A (0:00)

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B (1:32)

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A (2:35)

6 years ago I was a new mom learning to balance my job, family and health. My social life primarily existed on the Internet at this time, and Facebook and Instagram were the main ways I kept in contact with others. I received a friend request from Steven, an old friend from high school. I accepted and everything was normal for a while. After a couple of months, Steven sent me a DM asking how I was. The conversation was fine, but it didn't take too long for me to realize that this wasn't the Steven I knew. They had the same first and common last name. His profile picture was not a picture of himself, so I never realized this was a different person. Either way, we had several mutual friends and he didn't do anything especially creepy, so I just left him on my friends list. He would occasionally message and chat and he just seemed like someone that was a bit socially awkward but harmless. I would respond, but kept the conversations brief. One day I got a text from him which surprised me because I had never gave him my number. I asked how he got my number and he said from my website, which. Which was fair, I'm an artist. And I had my email and phone contact information on my art site. He began texting several times a day and I would just give short responses. Followed with something like at work, talk to you later or dinner with the family, have a good evening. He started talking about his new boyfriend, saying that he was one of the few gay conservatives and things were going well. I told him I'm glad he has a partner that aligns with him and I wish them well. He then began talking a lot about politics and was really aggressive about it and I told him it was probably best we didn't have those kind of conversations. His messages began turning sexual where he would ask if I wanted to hear about the sex parties him and his boyfriend threw. I told him no, I didn't really know him and that's really inappropriate. One day I was busy with work and returned to my phone to see dozens of messages from him, angry that I wasn't responding. And he went on and on sharing very graphic sexual stories. I responded and I told him I had been polite to him because he seemed like he hadn't had many friends, but that this was just way too much for me. And I told him I was blocking him. I told him that I didn't even believe he was gay and he was just saying it in an attempt to make me think he's harmless. I proceeded to block him on all social media and I blocked his phone number too. A couple of Days later, I had started getting lots of friend requests from accounts that I didn't have mutual friends with. The accounts also had no other friends. I knew they were probably fake pages that he was creating. I would block them and move on. Then I began getting phone calls and texts from fake phone numbers. Same thing. I would block them and move on. I messaged our mutuals to ask what they knew about him and none of them knew him. He had just requested them and they accepted. He began sending requests to my friends, family and other women in my dance troupe. I let everyone know that they needed to block him. For months, not a day passed that I didn't get a weird call or friend request or dm. It would range from a normal hey, how are you? To vague threats of I could make you talk to me if I really wanted to. He lived several hours away, so I wasn't particularly concerned. Things got quieter until one evening my notifications started going off like crazy and my phone was ringing with unknown numbers. It was on my art page. Probably 15 different accounts had posted porn on my page. Or things like OP as a whore or OP as a thief. I knew it was him because he had also accidentally posted from his real account. Yeah, a real genius. I didn't realize that I had never blocked him from that page. He also sent a message to my art page saying sorry for that and he missed his friend and that he was just trying to get my attention. I didn't respond, blocked him and called the police. Since stalking and harassment laws are awful, they didn't do anything. Later that night I Woke up around 2am for no reason other than I was just having trouble sleeping. I was up for a while playing on my phone when I had started to hear a strange sound coming from the living room. It was back and forth between quiet cracking and scratching. At the time, we lived in a large ranch house and the living room was at the other end of a long hall. I got up thinking my cats were into something, or maybe after a mouse. I flipped on the living room light and the sound stopped. I scanned around looking for my cats when I noticed an open window. Our windows were large from floor to ceiling and opened by pulling them down from the top. The top of the window sill had pry marks and the lock was broken. Thankfully, this house was old and the windows didn't open easily and he had only been able to open it about 8 inches. I woke up. My husband got my son out of his room and called the police. I knew it was Steven. It was way too Big of a coincidence that he blew up that day and then someone tried to break into my house in the middle of the night. We couldn't prove it was him. There was no evidence other than what had happened that day that pointed to him. The police spoke to him and I believed that it scared him enough to actually leave me alone. I was obviously horrified at the time and I began looking up anything I could find about him. I wound up finding his YouTube channel, which solidified my fears even more. He frequently talked about violence and would show off his gun collection. This led to me finding his real last name. I googled his name and found that he had been arrested two years prior for holding a woman against her will in a hotel and attempting to assault her. Thankfully, she was able to escape with only a bloody lip. We moved not long after. I