I'm a 36 year old female in Sweden.
I've worked in mental health care for the last 18 years,
mainly with people with psychotic illnesses like
schizophrenia. I worked at a group home for
nine years and was very close with my Co workers there,
especially two females. In the last few years I worked
there, another female started working with us, we'll just call
her M, and the four of us grew very close.
She was very timid, shy, friendly, and we all got along
well. She was often on long term sick
leave due to her own mental health issues, so we didn't see
her much at work. However, she always showed up at
our after work dinners, allowing us to stay in touch even when
she wasn't well enough to work full time.
She told us that she had a history of schizophrenia, just
like the patients we were treating, but that she was
medicated and hadn't had any psychotic episodes for years.
Since I have an education in psychiatry and extensive
experience with schizophrenia, I had no judgement toward people
suffering from the illness, and it didn't bother me to be
friends with someone who had such a diagnosis.
Even after what I will tell you, I still feel the same way.
In the summer of 2023, I had moved on to work at a new place,
still within mental health, but this time in forensic
psychiatry, like a halfway house for mentally ill individuals who
had committed serious crimes. The four of us stayed in touch
and still met for dinner parties.
M told us that she had been evicted from her apartment
because of an incident where she accidentally entered her
neighbor's apartment in the middle of the night.
She explained that in the huge apartment complex, all the doors
looked exactly the same and she had simply walked into the wrong
door by accident. She claimed the neighbors had
created a scene and reported her to the police out of pure drama.
I felt that while eviction seemed out of proportion for
that incident, perhaps the landlord took action because he
had judged her based on her medical history and I felt bad
for her. I questioned her if something
else had happened, but she insisted that that was the full
story. In Sweden, it's very difficult
to get a contract for an apartment after being evicted.
You pretty much get blacklisted. M asked me if she could move in
with me saying she was literally homeless and I said of course
you can. I've always gotten myself into
uncomfortable situations by saying yes instead of thinking
about myself, and I had no idea how severe the situation would
get when I said yes to EM. I live in a small apartment with
one bedroom, a living room that only fits a couch and ATV, a
small kitchen, and a small bathroom.
I also have two cats. We decided EM would live in the
living room and I offered to throw out my couch so she could
have the bed there, but she said she was fine with sleeping on
the couch. I insisted on giving her a bed
but she declined. There's a door between the
living room and bedroom, but only an open arc between the
living room and hallway so she wouldn't have total privacy.
I hung up a thick velvet curtain to give her a sense of a door
and more privacy. There's another door from my
bedroom to the kitchen, so I kept the kitchen door open at
night for my cats to go in and out.
She wasn't working at this time because she was on one of her
long term sick leaves while I was working shifts.
Sometimes I had to get up at 6:00 AM and sometimes I didn't
get home until 11 PMI have severe insomnia and need to
combine sleep medications and even then I wake up easily.
I told her I would appreciate if she could try to stay quiet on
nights when I had to get up early, but that it was fine to
be loud when I was off work or doing evening shifts.
She was a heavy smoker and coffee drinker, so I bought her
a coffee machine to make her stay more comfortable.
The coffee machine and sink are placed right outside my bedroom
door in the small kitchen. The first night together, I had
to get up at 6:00 AM for my shift.
As usual, I had a hard time falling asleep.
M had been up several times that night to smoke, waking me up
each time. At 5:00 AM she started making
coffee and the noise woke me up completely.
I asked her nicely why she was waking up so early, wondering if
she had any plans. She said she couldn't sleep.
I explained that I really needed that last hour of sleep because
of work and asked if she could wait until 6:00 AM to make
coffee. I also mentioned that my
epilepsy gets worse when I don't get enough sleep, and I was at
risk of having seizures at work if I didn't sleep enough.
She said that she wanted coffee with her cigarettes but would
try to wait next time. Despite this, she continued to
wake me up early in the morning and throughout the nights,
insisting that she needed coffee with her cigarettes.
I suggested making coffee the night before or drinking iced
coffee or Coke instead, but she refused.
She demanded silence at 10:00 PM because that's when she wanted
to sleep, and I respected that. She also had moments of binge
eating, emptying my fridge and pantry.
Once, she ate an entire loaf of bread within 30 minutes of me
leaving the apartment, promising to replace it once she got
money. I'd also told her to feel at
home, so I couldn't really get mad, but it started to annoy me
because of the cost and inconvenience.
M had long black hair that was everywhere on the sink, floor,
and bathtub. I'm not a clean freak, but it
was unpleasant, and she also left fingernails and toenails on
the bathroom floor and drops of urine on the toilet seat.
I saw a silverfish on the bathroom floor, which feeds on
hair and nails, likely enjoying its dessert.
I initially tried to imply the need for cleaning by putting a
broom and shovel in the bathroom, but it didn't work and
I eventually asked her nicely if she could clean the bathroom
floor more often using we instead of you to avoid making
her feel attacked. She promised to think about it,
but nothing changed. I started dating a guy and was
head over heels for him. He was also in a roommate
situation so we had a tough time getting alone time.
I asked him if we could have one day to ourselves occasionally,
but she could have the apartment to herself as well.
She claimed that she had nowhere to go, no friends or family.
I wasn't asking for 24 hours, just a few hours for quality
time, and she eventually accepted after some persuasion
and stayed with a friend one night while I stayed away the
next week to give her more alone time. 1 morning I found my cat's
water bowl completely dried out. There was no spill and it looked
wiped out with a towel or paper. I had filled it the night
before. She claimed that the cats must
have tipped it over, but there was no evidence of a spill and
my overly social cats began to withdraw from her, spending most
of their time in my bedroom, which was unusual.
I had an old saucepan from the 60s that meant a lot to me
because it was my grandmother's and held nostalgic value.
She burnt it and made no attempt to clean it, just left it on the
stove and went out for a smoke. I found it ruined and cried and
she didn't even apologize. She also broke dishes several
times without replacing them or apologizing, and this added to
my frustration. After two months, she kept
waking me up at night, binge eating my food, never cleaning,
never leaving the house, scaring my cats and ruining my things.
I realized that she had stolen my prescribed sleeping pills.
I had 20 in my night stand when I left for work and they were
gone when I returned. She denied it, but no one else
could have taken them. The summer heat was strong and I
felt locked up in my tiny bedroom with my 2 cats.
