A (0:05)

This happened five years ago. I had met some guy through some friends I had at the time. He only spoke Spanish, which I didn't mind because Spanish was actually my first language. He was around my age, which was 26 at the time. I knew he was into me, but I wasn't interested and he wasn't really my type anyways. My friends and I would always hang out with him and his friends and do different things like go to the mountains or quad riding, but mainly just drink and hang out. But eventually I had started to like him and we had started hanging out on our own. And well, that led to us hooking up. After that we became a thing. He would bring me around as brothers and cousins whenever I would sleep over. It was almost always a different house and he always had different cars, which I thought was weird. And whenever I asked him what he did for work, he would just say construction. I found out that he was here illegally and he grew weed illegally. But by then I had already liked him a lot, so I didn't really care. Plus, back then I was really careless and I didn't really think of my future and I was really just wanting to have fun at the moment. He had asked me out and to be his girlfriend and of course I said yes. I mean, we were always together so it just made sense for me to become his girlfriend. So that's how I went for about a year or so. We would always see each other, sometimes during the week and always on the weekends. One day I got a text from a random number saying that it's his girlfriend and they said that they lived together. I texted back and asked who it was, but she said it would be best if I just stopped talking to him and that she can't tell me. I called the number a couple of times, but she never answered. When I saw him again, I obviously told him, but he said it was probably just his crazy ex fucking with me. So I stayed with him. I did begin to notice that he would always get calls late at night whenever I was with him. I thought that maybe he really was cheating, but I never actually found any proof, so I ignored it. Well, the same number reached out to me again a couple of months later. This time, however, she said that she was pregnant and that I'm really dumb for not leaving him. I told her that I didn't believe anything she was saying and to send me proof for her to meet up and talk to me, but she always said no. She then reached out to me by Facebook and she would message me on there she looked a little younger than me, but on her profile there was only pictures of her, not of him. One day when I was with him, I had seen a Facebook message pop up on his phone and it was the same girl. I told him that's the girl who had been messaging me and why is he messaging her? He said that it's his friend and that she tends to do favors for him like putting things in her name and ordering stuff that he needs. The girl would always message me and tell me that she was with him on the weekends and that's why he didn't answer me and that that was also why he wasn't with me, that he was with her. We would always message back and forth over Facebook. She would say things to me like, you have fun with him today. I was with him last night, kind of mocking me and talking shit, saying they had sex the night before, things like that. So I would do the same. And that's just kind of how it went on. Well, one day I saw him and he was wearing a hospital bracelet. I had asked him if he was at the hospital and he told me yes, that she had the baby. I told him congratulations, but that I didn't want to be with him anymore and to leave me alone and stay out of my life. That I'd had enough of him just going back and forth between the both of us. I would try and stop talking to him, but he would later text me and call me non stop saying that he misses me and that he has to see me and I would always give in. I was so stupid. Then one night I went to the gym with my sister in law. Once we got there, I got a video call from the girl. She was once again bragging that she was with them. I told her to show me and give me proof. Well, she did. He was right there next to her, laying in bed. I then told the both of them to just leave me alone already and to just be happy. He got so mad and started yelling at her that he had snatched the phone from her and then it hung up. I then texted him saying that I'm done, this time for real. But of course he kept blowing up my phone, which I ignored until he then texted me to come outside. I don't know how he knew that I was at the gym, but I was always there at night at that time. So I'm sure he just knew I had told him to leave and that I didn't want to talk to him, but he was just begging me to go outside to talk. So I went outside and he was parked in the front in his big white truck. I saw that he had blood all over his shirt. And when I asked him what happened, he said that he had punched the wall and hurt his hand. I was a bit uneasy, so I just talked to him from the window, saying, well, what's up? Why are you here? He said that he needed a favor and to please help him. He then told me that he needed me to take him to Tijuana and that he won't bother me anymore after that. When I asked him why, he said that he really fucked up and that he hit that girl and that she called the cops on him. So they're probably out looking for him. Well, my dumbass felt sorry for him. He looked so scared and worried. I agreed and we ended up leaving his truck there and went in my car. On the way over there, he had hardly even spoke to me. He just looked really scared. I kept telling him that I'm not getting back with him and to never call me again once I drop him off. He just kept saying that he fucked up. So I had asked him, well, what exactly did you do? He said that he had hit her and that she fell. It kind of didn't make any sense, but he didn't want to talk about it, so I believed him. Anyway. Once we finally got to Tijuana, he had threw out his cell phone and broke it. Then he asked me for some money to buy a new one, since he didn't have any money on him. He said that he would have his brother pay me back when I got back. It was pretty late. I'd say around 10pm so we checked into a hotel and I decided I was going to leave in the morning since it was getting so late. In reality, I had no idea what was going on. The whole night was pretty normal. We both just ended up falling asleep and he barely even talked. So the next morning I told him I was leaving and he had begged me not to leave and to live with him in Mexico. I told him that I was just doing him a favor and that I never wanted to speak with him again after this. He kept trying to hold me down and to get me to stay with him, but I just said it was over. He had this look of desperation on his face, almost crying. I felt really uneasy. I told him I was going to get something from my car. I then walked out of the room to the lobby and into my car. Right as I was leaving, though, I could see him running down the Stairs towards my car. I left so fast and I could see him running after me in my car. I finally crossed back and then went home. I didn't hear anything from him until a couple of days later. I got a call from his brother saying that he was gonna pay me back the money that I gave him and to take him to his truck since the truck was still parked at the gym. I went to the gym and got into the truck. It was unlocked and the keys were in it. When I was in the truck, I had noticed what looked like dried blood on the steering wheel as well as the driver's door and handles. Then I remembered that he had told me that he had punched a wall and that that's why he was bleeding. So I figured that's all it was. I drove the truck to his brother's house and I'd left it parked outside while my friend in my car drove behind me. Then I left. I didn't even wait until he came out to get the keys. After that, I blocked my ex as well as everyone connected to him. I was really sad, but I knew it was for the best that I wasn't with him anymore. I just continued with my daily routine. Well, one night on my way to the gym, I got pulled over. I was with my sister in law at the time and I had no idea why they pulled me over. They just kept saying that I had to go with them to the station and then they'll explain everything there. They were being so aggressive and I was really scared because I had no idea what I could have done. But in the back of my head, I just knew that it had something to do with my ex. So once I got to the station, they had put me in an interrogation room. And they had started asking questions about where I was the night that I last spoke to my ex. I then asked if he was okay. What they told me next, I was not expecting. They said that night he had shot the girl in the head and killed her right in front of their newborn baby. Then he fled. I was shocked. I didn't even know what to say. I just started thinking of that night and why he was acting so strange. Everything made sense now. I was now thinking that they probably think that I was in on it and that I helped him get away. I told them the truth on what happened and everything that I knew. They took my DNA and they told me they'd be in touch. They also searched my phone and even kept my car for a while. At that same time, other officers went to my dad's house and then raided it. They flipped the whole house over looking for murder weapons. My parents were so confused and scared. A couple of weeks passed and then months and I never heard anything else from anyone. I think my ex tried to get a hold of me one time on Instagram through a weird profile. He had sent me a random DM and when I asked who it was, he had sent me a song. The way that I knew it was him was the song that he had sent me was our song. But I never replied and just blocked the profile immediately. I did a few months later hear a rumor that he got killed in Mexico. I didn't want to hear or know anything about it and I still don't even know if it's true. I still to this day feel somewhat guilty. Maybe if I would have left him since I first got that text from her, she would still be alive. It's really weird because I never even saw a violent side to him. I couldn't even see him doing something like that. My friends and family all tell me that I got really lucky that he didn't kill me as well. Anyways, I'm really trying my best to put it all behind me and try not to dwell and think about the what ifs. It's now been years later and still to this day I haven't heard anything else and I don't want to know. This memory of mine begins about three years ago when I graduated high school. I had grown up with my grandparents, but decided to move to a different and much larger city to live with my dad for the first time in 12 years. I somewhat knew the city already because I had spent summers with him, but this would be the first time I would have the freedom of an adult to come and go as I pleased, to drive my car anywhere, smoke cigarettes whenever I wanted. I was excited, though sad, to leave all my friends. As soon as I was settled in, my dad and stepmom sat me down to discuss a few rules and what I needed to know about the complex. Basically, things like go wherever you want, but let us know when you leave and when you're coming back. Even if it's 2:00am oh, and you'll have to park on the street because the apartment complex has limited parking. Oh, and one more thing. There's this neighborhood creep. This guy George was well known to all the women in the complex as well as the police that patrolled the area. He was tall and fairly huge, very intimidating looking. My parents were pretty certain that he would leave me alone for One reason my dad, though George had a habit of stalking other women in the complex. He would stop and find a new target if they had a man make a show of being in their place. Whether that be a brother, a lover or a father. It didn't matter what he was to the woman or what he looked like. George would back off immediately. Since I lived with my dad, who was also quite tall and rather big and intimidating, I also felt confident that I would be alright. And I was for a time. It started about six months after I moved in. My stepmom and dad were fighting a lot more until she eventually got up and left him. One night I was sitting on my porch having a cigarette and browsing Facebook or whatever. I wish I could say that I felt like I was being watched, but I probably just looked up because I felt a bug or something. Well, George was standing about 15ft away, a little behind a tree, staring intently at me. I nearly dropped my cigarette. Shakily, I stubbed it out and went inside. I was home alone, so I made sure to lock all my doors. And then I played a video game in my room. I told myself that I was probably just paranoid. The next morning, I got up for my morning cigarette and coffee. Lo and behold, minutes after I got onto my porch, George came ambling out of his apartment to look my way. I sucked down my cigarette and went back inside. This pattern continued for a couple of weeks. It was like George stood at his sliding glass door, peeking out, waiting just to see when I would pop out. I told my dad about it and he tried to sit with me whenever I went out to smoke. If he came with me, George wouldn't even peep a head out of his door. Of course, the other women in the complex have already tried to call police about George. But he lives in the complex and staring isn't a crime, so there really wasn't much they could do. I didn't know how far George had taken it with the other women before. With that info in my mind, I knew calling wouldn't be much use. Things slowly escalated. Once my stepmom left, I had access to her parking spot. So I had three ways to get from my car to my apartment, depending on how I parked. One of the ways went just past George's apartment, about five feet from his door. Since I got off work late most nights, I avoided that route as much as possible. Slowly but surely, like he memorized my schedule, he would be on the path where I was coming home, not directly on the concrete, but a few feet Away on the grass behind a tree. It was like he thought that I couldn't see him. Picture a child hiding very terribly behind a tree. You can see 90% of their body and you just know that they're there. That's how he would do it. I would rush past him, avoid eye contact, but prepare to scream if I heard him come after me. I started to carry my keys between my fingertips. I bought a pocket knife and I would walk from my car with it halfway open already, even though I'd never been in any kind of fight in my life. Right around this time, I believe my mom was trying to find me free self defense classes since I couldn't afford anything on my tight budget. My dad was steadily getting more and more pissed off as George edged closer and closer to escalating as the days went by. It went from November to May. If my dad wasn't home, I would lock my bedroom door and keep a knife under my pillow. I would Skype all night with my boyfriend just so someone could call 911 for me if need be. I put a bunch of flower pots in front of my bedroom window so no one can get in. Silently, I started sitting on the floor of my porch below the wall, out of sight to smoke, but angled so I could see him if he walked up to it. Nightmares of being kidnapped or raped or murdered started to invade my sleep every night. Then one day, my neighbor Shell was gossiping to me. Did you hear about George? Um, no. He got arrested last night. Now, in the complex parking lot, there's a big sort of electrical power box, if you will. It stands about waist height and is perhaps 2 or 3ft wide. About 10 minutes before I was supposed to come home and then park right in front of it, some lady with her kid were walking by and they saw George sitting on the box, masturbating. Was he there waiting for me? Jerking off to the thought of me seeing him? Ugh, that thought makes me want to puke and scare me all at the same time. I was relieved for a few days of my stress, but it was only a few days that he was gone. Then he was back and he went right back to the same old routine. One night he got far braver. It was maybe about 7pm when I went out for a cigarette with my dad. A neighbor had walked up to chat with my dad and George came outside and stood out in the open, just staring me down. Yeah, this dude's just asking to get his fucking ass kicked, my dad said under his breath. Then he chatted to the neighbors some more. I rolled my eyes, went inside and then played some more video games. I was healing in a World of Warcraft dungeon when I heard Shell shouting where are you? But I was healing a pretty important job in the game and I figured she was talking to someone else. That is until she burst into my room in a panic, her eyes huge. She hopped from foot to foot frantically like she was doing the potty dance. He's bleeding. Who? I asked in bewilderment. Your dad. Come quick. I made some teenager huffing sound and left my computer, certainly pissing off the rest of the group. I grabbed our little first aid kit filled with band aids. I thought in my mind that my dad was doing something stupid like tossing up his pocket knife and trying to catch it, but when I stepped outside I found myself face to face with a real horror. About six people surrounded my dad, including Shell and as well as my neighbor. Caleb held a shirt to my dad's side. He was facing away from me and his entire back was just covered in blood. It looked like he had been mauled by a bear. That was seriously my first thought. I didn't know if we had bears in this city. Caleb's hold on the shirt slipped and then blood sprayed. I even feel queasy writing this down. I have never in my life been the person that people turn to in an emergency. Blood makes me light headed and I have anxiety attacks over not being able to find a specific bookmark. But all of the adults around me were panicked. Aside from Caleb, people around 30, 40. While I was just 18. I needed to be the person that people turned to. I threw the first aid kit onto the porch and then told Shell where we keep our towels. She rushed to go grab one. Has anyone here called 911? I shouted. I kid you not. Five pairs of eyes turned to look at me like they'd never even heard of 911 before. No. My dad said. I can't afford an ambulance. Shut up. I said. What happened? That fucker stabbed me. So I dialed 911 and relayed our address and reason for emergency. The operator told us to keep applying pressure to the wound on my father's lower back. My dad is a true champ. Even though the sidewalk was just one big puddle of blood, he stayed on his feet until someone thought to run and go get him a chair. I ran back and forth along the walkways to get to the police and show them the house that George lived in and then I ran back and forth to get the paramedics they were so cold and so agonizingly slow. They wonked calmly and I wanted to scream at them, run. My dad could be bleeding out. Don't you fucking care? I learned later that day that they don't run because if they let adrenaline kick in, mistakes can happen. They shoved Caleb out of the way because they refused to let go of my dad's wound and then got him packed into the ambulance. I was about to jump on when the police stopped me and they told me I had to stay so I can give my statement. My dad shouted at me to call his boss and I remembered all his allergies and whatnot for the paramedics. God, two years later and all these details are still burned into my brain. I gave my statement to the police. They then made me sit outside the complex on the sidewalk for two, three hours. They kept me updated on my dad. Once I called his boss, my boss, and answered my stepmom's message. That's when I finally allowed myself to break down. It felt like I cried forever. One of the cops was nice enough to go into my house and grab my cigarettes and a bottle of water for me. He stayed with me the entire time just to make sure I didn't run off or something. But he was very nice. He offered to let me sit in his cruiser a few times just to get away from the cold. George was waiting in his apartment when they came. When they took him out to where I was, he still just kept trying to stare at me. Keep in mind, there were 14 cop cars. 14. I stared right back at him and I felt so much hatred that I've never felt in my life. I wanted to literally go over there and murder him. My babysitting cop looked over and saw that George was staring, so he used his flashlight to keep George from being able to look at me. Once it was all over, I