wanted neighbors and off of the farm. I removed my phone number from my site and I logged down all of my social media. I still sleep with a baby monitor in my son's room because I'm so scared of someone coming in at night. His YouTube channel was shut down after a bit and I haven't heard from him since. Let me start off with the story and say that males have stalkers too. The story began on Facebook. The female that I'm referring to was part of a mutual group. In the beginning we talked and I found out she was a belly dancer. I would love to go to a show with belly dancers. After that, it became sexual between us. Now she would call me over the phone at night right before I went to bed. We would do our thing. She would tell me that she lived in a huge house that her late husband and her build together. She then started with that she had to get in shape because she was in her early 40s. I told her that I wanted to have kids. So she had started to say she'd love to have kids with me. Now we haven't even met in person. Then came the I love yous at the end of our nightly calls. This was weird because at the time I was in my late 30s and I was really struggling with self confidence. As I'm writing this story, my confidence has gotten so much better. The next thing I know is she wants to meet in person after a popular sports team that we both liked. In fact, she said, let's get two bedrooms, one to fuck in and one to sleep in. First of all, I would never meet someone at a hotel until I met them in person. So I went on a vacation with my family and took a female friend who was younger than me. I was attracted to her and my stalker asked me before I went on vacation whether or not we were sleeping in separate beds. On the first night. We did, but for the rest of the vacation we slept in the same bed but we never had sex. When I got back from my vacation, the female friend that I had went with we decided to date. My stalker got pissed and said that she would kill her. She also stated that she would tell her about our nightly calls. I told her to go ahead because that had happened before we started dating. Supposedly her brother called me and told me that his sister loved me and really wanted to be with me. I didn't want to be with her though, because I thought she was a little crazy. To end the story, she called me when I got off work and yelled at me that I was an asshole and that I deserved to never be in love again. She was crazy and I hoped to never interact with her ever again. I've always been an anime girl. Not in the cute cosplay, flashy TikTok kind of way. More like the curl up with tea and binge a 26 episode series until 2am kind of way. Anime was my safe place, my escape from the noise of work, life and everything in between. That's why I loved that website, a small streaming site tucked away in some forgotten corner of the Internet. The shows loaded fast, and the best part was the chat room. Every show had one a live feed of fellow fans commenting, laughing and throwing theories around as the story unfolded. It was chaotic, nerdy and perfect. One night, I noticed a username that kept popping up beside mine. He always had something funny to say, clever jokes and thoughtful takes on the storylines. He made me laugh. We started talking casually, replying to each other's comments, and soon our conversations moved to private messages. His real name, he said, was Bob. At first, Bob was great. We'd stay up late chatting about anime soundtracks, favorite openings, and which characters deaths hurt the most. He told me he lived a few states away, worked in it, and spent most of his evenings online. He seemed normal enough, friendly, smart, and genuinely interested in me. I didn't think twice when I told him my first name. But slowly the tone of our chats began to shift. He started asking personal questions, not the innocent. What other shows do you like? Kind, but things like where I lived, what time I got home, and what kind of phone I used. When I dodged his questions, he'd laugh it off. I'm just curious, he'd say. It's not like I'm stalking you or anything. But his messages started showing up everywhere I went. No matter what show I watched, there he was in the chat, like he was waiting for me. Then one night, I saw a message that made my stomach drop. You always watch around this time, huh? Bet your living room light's off right now. Like usual, my hands froze on the keyboard. How would he know that? Maybe it was just a guess. Maybe I stopped responding after that. But he didn't stop messaging. His tone got darker. He said I was just ignoring him, that I was different now. He sent long paragraphs, guilt trips disguised as concern. He told me he felt connected to me, like I was the only one who understood. It wasn't sweet anymore. It was scary. When I finally told him to back off, he snapped. He said that he already knew my IP address and that running wouldn't matter. I didn't even understand what that meant, but it terrified me. That night, I blocked him everywhere. I also deleted my account on the streaming site. For days, I couldn't even bring myself to open up my laptop. Every little sound, every notification made me jump. I had started researching how people could trace others online. It was horrifying, the things you can find out from just an IP address. The way some people hide behind screens, like masks. That's when I decided to protect myself. I downloaded a vpn, something I'd only vaguely heard of before, and I set it to connect automatically every time I went online. It felt like a locking door I hadn't realized was wide open. I even changed all my passwords, enabled two factor authentication, and scrubbed my old usernames from the web. It took weeks, but eventually the fear began to fade. Bob never contacted me again. I don't know if he gave up or if the block and VPN actually kept him out. And I don't really want to know. It's been over a year now. I still watch anime, of course I do. But I'm a