I never got any time to myself or alone time with the guy I was
dating. My apartment was messy and she
was stealing from me. Out of nowhere, my old
elementary school classmate texted me on Facebook and asked
how I knew M He had seen my Facebook post about us being
roommates. I told him that we were old Co
workers and that she needed a place to stay because she got
evicted. He said, I know.
Do you know why she was evicted? Yeah, she accidentally went into
her neighbor's apartment. I replied.
He said that's not the full story.
She broke in and snuck up to their sleeping baby with a knife
in her hand. The father woke up and wrestled
her down, saving the baby. I felt sick to my stomach.
Could this be true? It would certainly explain why
she was evicted. But it sounded so horrible.
She seemed so timid and my friend had the full police
report. Apparently the couple that she
broke into was his ex girlfriend's family.
It seemed M had a psychosis during the break in, but those
parts weren't public. It was clear that she had been
lying about what happened and how long she had been mentally
stable. I started getting paranoid and
wanted her to move out. We had a contract with a 30 day
notice period. I knew asking her harshly would
mean 30 days of chaos, so I wanted to handle it nicely.
I started looking for cheap hostels for her to suggest so
that she wouldn't be in the streets.
I sat down with her and explained that I missed my alone
time and the apartment was too small for two people.
I said it wasn't personal and that I wouldn't want to live
with anyone right now. I expressed regret and hope that
we would remain friends. She looked crushed and said it
wasn't possible. I showed her the hostel I found
and explained that I needed her to move out because I felt
suffocated, The summer heat made it tough to keep the door to the
bedroom closed, and I needed my sleep.
She said that she would try to move out, but not until the 30
days had passed and I agreed. The first night after our talk,
she got up and made coffee at 2:30.
AMI nearly had a mental breakdown.
I was going to get up at 6:00 and couldn't go back to sleep.
I asked her in the morning for probably the 10th time to wait
until I got up to make coffee, but she didn't even answer.
She just sat on the sofa and stared out the window.
I was freaked out but left for work.
She kept being weird, making a mess, waking me up, eating my
food, and all I could think about was the incident with her
and the baby and the knife. Eventually I got so angry about
being woken up by the coffee maker that I unplugged it and
stored it in my attic, which she had no access to.
It might have been childish, but I was going crazy and just
wanted her to stop. The next night I woke up at 4:00
AM to her making coffee in a saucepan.
I tried talking to her again but she just stared and didn't
reply. In my frustration, I stored the
saucepan in the attic too. The third night, the guy I was
dating was sleeping over because I was getting really paranoid
about her weird behavior. I woke up to him poking me
whispering look in the doorway. M was just standing silently
staring at us. It was like a scene from a
horror movie with her long black hair over her face.
I didn't say anything at first, wondering if she was doing
something by the door, but realized that she was still just
standing still staring. It reminded me of the ending of
Paranormal Activity where Katie just stares at Micah.
I sat up and said what are you doing but before I could finish
she slammed the door shut and I heard the sound of something
metal falling and her running into the living room.
I yelled you need to leave and just started crying hysterically
because this was turning into a literal nightmare.
Of course I didn't go back to sleep and was really happy to
have company that night. I kept asking myself if she had
done this before, staring at me in my sleep.
The next day, I opened the door that she had slammed shut and
saw a kitchen knife on the floor.
That was the metal sound that I had heard.
I took all my knives and locked them in the attic.
I asked a friend to come over when I told em that she had to
move out immediately. During the conversation, I tried
to stay calm, knowing that she had a mental illness and meant
no harm. Despite my frustration, she
didn't answer me, just stared out the window.
She left the apartment and sent me a text saying that I was
disrespectful for bringing a friend over to her place that
night. I thought that it would be quiet
without the coffee maker or saucepans, but at three, AMI
woke up to her burning dry coffee powder in a frying pan
and I was terrified. Her face was dead, her eyes
black, and I suspected that in that moment she was in a
psychosis. I stopped the fire that was
starting and she ran off to the living room in silence.
She had an appointment with her psychiatrist the next day and
while she was away I packed all her things and sent her a text
telling her that she needed to pick them up and return my keys.
I offered to give her money for a hostel for the remaining 26
days and she didn't reply. The guy I was seeing came to
keep me company in case she fought about it and she didn't.
She left the keys without looking at us and left.
Our Co workers told me that she moved in with the guy she was
dating and stayed there for a few weeks until she somehow got
an apartment on her own. She started working again and I
was always happy to hear this and she seemed to be doing well.
Then in January one of our old Co workers told me that M had
called her saying everything must burn, I have a baby to save
and some other very delusional stuff.
She had called 112, the Swedish emergency number, but they
hadn't taken it seriously. M then proceeded to burn her
entire apartment down because the voices in her head told her
that she had to burn everything to save her friends and family.
Her neighbors tried to rescue her, but she fought them off and
ran back in, pouring liquor on the fire to make it burn more.
She was arrested and sentenced last week for aggravated arson,
and she will serve her time in a mental institution.
Ironically, she will probably be in the facility where I used to
work and where she used to work herself.
My old Co worker was a witness at the trial.
Apparently M had stopped taking her medication, Abilify because
she felt that it made her numb and thought that she was stable
enough to function without it. Apparently not.
She had also stopped taking her medication the last few weeks
that she stayed at my house, which explains her behavior.
It's disturbing to think about what could have happened to me
and my cats if she had stayed or if I had been a heavy sleeper.
I also think about what could have happened to that baby she
snuck up on before she was evicted.
I know it's crazy that I didn't throw her out sooner.
It was complicated. The reason I haven't been able
to talk about it with my friends is that they sympathize with her
and minimize my experience. They think I'm making a bigger
deal out of it than it was. And I sort of understand since
they never saw the darkness in her eyes that I saw in those
last couple of days. A bunch of years ago, I matched
with a guy on Tinder. I was a freshman in college and
had just gotten out of a relationship, so I was having
fun. I matched with this guy, he was
24, we'll call him D. He was a little odd, but we had
similar interests and went to the same school, so I thought
why not? The red flag started rolling in
immediately when I said I would go on a date with him.
Of course, the fact that he was much older isn't lost on me as
the initial red flag. At this time, I didn't have a
car. D offers to pick me up, but
tells me that he's not in town. However, he would leave his
grandmother's funeral early, which was at a minimum five
hours away to come and pick me up.
