This story is told in the perspective of a female.
This is a precautionary tale.
I understand that this was my fault, but maybe if I can help one person by telling my story,
it's worth it.
I don't drink as a general rule, but once a month or so I'll go out with friends and
binge.
My friends and I had a great night at a bar in the city, and they left.
I was chatting up a cute guy so I decided to stay.
I went back to his place.
Post-coitus (very unsatisfying for anyone interested), I'm ready to head home so I call
an Uber to pick me up.
I don't know where I am - I know the city I'm in but not my exact location.
I order the Uber, but it's taking forever ("requesting....requesting....requesting...")
so I cancel it and try again.
Pretty soon a car pulls up.
I drunkenly mumble something like, "s'this the Uber?" and I hop in.
Mistake.
Ubers apparently are supposed to have some kind of marking on the vehicle.
The guy pulls away and starts driving.
We're chatting, I'm fumbling for a cigarette, and the next thing I notice is that we're
headed on the highway, but in the opposite direction of where I thought we needed to
drive.
And we're going at a solid 90mph.
Then I get a call from my Uber driver.
He's there, and I'm not.
Because I'm in a car with a fucking nutcase.
I start texting my friend frantically counting off mile markers for her.
Then I realize that's going to do jack, because she's probably drunk too.
So I call 9-1-1, but I realize this guy is crazy - he's refusing to let me out of the
car - So I've got to do it on the sly.
It's been 40 minutes now.
I'm terrified.
I don't know where I am, I don't know who this is.
We're driving at over 100mph, weaving in and out of traffic.
This guy is trying to get me to hang up my phone call ("yo get off the phone; the fuck
are you calling?
Better not be a snitch"), and also smoking pot, so I don't want to do anything that might
provoke a violent reaction from him.
I start chatting to the 9-1-1 dispatcher as if it's my friend, praying that they'll catch
on.
"Hey girl, it's me!
Yeah I'm with someone right now, we're driving past [highway exit].
No sweetie, it's not my Uber.
I thought it was, but it's not.
It's a shame you can't come and meet me and bring friends."
Thank sweet baby Jesus, the operator catches on!
He gets me to stay on the phone while he sends cops, and we develop a code - if I see cops,
I'm supposed to casually put my hand out the window, which looks semi normal because I'm
smoking a cigarette.
We pull into some random little housing complex and he busts out some powder and forms two
lines.
I now have confirmation that he does drugs, which means he's probably emotionally volatile.
I relay this to the operator, in code ("oh girl I wish you were here right now, this
guy just busted out the coke!
You'd love it.
He's taking a really big bump, man after my own heart") etc.
Pretty soon I can see the lights from the cop cars so I start waving my hand out the
window - at this point I don't care if he's on to me or not.
I don't know if he has a weapon but I slump down in my seat just in case things get hot.
The cops surround us, get him out of the car, and then (once it's safe) they extricate me
as well.
They whisk me to the hospital for a drug test and evaluation and that's where my story ends.
On my way to the hospital, as I'm explaining all this to the officer, I find out that of
the guy's 40-ish years on this earth, he's been in federal prison for 30 of them, for
violent offenses.
I want people to learn from my mistakes, and if nothing else, call 9-1-1 and STAY ON THE
LINE.
I've been reading around this subreddit for a while now, and I'm a pretty keen observer,
but through reading accounts of shit on here I've become a lot more paranoid about certain
things, and I think today is the day it paid off.
I live in a basement apartment of a somewhat older building, at least 100 years old I figure.
There is no "front door" entrance to it, only two side entrances which tenants can use to
reach the laundry room and one back door into the building, which only I have the key for,
along with the building managers.
I've only used the back door a few times, and that was for moving furniture in and out
because my side entrances are impossible to use for stuff like that because the stairwell
is so steep and the walls so narrow.
Otherwise, I never use the back door.
Where I live it's really snowy at the moment.
Lots of ice and shit around.
Two days ago when I left through my usual side door, I noticed that there was a shoveled
path to the back of the building, which literally no one has a single reason to do or be back
there.
There is nothing back there for use.
Only a door to get into my apartment like I said.
But I thought this was highly suspicious, but I chocked it up to whoever the contractor
for snow removal was just trying to be thorough and clear a path to the back because surely
they don't know who uses that back door or not, they have no reason to.
(There's actually a porch that can help you get into the main hallway, too, but that door
is as locked down as can be, but again, no one knows that but tenants).
Anyways, ever since the shoveled snow I've been a bit more suspicious.
Three weeks ago someone stole my motorcycle from the driveway close to the back door (probably
20 feet away?) and it's put me on high alert because obviously I'm fucking pissed and violated
that someone went so far as to steal my motorcycle from my driveway under video surveillance
(unfortunately the cameras were broken/not set up right so there actually was no recorded
footage, only a big camera pointing at you).
