as if we were some sort of close friends, he tailed us for a while until we saw my friends mothers car arrive at the dirt road, now this road was about 200 metres from us, and to get there we had to cross where the man was standing, we were terrified. Her mother saw the situation starting running over, which caught the mans attention, which meant it was our time to dash. I don’t think any time in my life have i run that far that fast, my dog was running with us as i let her leash go, and when we got to the car we hastily ran in, as the man ran towards us. We stayed in the car while my friends mother called 112 and waited inside the car, the man throwing rocks and wailing at us, eventually running off as police arrived. When the police arrived they questioned everyone and went looking for the man but never found him, I’m still terrified he’s in that forest, waiting for me. I didn’t know that day my friend would be there, and I don’t know what would have happened if she wasn’t there. I didn’t have a phone or any form of contact and I’m pretty sure if he wold have gotten me he would have won against my dog.

So to the creepy man who stalked me and tried to catch me and my friend, let’s not meet again.

I'm not proud of any of this.

I have a big family and we’re super close. When I was in high school, my aunt was dating this guy who seemed really wealthy, but no one really knew what he did. I think anyone could have guessed though.

I asked my aunt to introduce me to her boyfriend and we talked about how I could work for him.

Without going into too much detail, he let me work for him. I sold to some people I knew. I went to high school in an area where there was a lot of drugs. I knew a few boys who claimed they were already using this stuff. I offered to sell it to them. And surprisingly, they had really big orders for me. I didn’t ask any questions. I just went along with it.

I was making about $3,000 a month from this. Not enough to retire or anything, but definitely more than most 17-year-olds made. I never made a point to flaunt my money or anything. I think I kept it well hidden. At least I thought I did. What bothers me is that there's no way of knowing.

One Saturday morning, I walked over to my friend’s house for a birthday party. Not a wild one or anything, just a cute little breakfast. On my way home, this guy I’d never seen before pulled over and got out of the car. He was well dressed and a bit older.

When he got out of his car, I thought he was a cop. He was acting like a cop. I was ready to surrender because I didn't think I could make an escape. But then he pulled out a switchblade and said to give him my purse.

He said something like “don’t act dumb, girl. I know you have money. It’s okay; we can make this easy if you just give me your purse.”

Again, I can't really explain this but that just felt like such a cop-like think to say.

I don’t know if you’ve ever been in that kind of situation; I hope you haven’t. But you kind of just freeze when someone surprises you like that. It’s not really fear. Your body doesn’t know how to react. I almost think my body didn't let me get too scared, because if it did, then I'd have a heart attack, like my body said "wait until it's safe, then panic."

First, I think I felt relieved that he wasn’t actually a cop—thank goodness for that! Second, when he said it was okay and that we could make it easy, it actually calmed me down a bit.

So I managed to say “Okay, can I just give you my cash? My purse has my phone and pictures and other stuff.”

He said ok that. I opened my purse and took out all the cash. I had about $200. He watched me closely as I did it.

He took the money, said something like "if you tell anyone, I will find out," and he left. I felt really calm the rest of the walk home.

The next morning, it hit me that I had been mugged. That’s when the panic set in. I started shaking and crying.

Even as I'm writing this story now, it gives me chills. I had never seen that guy before. When he said “I know you have money,” I don’t know if he meant he knew about my dealing or if he was just trying to scare me.

Honestly, I'm really glad this all happened because it made me get out of that business at the right time. Things were only going to get more dangerous from there. It’s still scary thinking about it, but that guy saved me without even realizing it.

I told my aunt's boyfriend what happened and that I was too scared to keep doing this trade anymore. He told me to send all my customers to him instead. I did and that was the end of it for me. It's been almost 10 years now and I haven’t looked back since!

This story takes place around January 2024 and I(22F) live on a one floor house, with a basement. No attic, no second floor. I suffer with extreme sleep paralysis. All the sleep issues, I have. Sleep talking, Walking, I sleep with my eyes open, I snore, I sleep with my eyes open and sleep paralysis. My sister was working late for a few nights and I was sleeping on her bed since I had just had the flu and I was extremely hot. It had snowed for a few days so there's snow all around. We'll that night I have my usual wake up before my body does and all that before I see him. Not a shadow demon in the corner. Just a man outside. It's scary and I was terrified until I was able to get up. It was the next morning where my dog had to use the bathroom and I look over to my window and beneath it is foot prints. The thing about my windows are, since the basement goes up for a bit because the house is a sectional, two half's made whole, my windows is nearly 7 feet from the floor. And this guy was closer to the top of the window. So I gathered the dog, called my stepfather from his room and had to show him the foot prints. I locked the windows that day and slept in another room. He never came back but it was just terrifying.