was finally allowed to go back to my house where I waited for more information about my dad. I gathered the story from my neighbors while he was in the hospital for nine days. My dad had apparently shouted at George to leave his daughter alone. And George had shouted back at him. While I was in the house, totally unaware, George said something along the lines of, come tell me that to my face like a man. And, well, my dad hopped over the porch and waltzed up to him. The creep had been waiting with a 12 inch blade held to the side of his leg. He struck out with his empty hand, then got my dad in the back with the knife. It missed his kidney very, very narrowly. It traveled up and punctured his lung and damaged his diaphragm. My dad didn't even realize he had been stabbed at first. He got George into a headlock and pummeled the shit out of him, thanking the dude had just punched him in the kidney. George dropped the knife, rolled in the grass and then picked up another knife that he had been hiding and then stabbed my dad again, this time in the upper back. This wound was much more shallow, but still required stitches later on. At this point, Shell came outside and screamed to my dad that he was bleeding. He took off his shirt, got pissed and then threw it at George. At that point, the neighbor stalker then put his hands up and then went into his apartment. The blood stayed on the pavement until about noon the next day when my neighbors kindly washed it off for me. I still have pictures in my email of it, as well as my dad's injuries. My dad spent more time in the hospital in critical condition than George spent being held in jail. I felt like it was all my fault. I've been addressing that in therapy, but I still felt awful about it. Like my dad had to fight my own battle for me. Throughout the week, while I was on my porch or just outside, I had so many women come up to me. Each and every one of them told me to thank my dad for them. They'd all been terrorized by George at some point and now they were certain he would be away for good. Several of these poor women had George stalk them up to their apartment door and then pull his pants down demanding sex. I can't believe the cops couldn't do anything. One of those days, one of my neighbors came up to tell me that the police had searched the complex and they found that George had stashed many knives all over the place, buried in gardens, stuck behind trees and under his doormat. I shudder to think that he might have planned to one day grab one of his targets and do something far more sinister than just stare. George was declared guilty for battery with a deadly weapon, but the attempted murder charge was dropped. He was out of prison by Christmas on good behavior or whatever. But my dad and I have a lifelong restraining order against him. He has never tried to come after me, so I can only assume that he's terrified of my dad. I wish I could tell you guys that I took self defense classes and that I learned to fight the way my dad can, but I'm still a pussy who can't even slap a spider. So there's that. My dad is doing alright now. He's just had his third surgery on Tuesday, trying to repair the damage done to him internally. We're hoping that this will be his last and that his quality of life will vastly improve. I probably owe my life to my dad. If he hadn't fought George for me, maybe I would have been the first victim George stabbed. I wish to remain anonymous, but just know that I'm a 19 year old female who had a very scary experience a couple of months back. It was June when this happened. Whether I had graduated from high school or not, I can't remember. But my mom was at work and my dad was outside in the garage smoking his cigarettes. For some context, my house is in a suburban neighborhood and my neighborhood is pretty quiet. Also, my house is not some big fancy home. Rather, it's a one story house that was built in the 1970s, a house that still has the dark brown cabinets and burnt orange carpet. Our kitchen had a breakfast bar built into the wall that a contractor built. If you sit in the living room, you can look right into the kitchen through the cutout of the breakfast bar. This can also give you access to see who comes in and out of the garage. If you sit in the spot of the living room, that part will be important soon. Also as context I have four dogs and each dog is very unique. I have a Chihuahua, a pinball mix, a black lab mix and a Rottweiler mix. We literally have small, medium, large and extra large dogs. On this particular day, the Chihuahua and Rottweiler mix were inside the house while the other two were outside. Like I said before, my mom was at work and my dad was outside in the garage. I was inside with the dogs watching tv. As I was watching tv, I had heard a knock at the door. Odd, I thought to myself. It was odd because the garage door was wide open. How could he not see my dad? Then again, my truck was in the garage, so maybe he couldn't see him, I don't know. But I was not going to answer that door. I looked out the window to see who was there, but by the time I looked the person was already talking to my dad. Thinking nothing of it, I went back to my chair and continued watching tv. Now my chair was up against the wall that separates the living room and the kitchen, so I pretty much sit right under the breakfast bar. But I do have a good view of the door leading out to the garage. I could see who came in and out. I heard the door open and I looked up to see the man walking in with my dad trailing behind him. I was confused at first, but then it dawned on me that maybe he was coming over to talk about our windows and how much it would cost to repair them again. Our home was built in the 70s, so some things in our home very much needed to be fixed. Where's your bathroom at? The man asked. Third door on the right, my dad responded. First off, down the hall we have seven doors, two on the left and five on the right. Mine and my parents rooms are the last doors on either side of the hallway, my room being on the left and my parents being on the right. Second, why does he want to use the restroom? I found it extremely odd why this stranger wanted to use the bathroom. From the moment this stranger stepped into our home, my two dogs were barking at him and their hair was now standing up. So it wasn't just me. This man was very clearly strange. As he walked down the hall, I got a good look at him, something I picked up while watching a ton of murder documentaries with my mom. But I noticed the man was tall, maybe six' two, six' three. He wore grey shorts and a pale yellow shirt and he had a black backpack on. His hair was dark brown and curly, plus he had an accent. As soon as the man shut the door to the bathroom, my dad walked to the back of the house to his room. I watched as he walked out of his room and into the hallway. He told me to be quiet and motioned me to come to him, to which I did. As I came in reach of him, he then handed me his 9mm gun. My heart dropped into my stomach as he handed it to me. My dad is a 6 foot tall man who's on the heavier side and he served in the navy after he got out of high school. He is the kind of man who has a rough voice, but he's a really nice guy. Seriously, if you ask him about cars or the military, you'll be there for hours listening to him talking about the two things he loves the most. My dad is also the type who doesn't get spooked easily, but when I tell you that he just handed me the gun, it felt like he just handed me a grenade and I treated it as if it were about to explode. Hide it in such a way you can easily reach it, my dad softly said to me. Luckily I had some laundry that I had yet to put away so I stuffed it in there. I also decided to shut my door just a little bit so I could still see what was going on but he couldn't see me. My hands were shaking and My heart was racing. My dad stood at the other end of the hallway so he could keep an eye out on what was going on. While my dogs were in my room standing behind me just watching everything that was going on. I was praying to God that I wouldn't have to use the gun. I did come up with a plan though. Grab my baseball bat and the gun. I could at least hit the man with the bat and hand the gun to my dad while I called 911. As the man emerged from the bathroom, my dog started barking at him yet again. He thanked my dad and walked out of the house with my dad trailing behind him. Once again, I had stood behind in my room until I heard my dad come back inside. He checked the bathroom and it was clear. I handed the gun back to my dad and I felt my heart rate return back to normal. I then calmed down my dogs and gave them each a treat. My dad had explained to me that the man was going around the neighborhood selling something. He had asked my dad for some water, which my dad gave him. Then he asked if he could use the bathroom and my dad agreed to let him use it. I had later told my mom what happened and she said that she thought it was really suspicious what he was doing. She said that maybe he was hoping to find out that I was home alone and he could come in and then take whatever he wanted. I'm not really sure, but I was scared and I really hope to never experience something like that again. I would also like to point out that as of late, the surrounding neighborhoods have had a couple of groups of four, five men who also look very suspicious. I don't think the man from my experience has anything to do with the other men from the other neighborhoods, but it wouldn't surprise me if it were. I have learned two things about this experience. One, always trust your dogs. They sensed something was wrong with the man and that assured me that there actually was something wrong with him. And two, do not ever let some stranger into the house if they ask for something like using the bathroom. I don't know what possessed my dad that day to let him into our home, but I hope he never makes that same mistake ever again. I know my story might not seem that scary to most, but it was very scary to me and I just hope that my story can help someone out in the long run. Thank you all for listening and be careful. This goes back to 2013 to maybe 2014 and I was about 15, 16, as many teens my age. I was online a lot and I was super into this anonymous app called Whisper. I'll give a bit of information on it. The only thing you know about the people on there, unless they tell you is the age range. For example 18 and below 19, 24 and 25, 29, you get the point. Then you know how far away someone is in their gender. It was really fascinating to me being able to be honest and say whatever I wanted without anyone knowing it was me. I'm a pretty mentally ill person and I was very suicidal and depressed, especially in my teen years before I learned some coping skills. Well, I would post on there about feeling sad and looking for some real advice. I had received several messages, lots of people saying it only gets worse from here, telling me to get a therapist and many other things. Well, one person on there messaged me and they told me that they can cure my depression. I checked the asl, which for those of you who don't know stands for age, sex and location and it said it was a male, age 30, 35 and he was two miles away. This made me nervous, but I responded back with, okay, how can you help me? He asked me what my name was and I just gave him the name Amber. He asked me to paint him a picture and write my name on it as payment for helping me. I drew him a picture of a bumblebee and I painted it. I then wrote the name Amber in purple letters at the bottom and I sent it to him. He accepted it. Then, then he asked me questions about myself, me being naive and not really sensing the danger. I told him how old I was and what I looked like. I even sent him a picture of me and I told him what high school I went to and probably many other things that right now I can't remember. But basically I did everything except give this guy my address and real name. He said that he would have to meet me to help me and that he's helped other people and he's still in contact with them. Well, me being the depressed suicidal teen I was, I agreed and I didn't even think about the dangers. So within about a week, this guy pulls up to my school after I get out and he tells me to get in his car. This is the first time that I've seen what he looks like. He was a very heavy set man, probably about 250, 300 pounds. He also had a beard, wore glasses, his hair was a red brown and he had a very clean scent to him. The fear had started to set in a bit when I then realized he was actually serious in Here I hesitated, but I ignored the alarms going off in my head and I entered his car. He took off pretty much immediately and he then began talking to me, asking about school, if I had any friends, if anyone knew I was doing this. I answered his questions while also paying attention to where we were going. As he left town, he had mainly only drove on country roads. I couldn't fully keep track anymore to where we were going, but we went about 30 minutes out of town to a new area entirely that I'd never even seen before. Even to this day, I still have no idea where he took me. He pulled into his driveway and entered his garage, then closing it so nobody would see us. I'm assuming at this point the alarms were so loud in my head that I then realized I fucked up. I had to go inside with him either way. He told me to sit on the couch while he changed and he asked if I wanted a glass of water. Now, I knew better than to accept any food or drink from him, being unsure of what he would do or put in it, so I politely declined. He then said, okay, let's get started, shall we? I agreed and he asked, so are you still feeling sad? I nodded and I don't know what started it, but it went from zero to a hundred instantly and he grabbed me by my neck and then slammed me against the wall. He didn't even say anything. He just stared into my eyes while choking me as I struggled to get his hands off of me. He then dropped me, then grabbed me by my hair, pulling me up by it and ripping out my clip and hair extensions. This actually left bald spots in my head that I still have 10 years later. He then started swinging on me, punching me in the stomach and face. I finally started trying to fight back, but he just threw me to the ground then getting on top of me, holding my arms down. He was so close and I could actually smell the cigarette and mint on his breath. He then asked me, do you want to die today? I shook my head, crying uncontrollably at this point. He then got up off of me and told me to stay there. I obeyed, figuring I had no idea where I was, there was no way I could find my way home, and plus my mom would be so mad at me that maybe I was better off dead. My head was throbbing and my body felt so sore I just laid there with my eyes closed listening for him to come back. After I'm not sure how long, I had heard his footsteps returning and my anxiety returned as well. I sat up Immediately trying to prepare myself. However, he had a washcloth. He offered it to me then, saying, you can clean yourself up with this. I told him thank you but that I'm okay. He then nodded and he used it on himself instead. I wiped my eyes and just asked, can I go home now? He kinda just stared on me like he was debating on it. Then he nodded, grabbing his car keys. We got in his car and we had a silent drive all the way back. He dropped me back off at school and I walked home, messaging two of my best friends about what happened. To make a long story short, my boyfriend found out about this and he actually threatened to break up with me if I didn't sneak out and see him that night. So I did, which my parents totally busted me and I had to tell them everything that happened. They didn't believe me at first and they took my phone away. But when they saw what I told my friends, I guess they believed me. They went to the cops and they somehow found the guy. They tracked him through the app, I guess they told us they found a lot of evidence pointing towards the idea that he was planning to murder me. They not only caught him for that as well as apparently he had a lot of child porn on his computer, he was sent to prison and he's apparently supposed to be getting out within the next few years. Why didn't this guy kill me? I have no idea. Why did he take me home? I just don't understand it. All I know is I'm ready this time. If he ever tries to come and find me again, I can fight back now and I refuse to be a victim to anyone ever again. I never got my answers, but I'm a lot more cautious now and don't meet any strangers. It definitely didn't cure my depression, but I'm not suicidal anymore. I still think about what happened from time to time. I still can't make any sense of it. I know this was all cause for my own naiveness and stupidity. I guess at this point I'm just really grateful to still be alive. Just a fair warning. This story mentions sexual assault. My name is Hayden, I'm 26 years old and this story took place about five years ago when I just started being able to illegally by alcohol. I had this best friend whom we'll just call T. T was 19. It was him and I and another one of our friends who all dressed as o. O was 18 and we all used to hang out everywhere. We were pretty much like the three Musketeers if you Will Bonfire, shooting, guns, partying, the usual going out type of stuff. Well, O used to always tell me that he had a weird feeling about T. You see, T would always turn anything into some sexual joke, like to the point where you wanted to throw punch him. O just had a bad feeling about T. That only grew more and more once we started hanging around younger females. No, I don't mean minors. I mean females that were over 18. So nothing like that. T was just always a weird guy, especially when it came to girls. He would get real hyper and be real immature and just constantly say the wrong things just to try to impress people, when in reality, it just made him look like a creep. So this particular day happened around Halloween of 2018. Around 9pm O and I were going to this Halloween party that a mutual friend of ours was throwing. We decided to invite T along with us because we were literally a trio. Well, on our way to the party, we had stopped at T's house and we had him follow us because he had work early the next day and he didn't want to drink or stay late. So we get to the party about 25 minutes later and we walk in and there's probably about 30, 40 people there just drinking. They're also playing pool and sitting around the bonfire blaring Metallica's album Ride the Lightning. So as we get out of our trucks and start walking in and saying hey to old friends that we hadn't even seen since graduation, this little girl, who had to be at least 14, comes running up to T and gave him a big hug, then asking him if he wanted to come up to her room and check out her new gaming PC. It turns out the little girl was mine and O's close friend's little sister and she had a crush on T. Keep in mind that T was 19 and the little sister was 14. So he goes upstairs with her while O and I decide to go get some beer and food and just hang out sometime around midnight. So about three hours later, I realized that I had been having so much fun that I lost track of time. And so did O. And by around this time, mostly everyone had left. The only people at the party was O and I and probably about six or seven other acquaintances. And we were pretty much all very tipsy. Not drunk, but tipsy. O and I were planning to crash on the couches there and the other six people were gonna crash in various rooms. Now, also keep in mind that T told us that he had to leave early. So at the time we all thought that he had left and just couldn't find us in the crowd, and that's why he didn't say goodbye to us. So we start helping out, cleaning up the living room and kitchen from all the beer cans and booze bottles, as well as cutting off the music. O goes upstairs to take a piss while we're finishing up cleaning. About five minutes later, O comes downstairs with this real confused look and we ask him what's wrong. He tilts his head down for a second like he can't believe what he's about to say, and he then looks up at me and then says, the bathroom door is locked shut, but it's locked from the outside instead of the inside, and the lights are on and it sounds like someone's tied up in there. We all just pause for a split second, trying to drunkenly comprehend what the hell he just