lot smarter about how I do it now. I use legitimate websites, avoid random chat rooms, and I never share personal details, not even small ones. Sometimes people in online fandoms talk about creepy encounters, and I always tell them the same. Protect yourself, get a VPN and use strong passwords. Never assume someone online is who they say they are, because the truth is, you never really know who's on the other side of that screen. Bob taught me that. I wish he hadn't, but at least now I know better. And maybe in some strange way, that's its own kind of happy ending. This happened a few years ago, I never really believed that people my age could be dangerous. I mean, I was 13 in middle school, worried about grades, basketball tryouts, and what I was getting for Christmas. The idea that someone could stalk you, stalk me, especially someone from school, just didn't seem real. Until I met Emily. She was new that year. Small, quiet, with stray brown hair and these big green eyes that seemed to study everything. The teachers liked her because she was polite. The other kids didn't really notice her. We got paired up for a science project. I thought it'd be easy. We'd split the work, present it, and move on. But from the moment we started, Emily seemed too invested. She'd always volunteer to do extra work, even the stuff I'd already finished. She'd bring me little things like snacks or pens, saying they'd help me focus better. One time, she gave me a drawing of the two of us working together. She said, I like drawing things I care about. That should have been a red flag, but back then I just thought she was being friendly. We exchanged numbers so we could coordinate the project. Then she asked for my Snapchat. Everyone at school used it, so I added her. The first week was fine. She sent normal stuff. Photos of her dog, her desk, a random sunset. I'd reply with quick snaps, nothing major. But then things started to shift. She began snapping me constantly. Good morning snaps, good night snaps. Snaps during lunch, and snaps during class. If I didn't open them right away, I'd then get messages like, hey, why didn't you open it? I saw you were active. You don't like me anymore. It was weird, but I didn't want to be rude, so I would reply, trying to be polite. But the messages just kept coming, more and more personal. You looked really good today. I like your hair like that. I think we'd be perfect together. When she sent that last one, I just laughed it off. I told her that I didn't really want to date anyone. She left me on read for a few days. She didn't talk to me at all. I thought it was over Button. Then she started showing up everywhere in the cafeteria. Always sitting just close enough to watch me after school, waiting by my locker, pretending to look at her phone. Even during gym, sitting on the bleachers while we played basketball. Eyes locked on me the whole time. Then came the rumors. She started telling other girls in class that I was taken, that I was hers. When one of my friends, Alyssa, tried to talk to me after class, Emily cornered her in the hallway and told her to stay away from Me, Alyssa said. Emily's face looked empty, like all of the expression had been drained out of her. That's when I told my parents. They brushed it off. It's just middle school drama, my dad said. She probably just has a crush. It's not a big deal, son. Then one night, I got a snap from her. It was a dark picture of her bedroom, and on the wall, she'd written my name over and over in black marker. The caption said, we belonged together, Jared. I blocked her immediately, but she made new accounts, each one with some twisted username, like Jared's angel or Our future together, Jared. I blocked them all. But then she found me on Instagram, then TikTok, and then, somehow my discord. It was like she was everywhere. I stopped sleeping. Well, every time I got a notification, my stomach would just twist. I started walking home. A different route every day. Still, I'd catch glimpses of her across the street, by the bus stop, standing by the school gate. And then came the night that I'll never forget. It was a Friday. My parents were out for dinner on a date. I was home alone, playing Xbox, trying to just forget all about the weirdness. My phone buzzed. It was a snap from Emily. The image was blurry. A photo of the sidewalk in the dark. The caption read, I'm coming to see you, Jared, with a smiling emoji. Now, at first, of course, I thought it was just another creepy attempt to scare me. Then I realized something that made my blood run cold. I never turned on ghost mode on Snapchat. That meant that she could see my location. She knew where I lived. I opened up the security camera app on my phone. My dad had set it up a few months ago. And there she was, standing in my driveway. The porch light illuminated her face just enough to see that same blank, unsettling stare. Her hoodie was up, and in her right hand, she was holding something shiny. I zoomed in. My heart stopped. It was a knife. I froze. My hands started shaking so hard, I almost dropped my phone. She took a step forward toward the door. Then another. I dug behind the couch and called 911. Terrified, I whispered to the operator, telling them that there was a girl outside my house with a knife. They told me to stay quiet, stay hidden, and wait for the police. Through the security feed, I had watched her walk up to the door. She tried the handle. It rattled, but thankfully it was locked. Then she had pressed her face against the window. I swear she was smiling. She lifted her phone. The doorbell camera lit up as she snapped a picture. A few seconds later, my phone buzzed with a new shouldn't have ignored me, Jared. We could have had an amazing future together, but you really messed up. I held my breath. I could hear footsteps moving around the porch. The dispatcher said officers were on the way. It felt like forever before I saw the flash of red and blue lights through the blinds. Emily