Two nights ago I stayed up literally almost all night reading stories on here because
I couldn't sleep as it was, but reading the stories didn't make me feel any better about
that, heh.
But it's all put me on hyper-awareness.
So last night around 10:30pm or so I let my little dog outside for the last time of the
night.
I hadn't slept in 36 hours or so like I sad above and I was ready to pack it up.
When I came back in from letting my dog out I took a look at the back door and realized
that the deadbolt was disengaged, which sort of unnerved me.
That's highly unusual because there's no need for it to be.
Even more than that, there is a key broken off inside the deadbolt.
So I have literally no way to lock that bitch at the moment.
My alarms are going off on all levels.
I figure there's a chance that it's nothing, but as an extra measure, I put a big ass brick
in front of the door so that if anyone opened the door the brick would move and I'd know
that someone used the door because of it.
Then I went to bed.
Three o'clock in the morning comes and my little dog starts barking her fucking head
off.
And I think to myself fuck no.
No one comes down to the basement at 3AM.
(The laundry room is across the hall from my apartment but no one is doing laundry at
3am unless they're a meth head, and I heard no laundry being done.)
I get up, and get close to our main door, being very quiet, letting my dog bark.
My dog is a dachshund by the way—big bark, little bite and it's noticeable.
As I approach my door I hear the door knob jiggle a bit, but thankfully I engaged my
deadbolt before bed.
I'm freaking the fuck out about this at this point.
Thankfully, I've sort of prepared for this sort of situation in my mind.
A thousand times I've anticipated someone coming down and trying to open my door, because
I live in the city and there are shitty people who do shitty things like break into people's
homes.
I stand back from the door and yell to the man that "I have a Glock 9MM in my hands ready
to unload with lethal force.
The police are on their way.
(They actually weren't, I was so amped up I didn't think about it at the time.)
If you attempt to enter my premises I WILL KILL YOU."
I then heard footsteps book it the fuck out of there up the side stairs and away.
This morning I filed a complaint with my apartment complex demanding that they change the locks
and take care of the situation.
Lastly, here's a picture of my foot in comparison to one of the footprints they left.
I post this in case anyone thinks I'm lying for whatever reason.
Thank you, everyone on this sub for sharing your stories.
You really saved my ass on this one.
For a bit of back story, my mom was dating an abusive prick at this time.
We'll call him Ian.
Because of Ian and the crazy fights they had gotten into, we couldn't lock up my house
at all.
He had kicked in both the front and the back door to the house and they never fixed.
My mother and "Ian" were at the bar all day, everyday.
I told you this so you would know why the house wasn't locked up and where my parents
were when this happened.
This incident occurred when I was around 12 years old and my little brother around 10.
I was a really small girl and this age and my brother was sick all the time so he was
very, very tiny and frail.
My mother and Ian were at the bar as usual.
When you opened my front door you it put you in the living room, and you could see the
back door.
There was a hallway to the right that led back into the bedrooms, and that is where
my brother and I were.
We were in his bedroom with the door closed playing something on a Playstation.
It was around midnight or 1 a.m and we were playing and having a good time when I heard
a weird noise.
My brother didn't hear it and I didn't want to creep him out.
I told him that I wanted to go get a drink and told him to stay in the room and I would
bring him something.
To get to my kitchen you would have to walk down the hallway, in front of both the front
and back door because it was behind the living room.
I kept hearing strange noises so before I left out of my brother's room I told him to
get into the closet and work on our fort so that it would be ready when I was done getting
our drinks and a snack.
(I raised my little brother for the most part and took care of him)
I had a terrible feeling, a sense of dread.
I could tell something wasn't right and this was a way to get my brother to hide without
scaring him.
He frightened easily and had really bad asthma attacks and at this time we had no inhaler
or his breathing treatment machine for him (good going ma!)
I knew if he started having an asthma attack on top of being scared it wouldn't be pretty.
Anyway I left the back room and decided to see what was going on.
(Because I was such a badass at 12 years old, but I had to protect my little brother) I
start sneaking up the hallway as slowly and quietly as I could.
I was terrified, I could "feel" that something was wrong.
Before I made it to the end of the hallway I hear a man.
It sounded like he was growling.
It was a deep, terrifying noise.
I can't explain it but the feeling that washed over me damn near made me puke.
So I of course freeze.
I have no one in this town, I don't know anyone and my dad is living in a different state,
my mom is at the bar drunk as hell.
I was sitting there trying to gather the courage to see what was around the corner, and going
over my options when I hear my brothers door open.
He sees me and the look on my face and freezes.