He showed up in sweatpants, a wife beater, and flip flops,
which struck me as odd because he said that he was coming from
a funeral. We had made plans just to get a
bite to eat and hang out since he had been out of town.
He asked if it was OK if we stopped by to pick up his dog.
He had left the dog with a friend.
I like dogs so I was like no problem.
It's dark and we pull up to an apartment complex.
He leaves me in the car and comes back with a golden
retriever. The dog immediately starts
growling at me, which has never happened to me before, so I
start feeling a little weird. D doesn't say anything about the
dog's temperament. Because we have the dog, he
wants to drop him off at his house and this feels logical to
me, so I agree. When we pull up to Dee's house,
he asks if I want to come in. Not wanting to sit in the car, I
do. The moment I walked in, I
immediately knew that it was the wrong choice.
The house was trashed, garbage everywhere, trash bags full
along the front entry, bottles and wrappers on the couch, and
just general crap everywhere. Dee lets me know that he has a
roommate, but that the roommate isn't home.
I assume this is to imply that the mess isn't his.
After brushing the trash off the couch, he asks if I want to sit
and play chess. I had expressed that I was
interested in learning and he seemed more than happy to help
me learn, and this too was a mistake.
D begins explaining the game to me and it isn't just fun.
First date explaining he's gotten very serious and is
showing me each piece while telling me what it is, what it
does, and how it moves. Dee then begins questioning me
over each piece, which I mostly get wrong and every time I get
one wrong he yells at me the correct answer and tells me to
try again. He got more and more frustrated
and it made me very uncomfortable so I suggested
that we just pause chess and do something else.
Dee suggests watching a movie, which is fine with me.
The idea of us leaving and going to get food was seemingly
forgotten. Dee tells me that we can watch a
movie in his room and I oblige, but then he explains that he has
to put clean sheets on the bed. I'd assume that we were moving
to his bedroom because it may have been cleaner, but when we
go in it's not and there was no TV in his room.
He proceeds to put on Iron Man on his phone to have us watch
and we watched about 10 minutes of it before things got
intimate. I won't tell you strangers all
these details but Long story short, we didn't actually go
through with it but other little things went down.
I will say those things were consensual and after they
occurred I was feeling really odd about the whole situation
and told him I didn't want to go any further than that.
Dee was confused but didn't push it at first.
He said fine and we watched maybe 5 more minutes of the
movie before he said that he didn't want to watch the movie
anymore. He started complaining and
asking me why I didn't want to do things with him and I simply
said that I wasn't in the mood anymore.
He then began pressuring me to tell him exactly what it was
about him that made me feel that way and at this point we had
moved from the bedroom back into The Dirty living room.
You might be thinking seems like a perfect time to leave and I
thought so too. But this is where things start
to get scary. As if he knows I'm thinking
about how I'm leaving, he explodes and begins to scream at
me. This is a six foot something man
screaming in the face of a 5 foot nothing young girl.
Of course I'm internally freaking out but I'm trying to
make sure that I don't make him any more angry but also not
agreeing to anything. For the next 5 to 10 minutes Dee
screams at me about why I don't like him, why I don't want him,
and continuously asks what's wrong with him and to tell him.
I tried to placate him as best as possible, saying the old it's
not you it's me and no I don't want to leave again.
This man is my only ride home. And I'm truthfully not sure
exactly where I was, though I did have my phone in Google
Maps. I didn't have Uber downloaded at
the time. D finally calms down when he
believes I'm going to stay, then suggests we try playing some
video games. I was in full internal freak out
mode trying to make sure that I was playing the part of the
interested date because I was terrified that if he felt that I
wanted to leave, he would freak out again.
We played this game for a while, I forget what it's called,
Overwatch or something, and D starts getting upset again.
He starts yelling about why no one likes him, why no one wants
to get to know him, and why no one loves him, saying that he
has never had a girlfriend and all his dates had been just one
night stands. Again, I placate him with AI.
Don't know, lots of girls are just Snooty like that.
And at this point I'm saying anything and everything he wants
to hear. He even starts crying about how
his mother never loved him and telling me very deep dark things
about what his mother has said to him and treated him like.
After he finally calms down once more, he gets up and goes to the
kitchen to fix us some drinks. Now if you're anyone with a
brain, you're thinking absolutely not, which was my
exact thought at that moment. I declined his multiple offers
for a drink and he asks instead of alcohol if I wanted water and
of course I declined that too, feigning that I wasn't thirsty.
I stayed at his apartment until about 1:00 AM because I was
sitting next to him terrified to 1:00.
Ask him to Take Me Home 2. Say I'd walk home or three.
Figure out how to get an Uber. I've been trying to download
Uber on my phone without him noticing but then it asked for
card information and that was too hard to do without him
noticing. So around one AMI yawn very
loudly and say oh wow it's 1:00 AM.
My roommates are going to be so worried about me.
I laugh as if my roommate would be stupid to worry and that I
hadn't been watching the clock since he picked me up at 9:00 PM
and then said I'm so tired I should get home soon.
Again, I was super scared that he would freak out but he didn't
explode. He just looked at the clock and
said yeah it was late but I was not taking any chances.
So I said I've got a great idea. If I get to bed soon, I'd love
to have breakfast with you on campus.
I was hoping my offer convinced him that I was intending to see
him again, and it did. He seemed very happy at the
prospect of it and jumped up, walking me out of my house into
his car. The drive back was
excruciatingly long. The ride was completely silent.
Neither of us spoke. It was only a 10 minute drive,
but I could have sworn that he slowed down every time we got to
a particularly dark area or underpass.
Dee dropped me off and I smiled and made a good show of being
tired yet excited to see him tomorrow.
He offered multiple times to walk me to my door but I
declined every time and said that I didn't want to bother him
and I'd see him tomorrow. I walked myself to the building
and the moment I got around the corner I sprinted so fast up the
stairs into my door before he could change his mind and follow
me to my door. When I got in my dorm room I
genuinely felt like I had just escaped a serial killer.
Even now, writing it makes my heart race a bit.
I never met up with him, but he begged me for multiple days
after to meet up with him again. He even asked to pay me $20.00
an hour to sit near me in the library.
I declined obviously and only ever saw him once after at the
gym on campus. He didn't see me and I left
immediately. I thought about D occasionally
since the date and wondered if all those girls that he had one
night stands with had the same experience I did, and I still
sometimes wonder how many girls there were after me.