didn't even run. She just stood there. When the cops pulled up, still holding the knife loosely at her side. When they ordered her to drop it, she just smiled that same blank smile I'd seen in class. They took her away. Later on, one of the officers said she had been muttering something over and over, something about how we were supposed to be together and how he belongs to me. I couldn't sleep for days after that. Every little sound made me jump. I deleted my Snapchat, wiped my account, and changed every password I had. That weekend, my mom made me reinstall Snapchat so she could help me check the settings. That's when I saw it. Ghost Mode was still off. She could have been tracking me for weeks. That thought made me sick. So if you're listening to this, please learn from my mistake. Don't think that because you're young or just chatting online that you're safe. Don't assume someone's harmless just because they go to your school. And if you use Snapchat, turn on Ghost Mode always, because you never really know who's watching. I wish I could say that's all that happened and we're at the end, but not quite. Unfortunately, Emily didn't know how to stay away from me. Let me explain. It's been about four years since the night Emily showed up to my house. Four years since I saw her glowing in the porch light, holding that knife like she thought it meant something. I'm 17 now. I'm a junior in high school. Things are mostly normal again. I've moved on, or at least I've tried to. My parents still bring up that knife sometimes, usually when they double check that all of the doors are locked before bed. After she was taken away, Emily's family moved out of town. Word was that they had sent her to some sort of mental health program and that she was getting help. Nobody really talked about it after that. People forgot. But of course I never did. I still can't use Snapchat. I deleted it right after that night. I stayed off most social media, though eventually I made a Facebook account just to keep in touch with friends and family. I thought enough time had passed. I thought she was gone for good. I was wrong. It started with a friend request. The name was Emma. The profile picture was just a forest. Nothing strange about it. We had no mutual friends. Normally, I'd ignore that, but something about it made me curious. Maybe because Emma sounded so close to Emily. I clicked on the profile. Only a few posts, all recent. The writing style looked similar. The way she typed her captions full of ellipses, lowercase letters and little hearts. I got a chill down my spine. There was one photo that made my hands go cold. It was a blurry image of a coffee shop near my school. The caption said, I haven't been here in years. I really miss this town. I didn't accept the request. I just stared at the screen for a long time. That night, I got a message. Hey, Jared, it's Emily. Please don't freak out. I just wanted to say sorry. My chest tightened. I didn't reply back. I just blocked the account immediately. Then I went through all of my settings. Private mode, locked messages, everything. A week passed. No messages. I started to breathe a little easier. Maybe it wasn't her. Maybe I was just paranoid. Then my friend Alex told me something weird. He said that someone had been messaging him, asking him about me. Said they were a childhood friend who wanted to reconnect. When he showed me the messages, I just knew it was her. Only this time, the name was different. It was Marie. But the tone was still the same. The obsession was still there. She was fishing for details. Where I hung out, who I talked to, whether I was dating anyone. I told him to block her. He did. But that didn't stop her. A few days later, my mom had mentioned she had got a message, too. From a nice young girl asking if she knew a Jared from Lincoln High. Not my real high school, by the way. That night, I had checked my Facebook messages yet again. There was another one waiting in my inbox. I'm really sorry, Jared. I've changed. I promise. I just want to make things right. Attached was a picture. It was a photo of my school's parking lot. My phone nearly slipped out of my hand. I hadn't told anyone what car I drove. Now I hadn't post a single photo of it. She knew I deleted my Facebook immediately. Then my Instagram. And then, well, everything else. Every app, every account. Gone. I factory reset my phone. For days, I felt watched. I started leaving my curtains closed. All the time, I'd catch myself checking over my shoulder, walking home. Every sound made me tense. I never told my parents the full story. This time, they'd think I was just being paranoid again. But I know it was her. I could feel it. That same fixation, that same quiet presence crawling its way right back into my life. One night, before deleting everything, I looked at her last message again. Just one last time. I'll find a way to see you again. You can't stay hidden forever. I blocked her and shut my laptop. I haven't opened a social media app since. I don't post, I don't share, I don't even check my old email. If my friends need me, they text me. And even that feels risky sometimes. I used to think the Internet was just a place to hang out, to joke around and to make friends and play video games. But now every notification feels like a trap. Every new friend request feels like a threat. What she put me through has really messed up my head. Maybe I'll never know if Emily really changed or if she really, truly went away. But I'm not going to find out. I'm done. Done with the Internet, done with the apps, done with being found. Maybe when someone like her decides to find you, they always will. My final note. Please be careful to who you connect with online. Even if someone seems kind, curious, or harmless, people can hide anything behind a screen. If you ever get that uneasy feeling, listen to it. And maybe, like me, you'll realize that sometimes the safest thing you can do is to just log off for good. It.