Advertiser (6:02)

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Storyteller (7:54)

For privacy reasons, I won't be giving my age or name for a bit of context. This happened about two years ago. A few weeks after my little brother was born. Ever since we moved into this house, there's been this small room in the basement that's always locked to show you how little anyone uses it. I don't even know what's in there, but I've always assumed it's just the utility stuff, like meters or something. The room is really tiny, barely big enough to lie down in. Now, let's get into it. My parents went away for a weekend together, leaving me, my older sister, and my baby brother, who was just a few weeks old at the time. At home, my parents trusted us to take care of ourselves, since they've done this before. Anyway, that night, my sister went out with friends and wasn't planning to come back until like 4 or 5 in the morning. Morning, I watched a good movie and since it was already getting late, decided to put my little brother to bed in his room upstairs. I did that and came back down to watch another movie, but I ended up falling asleep about two or three hours later. Right around midnight, I woke up to these strange noises coming from upstairs. At first I thought it was just the neighbors, since they can be pretty loud and the walls are thin. But then I looked at the time and I realized that it was way too late for them to still be awake, let alone making that kind of noise. So I got closer to the stairs to investigate, and just as I was about to go up the first step, I heard the sound of something metal falling on the ground. Guess what it was? The key to the small room in the basement. I immediately grabbed my phone, and instead of calling the police, I texted my friends to tell them what was happening. One of my friends had the brilliant idea of calling the police for me. Suddenly, I had heard the bathroom door then slam shut. I knew it was that door because it makes a very specific creaking noise when it closes. I remembered my brother was sleeping upstairs, so I carefully went up to check if he was okay. Thankfully, he was fine. Still not fully grasping how much danger I was in, I went to the bathroom door. Since it opens inward, I decided to violently push it open, and I heard a man scream. I immediately shut the door and held it closed to keep him from getting out. He broke the window, and outside the bathroom there's this sort of balcony. Not a proper one, but you get the idea. It connects to the balconies of the neighboring houses, which are all really close together. He used that to escape. I grabbed my brother in arms, ran to the kitchen, and noticed that one of the knives was missing. From the knife block. I picked up another knife and crouched in the corner of the living room, crying like never before. The police arrived and I opened the door for them. When they searched the house, they confirmed that the bathroom window was broken and I had hit the guy so hard that there was actually blood on the floor. But the most shocking and traumatizing part was what they had found in the small basement room. There were blankets and cans of food. They concluded that he had been living there for several days. That's it. I hesitated a lot before posting this because it really affected me and I'm sorry if the story isn't super clear. Some of the details are still jumbled in my head. Anyway, I hope you all found it interesting. This is my mom's story. She finally felt like she wanted to share it with the world even though she's always tried to forget it. I hope you all like it this happened to me in the early 80s when I was about 14 or 15 years old. I lived on a quiet street in the suburbs of my city, in a small place you wouldn't call the countryside, but close in a Spanish island of the Atlantic Ocean. It was known locally back then that little girls started disappearing more often, but it wasn't yet a topic of conversation between the towns and neighborhoods. Most of my friends lived in the city, so I would often take the bus to go meet them. That day, at around 5 or 6pm I decided to start walking to the bus stop since I was going to meet my friend that evening. The bus stop wasn't actually that far from my house, maybe half a mile in distance. It was located on a quiet street with a few cars or people around and lined with old street lamps that flickered even in the daylight. I had taken this route so many times that I really didn't think anything of it. When I got there, the street was dead and had no cars or nobody to be seen around, so I just stood up for a few minutes waiting for my bus. A while later a white van slowly approached my direction and started slowing down right next to the bus stop. I didn't think much of it, like maybe they were just parking or looking for something. But then two men got out and started walking towards me. One of them looked normal enough, but the other man caught my attention because his face was kind of deformed with one hollow eye socket where his left eye should have been. His other eye locked onto mine and the intensity of his gaze made me freeze on the spot. Before I could even process what was happening, they had a hold of me One grabbed my arm with a grip so tight it felt like my bones were going to snap, and the other wrapped his arm around my waist, dragging me towards the van. Neither one of them said a word, although to be honest, their silence was worse than anything they could have said. I started screaming and kicking as hard as I could, but there was literally nobody I could see around. I remember that I even started yelling, fire. Fire. Since my mom had told me it was like code for people who were getting abducted. It was really a horrible feeling seeing myself getting pulled closer to the van, knowing I couldn't do anything to avoid it. They shoved me into the van, and as I landed on the floor, I saw a third man with a bandana covering his face, as well as a Doberman that was staring at me with a disgusting, creepy face that still haunts me to this day. It was at that moment that I started to think that no one would help me or even hear me at all. I started struggling and fighting back, and I kind of managed to get them off me for a second, but they kept grabbing me and pulling me back in. I remember this distinctive metallic smell inside the van, like rust or maybe even blood. I felt like probably the luckiest person on earth when out of nowhere, my older brother showed up. He didn't live with us at the time, so coincidentally, he was probably just visiting us that day. I don't really remember why he was there. He