As the sun dipped behind the distant peaks, casting long
shadows over the Montana wilderness, Julia and I finished
setting up our campsite. The air was crisp, fresh with
the scent of pine and the subtle Musk of earth, a smell that
always brought me back to simpler times.
We had chosen a spot less frequented by tourists, but well
loved by locals for its tranquility and natural beauty.
It was our escape, a place to forget the world's chaos.
I spread out our newly purchased map on the foldable table we had
set up beside our tent. Looks like we could try hiking
up to Black Ridge tomorrow. I suggested, tracing the route
with my finger. Julia nodded, her eyes sparkling
with anticipation. She was always up for a
challenge, and our adventures together were the threads that
wove our friendship tighter over the years.
As the evening grew darker, we lit our campfire, the flames
casting playful shadows around our site.
We sat there roasting marshmallows, the crackling fire
blending with the chorus of crickets and the occasional
distant howl of a coyote. It was perfect until a dusty SUV
rattled past our campsite, slowing down just enough to
pique our curiosity and unease. There's something off about
that. Julia murmured, her brow
furrowed as she watched the vehicle disappear, only to see
it reappear minutes later, moving back the way it came.
This time, one of the passengers leaned out the window, his phone
raised as if filming us. I felt a chill that had nothing
to do with the evening air. Let's get a photo of their
plate, just in case, I said, more to assure myself than out
of any real suspicion. But as I approached, I saw the
plate was smeared with black paint, deliberately obscuring
the numbers. My stomach tightened.
That's not good. Back at the fire, we debated
what to do. Probably just some guys being
creeps, Julia said, though her voice lacked conviction.
We were no strangers to the unsettling attention that
sometimes came our way, especially when we were alone in
remote places. But leaving meant conceding, and
neither of us was willing to let paranoia disrupt our
long-awaited escape. We'll stay in the car tonight, I
decided, and Julia agreed. We set up an empty tent as a
decoy, hoping to trick anyone into thinking we were asleep
inside. Securing everything else, we
retreated to my old Ford, the back filled with blankets and
pillows atop the folded seats, a makeshift bed that now felt like
a fortress. As we lay there, the fire
outside our window reduced to glowing embers, the forest
around us held its breath. Every crack of a twig, every
rustle of leaves tighten the knot in my stomach.
Julia's hand found mine in the dark, her grip firm.
We didn't speak. Words were superfluous when the
sharp edge of fear was pressing against our throats.
Night in the wilderness is never silent, a fact you forget until
you strain to hear every small sound.
It was deep into the night when the murmur of voices sliced
through the silence. My heart hammered against my
ribs as I peered through the fogged window, catching the
faint outline of the same SUV creeping past.
They were back. My breath caught as I locked the
doors quietly, avoiding the telltale beep of the alarm.
Julia and I lay still, barely daring to breathe, listening to
the muffled voices outside. As the minutes dragged into
hours, the voices faded, replaced once more by the
natural sounds of the night. But sleep remained elusive,
chased away by the echo of unwelcome whispers and the
unsettling feeling of being watched.
The night stretched endlessly, each minute longer than the
last. Lying in the back of my Ford, I
could feel every beat of my heart, loud in the suffocating
silence of the car. Julia's breathing beside me was
shallow, punctuated by the occasional quiet shift as she
tried to find a more comfortable position on the makeshift bed
we'd made from our camping gear. Outside, the branches of the
pine trees rustled, though there wasn't a breeze to stir them.
I strained to listen, my ears picking up the subtle shifts in
the nocturnal orchestra, a twig snapping under foot, whispers
floating through the trees. They were muffled, barely
audible over the pounding of my own pulse in my ears, but they
were unmistakably human. I felt Julia tense next to me.
Should we check it out? She whispered, her voice a
thread of sound in the darkness. No, stay down.
I replied, my voice firm despite the tremor I felt.
We couldn't risk revealing our true location, hidden as we were
within the car. As hours ticked by, the eerie
sounds continued, now closer, now retreating, like a sinister
game of cat and mouse played in the shadows just beyond our
sight. Our car, usually a small
sanctuary against the Wilds of Montana, felt like a glass cage,
fragile and all too visible. Finally, just before dawn, the
unsettling presence seemed to lift.
The sound of the SU VS engine faded into the distance, leaving
behind a heavy silence that seemed to press against the
windows. We waited, neither of us willing
to break the fragile peace that had settled.
When the first light of dawn filtered through the trees,
casting long, thin shadows across the ground, we dared to
breathe a little easier. I was the first to leave the
safety of the car, stepping out into the cool morning air that
smelled of pine and damp earth. The ground was littered with
pine needles, soft under foot, muffling my steps as I move
towards the tent. The sight that greeteded me
stopped me cold. Above our tent, the deer hung
suspended from a tree. Its lifeless eyes stared down at
me, accusing, its body mutilated in a grotesque display.
Blood dripped slowly onto the fabric of our tent, staining it
dark red. The limbs were severed, arranged
in a chilling circle around the tent like some macabre ritual.
My stomach churned, bile rising in my throat as the reality of
what had occurred while we hid hit me full force.
Julia joined me, her gasp sharp in the quiet morning.
Oh my God. She breathed, her hand flying to
her mouth. Tears shimmered in her eyes, but
her face was set in a mask of determination.
We need to call the police now. We didn't bother packing up our
camping gear, our belongings. They all seemed contaminated,
somehow, touched by the malice of the night's events.
Using our cell phone, Julia called the authorities while I
stood watch, the unease never quite leaving despite the
morning light. As we drove away, leaving behind
the scene, I couldn't shake the image of the deer, the sense of
being watched that lingered like a shadow.
The wild had always been a place of refuge, of peace, but now it
was tainted, corrupted by the actions of those who had turned
it into a stage for their cruelty.
I don't know if I can ever come back here, Julia said quietly,
mirroring my thoughts. And as we drove toward home, the
wilderness that had once felt like a friend now seemed like a
stranger, unpredictable and dark.
I remember thinking that Christmas in Paris would be
magical. That's what you'd expect, right?
Lights, laughter, and the kind of holiday spirit that you only
see in movies. It was supposed to be a grand
adventure, a big girls trip as mom called it.