said, and then out of nowhere, the older sister says, are y' all sure that T left? To which I then replied, no, we just figured he did because he had to work in the morning and he also swore that he couldn't drink. To which he then said, you know, I haven't seen my little sister all night since T and her went up to her room earlier. So as I went outside to the driveway to see if T's truck was still there, oh and three other guys rushed upstairs to check the bathroom and to check the little sister's room as well. Well, the little sister wasn't in her room and oh kicked the door to the bathroom open only to find it empty. The noises that he heard that sounded like someone was tied up was just the air vent making a muffled noise, but we still couldn't find her sister. So now we're around 2am, still searching and about to call 911 because we just couldn't find the little sister. Well, the older sister gets a phone call from the little sister's number. The little sister was crying hysterically and was completely incoherent. This was back when Snapchat started the Snapmap thing, so her sister easily found where she was at. So Owen, I and the older sister hopped in my car and we drove slightly drunk to find the little sister. She was 15 minutes away. She was in some wooded trail that was off limits that actually had a warning sign for possible caving in due to all the floods we get. When we finally reach her, we get her in my car and drive home. Her clothes are all wet and muddy and she's bruised severely in her face and she's also bleeding in between her legs. So instead of the house, we rush her to the hospital where she's then taken in and put in the ICU for testing and monitoring. A couple of hours later, O and I are in the waiting room hungover, and we see two private detectives come in and they start asking us questions about T. Like how long we've known him, where he was at during our party, and so on. Well, as it turns out, T didn't actually leave until after he was supposed to. T had planned on going to that party beforehand and he was going to just ride with us at first, but he decided that he would rather drive himself due to what I'm about to tell everyone here. So when we got to the party and T went upstairs to see the gaming PC that the little sister had, he had asked her if she wanted to go for a small ride to get away from the party. So she agreed whilst he and her snuck out of her window. And while sneaking out, he had locked the bathroom door from the outside just to make it seem like someone would be in there. When everyone else had left the party, he thought that everyone would assume that it was the little sister. Anyways, they snuck out and he took her up a favorite trail of hers. This is what happened on the trail later that night when they pull up, he stopped the truck on a flat surface. It was pitch black. He started telling her how she was so cute and pretty and that he couldn't wait until she turned 18 so he could marry her. She replied with blushing and so on because she had a huge crush on him and she thought he was a real charmer. Well, he leaned over the seat and he kissed her cheek, then she kissed him back. But then he started putting his hands on her in a real sexual and violent way and she kept telling him to stop, but he wouldn't. She said it was like the devil himself took over him and he looked like he was looking right into her soul. He then covered her mouth with his hands and he told her to shut up. He then ripped off her clothes and not only violently sexually assaulted her, but but also sodomized her. While she was struggling to get free, he slammed her face into the window of his truck, which knocked her unconscious. Well, when he knocked her unconscious, he thought that he had killed her. So instead of checking her pulse or taking her to the hospital, he took her out of his truck, grabbed his shovel and dug a four foot deep hole which he then covered her up with a real thin sheet of mud. And then he took off and just left her There it wasn't until after she had woken up and seen and felt everything when she finally realized that it wasn't a dream and that it actually happened. And that's when she called the big sister and we showed up. Now, at first he had actually gotten away with everything that happened due to his father being the sergeant of the county, but that would only go so far and he would later get charged for first degree rape. He was also charged with a few counts of aggravated assault because there was DNA found that the forensics didn't see beforehand. I cannot believe what you did, T. You absolutely destroyed this girl's life. I hope you fucking rot in hell for the rest of your life. I work for a company who does contract work exclusively for the US Forest Service in surveying areas for invasive plants. And we basically travel all over the forest in Southern California, even in areas that were off limits to the public. So my crew at work is basically between five and six people every day. The same people for 10 hours a day, four days a week. Like I said before, we swept through the forest area by area, combing for invasive plants to track on GPS and remove. I remember one day when I had first started, we came across this abandoned day use area where there had obviously been some very sketchy stuff going on. We used to park the car in a turnout across from it and eat lunch and several cars would drive into the area over the curb because the main driveway was blocked with a big metal gate. People got out of their cars, some walking their dogs, some to take pictures, some for picnics, and some people just carried stuff and disappeared into the area for a while. We kind of skipped over the area because according to my boss, no invasive plants had ever been tracked in the day use area. So we never really went in there. Nevertheless, it was still sketchy as hell because we would constantly drive by and see people dumping things. What ended up happening was that the crew got called to another part of the forest for a while and we were probably out of that area for around a few months, only coming back sporadically. But we drove down that same road every day and we still saw cars parked there and stuff being dumped. So one day my boss tells us that we need to walk the almost 7 mile stretch of road that that day use area falls on. He asks for volunteers to cover the sides of the road, which cuts through a narrow canyon probably only 500ft wide. The day use area was on the right side of the road, so I volunteered to go right with two other co workers with plans on checking the area out extensively. We took our tools with us which consisted of hoes, some folding saws and pulaskis, basically a two headed axe with a pick on the other end. Additionally, I was wearing my kukri knife on my belt. So we start walking into the day use area and I'm scanning all of the sites. There's a bunch of abandoned crap laying everywhere, like refrigerators, some storage shelves and broken glass all over the place. There were also several holes in the ground that were perfect squares cut into the concrete as they went down pretty far. They weren't that big, probably about 4x4. So we keep walking back and I see these rags scattered on the ground that had some red stains on them. They were next to a big pile of dirt that was covered with stones and half of a skateboard that was sticking out of the top of the pile. There was a wooden cross nearby as well. And I'm just thinking, is this a grave? So I called the other two guys over and I read the writing on the skateboard and it was the burial site of something that was once called diamond. I couldn't make out the years on it, but the grave was big, maybe like three or four feet long. One of my coworkers thought it was an animal grave, but that didn't explain the bloody rags nearby. I chalked it up to a pet grave of someone that walked their dog to that area and moved on. Would keep pushing through and I'm seeing tons of invasive plants everywhere. I'm reading off the names to my co worker who's putting them into the GPS unit when we see a building tucked into a corner of the day use area. So we walk back there and there's a tiny opening between the rocks, barely noticeable from the road and it turns out to be a whole nother canyon branched off. We check the map and sure enough, there's a canyon where all of these invasive plants could be coming from. After noting this in the gps, we go to check out the building. It's about the size of half of a shipping container and is clearly abandoned. The door was slightly opened, so I reached out with the hoe and pried the door open. Pitch black. My co worker takes out his phone and shines the light in there and there was some weird crap in there. There were porn magazines scattered all over the floor, pillows and blankets as well as children's clothing. I backed up and started walking back to the road and my co workers were giving me crap about it, but I'm not about to see what else might Be in there when I get back. In view of the road, there's a truck in the day use area and it's not one of ours. I don't see anyone using the picnic areas. And the weird thing is the truck had driven over the curb to bypass the gate and was parked in a secluded area. It didn't look like anyone was in the truck or around it, so I just stayed in the clearing and waited for my coworkers. When they finally got to my spot, I had pointed out the truck to them and they said he was probably just hanging out in the old bathroom building, which was just off the road. They wanted to go in and check it out and I sure as hell wasn't going to leave them and be alone, so I followed them over. The building was kind of V shaped with male and female bathrooms on end as well as a storage room in the middle. They went into the men's room whose door had literally been kicked down by someone. And apparently there was a ton of porn and children's clothing in there too, with pillows and blankets. There was a small hole that had been cut into the wall leading into the small storage room. It sounded like they were going to try and crawl into the room from the bathroom to check it out. At this point, I was standing outside of the building on the other end of the door to the storage room. I kid you not. I heard the doorknob jiggle. At that moment, my co workers came running out of the men's bathroom and one of them grabbed his Pulaski, brought it up, and bashed the crap out of the door handle as well as the area around the door to the storage room. Ten, 15 seconds later, we see a man sprint out of the bathroom and run back farther into the day use area into that first building we explored. Apparently this is what happened. One of my coworkers stuck his head through the cutout hole in the men's bathroom looking into the storage area. It was pitch black, so he used his phone flashlight and lit the area up and he saw the man in there alone in the corner in the dark. There were boxes lined up on the shelves and pillows and blankets all over the floor. It startled him so much that he ran out and the guy that was in there ran out as well. We ended up radioing some of the hotshot firefighters who had a station nearby for support, and they sent out a few guys and literally took a chainsaw to the door and set up a floodlight. And the whole room was filled with boxes of child porn magazines. And children's clothing. We told them where the man ran off to in the other building, and so they went to check that out as well. Open the door, floodlights on. And the creepiest thing out of the whole experience was that that building actually went farther back into the dirt of the adjacent hills. The firefighters checked their topography maps and sure enough, there was a bunker. Ain't nobody going that far into that place. This is a story that my father has told me multiple times. My dad is a logger, specifically one who operates a tree saw, which is basically a giant machine that is capable of cutting down massive trees and cutting them to specified length, which means he spends a lot of time in the deep forests. The way my dad's logging crew was set up is that he would be told where he was supposed to cut down the trees, and he would go do that and be paid based on the amount of trees he cut, not on how long it took him. So my dad used to work 16, 20 hour days constantly to get done as quickly as possible. And then the rest of the crew would come clean up the trees and then ship them to the mill. He used to work around 50% of the time alone and the rest of the time with another tresol operator named Rennie. They would use radios to communicate back and forth when they were working together. This is relevant for later. Sorry for all the backstory, but this is the start to the story. My dad and Rennie were put on a new job site and were about 10 days in and everything was going as planned. But they were constantly hearing weird chitter chatter over the radio that was such poor quality, no words could be heard. And whatever radio channel they changed it to, it followed them. As they progressed through the job and went further up the mountains, the words from the radio slowly became more audible. Both of them agreed that based on the small parts of the conversations, they could hear that something was wrong. They also started finding weird containers all over the place and signs that people had been there. People should not have been here. This was a two and a half hour drive up a mountain. They had to spend three weeks clearing out the road so their trucks and equipment could make it up. They came to the realization that they're in a very secluded area with people who shouldn't be there. And the worst part is that they aren't scheduled to leave for about another week. They would only leave to refuel the fuel truck with gasoline for the machines. They would buy supplies and sleep in campers. One day, Rennie comes across a tent and he calls my dad over. They investigate the tent and find one lone sleeping bag and a duffel bag. They investigate the duffel bag and they find many pairs of children's underwear and things that appeared to be a rape kit, like rope, duct tape, sketched images of children being molested, and photographs of children that appear unaware that they're being photographed in the tent. They also find a small amount of food, which includes canned goods and an apple, which proves the tent has been occupied recently because there was no mold on the apple. They're now on the mountain alone, with which at best case scenario, is just a really messed up individual. Rennie instantly wants to get the hell out of there, but my dad, being the hardest working person I've ever met, insists that they need to finish the job and then get out of there. They then decide that they will not talk over the radios except in cases of emergency and see if they can hear something over the radio. They are now in close enough range of whoever's been talking over the radio to hear the conversations between two men talking about collecting water and wood for the fire. Nothing abnormal, except for the fact that these guys don't freaking belong there and that the tent was undoubtedly theirs. At the end of the work day, my dad hears them on the radio talking about one of them collecting brush for a fire. My dad hops on the radio and attempts to communicate with them about what the hell they're doing. I believe he said, who are you and what the hell are you doing here? After this, the conversation between the men abruptly stops and they never pick up. That night, Rennie wakes up my dad and whispers for him to get his gun if someone's outside. My dad told me that the first thing he hears when he wakes up is the quiet shuffling of footsteps. My dad fumbles for his gun and finds it, but then he realizes that he doesn't freaking have it loaded, and he has little clue on where his rounds are. And Rennie has nothing. And the thought of calling the police is absurd for multiple reasons. They hear a jiggle on the doorknob and it opens. The camper is far enough off the ground to where you had to jump in, and there's no ladder or footstool. It just stays open and neither my dad or Rennie move. They hear scratching right outside the door, though after four minutes of scratching, my dad can no longer take it, and he nods at Rennie. He gets up quietly and he walks towards the camper door. And the second he reaches it, he's met with intense pain across his right eye all the way to his left cheek. He's been cut and he falls out of the camper hitting the ground hard. A man with a knife gets on top of him and he's soon being kicked in the top of the head by a man behind him. Rennie leaps out of the trailer and manages to get the man off my dad and my dad gets up and he realizes that the second man without the knife is running away and the man with the knife is scrambling away from Rennie and starts running alongside his accomplice. My dad and Rennie get into the truck and drive to the nearest hospital to treat my dad's cuts and they later report the events to the police. They both quit their jobs and two weeks later, as the rest of the logging crew was finishing up the job, one of them was found gagged, bound, raped and murdered and thrown into a ditch. No one has ever been convicted of these crimes to this day. My dad can hardly see out of his right eye and the pupil is disfigured and looks more like a cat's eye than a human's. He suffers from PTSD from these events and he hasn't had a good night of sleep since. My name is Ben and I live in Australia. In the southeast of Australia lies the state of Victoria. And in that state lies the high country, an extremely vast and remote expanse of alpine mountains and valleys that's largely only accessible by four wheel drive and can take days to get in and out. The place is pretty popular with four wheel drivers, deer hunters and hikers. We four wheel drive there and this was the destination. Chosen to go camping for a few days with my partner and I. Her name is Jess. Some time away from the world beyond the reach of mobile phones. The four wheel drive was loaded up, list double checked, vehicle maintenance done, fuel loaded onto the roof racks. The police station closest to our destination notified of our trip. It's common for people to notify them as a safety measure, especially when not traveling in a convoy. Again, it's very remote. And then off we went. We were headed to a place called Oneangatta Valley, a remote valley deep in the high country. A huge amphitheater type valley with alpine mountains rising high in every direction and a river running along the valley floor. Towards the end of the first full day of driving, we finally made our way back down the last track for the day, skirting the ridge and arriving at the valley floor. As the sun dipped below the mountains, we found a secluded spot to pitch our tent. Nestled in amongst the eucalypt trees by the riverbank. It was mid week and off season so we were the only ones in the valley that we knew of. After setting camp and having a meal by the fire as the sun went down, we snuggled together in our sleeping bags and in short order we decided to hit the hay. At some point in the night I woke up to a loud noise. I wasn't quite sure what I had heard, so from inside our tent I listened. Nothing. I must be going mad. No sooner had I thought I heard another noise. It sounded like something falling off our camp table and hitting the ground. I put it down to possums or wombats fossicking around common in the area and nothing to really worry about. Should have packed up after dinner, I thought to myself and then went back to sleep. Sunrise came and we slowly woke up needing to pee. I opened the tent and jumped out. Looking around, something just came over me. A chill. It wasn't the way we'd left it. Instead of seeing two chairs together by the fire where we were sitting, one of them was by the table and on the table was a loaf of bread that I swear I'd packed away again the night before. I walked over to the table to inspect. There was a half eaten piece of bread that was sitting there with a very obvious chop mark taken out of it. I flung open the tent and asked were you up before me? Did you have some bread? No, was the answer. Jess got up and together we went through all of our stuff. Nothing was missing. As we went to check the four wheel drive vehicle, I noticed the footprints. There were a bunch of them all around the front of the car where the hood was. Most of the camp was covered in grass. This was one of