I grew up in a small town. Primarily Hispanic, everyone knew everything, we had somethinga here and there of course but other than that not too much stuff happens.

Im overweight to put it simply. And not to the standards of beauty really. I remember reading a meme online once where it was a joke about “can’t catch me or kidnap since you can’t carry me, keep eating cake!” And laughed at that and was like “so true.” God. Didn’t realize that would come back and bite me.

I was 18-19ish I believe and it was night time. My weed plug was doing a stash and dash and being broke and desperate, I went for it! I figured “I grew up here, I know all the areas!” And what made this more tempting was it was actually not far from my area at all. So I said fuck it! Was on a video call with my boyfriend and told him I was gonna go for it. He stays on the phone with me and I head out. Mind you, it’s late, the areas I have to cross through are not well lit, and I leave with nothing on me. Not even my taser, alarm, and pepper spray my dad always made me have. Oh and to make things worse, I snuck out because didn’t want my dad to know i was hunting for weed-

So this is already starting out great. So I set off! I have to cross railroad tracks to get through to the area which is pitch black, only the main road in the distance lighting it up and some lights from a warehouse near by, but other than that it is hard to see. I make my way towards the main road and notice a semi parked on the side of the road. Not unusual, semis parked there all the time, ever since I was little so nothing too weird. Then I hear “Hola! Hey!”

I look over and see a man in a semi truck. He looked generic. I’m not gonna lie, a Mexican man with a red long sleeve. He looked like any other man I’d see around town. But his smile. I don’t know. He was just off.

I waved, being polite. He gestured for me to come over and starts speaking Spanish. But I don’t know Spanish. I know what you’re thinking “one, why don’t you know Spanish if you grew up in a Hispanic town, and two why aren’t you running?”

Parents never taught me, sue me, and two he was far so I just kept walking.

So I just sheepishly respond I don’t speak Spanish, in Spanish- (I learned that phrase just to say it to people) and wave him off quickly walking away.

My boyfriend asks me who’s that and I just tell him some random semi truck driver.

I go on with the night, I think I’ve been out for 40 minutes at this point, and realize I’m not going to find it. Big sad. Start heading home. Still on the phone with my boyfriend I keep talking and my phone is dying, which is actually what made my boyfriend tell me to go home. So I start walking back. I go down the road and look down the pitch black area where the railroad is and I stopped. I just had a bad feeling. Something told me to not go home just yet. I tell my boyfriend I’m gonna go look at the other end of the street. That was towards where the warehouse was, giving off the light, passing empty trailers partially hidden by the shadows.

I start walking make it into the light and I hear movement behind me and “hey.” I turned around hella quick and saw the same semi truck driver, with the same smile he had. He came out from behind a trailer he was hiding behind, he had his right hand tucked in his pocket and was positioning his body to where he was hiding whatever he had more. He told me to “come here” and started getting closer to me.

I immediately tell my boyfriend to wake up his dad and come get me. I backed up quick and was trying so hard to think. He saw me on the phone and immediately had a mad and annoyed look on his face. He stopped and actually started hiding behind the trailers more. So I book it down the road telling my boyfriend to come get me or have his dad come get me. I didn’t want to call me dad because even in this moment for some reason I was still terrified of getting caught sneaking out. I ran across the main road to the little mini mart across the street and hid behind an ice machine. I told my boyfriend I need to call someone and hang up on him, and call my friend who thank god was out with his girlfriend. I tell him I’m in danger and need him to come get me, tell him where I’m at.

While I was waiting for them, I stayed behind the ice machine and saw his semi. I saw him look around for me , and shake his head in disappointment before driving off. Even in that moment I didn’t feel safe, not until my friend pulled up. Everything hit me once he got out the car and I hugged him crying. His girlfriend and him calmed me down and took me home. Got a little lecture from my boyfriend but I’d rather take the lecture than anything else.