started yelling and throwing punches at the men in the struggle. They let go of me and I managed to pull myself free and back away. The men seemed to be caught off guard. After a few seconds of fighting, they ran back to their van, slammed the doors and sped off. Right after that moment, we ran home and I started crying in desperation. The walk home was hard since my legs were shaking non stop. I felt overwhelmed and I couldn't really process what had just happened to me. People who have experienced something similar to this know how shocked and paranoid that you start feeling after this. We reported it to the police later that night, but they didn't really do much. Things like this just weren't taken very seriously back then. This happened to me over 10 years ago, but I still think about how close I came to dying. I was already with my future husband when I met his cousin. We had a lot in common. We'd both struggled with addiction and anorexia. We'd talk on the phone and meet up to eat and see a movie. But he kissed me in his car, so I decided it was best if we stopped talking. I told My future husband about the kiss, and he was understanding. I didn't tell him that his cousin got extremely upset over me turning him down. Some time had passed and we had started meeting up as friends. Since we were both starving ourselves, we always went to the same place. But after a couple of times, I felt like it wasn't healthy for either of us to meet up. He asked me to meet up one last time, and I stupidly said yes. We went to our place, and during dinner he was talking about his apartment and job. How happy he could make me. I got uncomfortable and I had asked him to drive me home. It was really late, and instead of driving me home, he drove me to the forest preserve. It was pitch black because all the lights were off. I immediately felt uneasy. We were alone in the parking lot, and I had a horrible feeling at this point that something was going to happen. He parked and turned off his car. Then looked at me and said we were meant for each other. I didn't want to upset him, so I just said that he knew I was engaged and that we were just friends. He also had a history of violence, so I was terrified. He started getting really upset and almost crying. He said that he loved me. Then he put his arm around my neck and held his arm down really hard on the right side of my neck. His arm was around my neck and I'd been looking straight ahead when suddenly I woke up to a police officer at his window. He was asking if I was okay. I was really scared and confused. I had some vomit on my shirt and I'd wet my pants. He'd pressed down on my carotid artery for long enough that it knocked me out. He was also a wrestler in high school. He was telling the officer that we were fine and that I was just drunk. He got a ticket, but I was too afraid to say anything because if he was arrested, my now husband's family wouldn't have blamed me. But that's what I thought at the time. I said I was fine, but that's why I wanted to go home now. I thought if I said it in front of the officer, he would drive me home because he took our names and he wouldn't risk trying something else. So he drove me home and didn't say anything. I don't know if he was trying to kill me or just got so upset that he went overboard. Regardless, he did almost kill me, and it really messed me up. A person doesn't vomit and wet themselves after a neck compression unless they almost died. I told my now husband, but not right away because I felt like it was partly my own fault for meeting up with them. I only saw him a couple more times during the holidays and then eventually he stopped coming, but he didn't dare speak to me after what he did. If that officer hadn't shown up, I don't know if I'd still be here. Surprisingly, this is one of those stories I forgot all about until a few days ago when I was talking to a school friend on a call and got reminded of this. She was pretty freaked out when I told her and so I did think about it again. This happened when I was roughly maybe 7 or 8 years old, so some of the details are fuzzy, but I remember him pretty vividly. My family had just moved to America and were renting the top portion of your regular suburban house in a pretty safe cul de sac. I had friends, they were triplets, about three or four houses down, not far at all. Every day I'd hang out with them and around nine or ten in the night my older brother would make the two minute walk and come get me and then walk me home. Since I was pretty young, I want to say that he was around 11 or 12. One night he came to get me. As usual, the sun wasn't fully down, but it was getting pretty dark. We started down the walk as normal. When he had started casting glances over his shoulder, I didn't really notice until he shoved me hard away from the sidewalk and between two houses. Each house had a huge fence that separated their backyard and he made me crouch behind the fence. I remember being really scared, but more so confused since I had no damn idea what the hell was going on. More specifically, he was a pretty big prankster, so I didn't really believe him when he then turned and said, walk behind the houses. I think someone's following us, bro. Looking back, he was probably trying to keep me calm. However, whatever calm was left in my tiny 8 year old body was gone the moment I turned around and looked. This man had followed us behind the houses and he was just by the edge of a few houses down, near a very different fence line. He had a black hoodie on, black sweatpants and white sneakers, and he had the hood up. I have pretty bad eyesight now due to some health problems, but back then it was crystal clear and I could see with horrifying clarity that his jaw was hung open. Like he was just standing there with his jaw hung open. It was horrifying. I think now that I'm older, maybe he just had some Kind of medical condition that affected his jaw or maybe he did crack, I don't know. But back then I could have sworn on God I was seeing some kind of demon. Anyway, my brother, when he saw me looking and getting ready to freak out, told me to just run as fast as I can to our house. We booked it. Neither one of us looked back, but were scared out of our minds. Like I said, we only rented the top portion of the house, so the bottom part belonged to some other tenant. I don't even remember if she was home or not. But I remember tugging that thing open and locking it as fast as I could. And when I looked up, he was there in the yard, a little way away from the door, just staring at us. My brother and I told my sister and mother immediately, but