It was just Mom and me, along with some friends from the base
where Dad was stationed. We were a military family, so
home was wherever we unpacked our bags.
And that winter it was going to be Paris.
Our first few days in Paris were like a dream.
We visited all the famous spots, the Eiffel Tower shimmering with
its golden lights, the bustling Christmas markets that smelled
of spiced wine and roasted chestnuts, and the wide eyed
wonder of Disneyland Paris where I met princesses and pirates.
Those days were filled with laughter and endless photos,
moments I wished could last forever.
But as they say, all good things must come to an end, and our
perfect holiday took a sharp turn. 1 chilly afternoon, we
were all huddled in a Starbucks under the Louvre, the famous
museum that was much more than just a home to the Mona Lisa.
It had a sprawling underground complex with shops and eateries.
It was there, sipping hot chocolate, that all the moms,
including mine, received the same shocking e-mail.
Our flight back was cancelled due to severe snowstorms.
Panic didn't set in immediately. It was more of a slow sinking
feeling as everyone scrambled to pull up new flight information
on their phones. It's OK, honey, Mom reassured
me, though her tight smile told me she was worried.
We'll figure this out. The adults talked rapidly,
discussing options, while I and the other kids sensed the change
in mood and grew quieter, our laughter fading away.
The airline managed to rebook everyone, but somehow, in a
jumble of bad luck and worse timing, Mom and I were placed on
different flights. Mom argued with the airline
representatives over the phone, her voice firm yet polite.
There was no way she'd let me, a nine year old, fly alone.
After what felt like hours, they told us the next available
flight for us to fly together wouldn't leave until four days
later. We'll need to find a new place
to stay. Mom said as we left the cozy
confines of the Cafe. Our original hotel was fully
booked for the rest of the season.
I could tell she was trying to keep the mood light, but the
crease between her brows deepened.
Finding a new hotel on such short notice was tough, but mom
managed to book something online.
It'll be an adventure, she said with a forced cheerfulness as we
climbed into a taxi. The driver, a middle-aged man
with a gruff voice, looked at the hotel address and then back
at us with a stern expression. Be careful, he warned as he
helped us with our luggage. Don't go out at night, his words
echoed in my mind as we checked into the hotel.
It was nothing like the pictures online.
Darker, dingier, a stark contrast to the festive spirit
we had enjoyed just hours before.
As Mom handled the check in, I clung to her side, trying not to
think about the taxi drivers warning, or why he'd felt the
need to say it that night. As we settled into our less than
perfect room, Mom wrapped an arm around me.
It's just for a few nights. She whispered, kissing my
forehead. We'll make the best of it.
Despite her reassurance, I lay awake long into the night,
listening to the unfamiliar sounds of the city and wondering
what the next few days would bring.
The days seem to stretch longer as Mom and I tried to make the
best of our unexpected extended stay.
We spent our last day wandering around the beautiful streets
near Sacre Kur, marveling at the painters and St. performers who
brought so much life to the quaint cobblestone squares.
But even the bright winter sun and the vibrant colors around us
couldn't completely chase away the unease that settled in my
stomach every time I remembered the taxi driver's ominous words.
By late afternoon, as shadows began to creep across the city,
we decided it was best to head back to our hotel earlier than
we had any other night. The warning to avoid the night
echoed in my mind, and I clutched Mom's hand a little
tighter as we made our way back through the bustling crowds.
Back in our hotel room, the sense of safety I felt during
the day began to dissolve as soon as the sunset.
The building seemed to transform at night, with every creak and
whisper of the old structure feeling like a warning.
Mom tried to distract me by turning on the French TV, which
was showing a cartoon that neither of us understood but
appreciated for the noise it added to our silent room.
But then the unsettling became terrifying.
Loud noises erupted from the lobby, shouts and the heavy
pounding of footsteps that seemed too forceful, too angry
to belong to any normal hotel activity.
The sounds of other people should have been comforting, but
these were not. They were alarming.
Suddenly, there was a sharp knock at our door, followed by
an insistent pounding. A man's voice, loud and slurred,
filtered through the thin door, speaking rapid French, peppered
with angry shouts. We know you're in there.
He yelled, banging harder. I could barely breathe, frozen
in fear. Mom's face was white as she
quickly motioned for me to stay silent.
She dragged me to the corner of the room furthest from the door,
whispering urgently. Don't make a sound, sweetie,
stay down. Her phone was in her hand, and I
could hear the desperate trembling in her voice as she
tried to call Dad. But the call wouldn't go
through, and she was left frantically texting him,
instead, telling him to call the police.
The pounding continued, each thud against the door sending a
shockwave of fear through me. The man outside kept shouting,
now making threats, his words unclear but his tone
unmistakably menacing. We sat huddled together, the
only light in the room coming from the flickering images on
the TV, which we left on to mask any sounds we might
inadvertently make. Hours passed, hours marked by
the periodic return of the pounding at the door, the
shouting never ceasing. Somehow, amidst the terror,
exhaustion took over and I drifted into a fitful sleep,
curled up in my clothes with my backpack as a makeshift pillow.
Mom didn't sleep at all, her eyes wide and watchful, guarding
our little fortress. When dawn finally broke the
noise and the threats had stopped, Mom peeked through the
window to see the first light of morning and decided it was safe
enough to leave. We gathered our things silently,
left the room with as much stealth as we could muster, and
didn't stop moving until we were safely inside the airport.
At the airport, while waiting for our flight, Mom finally
broke down and cried, not just from fear, but also from relief.
We were safe, we were going home, and soon this nightmare
would be just a memory. As a small consolation, the
airline upgraded us to 1st class, an unexpected end to our
harrowing ordeal. From the moment Dan and I
decided to head out to the local grocery store, I knew it
wouldn't be just any regular shopping trip.
The town we live in thrives on cheerfulness and an almost
forced sense of community. Everyone is supposed to smile,
wave and chat like old friends, no matter the underlying
currents pulling us apart. As much as I admired the lively
spirit of our small town, sometimes it felt exhausting,
especially for someone like me who cherished quiet and personal
space. Dan, with his striking tattoos
and the remnants of a tough past visibly etched in his posture,
often drew mixed stares. While some greeted him with
warm, forgiving smiles, others couldn't hide their murmurs and
skeptical glances. I always admired how he handled
it with a sort of resigned grace, knowing he couldn't
change his past but could shape his present.