I was lucky. Way too lucky. The false sense of security my weight and looks gave me really shattered after that. And I’m glad for it. it terrfies me to think of how things could’ve turned out if I didn’t have my boyfriend on the phone with me.

So, Semi Truck Driver, let’s not meet. I never want to see that smile ever again.

So this happened a few years ago but it’s stuck with me because of how weird and scary it was. So every year for the past few years my parents have been going on a week-long anniversary trip leaving me home alone (I was 20 so it was more than an appropriate age). Well this time around some weird shit happened the first day that they were gone and then this happened the night before they were supposed to come home.

The first day they were gone a guy came to the door to drop something off in the morning, but I didn’t want to answer it as it was a stranger and I thought he’d just leave it at the door like usual. Well he stayed for about 5 minutes and then got in his car and started to drive off, to which I went outside because I thought he finally left it. THIS MAN GOT OUT OF HIS CAR, leaving it in the middle of the road, just to give me my package that I didn’t have to sign for at all. No signature needed or anything, wasn’t dressed like a delivery person, was in a beat up car, very weird and uncomfy.

Skipping to the end of the week, I was just chilling out in my living room and all of a sudden at 11:00 at night, I see this rather large figure approach my front door (the glass is dimpled so you can’t see features but just a silhouette) and starts BANGING on my door and he did so for like a minute straight. He stands there and doesn’t leave for probably 10 minutes and in that time beats on the door a few times over. Luckily, my sister and her family live not even a mile away from me so I call them and her husband comes to get me. By this time I’m in full panic mode and I realize that my dogs are in the backyard. My back door is 90% glass and I was horrified that this person was going to come through the back gate and try to come into my house as my dogs were barking up a storm.

Anyways, I get my dogs inside the house and my brother-in-law finally shows up and whoever was there was gone. He takes me to my sister’s house and we check the front door cameras to see who was there. The cameras had been turned off the whole time this person was there and for an hour before he started banging on my door. The cameras had been on before that time period and during the time we were looking at the cameras. They were somehow shut off for about an hour and a half which was odd because they’re not the type that needs to be charged and they had never glitched before then, but were actually very sensitive.

To this day I don’t know who it was that showed up attention house, I checked the local news and everything, but nothing ever came of it. I don’t know if they were trying to rob my house or if they had other plans or if it was potentially the delivery guy from earlier that week, but it still freaks me out to think about and I hate being home alone at night because of it.

Before I get into what happened, sorry for the story telling! I’ve never been great at writing descriptively and I’m honestly still at a loss for words. But that being said, last night, my friends and I went to the movies in hopes of watching the Joker 2. We hadn’t bought the tickets online, and unfortunately, we got there just after the doors closed. But because we were already there, we decided to see what else was playing within the hour and decided on the Terrifier 3. None of us had heard of the Terrifier before, but it sounded interesting enough. However, soon after the movie started, I immediately felt my stomach drop.

About 5 months ago, I went on a run at a park I had never been to before. My aunt told me about how it had a great trail, and because it was finally getting warm out, I decided to go even though it was out of the way from where I live. To set the scene of this park, there was a big clearing where there were picnic benches, gazebos, and a playground; however, it was surrounded by a big forest which was where the trail was. About 15 minutes into my run, my headphone’s battery died, so I paused to put them away in my pouch. As I was opening my bag, I saw something out of the corner of my eye and looked into the trees to see a clown standing next to his car with a whole thing of balloons. The scene immediately scared the absolute shit out of me, as I’ve always been a huge true crime junkie, and I turned around and ran back to the clearing and eventually the parking lot. I cannot even begin to describe how psyched out I was, it literally felt like my heart was going to tear through my chest. But when I was sitting in my car, I noticed that there was a big group of young kids in the gazebo who were clearly having a birthday party and I never felt dumber/more relieved. It was obvious that the clown was meant for the party what with his balloons. I laughed at myself even though I still felt on edge, and drove back home.

I had forgotten about the incident up until last night, but when I saw the clown in the movie’s costume, I immediately felt sick. The man I saw in the forest was wearing the same exact costume. I don’t know for sure whether this character’s costume is unique to the movie or not, but after trying to look up similar clown costumes, I’m fairly certain it is. Everything was the same, even down to the stupid hat headband. I’m freaked the fuck out and don’t know what any of it means. If I really did come across some guy dressed as a fictional clown killer, why were they wearing it and why in the empty part of an old park? A big part of me hopes that it was some sort of twisted prank, but if so why wouldn’t he go somewhere where he knew people would see him? And after watching the movie, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were sick fucks out there who idolised him in a morbid way.