nothing ever came of it. Also, my father was away on a work trip at this time. The day after we went to go meet my dad at his warehouse which had a small live in portion above it, where we lazed around until he was ready to come home with us. Around dusk he came up and told us that we might have to wait since the police were here. He walked us around to the back window of the small area to show us the police all around the backyard area of the warehouses to a white van parked on the grass by the edge of the woods. Like I said, I was pretty young, so I don't remember many details of what actually happened. But I do remember my dad telling us that they had found a man and woman in the van. The man, he said, had his mouth hung wide open. He seemed really disturbed telling me about the whole thing and wouldn't answer any more questions about the woman. Maybe she was dead. I've got zero ideas. I do know though, that they were arrested on trespassing charges. I don't know anything else and I haven't asked about it and I doubt he'd remember. It's been over a decade and he's pushing 70, but it freaks me out. To this day I still can't believe it happened and I don't have any answers for it. I talked to my brother briefly about it in hopes that he remembered more than I did. But all I really got was a long tirade about whatever medical condition that the guy probably had for his mouth to be like that. He's an annoying medical student now. Sometimes I think maybe he didn't mean any harm and was just drugged out of his mind. But this was like the world's safest neighborhood and it doesn't explain why or how he showed up at my dad's workplace. I asked around a little for more information. I wasn't able to find a lot, but I did find out why my father moved away from that warehouse. The police found a dead body in a car near us. I'm not sure if this is the same van or not, or when that happened, but take that as you will.

Advertiser (23:36)

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Storyteller (25:29)

This one is actually fairly recent. I'm a late 20s male, around 6 foot 4 and around 180 pounds. I'm sometimes too nice to my friends. I tend to do favors for my friends, even if they seem pretty ridiculous. As long as it's not terribly out of my way. Most of the time it's just help, I'm drunk and I need a ride home. That kind of thing. Well, one night at around 1.30am, I get the call from a very drunk friend of mine named Claire. She's begging me to come pick her up and give her a ride home soon. The bar is closing soon and she's too drunk to drive home. The bar she's at isn't too far away from my house, just about a 10, 15 minute drive but the issue is that she lives like 35, 45 minutes on the other side of town. Claire has been extremely nice to me in the past and I did owe her a solid. So at about 102 I grab my keys and my concealed carry and then leave the house. I get to the bar at around five past two and she's sitting outside on a bench by the doorman. I pulled into the parking lot which was pretty empty since the bar was closed and I assumed the cars remaining were just the workers who had yet to leave. I get out of the car and start walking to Claire who's kinda slumped over. I was hoping she wasn't passed out drunk and when I got to her the doorman asked me if I was alright. I told him yes, showed my ID for proof and what he said next to me was of some concern. He kind of pulls me in and says hey, I was supposed to leave when we closed, but I have a strong feeling your friend was roofied. She'd been on the porch drinking all night and some guy kept hovering around her. I assumed it was a boyfriend or whatever, but she never turned to talk to the guy. She was either drinking or chatting with other girls around her. Well, anyway, she chugged her last drink, came up to me and told me you would be coming to pick her up and she asked if she could sit by me. She told me that she felt very dizzy and sick. I told her sure, hoping she just drank too much and she passed out right after she sat down. After that I couldn't see that guy anymore but I didn't want to take any chances. So visibly concerned, I thanked the guy profusely. He even helps me carry Claire to my car. Midway to carrying her, she's kind of coming too. Like someone just waking up after a surgery that really groggy, not knowing where they are, talking nonsense kind of talking. I don't remember exactly what she was talking about, but I'm sure if I wasn't on high alert about her possibly being drugged, it was some really funny stuff. So we buckled her in. I thanked the guy again and he just says that he hopes she gets home safe. So now, hoping my friend is only stupid drunk and not drugged, I start driving to her house. The whole time I'm just trying to keep an eye on her while also keeping an eye on the road. She's now snoring asleep, which puts me a bit at ease. But about halfway to her house. My fuel light comes on. Cursing the fuel economy of a sports car, I pull into the gas station. It's one of those small gas stations that doesn't have a 24 hour store, so I'm on extra high alert while I start to pump gas. The gas station is about a block away from the freeway and right at the corner of the intersection. The street itself is pretty dark with lonely lamp posts shining very pitiful lights at large intervals. I get that really dead feeling like this place is just abandoned. To give an idea of positioning, the gas station is at the corner of the intersection. The storefront would be facing south and we were right in front of it where the pumps were. The east would be where the air pumps for tires and parking spaces and the north would be a diesel fuel pump right behind the store, accessible from the street behind the gas station. I drive a Corvette so the filler is on the rear end of the car and I'm leaning against the rear just looking around. To my left I hear this weird metallic scraping sound. So I turn to see this guy about 1520ft from me come around the corner dragging a long metal pipe on the ground. I immediately sense that I'm in possibly a dangerous situation. Now the guy looks almost possessed, but he's not looking at me, rather like he's trying to look into my car. I'm on the defensive but I hope I can get him to leave. So I just call out, hey man, everything alright? Without looking at me he just answers back, you took my girlfriend from me and I'm here to take her back. Now he turns to look at me and he's got blood in his eyes. Before he begins to take a step though, I start yelling hoping it'll get him to back off. I'm a little over 6ft tall and not exactly skinny but not exactly bulky