only a few spots that was just dirt. Had someone tried to open it? Very distinct footprints. Not mine or my partner's. Perhaps they'd already been there. I asked myself. These camping spots are used intermittently and obviously we weren't looking around when we arrived the night before with the sun setting. I don't think either one of us wanted to actually admit what we were both thinking. That someone had been creeping about our campsite in the night, far away from civilization. We discussed if a possum could have made the bite marks, argued about if one of us had left the bread out and eventually discussed moving on and camping somewhere else. After much deliberation we decided to stay. I had the rifle in the four wheel drive, which I guess gave an over inflated sense of safety, which in hindsight was a very poor choice as the day rolled on, the sun shining, and with nothing eventful happening, I decided to walk across the valley floor. An open field of subalpine grassland about 800 meters to an old ruin of an isolated homestead built by settlers who ran the cattle in the valley some 100 years ago. It's steeped in mystery. There's an old unsolved murder from 1917 that always captivates people. I read the plaque, took some photos and started wandering back to the camp. As I neared the halfway mark back to camp, I noticed Jess was walking across the field towards me. Must have gotten bored, I thought. As she approached, it was clear she was in a panic. Immediately she had started to tell me how she went down to the riverbank to wash the pots and pans. And as she looked up, she saw someone over the side of the river watching her from deep in the bushes. I had no reason whatsoever not to believe her. I asked her what he looked like, and then she told me. An old man, 70s or thereabouts, scraggly looking and in old tattered clothes. Apparently, the second she looked up, he turned and walked away, disappearing in the impenetrable bush. I couldn't comprehend it. How was anyone out here without a four wheel drive or a dirt bike? And how would anyone get to that side of the bank without. Without first crossing over from our side? There's days worth of damn near impossible to walk through brush on the other side just to get where my partner saw him. We decided to jump in the four wheel drive and drive along the length of the valley, checking the dozen or so riverside camping spots as we went. I wanted to spot a camp, have my partner ID the guy and make sure that he wasn't creeping, with our theory being that he may have been a hunter off in the bush after a deer. After making our way up and down the valley and not seeing anything, we drove back to camp at a loss to explain anything. As the sun started to set and with my partner and I quite shaken, I grabbed the rifle and sat in next to us as we cooked dinner and chatted, having a few drinks to settle the nerves. Had we been spooked? Was it just that there's a lot of mystery surrounding the valley and the homestead murders? We talked a bit and we settled into a good foot warming in front of the fire. At some point, Jessa needed to go to the bathroom, so I was asked to come with her to the spa behind a tree where we placed the portable toilet about 50 meters from our camp. Considering everything that had gone on it was a no brainer. Jess did her business and we turned around and came around the side of the tree. And that's when we saw him. Standing at our camp about a meter from the rifle that I had sitting against the table was a man. He was old chick, scraggly looking. Check. Tattered old clothes, check. Jess squeezed my arm so hard I thought it was going to come off. Everything about her body language screamed, this is the same man. As we got closer, I could make out more odd things about him. He had part of a deer antler in his hand that looked like he had been whittling away at it. And what looked like antler pieces carved to plug large holes in his ears. Like stretchers but made of bone. The same goes for the bone looking buttons on his ratty old coat. He wore old leather shoes that looked homemade. Good day mate, he said. Screw me man. You gave us a freaking heart attack. I said. Officially crapping bricks. Where have you come from, man? Everything alright? Just over yonder. You lot aren't hunting around here. Are you looking directly at the rifle? Yeah man, we might. Why? There's no hunting around here. Not enough deer as it is. Well, we hadn't decided on it. Probably packing up anyway, I said as I edged my way towards the rifle. I should put this away anyway. Didn't mean to spook you, man, I said, looking for an excuse to get that rifle into my hands. It's all good. Guns don't spook me, he said. I didn't imagine they would. I picked the rifle up by the barrel and held it like a walking stick in an attempt to be non confrontational, breathing a sigh of relief. No offense, but you caught us a bit by surprise. You gotta be the only one we've seen out here. Yeah, I saw you come in last night. Yeah, I freaking bet you did. I thought to myself, I've been coming up here for 40 years. It's a beautiful spot, isn't it? Takes a bit to get down into the valley. Hey, yeah man, look, no offense but we're gonna hit the sack soon. Do you need a lift back to your camp? No, all good. Just out for a wonder before I tuck in for the night. Saw the fire and thought I'd say g'. Day. Anyway, I better be on my way. And with that he turned and walked off parallel to the river into the dark. No torch. That was officially enough to spook us beyond any ability to calm down. And we decided to pack up in the dark and head out. Even if driving in the dark was a monumentally stupid idea in this part of the high country. We got into the four wheel drive and drove out, taking us along the valley floor. We didn't see a single fire, a camp, a vehicle, nothing. We just kept on driving. Halfway home, Jess, bored from the drive, flipped on the camera. No memory card. What the hell? After getting home and telling a few people what happened, a friend's dad, an avid bushman himself, was the one to officially freak us the hell out. Oh, you met the Button Man. The what now? I said, yeah, that's the Button Man. He's an old bushman who goes out into the high country for months at a time. Hunts with the spear, appears out of nowhere, scares people, has buttons made out of bone. There's a heap of people who've gone missing up that way. The cops keep looking but can't find a single trace. Campers, hikers. One camp was found burned to the ground and a car left abandoned. They can't find any evidence at all. A quick Google search confirmed it. The missing people, the Button man, the lack of evidence. Police set out into the bush and found his camp. Spoke with the men but have nothing else to go on. There'll be a link in the description if you want to learn more about the Button Man. He's very real. Dozens have met him as he appears out of nowhere at their camp. But as for his connection to any of the missing people, only he knows we don't camp at that valley anymore. Hell, we don't camp at that side of the high country anymore. Anyways, that's our story on how we met the Button Man. I've had some weird stuff happen lately, reminding me of a strange encounter that I had about five years ago. It was spring here in Utah, meaning cold mornings that require a coat and usually scraping your windows before leaving. I lived in a relatively remote community west of the railroad tracks that lead to oil refineries in my area. Not exactly a busy area and very little housing where I lived at the time, though it's now a bustling community. One Friday morning about 9:30 as I'm on my way to work, my usual route is blocked due to an accident being cleared up, so I take the quieter long route through the industrial park east of my house. I pass the only gas station on my way in and headed through the industrial park, which is quiet except for diesel trucks and the rear car like my own. As I come over a small hill and over a set of train tracks, I see a car pulled over to the side with its hood up and a guy just standing there next to the driver's side door looking at me as I broach the hill. The car was copper colored two door sports car from the late 70s or early 80s. Nissan I think. I'm usually good with cars, but this guy distracted me and he looked straight out of the late 70s. I will never forget this guy. Blue jeans, white shirt, collar showing above his coat, tan work boots, darkish tan 70s style leather coat with wool showing at the collar, thick dark mustache and a John Travolta and Saturday Night Fever esque haircut. He was a bigger guy, probably in his mid-40s, around 6ft tall or just a bit over. He had a bit of a gut too, but I'm clearly a thick dude who wasn't in bad shape. Hands in his pockets but his feet planted firmly and back straight like he was at parade rest. As I see him I slow down to see what the problem is and I start to pull over to get behind his car and see that he's staring at me the entire time. No nod of recognition or hand wave to signal me. No smile, just staring with his face perfectly flat, hands in pockets, not moving. I get this super creepy vibe and as I'm about to pull over I pull away and sped off instead. That's very unlike me. I stop to help people all the time, but this guy just gave me a bad feeling that I couldn't shake. As I look in the rearview mirror I see he's not moved but just turned his head a bit to watch me go. And as I watch he turns back to steer west over the tracks for the next car to come along. I get to work and I'm really feeling bad that I didn't help the guy out, but I tell my boss and close friend about the encounter and he tells me he gets creeped out just hearing about it and that I should be glad that I trusted my gut instinct. I don't think about it much more and just get to work. On my way home that night I took that route back home to see if his car was left there just in case he had a real problem and sure enough, it it was gone. Feeling relieved that he at least gotten his car taken care of, I felt less bad about not helping some stranger because I got weirded out by his appearance and demeanor for some reason. I get home, go to sleep and think nothing of it. I worked Saturdays at the time and I always took the long way to work on Saturdays since I didn't have to worry about traffic come 9:30 the next day I'm heading the same way to work that I took the day before, but because the industrial park is full of Monday to Friday tide companies, it's always a ghost town on the weekends and evenings. When I came home the previous night, I drove for 15 minutes in that area. Really low speed limits and it's a long road through and I didn't see another car on the road there. Even the gas station closes its inside operations on Saturdays and evenings after six. Nobody was ever around that area during off time hours. So I'm climbing the hill and sure enough, the same guy's there again. Same car, same spot, hood up and standing next to the driver's side door. If I hadn't been so creeped out by the guy the day before, I may not have noticed how eerily similar it was. Like he somehow hadn't moved since the day before. This time, however, he reacted to seeing me pulling a hand out of his pocket and trying to wave me down without moving his feet and clearly yelling something, I sped up. He clearly heard my tin can of a Toyota rev up and I kid you not, he put both hands up and moved as if to step in front of my car to block me. His face never changed the whole time, just the blank stare and semi frowned slit of a mouth as he had started to step in front of my car into the two lane road that I was on. Wide but two lanes. I swerved a little to avoid hitting him and kept going. Now here's the thing, that section of the road is straight for quite a ways and though I was really shaken up by the encounter, I looked in my mirror to see him just step back to his car and keep staring west just like the day before. Like a stranger hadn't just swerved to avoid killing him and leaving him to his own devices. It was weird. I never saw him again after that, but I called my local police, of whom I personally know several officers, one of which is a neighbor. I was thinking maybe he really did have a problem at the time. A few things stood out to me though. Namely that the day before the gas station would have been open and if he didn't have a cell phone, it was less than a block away and he would have had to have passed it in order to be on that particular stretch of road. No way. You couldn't have seen it and been where he was supposedly broken down. I hadn't thought of it Friday, but it struck me hard on Saturday when I saw him again. Second, it was the exact Same everything. Car with the hood up, outfit, even the shirt so far as I could tell, the place and even the way he just stood waiting for the car to come from the west, just over a hill where it'd been hard to see in the spot until you were fairly close. And since I knew his car hadn't been left overnight, that felt very, very wrong. Lastly, the dead look on his face when he tried to flag me down. I could see him clearly. I was going 25 miles per hour the speed limit in that particular spot. And he didn't change expression when he saw me. He just went through the motions. That was probably the most unsettling part to me. It was like he knew what to do but not how to do it right emotionally. Also, he just turned back to steering immediately after I passed him. Later that day I asked one of my cop buddies if they ever came across the guy, but he hadn't heard anything. And even later on I came to find out the cop on that route hadn't come across anybody when he stopped a bit later. It's a smallish town, not much happens there. Not emergencies are slow to be dealt with at best. My buddy told me thanks for calling in stranded motorists can really get hosed when nobody's around. But also good on me for following my instincts about the guy. Basically, if you feel creeped out by a stranded motorist, call the cops and they'll find help and help them. Long story short, I never saw the guy again and I hope I never do, because whatever his game was, I know that his car wasn't just breaking down in the same conveniently hard to see spot repeatedly. Of all the creepy crap that I've seen in my life, that is still the one that comes to mind when it comes to unsettling and unnerving run ins. This is actually my stepmom's and her best friend's story. I have my own, but I'm so hesitant to drag some of them up. I'm hoping telling someone else's will help me open up to it a little more. My stepmom didn't really like us much, but she told my sister who's three years older and I this experience she told us growing up to scare us out of being stupid. It was my family's stranger danger story. My stepmom, we're going to call her Macy, grew up as a kind of privileged teen in the seventies and her mom had moved their family over here in the United States from England when she was about 9. She went to A pretty nice high school in a really nice town. The then she made friends with a girl named Lily who didn't exactly run with Macy's type of crowd, popular, stereotypical, etc. They really hit it off and Lily would take Macie out to do her type of things. Hiking, fishing, sailing. There's even a hilarious set of pictures of them camping. My stepmom has raccoon eyes and she looks like she hates everything. Anyways, because of Lily's influence, the two of them would do stuff like that a good amount. One Sunday they decided to go hike in some hills about an hour away. Maci put on what I'm sure were her extremely expensive hiking shoes and the two of them drove off into the hiking trails. Lily parked in this big clearing with makeshift parking spots, you know, like a piece of wood marking the head of a space. But there were no other cars there. This was only important in hindsight. They started hiking up the hill off the path because Lily had fancied herself as something of a badass. The hike was nothing extraordinary. If you asked my stepmom, she would just lament for 15 minutes about how sticky and buggy it was. Anyways, they reached the top of the hill when my stepmom was done. The polished, pampered side of her was coming out and she groaned until Lily begrudgingly said okay. They would rest and then walk down again slower. They had been heading down the hill for maybe 10 minutes when Maci had started complaining again. Lily conceded to walking down the side of the road instead of the rough hiking trail. So there they are, probably looking like a couple of tools geared up for hiking and walking down a crappy road. And after not even five minutes, a truck pulled up next to them. It was red and rusty and just generally looked like a clunker. The guy driving rolled down the window and the girls looked in through the passenger side window. He had a big beard, a baseball cap pulled down, and long brown hair. He greeted them and even smiled through his beard, asking if they needed a ride. Maci described him as charming and even cute. Lily still says the moment he greeted them, her hackles went up. Despite her better judgment, my stepmom convinced her to get in the truck. It's only a 10 minute drive down to the car, tops. The two girls opened the passenger's door to this rusty old thing and the guy directed them behind the seat to get into the back. They settled in and the truck started rumbling forward. Lily always said that was the pointed hitter. What a mistake they had just made. The back seat was clean enough, but there was a rope on the floor behind the driver's seat and four boxes of Saran Wrap hanging from under the passenger seat. It seemed creepy and weird, but Lily didn't want to freak my stepmom out, so she just kept her mouth shut. After 10 minutes, the woods didn't look any clearer and they hadn't seen another car the whole time. Lily asked how long he thought it would be. He said he was taking a different route down the hill and that he had to stop somewhere to get something first. That was it. The girls were 16 to 17 and Lily didn't want to press the issue. She was scared. She could remember his hair because she was sitting behind him. He looked like a woodsy guy, but his hair was super tangled and dirty. She noticed crusted mud on his collar and she tried to find something identifiable about him, but just got scared the more she picked up on the little details. He was youngish, strong looking, and he had about one foot on both of them. So they didn't ask any more questions and he didn't offer any information and they just drove on. Several minutes after that, they had reached a tiny shack and log cabin looking place. Right there in the clearing of trees, there was an old stump where someone had been chopping wood and a huge axe stuck into the log. Lily was definitely on red alert now. The guy turned off the truck and slipped out of it, saying, I'll be right back. Don't get out. And he disappeared into the house. Lily tried to talk to my stepmom about how she was incredibly uncomfortable, but she mostly dismissed it. Lily started begging, increasingly freaked out, and finally put her foot down, demanding Maci exit the truck with her. So they got out and walked around the front of the vehicle. The house was about 50 yards in front of them. Why this guy would have left two young girls in the truck alone while going into the house is beyond me. But they wandered around looking at it hesitantly. If this guy really was decent and just trying to give them a ride, it would be super rude to just run off, right? My stepmom had this strict upbringing when it came to manners and a public Persona, and she saw it as an issue of that nature. So she actually started to head back to the truck, opening the front door to climb in behind the driver's seat. Lily was pissed off and followed her to yell some more. On the driver's side door, half hidden under the seat, there was a big hatchet. It had dried red and brown stains covering the blade. And it stuck to the floor under it. Lily, understandably, totally lost her crap. And seeing it, my stepmom started getting hysterical. They decided that leaving was by far their best option at this point and just booked it off the side of the property into the trees. They bumbled around the trees for a little while until Lily was fairly confident that they were on their way back down the hill. My stepmom cried all the way down. Lily felt bad about it, but she was also completely freaked out that he would hear it and kept trying to calm her down. When