ORIGINAL POST: https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/1dmru3r/psycho_situationship_turned_stalker/

UPDATE: https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/1dp7yc7/update_psycho_situationship_turned_stalker_the/

UPDATE 2: https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/1ftw5sm/update_2_psycho_situationship_turned_stalker_3/

THE STORY:

Goddamn me if I thought I'd be updating y'all so soon. Oh, boy where do I even start with this one?

I guess the best thing I should start with is that I brought this whole situation up with my therapist (I ended up with a psychiatrist and later a therapist in August of 2022 and February 2023 for completely unrelated issues). The first thing he asked me was how does it make me feel, I told him that the whole situation made me extremely uncomfortable, and brought back memories from when I was acting all crazy about someone (albeit I never went as far as Jane did). We talked about a lot of parallels between what I've done in the past, and what she's doing to me now, and we realized that Jane and I might be similar, of course, my therapist didn't try to diagnose her or anything, but it's worth mentioning I'm diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder after my parent's sudden divorce when I was 12, and very messed up relationship I was dragged and forced into with my teacher when I was 13 (it has been sorted out, and I'm not trying to bore you with backstory stuff, but I thought it's worth mentioning it, and plus I was told journaling is good, so I guess this is my version of it).

For starters (and this isn't even the juicy part of the story), two days ago, after my younger brother (17 M) and I finished our gym session, we went to the pub, as it was still in the middle of the day, and we didn't think anything of it. We ordered our drinks and food and we started talking. At first, it was the basic older/younger brother banter, then we started gossiping about half our families, and finally, our talk went to Jane. My brother revealed to me that she had been sending him follow requests on Instagram for the past week or so, but he had been ignoring her altogether. We continued talking about her until you guessed it, she just appeared at the pub with one of her friends. She sat on a table rather close to ours, so my brother and I decided to switch to our mom's native language, the beautiful and poetic Spanish. He and I continued rambling about her, I didn't even bat an eye on her. But every time I looked to my right, I could see her staring at us through the reflection of the nearby window. At one point, a guy from my class approached me, and we started talking, and my brother excused himself to the bathroom. The bathroom at this pub is one main area with the sinks, and two separate places for men and women to do their business. I didn't notice her, but she followed my brother into the bathroom. He went into the men's washroom, and when he came back, she was just standing near the sink, staring at him with her "crazy eyes" as he said. He washed his hands as she tried to make small talk with him. My brother (lord bless his heart) being the literal copy of our mom (a sassy Cuban woman) just eyed Jane head to toe and said to her "You're not getting that American passport through me, darlin'" and left her standing there. Although this might be funny, I did scold him not to do that again, but he said he's not listening to me, so here's that.

Now the juicy part. This noon I got a DM from a girl that I know from the pub, I opened her message and it was her asking me if I'd seen Jane's IG story. I told her that I had no way of doing that, as she was blocked everywhere. To which the girl apologized for being the one to show me this and she sent me a screenshot of Jane's story. At first, I didn't see anything weird in it, it was just a mirror pic of her in her bedroom. So I asked the girl to explain to me what am I looking at, and she just said to me and I quote verbatim "Look above her bed" That's when I had a panic attack. I began to shake and hyperventilate, and my stepdad noticed and he helped me calm down with my stepbrother. They kept asking me what was wrong, and I kept repeating "She's fucking crazy" over and over again. I remember (through my tunnel vision) my stepbrother picking up my phone and just saying "What the actual fuck" Then my dad looked at it. She had painted a huge canvas portrait, of me. And some of you might say that I'm overreacting, that maybe I'm in the wrong, or maybe I'm the crazy one, but I know what I look like, and the guy in the portrait looks just like me. Black curly hair, high cheekbones, sharp jawline, same mustache and goatee combo, and the part that everyone convinced it's me (as if it didn't look like a literal picture of me) the eyes. See guys, I have heterochromia, my grandpa had it, and his grandpa had it, for some reason every two generations in my mom's side of the family, the second born always has heterochromatic eyes. My right eye is blue, and my left eye's green. And as you can make it up by yourself, that's exactly the eye color combo that the guy in the portrait had.