either. But I have a really deep voice, back the hell off man. Turn around and leave. No one has to get hurt. He takes a step towards me, clearly unimpressed. So almost automatically I pull my handgun from my inside the waistband holster and draw a bead on him. Back the hell off. You don't have to die. I start yelling louder. I'm pretty sure my voice cracked because a I'm scared. No amount of self defense classes and time at the range prepares you emotionally for this kind of situation. B even though I carry, I'm really against violence and killing someone is really not something that I want to do and C did I mention I'm freaking scared? Anyway, in a panic the guy throws the damn pipe at me. It whizzes by, thankfully not towards my car, but to my right, and I dive behind my car for cover. I have no idea if he has a gun himself or what, but I was going to put some kind of COVID between me and the guy and by the time I kneel up and aim over the rear of my car, he's now booked it. I hear a car door slam and tire screech and he launches off the curb on the east side of the lot and is tearing down the road, swaying all over the place. In my own panicked hurry, I pull the pump out of the car, screw the cap on, and then tear the hell out of there myself. Clara, however, still passed out in my car and I'm now afraid because I'm convinced she'd been drugged and that we were followed by that guy. Me being concerned about her earlier and keeping on the road, I must have not noticed being followed the whole way back to her house. I'm wary of any car that's behind me. I'm also driving very aggressively. Well, when I get to Claire's neighborhood, I circle a separate block that's not hers four times just to make sure that no one followed me. When I was satisfied thinking that I wasn't being followed anymore, I pulled up to her house and tried to shake her awake. She's doing that groggy waking up stuff from before, but now she's able to get up, I'm able to walk her and I got her keys from her bag. I manage to walk her inside and at this point she's kind of coming around asking what's going on and where she is, etc. I tell her she's home and get her to lie down. She's completely lost looking and her eyes start welling up. She clings to me and starts sobbing. She's still very out of it, but I'm guessing that she realized something bad was going on or attempted on her. I was able to get her to lie down and get her to sleep. I wrote a note for her which pretty much said, hey, I'll be in the next room. We're going to go to the hospital in the morning to get you checked out. Fast forward to the morning and she's sick as a dog and after she expelled some demons from her stomach, I drove her to the hospital where she got tested and treated. I still shudder to think what might have happened had I not had my CCW with me. I do know martial arts, but that's not something I want to take against a crazy person with a pipe. Claire still doesn't remember much from the night except calling me and wanting to sit next to the doorman. My advice for anyone out there? Either be with your friends you trust when you go out, or at least be vigilant if you're by yourself. That night could have really ended badly in a thousand different ways, but thankfully even luckily, everyone made it out safe for anyone interested. They did a urine test and they found traces of roofies in the days after we went to the bar and let them know what happened. I gave as good a description of the guy I could. Claire decided against filing a police report and I respectfully went with her wishes. Hey everyone. Sorry for the interruption from the stories, but I want to thank today's sponsor, Acorns. Acorns makes it easy to start automatically saving and investing so your money has a chance to grow for you, your kids and your retirement. Retirement you don't need to be an expert. Acorns will recommend a diversified portfolio that fits you and your money goals. You don't need to be rich. Acorns let you invest with the spare money you've got right now. You can start with $5 or even just your spare change. You don't need a ton of time either. You can create your Acorns account and start investing in just five minutes. I like Acorns personally cause you can literally just use your spare change you have laying around the house to invest. It's pretty simple. Head to acorns.com cannibal or download the Acorns app to start saving and investing for your future today. Paid non client endorsement compensation provides incentive to positively promote Acorns. Tier 1 compensation provided investing involves risk Acorns Advisors LLC and SEC registered investment advisor view important disclosures@acorns.com cannibal this happened in January or February of 2002. I, a female, had just turned 21 and was living with my father in Ohio. For context, I was extremely naive and living a pretty directionless life. I'd grown up in an affluent area of Seattle, went to private school, got onto college and I dropped out. I was dealing with major depression, partying a lot, hanging with the wrong crowd, hooking up with random strangers, you name it. My mom didn't know what to do with me so she sent me to live with my dad across the country in Columbus. Now I'd been living in Ohio with my dad and pretty much lived like an entitled teenager. I did have a job in retail, but other Than that. I just sat around and didn't really do that much. My dad is an alcoholic and didn't help much either. At some point, seeing him passed out in the living room one morning and working a dead end job kind of got me wanting to return home to Seattle. My mom was unwilling to let me live with her again, though I called my best friend at the time. Her mom was like my family. They didn't have a lot of money, but they bought me a bus and train ticket back home. They said I could stay with them until I got back on my feet. I was relieved. My dad was sad to see me go, but he agreed to drop me off at the bus station downtown. The thing is, he had to take me before his work shift. My bus didn't leave until later in the afternoon, so I'd basically have to wait from 9am until we boarded. My dad was very nervous about leaving me there. He warned me that this station was in a rough part of Columbus and that I needed to be careful. First of all, Columbus is all rough. I just wanted to mention that. Anyways, I'm thinking, yeah, okay, whatever. Totally oblivious, dad drove me to the Greyhound station. It was surrounded by people waiting for their buses, a few stragglers outside the entrance. It was cold outside that day. Inside the bus terminal, it was pretty empty. Dad helped me bring my luggage