The grocery store was buzzing when we entered.
The familiar Ding of the door seemed to announce to everyone
that Dan and I were there, triggering a subtle shift in the
atmosphere. I tried to shake off the unease
creeping up my spine as we grabbed a basket and started
down the first aisle. Hey, I'll go grab some veggies.
Dan said, nodding toward the produce section.
Meet you by the bread in five. Sure.
I replied, giving him a small reassuring smile.
As he walked away, I felt the safety of his presence
diminishing, leaving me exposed somehow.
It wasn't long before I felt the weight of a stare.
Turning slightly I saw him, a man about my height with a too
bright smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
He approached me with an eagerness that set off alarms in
my head. Hi, I'm John.
He said, stepping a bit too close.
His voice was friendly, but his proximity wasn't.
You're Olivia, right? I've seen you around, mind if I
join you for your shopping? I backed away slightly,
clutching my basket tighter. I'm actually just finishing up.
I lied, glancing around in hopes of spotting Dan.
Oh come on, I insist. It's always nice to make new
friends, don't you think? John continued, not picking up
on or blatantly ignoring my discomfort as I struggled to
maintain politeness. I felt increasingly trapped.
I really need to find my boyfriend.
I managed to say, hoping to deter him.
Just then, Dan appeared at the end of the aisle, his eyes
quickly sizing up the situation. Without a word, he moved to my
side, his presence like a shield.
John looked between us, his smile faltering but not
disappearing. Everything OK here?
Dan asked, his voice calm but firm, his stance protective.
Absolutely. John replied, though his eyes
darted nervously. Just saying hello to Olivia
here, but I see you're busy, so I'll leave you to it.
Relief washed over me as John finally turned and walked away.
Dan watched him leave, his brow furrowed.
You OK? He asked, his hand finding mine.
Yeah, thanks to you. I said, squeezing his hand.
Let's just get what we need and go home.
As we resumed our shopping, I couldn't shake the feeling of
eyes on us. Was John just overly friendly,
or was there something more? I shivered, wishing the world
could be as simple as just a trip to the grocery store.
As Dan and I walked out of the grocery store, the cool air
outside couldn't wash away the lingering discomfort from our
encounter with John. Dan's hand felt reassuringly
firm in mine, a silent promise that he was there, always
looking out for me. But even as we loaded our
groceries into the car, I could feel his tension, a silent
vigilance that had tightened around him like a coil ready to
spring. We're not coming back here for a
while. Dan said once we were inside the
car, his voice low but resolute. I nodded, understanding his
concern without needing any explanation.
The safety of familiar places had been tainted, and the
comfort of routine replaced by caution.
As we drove home, the silence between us was thick with
unspoken worries. Once we were safely inside our
apartment, Dan turned to me, his expression serious.
Let's check out that Instagram account John mentioned.
Something felt off about him. I hesitated for a moment, but
knew he was right. Pulling out my phone, I searched
for the username John had unwittingly given when I tricked
him with the fake account. What we found was a public
profile that seemed normal at first glance.
Pictures of landscapes, food, a few selfies.
But the longer we looked, the more we realized how impersonal
it all was. There were no friends tagged, no
comments from family. It was as if John wanted to
present an image of normalcy while revealing nothing truly
personal. It's like he's hiding in plain
sight. I murmured, scrolling through
the posts. Dan nodded, his eyes never
leaving the screen. And no locations tagged in any
of these photos. It's all too generic.
He added, pointing at the pictures that could have been
taken anywhere. We discussed the possibility
that John might be more dangerous than he appeared,
perhaps scouting for people to target.
It was a chilling thought, one that made our own openness feel
like a vulnerability. Later that evening, as we sat on
our couch, the weight of the day's events finally settled
around us. I couldn't help but feel
isolated, a feeling amplified by the town's expectations of
sociability. It's hard, you know?
I said, breaking the silence, feeling like you always have to
be on guard, even among neighbors.
Dan reached out, his hand covering mine.
We'll be OK, we just have to be a bit more careful, keep a lower
profile for a while. His words were meant to comfort,
but they also painted a stark picture of our reality.
We had to adjust our lives, change our habits, because of 1
unsettling interaction. It was a small but significant
shift, acknowledging that the line between public and private
had to be guarded more fiercely. As the night drew in, the
conversation turned lighter, but the resolve remained.
We decided to change our shopping habits, opting for less
frequented stores or different times when fewer people were
around. It wasn't just about avoiding
John or others like him. It was about protecting our
peace, ensuring our little world remained intact despite the
unpredictable nature of the one outside.
I hope this never happens again. This first started happening 15
years ago and would take place over the next 13 years of my
life. It all started in the
summertime, about four months after we had moved to a new
house in a different state. I was nine years old at the time
and I didn't really have any friends in the area.
One day I was out in the front yard helping my dad with yard
work. He would mow the front and
backyards and I would either pick dandelions out of the
ground or water the plants at the front of the house.
Not super helpful, I know, but I was nine and wasn't allowed to
do anything with the lawn mower besides maybe pull the cord to
start the motor. My dad had just finished the
front yard and had moved his way to the backyard while I stayed
in the front yard to finish up. I remember seeing a package on
the porch in front of our door and going up to pick it up.
And that was when I turned around and saw him.
A man in his late 30s with long dark hair tied in a ponytail
hanging down past his shoulders, wearing a plain white T-shirt,
black pajama pants, and no socks or shoes.
He was standing at the end of our street, standing with his
arms crossed and staring directly at me.
Now for context, my house is 4 houses down from the end of the
street. At the end of my street there is
a road that forms AT shaped intersection.
On the other side of this intersection from my house,
there are three houses with one house lined up with the middle
of my street and the other two houses sitting to the right of
it. To the left of the house lined
up with my street is an old steel treating factory that
existed surrounded by houses in our neighborhood and at that
time was still active 24/7. This man was standing in front
of the house lined up with my street at the top of the T
shaped intersection. He was standing right off the
edge of the street and in front of what I assumed was his house,
just staring at me. As soon as I saw him, I
immediately froze and stared back at him with a sudden uneasy
feeling washing over me. The longer I looked at him, the
more red flags I began to notice.
To my 9 year old mind, this man was dressed very strangely and
that had already been an immediate red flag.
But the creepiest thing that stood out to me was his face.