This is where I feel the most conflicted, what now, what do I do now, my doubts about her initial story about her abusive ex are very very high. I'm thinking about contacting him, getting his side of the story, I need to know what's going on, because as clear as it seems, this is still so confusing to me, and it still makes me panic every time I think about it.

At the time I’m writing this, the story that happened to me was 5 days ago, it was on a saturday and for context, I am a 16 years old french boy (Sorry in advance if I made grammar mistakes). So I was with my friend this Saturday in my little french hometown casually hanging out at the border of the town for a whole hour. My friend here is a 17 years old girl. We were sitting on big rocks behind the kindergarten school of our town right in front of the beet field around 8 PM, the sky was starting to turn dark. Nothing has ever really happened in our town since we live in it except recently when a dad stabbed his daughter and wife 40 times but it has nothing to do with my story, note that there aren’t many foreigners there since it’s kind of a lost country town close to Paris.

So I was sitting with my friend eating stuff like we casually do when we hangout, when suddenly, I spotted a man with a beanie, he had his hands in his sweatshirt and was directly walking towards us,(he was way too close for my friend and me to get up and walk away). He comes right in front of us and starts talking english, my friend doesn’t speak english so she didn’t really know what was happening at this time, so this guy comes right in front of me when he noticed that I was able to speak english and tries to shake my hand which I deny the approach, (note that he didn’t look like he was drunk or under drugs).

The weird guy starts talking to me and he points out the field that was behind my back which means that if I wanted to look at it i would’ve needed to turn back to him, and then he says very insistent “is that cabbage”, I responded yes but he wasn’t satisfied by my response since he was trying to get me to look behind me, however there was literally the other part of the field that was in my line of sight at my left. He tried to get me to look again and again which was kind of stressing because this guy was at like less than a meter away from me which means that he could’ve done everything he wants to me, then he told me some incoherent stuff like “my driver told me there was cabbage” or “I asked people they didn’t understand”. 

Right after saying that he pats my shoulder, goes behind me and crouches at the border of the field, he tells me to come to see if it was cabbage when I clearly told him many times that it was cabbage (even tho it was not, I was just trying to get rid of this creep, but it kinda looked like cabbage). Right when I see that I’m out of his range I say to my friend to take her bag and start running. At first she thought I was joking but when she saw me running she changed her mind. We were like 20 meters away from him and he started walking towards us but rapidly disappeared behind the kindergarten school.

My friend and I were both really unsettled and quickly wanted to go home, we said goodbye to each other and we splitted in two different directions, I needed to go by the elementary school that was right next to the kindergarten school to get home, suddenly, I see the creep coming from the road that was between the field and the kindergarten school with his phone on and in his hands. I quickly turned around and went at my friend’s house with her, waiting for his father to drive me home, later that night my friend and I were talking and we suggested that it may be some kidnapping or organs trafficking stuff since it was the first time we saw an alone foreigner that didn’t speak a single word in french, the fact that he got up and escaped quickly when we started running hinted me on the fact that it was just some pretext to get me to move away from my friend.

Maybe he had texted some guy waiting in a car for them to kidnap my friend or me since the creep was clearly trying to make us lose time with his cabbage thing. Later that night I told what happened to a friend that lives in the same town as us, and he told us that this guy was hanging around the town with a weird behavior that day. We were really unsettled and scared after that event but now we’re completely good and I’m wondering if we're doing too much about that guy even though my intuition really told me to get away from him. If anyone has anything to say to help us clear this if it looks like some already known cases that already happened to someone.

To this creep that made me feel I was being trapped in a horror movie, let’s not meet AGAIN. 

Last year, I started law school in Los Angeles.

I have never lived in a big city before and I was really excited to be in a massive city with over four million people.

Ever since I was little, I always knew I had a half-sister in LA, but my parents had this weird anger toward her that always made it feel like a taboo topic. Of course I had looked her up on social media and I knew what she looked like, but that was about all. We had never actually met. She was never that active on social media so there wasn't a lot I could see.

Out of nowhere one day in my first year of law school, I got a friend request on Facebook from my sister. Her profile seemed legitimate, she had Facebook friends, and her profile picture looked like her.