they finally got back down to the bottom and saw the old wooden fence that surrounded the original parking area, they were relieved. But as they got closer, they saw it. The truck. It was parked on the other side of the gravelly makeshift lot, just sitting there facing the other way innocently. They couldn't see if anyone was in it. And of course Macy wanted to run for the car, but Lily was super hesitant. She managed to calm down my stepmom, saying she wanted to wait before running out into the open to see what was out there. Remember, this is in the 70s. No cell phones, there was no ranger station or anyone around. The parking lot was big and empty and open, and who knows what would have happened if they decided to stroll across it. Thankfully, Lily convinced my stepmom to chill and the two of them hunkered down against a big tree hidden by the bushes and other trees. And they waited it out for what seemed to be a couple of hours. When dark started to fall, all of the animals started coming out and making noises and my stepmom started getting antsy about this and bothering Lily, who was tired and moments away from giving in. She was just planning their dash to the car when they heard a clunk sound across the twilight lit lot. They watched as one of the back doors of their car swung open. And then the bearded guy slid his way out of the backseat. He got out, shut the door, looked around at the surrounding woods for several moments, and then just walked back to his truck. The truck lumbered past their car and out of sight. Several minutes after watching him drive away, they sprinted to their car as fast as they could, jumped in and peeled out before they had even shut the doors. If this guy is still alive, he's really old, but still, I don't ever want to encounter him. This seems like the right place to tell this story. It happened back in 2013. It was about eight, nine o' clock and I was on my way home from my pals. I sat up at the back of the bus. There was only me and one other person on the bus and he was sat near the front on the opposite side. When I got up to get off the bus and walk from the back towards the stairs, he called me. I don't remember exactly how he asked, but he was asking for a lighter. I walked up to him going through my pockets and told him I had matches and then handed them to him. He took them off of me and just stared at them for a good few seconds and then he handed them back to me saying something along the lines of don't worry. The time it took him to decide not to use them felt very strange and the eye contact before and after just felt intense. I got walking down the stairs thinking what the hell was up with that and then got off the bus. I told a couple of people how weird it felt and described what he was A zip on black hoodie with a knockoff Hardy style tiger on the chest. Fast forward about a week and there's a fatal stabbing on a bus in my city. A young girl on her way to school was stabbed to death on the top deck of a bus. Stabbings were pretty common in my city, but a young girl being killed on her way to school? That's big news anywhere. They show a photo of the suspect being arrested but you can only see the back of his hoodie straight away. I think it's the exact same Ed Hardy knockoff and started wondering if it was the same guy that I had seen before. When they released more photos of him from the front, I knew it was him. The scary thing is, it transpired that he had recently been let out of a mental health facility. He hadn't been given any support and had been sleeping rough on buses. I've had many interactions with mentally ill people and dangerous individuals, but this is the one that stays with me. Even though the interaction wasn't much and felt so strange, I wonder if he was seeing how I reacted when he asked me. Hence why he didn't use those matches. Who knows? It's just a really sad story. Rest in peace to the poor girl who was murdered. Her name was Christina Edkins and she was only 16 years old. This happened to my dad back when he was stationed at Offutt Air Force Base in Nebraska in the early 80s. He lived in the dorm not too far down from a guy named John, a radar tech who was the same age as him. Dad had never really talked to him but had seen him around. Dad said he was no one special, didn't particularly stand out to him, just another young guy like himself. Then In January of 1984, there was a lot of activity in the dorm with John and my dad saw him leaving with the authorities. Didn't take long to learn why. John had murdered three boys. One while living in Maine and two while stationed in Nebraska. Other names for the men? John, the Nebraska Boy Snatcher and the Woodford Slasher. Turns out he was a screwed up guy for a while, having first stabbed someone when he was 13 years old and it attacked several others before he had first killed. Yet he got in the military at the same time as my dad. It just goes to show you how ordinary everyone seems when you don't truly know the people working around you. I've always been really interested in crime solving, forensic TV shows. I worked in a hospital as a night charge nurse for years. I had a certain housekeeper who was a male that was regularly assigned to my area. He was not particularly conscientious or good at his job. He often wore his work shirt unbuttoned with a dingy grayish hued white T shirt underneath. He appeared to wear a hairpiece. We'll call him M. M had always seemed a bit off to me. He looked at everyone as if we could be insects to be studied. I always treated him kindly, just like I treated everyone else. I would often notice him secretly watching or listening to conversations of myself and the other staff from behind doors and around corners. He just seemed to lurk everywhere. I once mentioned to another staff member who worked in a lab down the hall that M seemed like a serial killer to me and that he was spying on us constantly. The other staff member said, well, first impressions are often correct. Once someone was talking about a negative girlfriend situation and he went off saying how once that his girlfriend made him so mad, then his face contorted and demeanor seemed scary and super loud and menacing, barely controlling himself. One day M approached me and he asked if I would submit a positive review about his work to a supervisor so he could get a monetary bonus. I said sure, no problem. I submitted his positive review for him and he did get the bonus. My co worker said, how could you do that when he's barely mediocre? I just said I think he's a serial killer that just hasn't been found yet. So I know when he picks his next victim. I'm giving him no reason to kill me. I live in Denver, Colorado and I'm a sex worker. Last year a girl went missing in Thornton, Colorado and she was shot to death. This year a few Months ago, another girl went missing and was found stabbed to death. And now a girl my friend is close with has been missing since last week and we still haven't heard from her. They are all sex workers and I'm starting to worry that this girl could be dead because of the other two. I've contacted the police already, but nothing's been done and they still have no suspect for the shooting in Thornton. Could it be a serial killer or am I just overthinking it? In November of last year, the first girl went missing for a few days and then she was found dead in Thornton, Colorado, not far out from Denver. Then in February, another one of our girls was found stabbed. She went missing for almost a week before she was found dead. Last week another girl went missing and we still haven't heard from her at all and we don't know if she's safe or not. We strictly work in Denver and refuse to go out of a certain vicinity. The girls are all in their 20s and they had brown hair and the girl who's currently missing has browned hair with two blonde streaks in the front. We also know to beware of who we get into the cars with and meet up with. My friend and I went to the police when the third girl went missing and we mentioned the other murder so they could see if it's connected at all and that it's urgent and she needs to be found. I'll be sure to leave an update if I hear anything new and I'll let you all know. This is an occurrence that takes me pretty far from the setting of most of my other encounters and finds me in good old Ohio. You see, I was hiatus from my life in general at the time, debating a fresh start in a new corner of the country. I'd been in Ohio before, though only for a short time and my memories of it were quite fond. I decided to go back there and see if I still felt the same way about it. I was not employed at the time, but I had a substantial source of income due to the fact that I do tattoo work. It was my tattoo work that allowed me to rent an extended stay motel room for the time being and was unfortunately also the reason that this encounter came to pass. I'm going to cover this now to save questions later. I am not a licensed tattoo artist, though that is soon going to be changing and I was not licensed at this time in the state. I am, however, a good artist with excellent sanitation practices as two people in my life are professional licensed artists and taught me Everything I know. Back to the story. I got a text from somebody who had seen a post about my work. She said her name was Kimberly and she was interested in getting something done. We talked a bit and compared schedules, all that fun stuff. We were at odds with our timing and decided that I would meet her at her job to further discuss it and she could see my portfolio. Kimberly worked at a small deli not too far from my motel, and I headed over there at the appointed time. It seemed as if it was empty, with only one car in the lot other than my own. I grabbed my equipment, went inside, and the little bell dinged. And then a little Asian man came out to the counter and asked me how he could help me. I said that I was looking for Kimberly and explained that I had business with her. Sure, hold on, he told me and came out into the lobby area of the deli. He then went over to the front door, pulled out his keys, and locked. Was one of those doors that had no other locking mechanism, Only the key? I couldn't have left without the key. It was needed both ways. Then he turned to me and he told me that he was Kimberly, and he told me to sit down. I reached into my pocket for my phone and of course I realized that I'd left it in my car, that I went to the door and tried it anyway. And of course it wouldn't open. The whole time, Kimberly staring at me with a smile. He told me again to sit down, so I did. I asked him why he locked me in, and he said it was for our safety. I gave him the benefit of the doubt. He looked harmless and we were in a bad part of town. He started talking about the tattoo, asking questions. He wanted to know if I could do portrait work, and I explained that I could and that some of my portrait work was shown in the post that he'd gotten my info from. He said that he needed seven faces and he wanted it to be a whole sleeve. This was beyond the scope of anything we discussed, and I told him it could be done, but it would take a while and have to be more than one session. This seemed to make him uncomfortable. He asked how long? And I said I didn't know. It's hard to estimate portrait work as each pig presents its own unique challenges. He asked how many sessions it would take, and I said ideally, one for each face, but that I might be able to do two at a time. Then I asked him who the people were, if they were family. He didn't answer me right away, just got this spacey look in his eyes and seemed to stare right through me. After a while, he did start talking. The first one he wanted, he said, was a woman that he'd known in high school. I found it strange the way he said it, like you don't just get casual acquaintances, portraits tattooed on you. You just don't. So I asked why he wanted her tattooed on him, and he told me it was because she had been his first kill. I just sat there in disbelief and didn't even know what to say. He started talking again. After a few minutes, he said that all of the people he wanted portraits of were people that he'd killed. He also said he'd killed more than that, many more, but that these were his favorite ones. I didn't know whether or not to believe him, but given the situation I was in, I didn't really want to find out. I asked him why I should tattoo these people on him when he'd probably just kill me afterwards, too, and he looked legitimately surprised. And he told me he'd never even considered it odd, especially knowing that I knew where he worked. He went on to tell me some really horrific things about what he'd done, things that I won't even repeat here. He gave me names and locations and was going to give me pictures of his victims for the tattoos. He said that before long he would get caught and that he wanted these tats on his arms so they'd never forget their faces while he was in prison. I don't think that this man felt that I could be any kind of threat to him. He was just so casual about everything and wasn't even really defensive in the least. But I grew up in the hood and had done several years in prison myself, and I knew how to handle myself. I didn't really even need to know how, as it turned out, because I stood up, hit him once, and he fell down, seeming to be unconscious. I took the key from him and unlocked the door, and then ran to my car and left in a hurry. I called the police to report everything as I drove. And this is where it really gets scary, in my opinion. They dispatched officers to this deli and sent one to my motel room so I could file a report about everything. The officer that showed up looked puzzled when I told him where it had happened, and he asked if I was sure. I said I was, and he told me that the deli had been closed for a few weeks now because the owner had disappeared. The owner's family apparently believed that the owner had gone to Hawaii, for whatever reason. I guess he'd told them that before he was thinking about it, but he hadn't been in touch, so they had reported him missing. I told him I was sure and that I had proof. I still had the keys to the place. The cop went pale, looked pretty disturbed, but wouldn't say anything more about it. I gave him the keys and he left. Later on though, I found out a few things that were pretty disturbing to me. One of them was that the owner's family hadn't been able to access the deli at all because it was locked up. And they had told the police that the owner had been the only one with the keys. I never heard any more about it, but I did a little investigating of my own. I searched all of the names that he told me and I got a few things from it. I can't be certain of these things as they were unrelated to what happened. I got hits on two of the names. The first was a prostitute with several arrests for the prostitution. The arrests weren't in this area, but they hadn't been too far away either. The second was a similar story, but several drug charges and no prostitution. And like the other, she wasn't in the area but wasn't far off either. No hits for missing people under those names at all. But a prostitute might not have anyone who would report them missing. Same with the narcotics woman. That or the people that would possibly report her missing assumed she was on a using bench somewhere and neglected to report her missing. I found nothing at all about the rest that seemed to be related. I don't know what I believe about all this, but I leaned towards the possibility that this guy was dead serious. His demeanor, the vacant stare of his him locking the deli up. His behavior practically screamed that something was wrong. I left Ohio very shortly after this happened and I went home. I haven't been back there since. I forgot to mention that the police found the deli completely empty, but it was now suddenly unlocked. Throughout this story, I would like for you all to please keep in mind that I was 20 years old and very naive. You're going to think I'm stupid and I was. I'm probably lucky to be alive and God do I know that I kick myself whenever I think about this day. I just wanted to get some other opinions. Maybe I'm wrong about it. OK, so about 20 years ago, I was walking down the road in a not so great area. It was summertime and I was dressed appropriately for the heat. Shorts and a tank. I'm Very thin, and I was downright skinny then. And I got mistaken for a sex worker more times than I care to admit. This may or may not be important to the story. So anyways, I was walking to pick up my son from daycare. As I was going about my way, a truck full of men had started to catcall and follow me. They turned around several times to yell at me out the window, and I was getting nervous about it. I was passing a gas station parking lot and a man not much older than myself stopped in a nice car and asked if I would like a ride. He didn't seem scary and he was attractive. So I said okay and got in his car. Sheesh. I really wish I could smack myself. So I get into the car with him and he asks where I'm going. I tell him it's about a mile straight down the road I'm on. He starts going the wrong way and he just tells me he needs to turn around. I pay little mind. He starts to ask me a little bit about myself, so I tell him I was escaping a domestic violence situation and I was staying in a women's shelter that was nearby. I was telling him how closely my activities were monitored and that I was due to pick up my son any minute. I think this may actually be what saved me. At this point, I notice that he takes another wrong turn, but I don't know the area at all. So when I point it down, he says he's taking a shortcut or something. And I just go back to talking like an idiot. I then get a whiff of something. I now know that the smell was death. I know this for sure now. I did in back then I turn around and look in the backseat, looking for spoiled food or something. The car is absolutely spotless. I bring up the smell and he just brushes it off and changes the subject. But for some reason, the smell just started getting stronger. Well, me being dumb, I bring it up again. What is that smell? He says he doesn't know. Probably something he forgot to take out and has gone bad. When I tell you guys that there is not a crumb in the vehicle, I mean it. I'm baffled by this. But eventually he drops me off safely to my destination. He doesn't tell me his name, ask for my number, or give me his. And I don't think much of it until much later when I smell that same smell again. But this time I know what it is and it triggers the memory of the guy in the car. This was probably 2005 in Covington. Kentucky and I'm very sure that he was aware that not only would I be missed, I would be missed quickly and my movements would be tracked very specifically was probably the only reason that I made it back out of that car that day. I'm really lucky to be alive. I was living in Tampa, Florida in 2018 right when there was a serial killer announcement. The news reported they caught the guy a few weeks later, but to this day my gun tells me they got the wrong guy. So here's my story. It was April 20, 2018. So you know what I was doing and a lot of it. But keep in mind at this point in my life I was a constant stoner for seven years. Weed didn't affect me the same way. My boyfriend at the time and I agreed to start the night off at different friends houses since his friends didn't smoke and mine did top with the fact that I was about to move to a different state and it would be the last time I would see my friends for a while. So around 10:11pm I would take an Uber to get to his friend's house. The night was highly normal up until this point so I ordered the Uber and the Uber driver drops off my other friends at their houses along the way. So being the person I am, I strike up a conversation for the 30 minute ride. How are you doing tonight? Are you seeing a lot of people hide tonight? My normal questions I really hate silence and this is just who I am as a person. After we get through some small talk he starts asking where I'm going and I explain everything above asks why I'm not partying with my boyfriend at the time and me being dumb. I explain I'm not sure if we're going to make it with the move and that he doesn't love me anymore. Then he starts asking if my mom knows where I am, if people know I'm coming and when my friends we just dropped off expect me to be home. Do I live with them? And thankfully