His face had absolutely no expression of any kind.
There was just this intense and piercing stare with him looking
directly at me. It felt like he was staring
right through me, and for at least two minutes we stared at
each other, never looking away or even blinking.
Eventually the uneasy feeling built up enough for me to slowly
walk myself down off the porch and over to the side of our
house, never looking away from the man.
When I made it out of sight, I ran to the backyard to tell my
dad about what had just happened.
I came up to him as he finished mowing the backyard and
described what I had seen. And that was when he told me
that he had seen this man the other day doing the same thing,
except just staring straight down our street, arms crossed,
plain white T-shirt, pajama pants, no shoes.
Just like when I had seen him After that, my dad told me that
he thought that man seemed off and to stay far, far away from
him. Unfortunately, that would not be
the last time that I saw the man at the end of our street.
From that point on, I would see this man much more often.
I would be riding in the car with my family or outside doing
something in our yard or on our block, and I would look over and
see him standing in the same spot, arms crossed, intensely
staring. He wasn't there 24/7, but at
least three days a week I would see him outside, sometimes for
five or more hours at a time, if not staring at me, staring at
someone walking their dog or a car passing by.
Once I tried to figure out his schedule so I wouldn't have to
be around him as much, but it felt too creepy keeping track of
him because he would occasionally start scanning his
head around looking for people to lock onto, which really
creeped me out. Now some of you may be thinking
he's just staring and not doing anything.
That's not that bad right? Well, sadly I would later find
out that things were far worse than I had ever imagined.
So Fast forward about nine years.
I am now 18 years old and looking to get a job to save up
for my first car. I hadn't really been able to
save any money up to that point and my parents weren't in any
position to be able to help me with purchasing 1, so I knew
that I had to try and find a job that would be easy for me to get
to and that would pay me enough for me to hopefully get a cheap
car quickly. Lo and behold, the steel
treating factory next to the creepy man's house has a now
hiring sign out front and I decide that a 2 minute walk to
work had to be worth it, even if it meant walking by the creepy
man's house. I had seen this guy doing this
routine for almost a decade at this point and figured that it
wasn't going to be a problem, so I applied and ended up getting
the job. It was hard work, which usually
consisted of heavy physical labor and keeping up a constant
pace, but nothing I hadn't expected.
I started off fairly slowly, but ended up getting much better and
able to do tasks much faster. About 3 months in, I was
assigned to work on a machine that I had not previously worked
on, located in the loading dock. From the loading dock, I had a
clearview of the wooden fence that separated the factory
loading zone from the creepy man's house, as well as the
front of his driveway where he would normally stand.
I couldn't see the man standing at his post, but I was able to
notice a large hole in the fence, which seemed like it had
been made in some kind of accident.
The fence was not broken cleanly, but there were
splinters and cracks in the fence where the hole had been
made. I asked the floor worker who was
with me at the dock, let's call him Ronnie, if he knew anything
about this and this actually got us into a longer conversation
about the creepy man. Ronnie had been with the steel
treating factory for over 15 years and had seen the man
during his staring routine more than once.
According to Ronnie, the hole in the fence had been made by the
creepy man and he had told the managers of the plant that it
had been an accident with his truck.
But that's not all. Ronnie then went on to tell me
that creepy neighbor guy actually runs a daycare out of
his house and that it was an unregistered business and has
actually led to police being called on him more than once.
This surprised me as I had never seen the police over at his
house before. But after Ronnie told me this,
something else occurred to me. When looking at Creepy Man's
house, whenever his van wasn't sitting in the driveway, you
could see one of those children's mini playgrounds with
a slide and toys built into it, the kind toddlers would play
with. This always struck me as odd
because never once in those nine years up to that point had I
ever seen anybody else come or go from his house, especially
not any children. But I had never really dedicated
much thought into it. After Ronnie told me this I
thought back to when I had first seen him as a nine year old and
all the other times he had stared at me growing up and I
began to wonder if he had been secretly plotting to try and get
me over to his unofficial daycare.
Sadly, I couldn't really confirm what Ronnie had told me and at
this point I had been dealing with my own personal problems at
home, so I just filed the story into the back of my head as
something I would not at all be surprised to find out was true.
I left that job not long after this.
I had saved up the money I needed for a car and was able to
make my way into the career field I had been hoping to make
it into. Fast forward to three years
later and to one of the scariest things that has ever happened to
me and the reason for my posting this.
At this point I had moved away from home but ended up having to
move back home with my parents for reasons I'm not going to get
into. I had also met my girlfriend and
we would spend some nights driving over to my parents house
to watch old movies or play games with my janky basement set
up. By this point, my girlfriend was
aware of the creepy man, but paid him as much mind as anybody
else. As creepy as he was, he wasn't
breaking the law by standing there, and our lives already had
too much going on for us to be focusing our time and attention
on his weirdness. On this night, I was driving
home with my girlfriend for a normal night of watching movies.
I didn't want to block my mother's car in on our single
lane driveway, so I had recently started parking in the grass
patch behind our house. Behind our house was an alley
that ran past everybody's backyards.
Our backyard had a wooden fence up against the alley, with a
separate garage building which opened up into the alley.
I had started to park in the grass patch area in between the
garage doors and the alley more often, and so that was the
direction I had been driving home, silently hoping to myself
that the creepy man wouldn't be outside on a pleasant night like
this. Well, of course I had jinxed it,
and the way home that I was going ended up taking us right
past him, standing and staring us down.
I locked eyes with him very briefly as we drove past him,
headed to the right side of the T intersection to turn into the
alley to go behind my house. But here's where things got
scary. For some reason, I don't know
why, as we passed by the creepy man, I got a really bad feeling.
A feeling very similar to the day I had first seen him.
A gut wrenching, something is wrong kind of feeling.
And so I decided to look in my driver's side mirror.
To my horror, the creepy man had actually left his post and
started walking quickly in my direction.
I can honestly say that this was the first time I had ever seen
the creepy man not standing completely still, and here he
was walking the same direction I had gone.
As my thoughts started racing, I turned into the alleyway and
then went four houses down, turning into the grass patch
behind the garage in our backyard.
I immediately told my girlfriend what I had seen and how strange
it was. I did not want to freak her out,
but I didn't want her to get blindsided if something bad was
about to happen. From the angle that my car was
parked, I could turn around in my driver's seat and stare at
the alley way through the slits in the wooden fence in our
backyard. I would be able to see if he was
coming and see if he rounded the corner.