She sent me a message inviting me to a little dinner party at the park with her friends. We could finally meet each other for the first time. I was new to LA (still am) and I had no idea which parts of the city to avoid at night.

I was so excited about that idea, but I had a lot of anxiety about it too. It would be nice if we met, totally clicked, and became besties for life. But what if we ended up sobbing like we were in some dramatic movie scene? What if I tried to talk with her, and she just didn't click with me, and she started showing me an attitude? Or worse—what if it's all going well until we have some kind of disagreement, someone said something hurtful, and then we were both crying in front of everyone?

Honestly, if she had suggested a cozy little bakery for desserts instead, I would have gone. But going to a park with other people didn't feel right. I thought it was like such a precious moment that I didn’t want to have in front of all these other people.

I couldn’t bring myself to go. I didn’t want to risk having a meltdown in front of other people. I was worried about how messy it could get.

A few weeks later, I googled that park just to see what it was like. Maybe we could meet up there together, just one on one. That's when I learned something was wrong.

I won't say the name of the park, but anyone who has lived in LA for long will tell you that it's NOT a safe place for girls to be having a dinner party at night. The area surrounding that park has very high violent crime rates. It's controlled by gangs. Even people who do illegal business in that park are forced to pay a "tax" to the gang in exchange for being left alone.

So now I was really concerned and curious.

I actually tried to get ahold of my sister myself. She was an undergrad at the time, a local college. I had a friend who went to her school. I asked my friend to reach out to her on campus and ask her if she'd be ok with meeting us. They connected and the three of us met at my friend's house.

It was great. We got along so well. My friend was also very happy to do that for us. The three of us had so much fun. We weren't bursting in tears but we let out a few. We had dinner, we watched a movie, and we spent the night at my friend's house.

When I told my sister about that whole thing, she said she hadn’t used Facebook since high school—so clearly someone was impersonating her. I would have told her to report the fake account but it had already been deleted.

She knew she had been impersonated on social media though. Another one of her friends had been scammed by someone pretending to be her. It was some scheme involving fake concert tickets or something like that.

Someone had been impersonating my sister; they knew I was in town, and they literally tried to lure me into one of the most dangerous parts of LA at night. I have no idea what their motives were. I don't know if I even want to find out.

Meeting my sister after all these years was a beautiful thing but the whole backdrop was terrifying.

This happened four years back. It was the middle of winter, and the night was unseasonably warm, without a hint snow on the ground. I left my apartment around 8 PM to go for my daily walk (I worked nights and my schedule was screwed up, hence the 8 PM walk), figuring I would cross the bridge into the city nearby. For further context I'm a tall guy who's fairly athletic, and I was in my late 20's at the time. I'd rarely had a problem walking at night, and at the time, I felt safe to do so. I put on my headphones and headed towards the bridge.

The first twenty minutes were uneventful. I passed by old houses, a subpar Mexican restaurant, a really good Mexican restaurant, a sketchy gas station, some newly built upscale apartments, and finally, I was at the river, enjoying the view of the bright lights over the dark flowing water, not yet frozen. I crossed the bridge into the city and hit a crosswalk button at a four way intersection, then noticed someone standing on the corner opposite, the only other soul I'd seen outside that night. Seemingly she was doing nothing, and I assumed she was waiting for an uber to come pick her up, since she didn't seem to be waiting for the light to change.

The street, ordinarily busy during the daytime, was silent. The light changed, and I crossed, headed in her direction. As I neared her I noticed that she would cast glances in my direction, then look away, almost sheepishly. She did this multiple times, and I figured she was unnerved by me. I sympathized, figuring it must have made her uneasy, us being the only two people on a dimly lit street. As I passed by, I took in her outfit, mostly because I thought she looked cold: she wore a knitted hat with tassels, a sweater that looked too thin for the winter, tight jeans, and a little plastic children's backpack on her back. I thought she was in her teens at first, but upon closer inspection she appeared to be in her late twenties or thirties. She had short cropped light brown hair and a pale complexion. She was skinny and was of average height; I was maybe a head taller than her. I walked by and continued down the street.