I caught on that these were really weird questions to ask someone traveling alone. So I started lying saying my mom expected me to call as soon as I arrive and how I was getting texts in the group chat to tell them when I was at the other party safe once we arrived. Of course, like a freaking horror movie this night was feeling like the other friend's house was in the woods on the edge of Tampa and my high self was in overdrive trying to figure out how to get out of this one. We can finally see my friend's house in a little bonfire about 300ft away when he stops and then he says this is where he'll drop me off. I ran out of that car asap, and he hightailed it right as I closed the door. Thank God I didn't leave anything in the Uber. I know it's not the craziest encounter, but my gut is rarely wrong about these things. I didn't think about this again until I saw the news when they announced they caught the guy. Do you guys remember the early days of the Web? AOL software upgrades arrived in the mail on a CD Raw Family members shouted across the house at one another if an incoming call on the landline interrupted the painstaking 10 minutes it took to get from the American online system signing screen to hearing you've got mail reverberate throughout the room. Recipients of multicolored chain emails, a serial killer camping out in a young girl's shower and killing her guard dog truly pondered the threat against their luck for the next seven years if they didn't abide by the message's command to forward it on to seven of their friends. Better not risk it, we told ourselves as we quickly typed out seven email addresses in the recipient field field. And finding everything there was to know about a person online, something anyone can do today with a few keystrokes and a credit card, was a lot harder to do back then. But not for Corey. I was 15 years old at the time. Ambiguous and exotic usernames like Pinacolada33 or Brunettebaby87 were all the rage. Naive as we early screen name pioneers were, this anonymity was smart. Social media was in its infancy. Xanga was the go to haven for teens and tweens to vent their angst while informing the world they were currently listening to screaming infidelities by Dashboard Confessional. Everyone, of course, was friends with Tom on MySpace. AOL Instant messenger didn't exist as a standalone messenger service just yet. So was MSN messenger or bust. But if you had a true AOL account like I did, you were set up with all you needed to discover this new hypercon Connected free for all World of the early 2000s World Wide Web. Your own email inbox. A new page to create a personal profile. Access to chat rooms on just about any topic or hobby you could possibly imagine. It was exhilarating. Until it was terrifying, that is. One afternoon I jumped into one of these chat rooms. ASL16, female Boston I watched the usual exchange between total strangers scroll across my screen for several minutes, hoping to find my opportunity to finally chime in and introduce myself. Ultimately, I got bored and left the chat without typing a word. An instant message appeared on my screen. You didn't say anything, the message read. Why not? Who is this? I responded, confused by the username that I didn't recognize. I'm Corey, he responded. I'm 16, 8th grade, Lake Charles, Louisiana. What about you? 16 and in 8th grade. Yikes. And yet I was intrigued. So you got held back twice or what? I teased. And so the conversation began. We struck up a brief online friendship that afternoon. A shared, of course, photo. Freckled face, brown hair. Nothing I'd rate above a 5 on hot or Not. Yet, despite the friendliness, I refused to tell him where I was from or anything personal about me beyond my first name and age. I knew a little about the dangers of the Internet, but I wasn't dumb either. My username was a fruity drink and some numbers. Right? Safe enough, I figured. For background, I did have one of those AOL user profiles. It's standard pictures, including a profile picture and a questionnaire to fill out fun facts about yourself. My photo was one of me with several friends, with no indication of which one was me whatsoever. A few days later, Corey had messaged me out of the blue. You're beautiful. Um, what? Brunettes with green eyes, man, he responded. Somehow, despite my photo containing three of my other friends, he had accurately identified me. I'd love to see you sometime, he said. I felt my skin prick. I politely told him something to the effect of that not being possible and quickly logged off. Friday the following week, I was sleeping over at my best friend's house. I was logged into my account in the background as we thirstily browse cute guys on Hot or Not. Who's messaging you? My friend asked. I knew that it was Corey. Hey, you live in Houston. Your parents are James and Sarah Miller, and you live at 1655 South Grand. You know that feeling when you're on a roller coaster during a sharp drop and your heart jumps into your throat? That was that moment. Fortunately, we managed to find that AOL did in fact have a block user feature that night. That was it. So long. Creepy 16 year old middle schooler with scarily good online sleuthing skills. It didn't last long. The next day, a screen name similar to Corey's had messaged me. He had another account. I quickly blocked it. This happened five more times. I finally went dark for a while. Sure I missed the thrill of seeing the yellow envelope appear in my virtual mailbox but it was much better than the threat of being harassed by Corey. A few weeks later, I got home from school. My little sister was a baby at the time, 14 years my junior, so she had a nanny who had stayed with her during the day while my parents were at work. When I walked through the door of the kitchen, she handed the phone to me. It's for you, she said with a quizzical look on her face. Who is it? I really don't know. Some boy with a twang in his voice. Sounds like he's from East Texas or Louisiana, she told me. Oh God, I thought. Um, hello, I finally muttered into the phone. Hey, pretty thing. It's Cory. Hey. So my friends are all into that show Jackass. We're thinking of making a trip over to Houston and doing some pranks around town next week. How hilarious would it be if we surprised you at your front door? I choked out a nervous laugh. I mumbled an excuse about having a quiz the next day and then quickly hung up. For the next few weeks, I slept with a knife under my mattress. I was absolutely terrified I'd wake up to this late Charles Stranger Boy on the balcony outside my window. How did he get my phone number? But just as soon as he invaded my sense of security, it seemingly disappeared. No instant messages. No uninvited calls to my home. The knife finally went back into its respective kitchen drawer. Two months passed, and it felt gloriously safe until the phone rang the first week of summer break. Hi, the voice said curtly. Who is this? I politely demanded. It's me, Corey. Let me be clear. This wasn't the same voice that I just heard two months ago. That voice was dripping in Southern syrup. It was young and full of mischief. This new voice was different. It was cold. It lacked any discernible accent. It was older. I was speaking to a grown man. I'm sorry I haven't been able to talk to you, he hurriedly blurted. Why did he sound rushed? I feel terrible. But the police came to my house. They took my computers away from me. I can't say why, but don't worry. I'll come to Houston soon. Click. That was the last day I used that fruity username. I deleted that account and created a new one. I embarrassingly told my parents that I'd made a huge mistake, despite having shared nothing that could have easily revealed my personal identity. Even if I had, the threat back then wasn't what it is now. This was nearly 20 years ago. People simply didn't have the online presences that they do today. As a teenager with no social media yet, I was virtually a ghost. But still I was convinced I was somehow culpable for this stranger, this man, a predator who clearly had advanced knowledge of computers and the Internet singling me out and making it his mission to learn everything about me through whatever means possible. He was determined to get to me. I'm only grateful that even at 15, I knew better than to trust that this freckle faced kid from an online chat room had fully benign intentions. Two decades later and I still wonder where Corey ended up. Hopefully behind bars. When I was 8 years old, my family moved into a lower income part of town. The good thing about it was my aunt, my mom's sister and older brother who's on my dad's side and lived in the same neighborhood as us. There was an old small building from what I've been told was a church. I used to come there to play a lot as I didn't have many friends. My father kept my family really isolated the majority of my life. There was a girl who used to always come and play with me. Her name was Henrietta. I always liked Henrietta. We always played together. She was like the best friend I'd ever have, considering I hadn't had many. Henry and his family stayed about two houses down from an older man named Mr. Herbert. I'd say he was maybe in his early 40s. During the time he was always very creepy looking if you ask me. He would always stare at me and Henrietta through his bushes or he'd be peeking out of the windows at us. Mr. Herbert gave me the worst feeling ever. I used to tell Henrietta to not talk to him because he seemed like he was kinda weird. But she was always as a child, tried to see the good in people. But I just couldn't shake the feeling of something sinister about him. I remember one night looking out of my bedroom window and seeing him across across the street in the bushes just staring at my house. I closed the curtain for what seemed like 10 minutes and when I opened the curtains back up, he was walking through the field back to his house. The next morning the police were everywhere. It seemed like Henrietta had gone missing and no one could find her. I remember her parents being really hysterical about it because Henrietta was their only child. Because I was her friend at the time. The police along with my parents went to the station and I told them that I had last seen Henrietta at the old church that we always played at. I was heading home and she said that she was waiting on a great friend to come by with Candy. I had no clue who she was talking about. But I did mention the creepy neighbor, Mr. Herbert. How he was always following us and staring at us. And how he had also made some comments about our bodies. My parents just told me to stop telling stories as they called it. Anyways, they apparently ruled Mr. Herbert out as a suspect in her disappearance. Henrietta never came home again. Mr. Herbert skipped town about six months later and still no Henrietta. It's been 24 years now since her disappearance. One day I cut on the news in our town and lo and behold, Mr. Herbert, who was much older, was on there. Apparently the police came up with testing and they found new evidence that was overlooked, linked to Mr. Herbert. They found Henrietta's body, or dismembered parts I should say, buried in a shallow grave. Mr. Herbert had violated her and then murdered her. He buried her beneath the old church floor. Apparently he was wanted in other places as well. The police said he had a long list of young girls that he was going to kill or had killed. He marked them out after each death. The police said that he had my photo and my name in a list. I was after Henrietta on the list. Apparently he was going to kill me next at some point. They ended up giving him life with no parole and he's currently still incarcerated. Every time I think of what happened, I get the chills. Because it could have been me next. When I was in college, mid-20s, I went through it. To catch a Predator, face the cops and robbers chutzpah, the bravery of the young bad actors, and of course the simpering whining freaks who would get taken down by camouflage SWAT cops. But not before awkwardly equivocating over lemonade and cookies with Chris Hansen's turtleneck for 20 minutes. The show was the epitome of entertainment. Shad and Fruda cringe before we had a word for it. One night I'm going through YouTube clips and I start thinking and talking out loud to myself. Man, what did these predators do before the Internet? How did they find victims? How did they groom kids? I guess they probably just drove around the neighborhood and looked out for kids walking around. And then a memory popped into my head. I was reminded of a memory from 11 years earlier that I'd legitimately completely forgot about. It was summer, mid-90s, before school started up. I was a nine year old boy and my family had just moved to a new town, A fairly residential suburb of a larger American metropolis. We had probably been in the new zip code for two weeks max. One afternoon I had Gone to the nearby sporting goods store to pick up a hockey stick and hockey tape. As roller hockey was my obsession at the time. This sporting goods store was literally two blocks away from our new house and I'd been walking to and from school in our old town for a couple of years. So it was no big deal that my parents let me make this trip alone. Some much sought after autonomy for a literal friendless kid in a brand new town. As I'm walking home a block from our house, a completely average mid-90s sedan cruises up next to me. Maybe like One of those late 80s Oldsmobiles, I don't know. I was on the right side of the street and this vehicle pulled over to the right side. It was a wide, quiet two way street with plenty of space for this car to roll right up just a few feet of suburban lawns separating me on the sidewalk from the vehicle on the street, a completely average, nondescript white dude leans over from the driver's side and speaks to me. Hey, you know why they cork baseball bats? Uh, what I think I may have said, I stopped dead in my tracks. Do you know why they cork baseball bats? He turned his car off and hopped out walking towards me. I saw your hockey stick there and it got me thinking. Do you know why they cork baseball bats? He was probably in his 30s, thin or average build, curly short brown hair. I can't remember what he was wearing. I can't remember our verbatim conversation obviously, but basically his whole schtick was telling me that baseball bats aren't corked because the cork is springy and it helps the ball bounce more off the bat. Baseball bats are corked because it makes the bats lighter and easier to swing for the batter. My general thought process at this point is, uh, okay, cool, man. If I'd been a casual cusser at that point in my life, I definitely would have been thinking, what the hell is going on here? But he did all the talking and I just awkwardly, politely nodded and kind of just smiled here and there. It was like one of those adult conversations where the loudest person in the room ends every sentence with you know what I mean? Oh, gosh. There's something that I really wish I could show you. I wish there was an adult around. Now, in retrospect, this is already completely freaking inappropriate behavior, but this comment should have been a big alarm bell for me. It wasn't. Are your parents home? I would love to show you something if your parents are home so that they can watch. My dad is a bit strict And I knew me bringing Bill Strangeman home from the sporting goods store would not go over well. So I think I lied and said no. Again, this is already freaking insane, but I still wasn't really scared or concerned about corked back guy. I was more concerned with getting dressed down by my dad for taking too long at the sporting goods store. However, even my naivety and total absent mindedness knew that something was amiss. When Court Bad guy asked his next question, where do you live? Maybe I can take you home and we can wait for your parents. Now, as I said, I had just moved to this neighborhood, but for whatever reason, maybe just the way I'm wired, I had already taken to memorizing the street grid of my new neighborhood. So without thinking I lied and told the guy we lived on the street several blocks away from where we actually lived. Where we actually lived was within sight of this entire encounter and I began to grow more aware that I was gone at the sports store for a long time and would probably get yelled at when I got home. Do you want a ride home? He asked. I declined, and I'm not really sure how many times the guy asked, but I was smart enough to not get into his car. I sometimes wonder what my life would have been like if I hadn't stood firm. He was nice, he seemed to know a thing or two about sports, he was just offering to help me out, and I was a very well behaved boy who was respectful to everyone and I generally liked speaking with adults in a somewhat adult manner. I was mature beyond my years, but my fear of what my dad would do if I didn't make it home soon and my dad's parenting style probably saved my life or at least several thousands of dollars in therapy that afternoon. Aw man, I just really wish there was another adult around. The guy really kept harping on this caveat. Finally, after what may have been half an hour, he finally backed away and got back into his car after giving me an entire physics lecture on action and reaction, corked baseball bats, and how frustrating it was that there weren't any adults around. I still wasn't scared, nor did I understand any of what was going on, but I was definitely physically relieved when this freaking weirdo had started his engine back up and took off down the block. Like I said, I was a block from home and I couldn't wait to get home because even I could feel a suspicious amount of time had elapsed and my dad would be grumpy. But I also knew that something wasn't right about this dude. So I kept an eye on his car, just waiting for him to make a turn out of sight before booking it to my new house. He got one block away, two blocks away, three blocks away. I walked extra slowly just in case he was keeping an eye on me in his rearview mirror. Then he freaking turned around and came right back towards me. Quirk Bad guy's dream had come true. An elderly neighbor was outside even closer to my house, mowing his lawn and doing some yard work. Annoyance more than dread percolated up through my veins as the car came back and now parked. As I slowly got closer to the random old man. I still remember the old guy wearing standard old man attire of nice 40 year old brown slacks and a pit stained white V neck undershirt. Quirk Bad guy parks again and hops out of his car again. And then he strolls back towards me with that same oblivious confidence. Although this time he hollers at the old guy. Hey pops, you got a minute? I want to show this kid something. Old guy is just as confused and inconvenienced as I was. He doesn't say a word one way or the other, but he's already there watering his lawn, so by default he's now the long sought after adult witness this freaking knob in the Oldsmobile was hoping for. The guy then walked me through this absurd demonstration where he held the palms of his hands flat and upright in front of him and invited me to slap them. Some sort of demonstration about the speed and the physics and the whole freaking corked baseball bat thing. Again. Just a reminder, I was walking around with a hockey stick. Don't ask. I honestly can't tell you why I put up with this guy's bullcrap. I must have been timid and scared to come off as rude or just completely confused by the attention. Maybe I was stupid. I mean I was nine years old, so there's that. But I will admit that I recall laughing and actually having a fun time as this guy kept telling me to punch his hands over and over and over again. Please don't ask. I don't know. Finally this guy realizes his grand plans are not going to pan out today. Maybe the old man being there backfired on him. Or maybe I was being more obstinate than I recall. But the dude finally packed up his physics lecture, got back in his sedan and drove off. Once again I made sure he was out of sight before I sprinted back to my parents house, exchanging a mutual look of pure disorientation with the old man. Who just wanted to water his lawn. Sure enough, when I got home, my dad was prickly that I'd been gone for so long, probably an hour, when my errand should have only taken about 20 or 30 minutes. I lied and I said I just spent a long time at the sporting goods store wandering around, and even though I