inside. Two large suitcases containing all of my possessions. If I didn't want to be dragging them around with me all day long, I had to pay to store them in a locker by the desk. I can't remember exactly how much, but I was broke and I couldn't spare money for that. I looked warily at the clock. My dad looked at me with sadness. I could tell that he was worried about me traveling by myself. I hugged him and tried to look as confident as possible. We said our goodbyes and he left. I've traveled numerous times, made several trips by plane by myself and traveled to various countries with groups. I was not averse to adventure. What I was not good at doing was reading people. I genuinely saw the good in everyone and I had never had a negative experience. Even at 4am in downtown Seattle. If you know anything about Seattle, it has a robust public transportation system and I was no stranger to weirdos, drunk people and hostile exchange between people. On the bus, I'd usually just ignore people or just continue walking. In this situation, I felt like I was totally in my element as I'd taken public transportation many times alone back to the Greyhound station. I decided to go outside and Have a cigarette. The conundrum was that I had to keep an eye on my two suitcases. I positioned them near the front desk in such a way that I could see them clearly from the front entrance. I then head outside to get my nicotine fix and I stand off to the right of the front door. I'm smoking and trying to shuffle through my purse, which contained my passport. As I'm shuffling around, a man with a large knitted hat had asked me for a cigarette. I glance at him. Sure thing. I hand him one and a light. We chat briefly and I study his face. He's not unattractive, not scary looking, maybe a little disheveled, but I couldn't tell if he was homeless. No immediate red flags. Yet I felt safe as the outside of the terminal was literally littered with people. Some smoking just like me, others walking briskly to their destinations. Notably, an older gentleman is standing opposite of me on the left side of the entrance. As I'm talking to the man in the hat, this older gentleman seems to be staring at me intently. You'll understand why soon. The man in the hat asked, where I'm from, am I catching a bus? And comments on the cold. In passing, I casually lament that I'm running low on cigarettes. He looks at me and says, oh well, you know, there's a gas station just right around the corner. You can get some over there. I think this through for a moment. My bus wouldn't come for hours. I could easily grab a pack and then be back in time. Something stops me, however, as I remember my luggage sitting unattended. I said that I'll think about it and then turn to get back inside. Hours pass, and every once in a while I would go back outside to smoke. Man in the hat seems to be there every time. At one point he mentions the gas station again. It's just right there. I can take you again. I decline. And it's not because I'm scared. It's because I'm worried about my luggage. I go back inside. The last time I go outside, the street is eerily quiet. No one there. I grab another cigarette and place my purse on the ground by my feet. I look up. Man in the hat is there. He asks for money. This is where my gut finally turns and I feel uneasy. I say that I don't have much and that I can't help him. I hurriedly finish my cigarette as I'm suddenly very aware that my purse is lying next to my feet, exposed. I lean over quickly to pick it up and mumble something about going back inside. As I raise up, the man in the Hat reaches out and grabs my purse, then says, let me help you with that. My body seems to drain itself and I immediately grab my purse closer to me. I'm good, I say. Man in the Hat suddenly switches from a harmless random dude into a nasty thief. Give me the purse, lady. He hisses. He says it through clenched teeth like he's trying to be quiet. I'm struggling against him now, desperate as I realize there's no one there to help me. I start screaming for help. Man in the Hat is shoving me with his hip and pushes me against a wall. Shut the hell up. I'm desperate now. This guy could easily pull out a knife and shake me or punch me. I cling to my purse and hope to God that the cheap handles hold together. His hands are on top of mine and he shoves me again, calling me a bad name. I scream louder from my left. I then suddenly hear, are you okay? Remember the older gentleman from earlier? He seemingly just steps out of nowhere and then loudly asks what's going on? I shove the man in the hat very hard with my left thigh and I think he realized in that moment that if he did anything to me, he could be identified. He lets go of my purse and runs off. I'm shaking and I run tearfully inside, leaving the older gentleman outside. I was too frightened to say thank you. I spent the rest of that day hovering by the front desk. I was terrified. I even thought of the three day trip ahead of me and shook with dread. I held my purse in my hands with a vise grip. When my time finally came to board the bus to the train station, I glanced in terror over the other passengers. No way I was sitting next to anyone. Every person became a potential criminal in my eyes. I slumped into a seat and cowered by the window. I then heard a voice behind me. I was going to warn you, said the voice. I whipped my head around. There was the older gentleman from before, casually sitting behind me. My eyes were probably as large as dinner plates. I knew he was targeting you. You need to be more careful, he said. I tearfully thanked him. He just stared out the window and nodded. We didn't speak again. That moment changed my life. My struggle with the man in the hat must have only taken 30 seconds, but the repercussions last. Even 20 years later, I think back to how adamant the man in the hat was about me going around the corner to the gas station. My hair still stands on end when I think about it. Would he really have robbed me over the few measly dollars in my purse? Murdered me? Who knows? It chills my blood to think about it. I spent the next three days paranoid and unwilling to leave my luggage unattended. I clung to my purse and used it as a pillow on the train when lying down. When I used the restroom, I rolled my luggage into the tiny bathroom with me. I didn't sleep. I didn't eat. In chilling contrast, the train trip was quiet and uneventful. Staring out the window as we entered Washington State, the snowfall and evergreen trees weighed down by heavy snow, I was no longer the naive and reckless young woman at the Greyhound station. I was a changed person.