I passed by high rise hotels on my right and left, and made my way into a central park. During peak hours this place would be packed with tourists and locals alike, but that day, at an odd hour and with the pandemic in full swing, I felt like the only man in the city. I admired the brilliant display of lighted trees as I crossed through the center of the park; then, figuring I was at a good halfway point in my journey, I made my way around an old marble and stone library, back towards the bridge. As I turned the corner of the library back onto the street from which I'd come, I nearly collided with someone, moving towards me.

It was the same woman I'd seen not ten minutes earlier. My noise cancelling headphones were still on, so I pulled down one side and said something by way of apology. She said nothing in return. Instead, she stepped back from me and stood below a street light, not making eye contact. She stole tiny glances at me, that same tick I'd noticed before. I put my headphones back on, nodded a goodnight, and headed towards the nearest crosswalk.

Reason told me that she must be headed in the direction I'd come from, since we'd nearly run into each other headed opposite ways, but some part of me whispered that she wasn't headed that way. Sure enough, when I turned to look, she was trailing close behind me, her strides surprisingly long and energetic. I found this odd enough that I continued to watch her out of the corner of my eye.

Shortly after I reached the crosswalk, as I stood there waiting for the light to change, she caught up with me, passed me by, and stopped. A car when past, and as it did so, she squatted over her plastic bag a few meters from me, rifling frantically for something, looking up at me on occasion. I hit a button on my headphones, stopping my podcast, so that I could hear her better. What I found disturbing about the motion of her looking through her bag is that it struck me as fake, as though she were pretending for some reason. She was barely looking inside, and her careless motions struck more like bad acting. Something about her motions, the way she kept looking at me, felt wrong.

The light changed, and I began to walk quickly, but she was faster. She stood suddenly, darting past me towards the museum, swinging the half open little pink backpack over her shoulder. I watched her silhouette disappear into the darkness beyond the reach of the street lights. I hoped that that was the end of that, and after a few beats of not seeing her, I let my guard fall a little, restarting my podcast.

Beyond the museum was a patch of poorly lit sidewalk, in front of a squat building with mirrorlike windows. I wasn't far from the bridge now. As I made my way back there, I turned my head to look at the reflections of buildings and streetlights in the windows. To my horror, a dark figure sprinted silently towards my reflection, dreamlike.

I'm not sure why, maybe out of sheer confusion, but I turned to meet her as she hurtled towards me. Perhaps surprised by my sudden turn, she halted mere feet from me, staring. Her eyes were wide, and looked frantic, wild. She kept looking at my arms, then back at my face, as though sizing me up. My accidental bluff had worked, and in the darkness, I suppose I must have looked more prepared to fight back than I felt. She gripped something small tightly in one hand, though she held it off to the side, and in the shadow of the building I couldn't see what it was.

Seconds dragged as we stood there, staring at one another. Immobilized by fear and confusion, I waited for her to make some move, to attempt to use whatever object she held in her hand.

Just then, to my enormous relief, a car trundled slowly past. A bit of my strength returned, and over my blaring podcast I felt more than heard myself shouting at her, "what do you want?" No reply. I slowly backed away from her, expecting her to move. She just watched me, that same intense look on her face. I took another step back, then another, steadily backing away from her until I felt confident enough to turn and carefully walk away.

As I reached a better lit area, I began to move faster, all the while keeping my eyes trained on her shadowy form. She stood there for some time, statuesque. Then abruptly, having spontaneously abandoned whatever plan she may have had for me, she turned from me and without looking for traffic, she crossed the street with long strides, and disappeared around the corner of a building. Something about the casual air of it disturbed me.

I kept my eyes trained behind me on my walk home, afraid that she would follow me. The bridge was well lit, and I saw no sign of her. Knowing that this was the only way for her to follow me and keep up on foot, I breathed a sigh of relief. I saw no more cars headed from the city, no more pedestrians out walking.

Nothing happened after that. I'm not sure why, but I didn't call the cops that night. I still regret having not called, despite my roommates insisting I do so. I just remembering thinking that I wasn't sure what to say to the cops, that I hadn't really been attacked, that they wouldn't be able to find her anyway. I made up excuses. I suppose I must have been in shock, in denial at having been nearly ambushed, especially by someone smaller than me, in my own city, so close to my apartment. One of my roommates called the cops for me. A cop drove through the area, but by that point, she was gone.

Woman with the little pink backpack, let's not meet again.