could tell my dad didn't buy it, he didn't have much else to go on challenging my story than a hunch. Like I said earlier, I got yelled at a lot for all sorts of little crap kids shouldn't get yelled at for. So admitting I entertained a random on the sidewalk for 40 minutes wasn't going to go over well. Since ultimately nothing happened to me. I literally forgot all about this encounter until years later when I was watching other desperate pederasts getting their comeuppance on Dateline. But I mean, it was definitely a predator trying to abduct me or groom me, right? He rolls up on me totally out of nowhere, completely uninvited. He starts off by talking about sports with me. I'm a young boy with a piece of sports equipment, so he immediately goes into some spiel about something vaguely sports related just so we have something in common. He was oddly fascinated with the idea of whether or not there were adults around watching, which may have been a cover for him to ask me where I live and offer me a ride home. Ultimately, he escalated his bullcrap quirked baseball bat thing into a game where physical touching was initiated, where he was giving me orders to keep touching him. Once again, I was ultimately unharmed and I wasn't even aware of that sort of thing when I was 9. So I don't have any trauma or anything like that. I don't even wonder about the guy very much. Like if I had said something, would he have gotten taken off the streets? I just didn't know back then and I thought at the time he was very, very strange, but not dangerous. Years later, after this memory resurfaced, I checked the Megan's Law website for my hometown and sifted through some of the pictures of registered offenders. I saw a few generic Y guys among the mugshots, but can't say for sure whether one was the guy or not. So who knows? Years later, I had finally told this story to my parents at a Christmas dinner. I think, yeah, I know. And my dad, who's not emotional, very stoic, kind of self centered and self sustaining and just really a tough book to read, got really upset at the guy. My dad was asking all sorts of questions as if it had all just happened. Like what the guy looked like, which way he drove, that sort of thing. My dad had also grilled me over and over again to make sure something worse hadn't happened to me that day. I assured him nothing had. In a perverse way, it was kind of touching to see my dad suddenly fulfill that masculine stereotype of I'll kill whoever touches my kid, a sort of strange happy ending to a weird story that could have ended much more tragically. Before I start, I would like to preface that I'm very understanding of mental crises and the impact of a mental breakdown that can have on someone. Regardless, though, however much pain someone is in, I just cannot see justifying putting someone else's life at risk. On September of 2019, my boyfriend C and I moved in together. At that time we had been together for six and a half years as we had began dating in middle school, so this was of course a dream come true. Of course, if you could overlook the cockroach's constant stench of bad weed, loud music at all hours of the night, general lack of safety, and hypodermic needles laying around the grounds, then I guess you could call it a paradise. Regardless, to us, having a place to ourselves was heaven. Minus the nice smells. But that's what candles are for, right? Anyway, while I decorated the place to make it a home and burned more candles than a Catholic church had amassed to forget the smell of rotting camping left over from the previous owner, everything started to go downhill when new neighbors moved in both across the hall and directly above us, right as we went into September of 2020 and my college classes had turned virtual along with my work, we came to know more about our across the hall neighbor's tumultuous relationship than we ever cared to know. After nine calls to the police day and night, they were finally evicted after an argument while strung out which resulted in a stabbing. For me, this was the line, the line in mind that could not be crossed. Although I'd been calling the cops day in and day out because they'd been up all night fighting, I really thought management would step in before things got serious. After our neighbors across the hall had been evicted, we were left with only one more headache. Our neighbor who lived above us, he blared his music starting at 2am and ending at 6am he refused to listen to reason. Once C would go up to talk to him, asking kindly if he could turn his volume down as he and I had to both work the next day, he would just laugh in his face and slam the door. This went on for a month and after endless phone calls and emails to management that resulted in nothing, we felt defeated. One night I had finally had enough and I had went up myself. I banged on his door until he finally opened up. And he finally came to the door and told me to go away, that he'd turn it down when he felt like it. As he closes the door, the door across the hall opened up. Door 308. A young mother opened the door and then shook her head. I know, she said, my kids are in here trying to sleep, but this is all they hear. I smiled at her sympathetically and I retreated back downstairs to my apartment. 218. We moved out of that apartment in August of 2021. July of 2022. Andrew Tekelsunberg is fatally shot by Minneapolis police after a six hour standoff in the same apartment he lived in when we were there, the apartment littered with bullets was that of the mother who I spoke to that night. Apartment 308. I can only imagine it was her having enough of his music just like I had that night only a year prior that set him off. I just can't stop thinking about this now that it's been released who the shooter was, and I'm only thankful that we got out when we did. For some context. I'm a guy and this happened to me when I was 14. It was a Friday night, the summer before I started my freshman year of high school. My mom was out of town with her friends for the weekend and my dad was gone for a week on a work trip. So I had the house to myself that weekend. On that night, I had decided to invite over my friend Terrence. When Terrence arrived, he didn't really have an excited look on his face. Instead, he looked depressed, like as if he was going through something really tragic in his life. When he came and sat down next to me on the couch, he was telling me he's been having depression for a few months. And when I asked him why, he said that his parents were getting a divorce and his dad was blaming the entire thing on him even though he knew he did nothing wrong. His mom had told his dad to knock it off. Then they both started arguing about him having to pay child support. Terrance said that his dad had been really vulgar and verbally abusive to him and his mom ever since the day he left. Then when Terrence was done sharing his story to me, he had started crying really hard. That was when he said that he wanted to come over to my place. To get away from all the drama. I told him I was always going to be there for him, and I gave him some comfort, and I told him he'll be okay. He asked if he could stay at my house for the night. I told him it was cool because of the drama he was going through. He appreciated it, and he said he was really lucky to have me as a friend. Well, right around 11:45 that night, I was in my room putting some things away when I had heard a loud bang come from the living room. It was very loud, and it rang out all throughout the entire house. I went to go look, and what I saw next almost made me faint. There was Terrance lying on the floor with a bullet in his head, and he was drenched in blood. I had then let out possibly the loudest scream that I've ever screamed in my life. Terrence had shot himself with my dad's handgun that he found in the drawer of the nightstand by the bathroom. I got down on my knees and I began crying very hard. And I was hyperventilating so much that I had a hard time catching my breath. I then started screaming. I grabbed Terrence's phone to call his mom on it. But before I dialed his mom's number, I saw that he sent his dad a text which read, dad, it's all your fault. You've really put me through so much shit. I'm about to do something to myself that I really should have done a long time ago. I just want you to know that I blame you for all of this. I called Terrence's mom on his phone while I was crying and hyperventilating, and I explained the whole situation to his mom. She said she would go get her soon to be ex husband and they'd be there asap. When his parents arrived, I explained everything to them. I even screamed at his dad and cursed at him. And I chewed his ass out for making his son do that to himself. I got down on my knees and I began crying even harder. His mom was crying as well, saying that she hates him for what he made their son do to himself. His dad was actually starting to feel guilty for this, but his mom and I didn't listen to him. After all the commotion, his mom called 911. And after they arrived, they took Terrence out in a body bag. The next day, when my mom got home, I had to tell her everything that happened. That was when she saw the blood stain on the carpet. Terrence was the best friend that I ever had in my life, and him Killing himself eventually led to me having really bad depression. I'm 19 years old now, and to this day, I just can't stop thinking about him. That night will forever haunt my memory. Long before I was born, for some context, my dad and his family lived in Texas in a town called Temple. A lot of people haven't heard of it because whenever they think of Texas, they think of big cities like Dallas or Houston. My dad and his younger sister were both born in North Carolina, but my grandfather was an army doctor, so they moved around quite a bit. After North Carolina came Oklahoma, then Arizona. And then sometime in the late 1980s, my grandfather found a stable residence for the family in Texas. Ford Hood needed doctors, and my grandfather was ready for any challenge that came his way. My grandmother was adamant that she didn't want to live on another army base, so she negotiated with him that they bought a ranch style house with a clearing. Unfortunately, his commute from Temple to Fort Hood was very tiring. And as will most army families, they spend less time at home. Now the story isn't so much about my father, but about his sister. For the sake of privacy, I'll call her Tracy. I actually grew up hearing this story. It was a cautionary tale for me in terms of stranger danger. As I got older, my aunt was able to tell me more details. It's really taken her a long time to be comfortable with what happened. It was 1991 and my dad was a senior in high school, while my Aunt Tracy was a sophomore. Unlike my father, she was a lot less reserved and more outgoing, so she made a lot of friends. Now, I should also note that Tracy was also very naive. She trusted a lot of people that she shouldn't have, and she was way too nice to strangers who could have easily taken advantage of her. Not only that, but as soon as she got her license, she took her car out to go see her friends. She rarely spent time at home, especially on the weekends. My dad claims it's because my grandfather barely gave Tracy his attention, but I don't feel like going into detail about all that. Most of Tracy's friends actually didn't live in Temple, so she would drive over to their neighborhoods in Belton, the next town over. My aunt, who was 16 at the time, considered herself to be very mature and independent. Here's where I need to add more context. Now, I've seen pictures of my aunt when she was younger. She was a late bloomer, and to put it bluntly, well, when she was 16, she could have passed as a 12 year old it was either June or July and Tracy had all this free time now that school was out for the summer, she drove to her best friend's house in Belton, who I'll call Mona. Mona's parents had gone to do something out of town and Mona had the house all to herself. Tracy and some of her friends went to Mona's house to party. I don't exactly remember all of the details, but for some reason my aunt just couldn't spend the night. It wasn't super late when she left, but the sun was starting to go down and she wanted to get back to temple. So she says her goodbyes and starts driving. Not even a few minutes after she left, Tracy's car starts to stall. She pulls over to the side and puts on her hazards. Luckily for her, she hadn't broken down in a bad neighborhood. In fact, she was still close to Mona's residence and Mona lived in a really nice house. Instead of waiting for a car to pass, she decides to walk back to Mona's and use the phone. Just writing this gives me anxiety. I can only imagine just how nervous my aunt must have been walking alone in a neighborhood she wasn't too familiar with. Just as the sun was going down, she walks for a moment, knowing that all she has to do is reach the end of the street turn, and then Mona's house would come into view on a hilltop. My aunt was about to make it to the end of the street when she then passes by a really nice mansion. It was probably one of the nicest houses she had ever seen while living in Texas. There were two guys in the driveway and one of them drinking a beer. They didn't catcall my aunt, but the taller of the two then shouted, hey young lady, where you going? Tracy looks over and the tall guy is actually walking towards her. You alright? She remembers them asking. I don't know why a nice girl like you would be out by yourself. As I've said before, my aunt was way nicer to strangers than she ever should have been. She wanted to be polite, so she continued the conversation. Oh, I'm just here visiting a friend. Not from around here, are you? The guy asked. Nearby, my aunt quickly said, I'm on the way to my friend's house. How come? The guy asked. There was really no need for this grown man to be interrogating my aunt, who literally looked like a child. The guy wasn't being rude, but something about his presence was really invasive, as Tracy put it. The other guy in the driveway wasn't really interested in their conversation, and my aunt was hoping that he'd just stay there. The guy who was talking to her was huge, probably six feet tall, and my aunt was only about five' one. He had tanned skin, black hair, late 20s or early 30s. At first my aunt thought that he was pretty good looking. Then he started staring at her like he was undressing her with his eyes. That's the only way Tracy could describe it. Well, I'm running behind, she told him. She's expecting me now. Well, why don't I give you a ride? The man told her. My truck is literally right over there. My aunt spotted the blue pickup truck and shook her head. No, thank you. No, no, really, I don't mind. I'm sure lots of guys offer you a ride. Can't blame them. You're pretty. As naive as my aunt was, alarm bells were now ringing. She kept walking, assuring him that she would be okay with walking. She managed to put herself about 10ft from him, feeling confident that she could run if this guy tried to grab her. Tracy kept insisting that she was fine. That's how persistent this dude was. She thought about running back to her car, but that would mean going past the guy. Given that this was a time before cell phones, which we now use and operate, my aunt couldn't just threaten him with a 911 call. By some miracle, she then saw an elderly woman come out of a house that was a few doors down. She was taking her dog out to pee. Thinking fast, my aunt told the man, oh, that's my grandma. I gotta go. And without warning, she then took off towards the woman, who was startled as my aunt entered her front yard. My aunt quickly and quietly informed the woman that she needed to use the phone, that her car had broken down, and there was a weird, creepy guy trying to pick her up. The elderly woman looked past my aunt and the man and then ushered her inside. As she entered the woman's residence, Tracy made the mistake of looking back towards the mansion. The man was still standing in the exact spot. His posture was tense, and my aunt said that despite the distance, she could see how wide and white his eyes were. She assumed that he was angry or frustrated. After what felt like an eternity, my aunt said that he turned around and walked back towards the other guy. Tracy called a tow truck and the elderly woman told her to wait inside just in case the creepy guy was still out there. Eventually, the truck came and my aunt thanked the elderly woman for her hospitality. She got a ride back home, relieved that she was back in solace, my grandparents and dad were obviously aware of the car situation, but my aunt didn't tell them about the creep, fearing that my grandmother wouldn't let her out of her sight. Now, the real ending to my aunt's story might as well be something right out of a horror movie. She eventually told my dad about the creep, but he didn't pry for the details. Years later though, when Aunt Tracy got married back in North Carolina, she again told the story, this time to her friends and husband. Someone rhetorically asked, wow, I wonder whatever happened to that weirdo? As my uncle would later confirm, the color in my aunt's face drained as she told their wedding guests, oh, he's dead. They asked her how she could possibly know that when the creep never even told her his name. After composing herself, my aunt then said, well, do you guys remember that guy that drove his truck into Luby's and started shooting? It was him that was the creep who offered me a ride. As it turns out, my aunt had encountered George Hennard, a 35 year old Marine who was living off his family's wealth in Belton. A few months after trying to lure my aunt into his vehicle, on October 16, Hennard plowed his blue pickup truck into Luby's Cafeteria, a popular restaurant in the nearby town of Killeen. He opened fire and killed well over 20 people before taking his own life. When my aunt was watching the news report, his picture flashed up on the screen and it felt like her chest was about to explode. For a very long time, she replayed the scenario over and over in her head. She actually had nightmares where he'd gotten her into the truck and assaulted her. My aunt's doing alright now, but I understand why it took her a long time for her to get over it. She once told me that she often wondered if some of the victims saw just how wide and white his eyes were before he shot them. She'll never forget that stare. The story was when I was much more young and brave and kinda did stupid stuff without thinking. It's a wild ride. And it's all true. I used to work at a pizza shop down the street from 2pm until they closed. I usually didn't get off until 11 or so at night. I had a car, but it was close enough to walk, so I did that most days to save gas. This particular night I was doing my usual thing, jamming to one of my playlists, tired but really happy to have a good job and just generally happy with the way my life was going up ahead. About A block from my place, I see an attractive looking guy in dark clothing walking, but not really with a purpose. He was taller than me, maybe about five' ten, six' or so, and he had shaggy brown hair. The closer I got to him, the more I could tell he was really good looking. Like even in the dark of night. I was starting to get really excited. His features kind of escaped me now, but I do remember his hair and his thick eyebrows. I took out an earbud and because I'm from a dangerous city and never really cared about stranger danger, I decided to talk to him. Maybe even flirt a little bit. Hey, how's your night going? It's good. I'm just looking to get drunk. Oh, that I can help with. I've got a mini bar at my place. I lived just down the street. That was not verbatim how the conversation went during the walk back to my place. I got no red flags from this guy. He seemed totally normal and I was honestly thinking, wow, just sheer luck. I meet this super hunky guy and he seems really cool and fun. I was beside myself, really. So we get to my apartment on the second floor. I jump into host mode and I offer him to have a seat and to make himself comfortable. The apartment was about 640 square feet, so it's very small except for the bathroom. You can see the rest of the apartment from any area. I head into the kitchen and while I'm pouring drinks, I glance back over at him. It was then that I noticed the first red flag as I was asking him questions. He's more delayed