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Storyteller (45:35)

Hi.

Advertiser (45:36)

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Storyteller (46:29)

I was going through an old diary of mine and found an entry that I made 10 years ago to the day in which I'd written about the time I got thoroughly creeped on at the train station. So on this creepy anniversary, let me recount the tale for you. First, a bit about myself. I'm a woman and I had recently turned 18 when this story took place, though, I looked a fair bit younger. People frequently assumed that I was 16, partly because of baby face genetics, but also because I had stupid low self esteem at the time and I looked like a high school sophomore who didn't know how to dress themself. I was tall and fat and not into makeup, and my idea of doing my hair was pulling an unbrushed mass into a ponytail. Fashion was T shirt with pop culture reference on it and jeans that I hadn't washed in a month. I was hardly the prize pig at the fair. This dunking on myself will become relevant later, I promise. Anyway, I was coming home from university and I needed to switch trains at the South Yara station. My next train station wasn't due to arrive for another 15 minutes, so I was hanging around the station cafe wondering if I really needed a potato cake. I was deep in thought about this when I felt someone sidle up right behind me. I could feel their presence over my shoulder, so I stepped to the side, thinking they were trying to get past me, but they didn't move around. They shuffled closer so that we were less than a foot apart and muttered something to me. Sorry, I didn't hear you. What was that? I asked. Turning around, I said, do you want to go get a coffee? The voice said, oh. The forwardness of the question kinda stumped me, so I just stood there for a second looking at this guy who'd approached me out of the blue. He was pretty normal looking, to be honest. Clean shaven, casually dressed, medium length hair, and he looked to be in his mid to early 30s. He was kinda weedy and a little taller than I was, making him quite tall because I'm 6 foot myself and he had a nervous demeanor about him, like he couldn't seem to look me in the eye. Aside from his abruptness, nothing about him seemed out of the ordinary. He glanced at me, waiting for an answer to his question. My creep alarms weren't ringing, but I still wasn't in the habit of going out for drinks with strangers. Coffee? Uh, now that's not a great time for me, I said with an apologetic shrug. I've gotta catch a train. Oh. He looked down again. Do you have to? That's weird. But I insisted that I did indeed have to because I was on my way to an appointment. A bare faced lie, but whatever got me out of this conversation quicker. Then the question started. So what kind? He asked. Um, what? Yeah, what kind of appointment? I'm the dentist. Right, right. What train are you getting? Uh, the One descending up. Oh, I'm going to Alamein. Opposite direction. Yeah. Anyway, my train's leaving in a few minutes, so I should really be heading off, I told him. Well, what about tomorrow? He asked. Uh, what? Yeah, we can go get coffee tomorrow at 10. Oh, I don't know. I've got school tomorrow. I say you can skip it. Right. Well, it's the first week, so I kinda have to go. Okay. Well, what about after? I think I'm meeting some friends after that, actually. Oh, but you can cancel with them, right? They'll understand. I guess so, I say. At this point, the guy chuckled and shook his head. He nudged my arm with his elbow. I'm hitting on you, you know. Remember what I said about not being the prize pig? I was a depressed, insecure teenager who had never been hit on before in her life. And when he said those words, something in my brain shifted. I spent years believing I was fundamentally unlovable. I stayed in toxic friendships because I didn't think I deserved any better and that I should be grateful for any attention I got. It was like an orphan in a Dickens novel and I had to cling to any crust of affection bread thrown my way because I didn't know where my next meal was coming from. Those feelings surged up and the whole encounter with this dude flipped. He was no longer a stranger pestering me for coffee. No. Suddenly he was someone to whom I owed a debt. He was benevolent enough to find someone like me attractive. Therefore I owed him. I smiled nervously. Sorry, this is just the first time something like this has happened to me, so. Well, he said there's a first time for everything. He keeps asking me to meet him for coffee out at Hurstbridge, which is a train station 30km out of the Melbourne CBD for all you non Melbinians out there. It's also over an hour trip by train. But like I said, I felt like I owed him. So I agreed. I told this guy I'd see what I can do, and he asked me like five times to promise him that I'd be there. Then he said something I didn't quite catch. It sounded like he said, I've already had some partners. Is that okay? And I assumed that meant that he had been with people before, so he wasn't a complete novice, as opposed to me, who had just admitted this was the first time they'd been hit on. I said that it was totally fine, but what he'd actually said was, I already have some partners. And when I said it was fine, he smirked to himself. Ooh, that's fine. Eh? You like that, too? He nodded. Nice. Nice. Finally, I'm promiscuous. I didn't even know what to say to that. Did he mean polyamorous? No clue. My train had just started pulling in, so I took a step towards the ramp down to the station, giving him a hasty goodbye. He was standing in my way and didn't move when I indicated that I wanted to get past. You'll meet me tomorrow at hurstbridge, right? At 12? You promise? You promise? I