I locked my car doors, turned in my seat, and reached into my
pocket to tightly grip my pocket knife.
My eyes widened and my heart started beating fast as I saw
him casually walking down the alley, through the slits, right
up to the edge of the wooden fence and then pause.
After a few moments, he turned around 180° and started walking
back down the alley in the direction he had come from.
I waited about two minutes before getting out of my car and
slowly approaching the edge of the fence, then walking into the
alley to see that he was gone. I have thought about this quite
a bit since it happened two years ago.
I don't actually know if he recognized me or the house that
I had pulled into, or why he chose that night to follow me
and my girlfriend and scare the hell out of us.
Honestly, I don't really care. I was able to move out of that
house shortly after that happened, and I'm now living
with my girlfriend, who today is my fiance.
But to the man that stared at me in my entire neighborhood for
over half my life and who followed me and my girlfriend
into a dark alley for God knows what reason, let's never meet
again. It was summer break and unlike
every other break, my family didn't go on any trip.
I was just 8 years old and my younger sister was three.
We were playing with other kids who lived in the same building
as us, just on different floors. The building is not exactly an
apartment building, it's more of a multi storied house.
The front gate, which is the only entrance and exit, is a bit
further from there. Since we were downstairs
playing, anybody who would enter or exit the building would be
visible to us and we'd greet them because every tenant knew
us and we knew them as well as their family members who might
visit. Although a new person visiting
any tenant is rare, it is not impossible.
Right adjacent to the big entrance gate is a small old
style window with a grill, but it has a small opening at the
bottom. We were all playing, but then I
got tired and sat on one of the chairs placed on the porch area.
From there, the window was on my right side and I could clearly
see the gate. I was just looking out when I
noticed a man staring at the gate.
He was able to look at my sister and friends through that gate.
It concerned me when I realized that he wasn't even trying to
look away and was just staring at them blankly.
I turned around from where I was sitting to signal my friend to
move to the other side, away from his sight, but she didn't
understand. Frustrated, I turned back and
was about to stand up when my gaze fell on the guy and he was
now staring at me. My body froze and I could feel
fear creeping up on me. I couldn't move.
I don't know why, but I stared back at him and suddenly he
started smiling, a full on grin from ear to ear that scared the
soul out of me. I mustered some courage, got up
and ran towards my friends. I didn't tell them anything and
just asked them to go upstairs with me, which thankfully they
did without questioning. I didn't mention anything about
this to my parents because I thought they would stop me from
going downstairs to play. The next day we came to play
again and I looked through the window just to make sure he
wasn't there. Fortunately, he wasn't, or so I
thought. 15 minutes in and I spotted that guy again, standing
at the very spot and staring at us.
At me. I tried to play it cool because
my friends knew nothing about him, but I couldn't for long and
we went back inside. From what I remember, this
happened for three to four days now.
My friends started complaining about how I didn't let them play
and that they had to come back earlier than they were supposed
to on the 5th day or 4th, I don't remember correctly.
I made-up my mind not to pay attention to him and just focus
on playing. We were playing cricket that
evening and I was batting. I hit the ball hard, causing it
to go over the gate, which was a very normal thing.
As per the rule made by us, the one responsible must fetch the
ball. My heart started beating because
I could see his grin getting wider and creepier.
He went towards the ball in the road and picked it up.
He then held his hand out, gesturing for me to come and
take it. I was scared but I had to go, so
I did. As soon as I reached to take the
ball from his hand, he bent close to my ear and his words
are still ringing clearly in my ears to this day.
I'm a good man. Look at the window when you go
inside. I'll leave something for you.
That sent shivers down my spine and I ran with the speed of
light. After we were done playing, I
saw him sliding a piece of paper through the little opening.
He then looked at me, grinned and waved goodbye.
I grabbed the paper and opened it.
He had written his phone number and asked me to call him at 2:00
in the afternoon, knowing my parents would be asleep by that
time. It was also written that if I
didn't do it, my friends lives would be in danger.
As an 8 year old I didn't know any better so I called him using
my mother's phone. He picked up and I didn't have
the courage to say anything so I stayed silent.
He said you're a good girl just like me, you should come, stay
with me. Come outside, I'm waiting to
pick you up. Since I lived upstairs, I went
to the balcony and he was actually standing near the gate
looking directly at me, waving and smiling.
I couldn't contain it anymore so I started crying and
disconnected the call. I ran inside and bawled my eyes
out in my room. Thankfully my mother didn't wake
up and I cried it all out. I didn't go out for the next few
weeks and everybody kept asking me about it.
That guy stopped coming too and I don't remember when he stopped
coming but he did and I was relieved.
Eventually this experience just started fading and I grew up.
Fast forward 10 years, I was 18 and my mother asked me to buy
some snacks. I took my sister and went out
and the shop I had to go to was at the end of the road several
houses away, so not too far. I was standing in a queue when I
felt uncomfortable because the man behind me kept pushing me.
Annoyed, I looked at him, only to realize that it was the same
man. My face went pale and I could
feel my heart throbbing in my throat.
I tried not to panic and calmed myself down by telling myself
that he couldn't do anything in public.
There were tons of people there and that gave me a sense of
security. As soon as my order came, I took
out my wallet hastily to pay, but he beat me to it.
The owner looked at him weirdly and then at me because I was a
regular there and he was seeing this man for the first time.
I paid for it anyway and the owner politely asked him to take
his money back. I gave the bag to my sister and
asked her to go home and inform our mom about a man following us
and just in case he attacked I'd have a backing and she would be
safe too. Our house is within the vision
range of the shop so I waited for her to get inside and now it
was my turn to go home. As soon as I stepped out the man
followed me and said something like you're a beautiful lady now
we should catch up. I kept walking but now that we
were far from the shop he started speed walking and I had
to walk faster. I could feel goosebumps all over
my body. I started running and I could
see him catching up to my speed when the owner called for him
loudly saying that some of his money was still at the counter
and asking him to come back. It gave me enough time to get
inside and lock the gate. I haven't seen him since that
day and it's been two years. I'm 20 now and I hope to never
meet him again. I don't know why, but it's
instilled a sort of paranoia in me and I dread seeing him when I
turn 28.