with his answers, especially more so than he was on the walk there. It was just odd to me. I go back over to the couch, pass him his drink and sit down next to him. So what do you do for work? I asked. Oh, I'm not here for sex. He put his drink down on the table. Um, what do you mean? I'm not after sex either. He stands up. What you got? He asks me. His nice guy personality and friendly face are gone now. I'm having a hard time processing what he means by this. Did you hear me? What do you got? The second I stand up, he pushes me back. I fly across the room, hitting the floor, but not hard enough to pass out or anything. I get right back up, but he's already grabbed my laptop and my work bag. As I start towards him, he cuts around me and he makes his way towards the front door. I'm now right behind him. When he makes it outside, I manage to grab a Hold of him and we tussle again in front of the door. Now I shout out, calling on help from the neighbors. It's really late at night at this point, so no one comes. I'm now shouting at this point. The thing is, he has my laptop. And it's not just any laptop. I hate to admit it, but my entire life was on that laptop at the time. Important photos that I didn't have, backed up, thousands of dollars of music programs, video game programming, stuff for a development team I helped, and really expensive software. It was in my mind, totally irreplaceable. I give chase down the stairs, across the dog walk park and as I start to gain on him, we tussle again. And the only thing I can focus on is my laptop. I knew that I had to, at any cost, get my laptop back. That was absolutely all I cared about. Somehow I finally get a grip on my laptop. I tug at it again and I guess he decides I'm not worth all of this struggle. He gets up and he starts to take off again. I now realize that he still has my work bag. It has my cell phone and wallet in it with my license, debit cards and AAA card in it. I take off towards him yet again and this time he shouts back at me, I dare you. If you follow me, I'll stab you again. This makes me stop dead in my tracks and he gets away underneath a streetlamp along the sidewalk. I immediately inspect myself. Was I stabbed? No way. There's no way. Then I see blood running down my leg. I see blood on my arm, two places where it got me good. I'm scared, but the blood makes it look worse than it is. I decide that's enough. I got my laptop and that's all I really wanted. Anyway, I hobble back home and I get inside and lock my door. I had called the cops using my neighbor friend's phone the next day and I filed a police report explaining the situation. Also showing the stab wounds and declining medical services. I can't afford that and I was honestly fine, all things considered. So all that guy got was a crappy cell phone and a wallet with like 30, $40 in it. The com called my friend back several days later and they said they weren't able to find the guy but that they would keep me posted. This all happened years ago and I don't know where the robber is now, but I now have every electronic thing of importance backed up on multiple drives. To this day, I still cannot believe that I got stabbed and didn't know it. I'm very glad nothing worse happened. My name is Maddy. I've been an EMT for a little over two years now. This story I'm about to share is one of the saddest ones I've ever had. It can be graphic, so if you have a sensitive stomach, feel free to skip. I was working out of our base station with two great paramedic friends of mine. We got toned out for a cardiac arrest of a 27 year old female. We arrive on scene and we see that the fire department and police department are standing around and not really doing much. My partners and I step on scene and they inform us that it's a doa. If you guys don't know what that means. It stands for Dead on Arrival. The police department informs us that the young woman upstairs is against the wall. We go upstairs and we notice that there's a young woman face down and naked and covered in kitty litter. While my partner Tim was setting up the monitor to see if there was any cardiac activity, I noticed that there was already lividity appearing on her feet and hands. I told Tim that it was pointless to use the monitor. He told me he didn't have any activity. Anyway. After a while of searching around for a cause of death and looking for medications or really anything of that nature, Tim had brought the mother upstairs to see her daughter. My heart shattered as she saw her little girl just laying there dead. She burst into tears as she could barely speak. She told everyone upstairs with her that she could use a hug, which included myself and the firefighters that were just standing there. I saw that the firefighters were just standing around. I rolled my eyes at them and I handed one of them the post mortem bag. Then I gave the mom a hug. She cried on my shoulder and squeezed me so tight, but that didn't matter. I let her cry on my shoulder for as long as she needed to. I pulled her aside afterwards and told her just how sorry I was for her loss. She then told my partners Tim and Charlie that she suspected her daughter's baby daddy did this to her. She said that he had been on the run for about two years. I don't know if that's what happened, but I do have a theory. It was really odd that when we found her daughter, her head was perfectly up against the wall so we couldn't see if there was any blood. Also, she was naked. My partner suspects that the victim's baby daddy showed up, they had sex, then he killed her also. I don't know if that's what happened? It's just a theory. The last weird clue is there was kitty litter underneath and on top of her body, yet there was no kitty litter box upstairs anywhere. I'll never know what happened to this poor woman and young mother. The saddest part of this story is that her two sons, ages 4 and 7, found their own mama in this state. Also, the mother of the victim had told us that she lost her son earlier this year to brain cancer and now she's lost her daughter, her only child. My heart shattered. I love my job, but this call has to be the saddest one that I've ever responded to. Two little boys lost their mother and a mother lost her daughter. My prayers still go out to her family. First responders have a really hard job guys. Please do everything you can to support your first responders and thanks for listening. Back in my former life when I was young and fit, I was a volunteer firefighter for the local CFA in the town I lived in at the time and had been for a number of years. I'm from Australia. I have many stories, mostly sad to be honest, but these two are the ones that stick with me the most as the first was actually my very first call out as a full fledged firefighter and the second, well, you'll understand why soon enough. A Warning. This first story contains descriptions of death and it may be upsetting for some people. So I was 16 at the time and I had just completed my final training to be inducted as a member of the team and be able to attend callouts. It was a Sunday afternoon and we were finishing up cleaning at the station when a call then came through. The captain picked up and took the details and our pagers then began chirping. Single vehicle MVA just out of town on the S bend. The stretch of road was notorious and well known by the locals. The stretch of road in question was notorious and it was well known by the locals as it had a sharp S shaped bend that suddenly pops out of a straight stretch of road out of town on a 100 kilometer area. The bend itself wasn't quite our jurisdiction as it fell under the next town over, but many of the members from that brigade were out of town on a competition. Three of us climbed up into the back of the tanker, captain in the front as driver and Lieutenant as front passenger. Search and rescue had also been dispatched as there were people trapped. We pull up and the three of us on the back descend to the roadside. As we're standing there awaiting our orders from the lieutenant because the captain was talking with the police and snr. I begin to just take in the scene. About 10 meters down from the first piece of the bend is the wreck of a sedan. It's wrapped around the tree as though the tree and vehicle are one. The car hit with such force that the bonnet was touching the boot at an almost 90 degree angle. I'm sent with the hose to stand by the bonnet just in case a fire ignites and I'm to douse it if it does. The driver was being spoken to by an officer, but it wasn't looking good for him. What was? The center console was embedded into him and he barely seemed conscious. I notice that there isn't much left of a windshield left. The front passenger, or at least what is left of them, has already had a sheet draped over their body, which is half hanging out what was left of the passenger side door. That wasn't even the worst of it though. There was a newborn baby car seat in the paddock to the left of the road, upside down. About five feet from there was another tiny sheet covering another body. A tiny one, but just below the fence line was what broke whatever childhood I had left inside of me. There was also another sheet which someone had weighed down with a rock on the edge so it wouldn't blow off. The lieutenant came in and relieved me as the air ambulance was landing and once the scene was declared safe, we finished up and returned to the station. What had happened was that this young family from out of town were heading through as a shortcut. The driver had misjudged his speed in the bend, lost control, became airborne after hitting the ditch, and then slammed into the tree on the passenger side on the opposite side of the road, right at about 140 meters from when they first left the road. Heartbreakingly, the baby's car seat wasn't secured properly and the impact of the vehicle hitting the tree catapulted the seat right out of the windshield, as well as the baby out of the seat and right into the fence, then separating the head from the body. That was the first and last MVA I ever attended. The second story is much less heartbreaking, but confronting all the same. I was now a young adult. The month was February and The year was 2009. It was the middle of a drought and we hadn't had any substantial rain for over two months. But. But this day saw an intense storm roll through with very strong 100 kilometers westerly winds and 45 degrees Celsius, which for you Americans listening was about 62 mile winds and 115 degrees Fahrenheit. The storm saw lightning strikes and power lines down across the state. The perfect storm for a disaster. Fires quickly and aggressively took hold across the state, with the worst just the east of Kilmore, shutting the major freeway and many of the access roads. This fire took hold before an adequate emergency warning system was then in Place. Before 1530, this fire had emerged with the Murrandin D fire which had already hit so many towns. Flames were topping the treetops at over 30 meters high, feeding off years of vegetation through the national parks and roadsides. With little to no warning, entire towns were lost. By the evening of 8th February 2009, there were over 400 fires burning across the state of Victoria and every single fire truck and volunteer were dispatched. I was called up on strike team the following day and myself along with five other members joined the fight of what we didn't know at the time to be the fight of our lives. The 1300 hours to the Marysville area. Reports were already trickling in of fatalities that had been found by other members, police and SCs. But the fires were still active and very dangerous. So often those emergency services would have to evacuate and it wouldn't be for another two weeks before the total amount of lives lost would then be known. That number was 173 people in one day, most from the towns that I previously mentioned who had no warning and no way out. Over 400 were injured. Our strike team's job was immediate protection of life. There was still an emerging and critical situation from frantic hulls that were coming in nonstop, jamming the line. The situation was so precarious that the local ABC emergency radio was the only way for people to get a call out for emergency assistance. My crew, along with several others were sent to protect a local community who had all hunkered down on the local footy oval with the fire bearing down on them from all sides. Driven by the ferocious winds and a literal firestorm created kilometers ahead of the main fire by the fire itself, not knowing the area and relying on hard copy maps as back then GPS wasn't even yet standard and radio reports our crew found themselves in a gully ahead of the fire front with the other crews dotted around the oval. In a similar circumstance, it went unsaid, but we were all willing to risk everything to save the people of that town. Some were entire generations of families huddled on a footy oval with no way out and no water. The radio sprung to life as the middle of the day turned into pitch black. Darkness. And we then heard, mayday, mayday, mayday. And it came in dauntingly clear. It happened faster than the rest of the emergency broadcast could get out. Suddenly, the firefighter sat next to me is now screaming, burn over, Mayday. Burn over. Take cover and get down. And then drags me down as low as the three of us can get. And the sprinklers on the trunk are pumping water that I'm sure is evaporating quicker than it could cover us. There's a deafening roar. Imagine you're set right behind a fighter jet just as it comes to life. That's the type of loud roar and sizzling that I was sure was going to blow out my eardrums. The truck is rocking chaotically. Random bangs are going off around us and the air so thick I couldn't take a breath without choking. And it was hot, like as though we had been thrown right into a volcano. Hot. I can't even find the right words to describe the situation. While the driver and team leader took the shelter in the cab, the three of us huddled under woolen blankets with anything exposed burning while the front bore down on us, determined to eat everything in its path. The burnover felt as though it lasted for hours, but realistically, it was all over in a matter of minutes as the strong winds fueled the front hurtling towards the main road and whatever was left of the town nearby. After changing direction swiftly and without warning, just seconds before, the crew to our right called in their mayday message, leaving us with no warning and very little time to prepare. Once the front had passed, I realized that Alex, the firefighter that had been seated to the left of me, was now screaming. His hands inside of his face were badly burnt from struggling to hold down the blanket. The radio was fried, but fortunately help was already on the way as the last mayday message had been confirmed. The truck was a blackened mess of twisted, melted metal and still radiating heat as I then noticed a nearby crew coming down the gully towards us. Luckily for those townsfolk taking shelter on the footy oval, the wind change meant that they were giving a last minute reprieve and able to be evacuated before another wind change, which meant that the town was yet again in danger. I completed my strike team rotation twice over, and I finally returned to my hometown, which was safe. It would be weeks before the fires were at least brought under control and finally extinguished. And it was these fires that drove major change through emergency procedures and implementing new emergency warning systems countrywide to ensure a repeat of the horrific situation and loss of life should never again be repeated. Following these fires, I left that life behind me. The horrific loss of life I witnessed, the grisly stories I heard from the firsthand survivors and the pain carried in people's hearts and eyes was just way too much for me to bear. That and the near death experience of being burned alive despite all of our training and fire awareness was more than enough to last me a lifetime. Counseling was made available, though sadly, the stigma and toxic masculinity drove people to find solace through other means. For me, that was quitting my role and moving far, far away to never return again to that area. And I always feel a slight shudder every fire season whenever a warning goes out across media. So I guess the takeaway from my stories is to slow down and make sure everyone is buckled up correctly. You're better off arriving late than ending up dead. And when traveling through fire prone areas during our fire season, be sure to always carry spare water and a fire blanket. If you don't have one, a pure woolen blanket is ideal. And always, always listen to warnings. Thank you all for taking the time to listen. My first month as an EMT basic, we had the biggest car pileup in our county. It was a pretty big wreck involving semis and multiple cars. I come up to two semis that appear to have rear ended each other. When I notice there's blood coming from between the two semis, we start peeling it apart and we realize there's one of those smart cars in there. When they finally get it apart, we realize there was a human in there. It was a woman. And we know this because in the mush that were her remains, there was a brawl. That's my first one. This is my next one. My first traumatic arrest was an 18 year old boy. We arrive on scene and the fire department says they heard him take a breath. We gotta work him. So they begin extricating him from the truck. There's an old man there and he tells me how he was just behind him when the kid turned and got t boned by a semi. I thank him and I tell him I'm about to do my best. When we pull the kid out of the truck, I then heard a scream from behind me. The police and fire department had led his family onto the accident scene and his mother and sister then saw him as we're now pulling his partially crushed body out of his truck. We work him and I do my best. I do everything right and everything I could, but the kid didn't make it. After we get him to the er. I go back out to the rig and sit on the back bumper. I needed to clear my head and clean the ambulance. The old man from the scene walks up to me and then thanks me for trying to save his son. Yeah, this job fucking sucks. Emas first responder here. I've not seen many horrific accidents. I've been the one who's there at the end of a person's life trying to stop it, and I've been the one that succeeded in saving them. But the one call that stuck with me was my first and only road traffic collision. I'm only 22 and this was a year ago, so I was 21 when this happened. I'm also a volunteer first responder, but a top level, so I carry drugs, etc. But am by no means a paramedic. I've done about three months of formal training in total. But anyway, got a call to a motorcycle versus car coming off a roundabout. The motorcycle had two riders, fiance's and the one driver in the car. The bike had come round the turn off too quickly and clipped the car at such speed it had sent the driver flying 150 yards down the road with him being spread at various points across it. When I arrived, there was a person helplessly doing CPR and what little remained on this poor person. And I think they were doing it just out of shock more than anything. His right arm had somehow ended up in the passenger seat of the car. The driver hadn't sustained many injuries, although he turned out to be a hemophiliac. So he wouldn't stop freaking bleeding from the little wounds that he had sustained, which was just one more thing to complicate it all. Finally, the female passenger of the bike. She had been ejected sideways over the car and landed face down in a ditch. As I went over, I could hear her screaming and you could visibly see about 70% of her bones were broken as well as pointed in different directions. This was more of a problem because that meant that we couldn't get an IV for pain relief anywhere. We eventually managed to turn her over, putting her in so much pain, only to find that she had a laceration right across her stomach and everything was coming out. My job was to hold it all in with my hands while she begged for the pain to stop. The driver walked away fine and miraculously, after about four weeks in intensive care, the girl survived. Unfortunately, she lost her leg and more sadly, her fiance. I think about that couple every time I drive or go on, call or do anything. Drive carefully. It doesn't take much to tear a whole world apart.