said. Yes, sure, fine, whatever. But he didn't move. He stuck his hand out for me to shake. I'm James, by the way. I'm Meg, I say, giving him the nickname of one of my fantasy roleplay ocs. As I reached out to shake his hand, he pulled me into a hug. I don't even like being hugged by my own family members, so this caught me completely off guard, and I could do nothing but stand there as his hands rubbed up and down my back, lingering on where he felt my bra strapped through my shirt. He continued the hug even after my arms dropped down to my sides and I stood frozen, watching my train leave the station. Oh, no, he said, finally ending the embrace. Did you miss your train? It's okay. The next one's in 15 minutes. I'll wait with you. And I didn't know what to do because I did not want to be around him anymore. But I still felt like I owed him something. Politeness, at least. There was another train leaving the station in just a few minutes, and it wasn't on my line, but I just wanted to be out of there. I told James that I could catch that train instead and take a bus to my appointment so that he didn't need to wait with me. But he insisted. He reached down and held my hand as we walked towards the train station. Oh, cool, he said when he saw where the train was going. I'm going to Frankston, too. We can go together. He told me earlier he was going to Alamein. Completely different line. My hand went limp in his grasp. He didn't let go. My brain was now buzzing with plans on how to get out of this situation. I wanted to tell him to screw off, but part of me didn't see that he had done anything wrong. He was socially awkward and overly friendly, and he'd asked me out for coffee. Those weren't bad things. If anything, I was the bad guy for not giving him a chance. It's not why guys were beating down a path to my door. I mean, I should be lucky someone was interested in me at all. Like I could go up to the train station staff and say, what help. This man asked me out for coffee and gave me a goodbye hug. Get a grip. I was thinking too hard to pay attention to what James was saying, but I eventually tuned in and realized he was talking to me about school. He asked if it was a casual day at school or did my school not have uniforms, or was I just skipping today? He said with a fond chuckle that he used to go home at lunch and skip school all the time. Good God, did he think I was still in high school? I clarified and told him that I'm actually at uni. He then just said oh and dropped the subject. The train arrived and since it was peak hour, it was packed. Part of me was hoping that in the rush of people, James and I would get separated, but no such luck. He pulled me on board and we ended up squished together, me with my back against the doors and him blocking me into a corner. The doors on my side weren't opening for a while. If I wanted to rush out another stop, I'd have to elbow my way through the crowded carriage. But even if I told James I needed to get off the train, he could block my exit again and then pull me into another hug. And until the doors closed, he didn't tell me what stop he was getting off at either, so he could just say he needed to get off at my stop too, and then follow me wherever I happened to go. James essentially had me trapped. At this point, I was barely even paying attention to anything he was saying, too busy focusing on potential escape plans. So far, the best idea I had was to spontaneously throw up on him and then make my escape in the disgusted confusion. But unfortunately, I was blessed with an iron stomach and I haven't vomited in 11 years, so maybe not the best idea. I thought about faking a phone call, but he was close enough to see my phone screen and he knew no one was on the line. In retrospect, I could have pretended to text or something, but in hindsight, you know. James leaned in a little closer and then patted me on the arm. You excited about tomorrow? Tomorrow? I said. Our date? Coffee? You promised, right? Oh yeah, right, I said. You did promise, he said, and he looked me in the eye. He hadn't done much of that through our entire conversation, so it startled me. You promised, he said again. I nodded, unsure of what else to do. I've been hurt before, you know, he said, looking back down at the ground. Again, it's not nice. Maybe he was just really socially awkward and had a hard time getting dates. Maybe this was him trying his best as a fellow socially awkward person. Surely I could understand the struggle, right? Surely I could give him a chance. James glanced me up and down. So what are you gonna wear to our coffee date? Will I recognize you? I shrugged. I'll probably just wear this, I guess. It was quite hot that day and I was wearing lace up sandals that I'd borrowed from my mom. Might class it up with some socks, shoes, maybe a hat. I said. Hey, you know what? I like those really long socks, you know what I mean? Oh, thigh highs. I think I have a pair of those, I told him. Yeah, I like thigh highs. I have a fetish for them, he said, along with some laughter. Yep, he's just really awkward. Just gotta be polite and give him a chance, I tell myself. James nodded to himself. The thigh highs and those uniforms with the short skirts. Yeah, I really like those. Yeah, he's just trying his best. Benefit of the doubt and all. I owe him that much. Hey, james said, chuckling and leaning in closer. I've told you two of my fetishes. You tell me two of yours. I looked at him like he just asked me to hand over two of my teeth. I stammered something like, oh, well, I don't know about that, but he chided me and gently bumped me on the shoulder. Come on, he wheedled. It's fine. I won't judge, even if it's nasty. I've only told you two of my tamer ones. I can get really kinky, you know. So yeah, do you want me to guess what yours are? He says. I think I said something about how he can't guess because I don't have any, and he must have picked up on the curtness of my tone because he started hushing and reassuring me that it was fine. He's done a lot of that stuff before and that a lot of girls don't think they're into it at first, but if it's done right, then they change their minds, he says. Yeah, I bet, I said, then resumed looking out the window. The train whistled as we pulled into a station. The next stop I knew faced my side of the carriage so the doors would open and I'd finally have a way out. I didn't want James to think I was mad at him or wanted to leave in case he tried to stop me. So when he started making small talk again, I participated earnestly. He didn't talk about fetishes but he did keep touching me, brushing my arm, patting the back of my hand, resting his hand on my hip, and didn't seem to care that I didn't reciprocate his touch and in some cases, visibly pulled away. We arrived at the next stop and the doors opened behind me. The carriage was less crowded than it had been when we first got on, and a few more people thawed out. I stretched and moved in the newfound space, and James leaned back a fraction to avoid getting hit in the face with my arms. I told him to back up just a smidge more because I needed to tighten the laces of my sandals. He obliged and I bent over, turning to the right a little so that I was parallel to the door. I tugged aimlessly at the string, waiting until the door started beeping that they were about to close, and then I lunged out, my hip bang against the door as they slid shut. So I kinda stagger stumbled out of the carriage. But I was out of there before James registered what just happened. I turned and watched him approach the closed doors, repeatedly pressing the button to open them. In retrospect, I could have stopped, but I had no plan of what to do next if the doors opened and let him out. Fortunately, he'd waited just a second too long because the train had already started to move. We locked eyes. He stared at me, his face cold and expressionless, as the train pulled away. I wanted to get on a train going back the way I'd succumb, but it wasn't coming for another 10 minutes, which would be more than enough time for James to get off at the next stop and then board the same train coming back this way. I could walk around the block a few times and wait for a few trains to go past. But what if he came back here and started looking for me? Or if I did manage to avoid him at the station, who's to say he wouldn't try and find me at Southiera, where we'd first met? Fortunately, there was a tram line close by, so I decided to say screw that train crap and get out of Dodge on the light rail. As it turned out, that tram ended up going past a stop on the train line that I wanted to get on in the first place, so I was able to make it home without too much hassle, albeit an hour later. For the longest time, I thought I was overreacting and that he was just an awkward guy with an odd approach to picking up women. It was my own fault it got as far as it did because I was only giving him soft nos like making excuses to leave and pulling away from his touch. I was equally in the wrong because my no wasn't explicit, even though my brain was screaming at me to be polite and that I owed him niceness for daring to take an interest in me. It wasn't until years later did I realize how warped that line of thinking really was. And also, it really took a while for me to piece together the fact that he asked me out on a date while assuming I was still in high school and then later told me about his schoolgirl uniform fetish, which is not a great look. Also, regardless if I was 18 or 28, he still prevented me from catching my train in the first place. He pulled me into a hug without asking. He continued to hug me even when I stopped reciprocating and only let go when he heard the train leave. He knew that I needed to go and he wouldn't let me and that's really messed up. I never did see James again, but I was always paranoid about swapping trains at South Yarra Station for the longest time.

Advertiser (63:26)

You just realized your business needed to hire someone yesterday. How can you find amazing candidates fast? Easy. Just use Indeed. Stop struggling to get your job posts seen on other job sites with Indeed sponsored jobs. Your post jumps to the top of the page for your relevant candidates so you can reach the people you want faster. According to Indeed data, sponsored jobs posted directly on indeed have 45% more applications than non sponsored jobs. Don't wait any longer. Speed up your hiring right now with Indeed and listeners of this show will get a $75 sponsored job credit to get your jobs more visibility at Indeed.com Arts. Just go to Indeed.com Arts right now and support our show by saying you heard about Indeed on this podcast. Terms and conditions apply. Hiring Indeed is all you need. You just realized your business needed to hire someone yesterday. How can you find amazing candidates fast? Easy. Just use Indeed. Stop struggling to get your job post seen on other job sites with Indeed sponsored jobs. Your post jumps to the top of the page for your relevant candidates so you can reach the people you want faster. According to Indeed data, Sponsored jobs posted directly on indeed have 45% more applications than non sponsored jobs. Don't wait any longer. Speed up your hiring right now with Indeed and listeners of this show will get a $75 sponsored job credit to get your jobs more visibility@ Indeed.com Arts. Just go to Indeed.com Arts right now and support our show by saying you heard about Indeed on this podcast. Terms and conditions apply. Hiring indeed is all you need.