I remember his eyes going so wide with fear because he must of heard the growl or whatever
it was too.
I motion him with my hands to go back in the room and he does.
I gathered the courage to peek around the corner and what I saw still freaks me out
to this day.
It was horrifying.
I saw a man, probably around 6'6 and 300 + pounds sitting on my couch with a wicked grin
on his face.
That grin and the look in his eyes will forever be burned in my head.
By some stupid luck the man didn't see me.
I slowly, so slowly snuck back to my brothers room.
I slowly shut the door and started going over my options.
My little brother was already horrified because of the growling noise this man was making,
I am so thankful he wasn't the one who saw what was out there.
I mustered my brave big sister face and calmly told him that there was a man that I didn't
know on the couch and he needed to be very quiet and I needed him to be brave and keep
his breathing in check.
My little brother adored me and looked up to me so when I told him that I needed him
to be brave he tried his best.
I told him not to move and he didn't.
The first thing I tried was the window, but it wouldn't budge.
It was completely stuck.
I'm making myself stay calm for my brothers sake but I know whats sitting out there.
So since the window was stuck I decided to start looking for a weapon.
My older brother lived here and I know he had swords somewhere.
(i dont remember where he was) As I'm looking for a weapon I hear the man sing: "I know
your here" Fuck.
My stomach knotted up, the hair on the back of my necked raised and I instantly got a
cold sweat.
And then I hear it.
My little brother had started wheezing.
Asthma attack.
Fuck fuck fuck.
I hugged him, reminded him about being brave and told him to sit still and focus on his
breathing.
I started frantically trying to get my window open.
But it was stuck.
I looked around and started moving blankets when I find my older brothers cell phone that
he always forgot.
I remember thinking that I was lucky and felt a bit of relief.
I immediately called the police and told them what was going on, hysterical at this point
but still remaining quiet.
The dispatcher told me to remain on the phone so she could hear what was happening when
the man started banging on our bedroom door.
It had been about 5 minutes into the phone call when this happened and I could no longer
remain calm.
I fucking lost it.
I started screaming.
I mean blood curdling screaming.
The kind of screaming that would send chills down your spine if you heard it.
I forgot to mention that our bedroom had the only working lock.
So the door was locked, he was trying to get in and banging on the door.
His banging got louder and louder, he was screaming to let him in when it went completely
silent.
Then he did the creepiest, most terrifying thing ever.
He started fucking laughing.
"You know I could just bust this door down in about two seconds right little girl?"
tap tap tap now he's lightly knocking on the door and asking for me to open it.
His demeanor completely changed.
I then heard a scraping at the door.
What I had imagined it was in my 12 year old head was he was scraping the door with his
really long finger nails or something.
But that wasn't the case.
Then I hear the police start screaming at him to get on the ground, put his hands up,
etc, etc.
I heard him putting up a fight, followed by more yelling and eventually silence.
After a few minutes there was a knock on my door but at this point I was too terrified
to open it.
I thought that this nightmare guy was still there.
So being in my hysterical state I started screaming "No no no please" over and over
again.
Sobbing and shaking.
I couldn't stay brave for my little brother anymore.
I was on the floor holding him this whole time, convinced we were going to die.
Eventually I calmed myself a bit and this time a female officer was at the door so I
opened it.
There were about 5 cops standing in the hallway listening to me being hysterical.
I refused to let go of my brother at this point but we both ran to this female officer
and just collapsed sobbing hysterically.
We had been so scared.
It turns out this guy was completely wasted and high and drugs.
I remember the cops walking me up to him and having me stand in front of him to ask me
if I knew this man.
I didn't.
But I'll never forget standing in front of this huge man, looking into his brown eyes
that were completely bloodshot and filled with hatred.
I'll never forget that growling noise that he was making, or the look of pure horror
in my little brother's eyes.
My parents were called and investigated for leaving us alone like that and for the doors
being like that.
My mom is a different person now, doesn't drink and is now married to a cop.
She completely changed.
I remember asking her about it later on and she told me something that I didn't know.
The man had had a huge knife, so that's what he was scraping the door with.
I still don't know how he didn't get to us, or why he didn't just bust the door down to
get us.
It would of taken one half assed kick from him to kick the door down.
It was super thin.
It still creeps me out and I have had nightmares from it.
My husband doesn't understand why I get so furious with him when he leaves the door unlocked
at night.
I work third shift so I'll come home and the door will be unlocked.
It's infuriating because I then have to go through every room in the house, and check
the closets and and the other places that a person could hide in.
I have two kids, and they will never, EVER go through what I did.
This all took place when I was around 8 or 9.
I lived in one of the more poor neighborhoods of Las Vegas and had always been taught the
dangers of adults with bad intentions.
I had a best friend at the time, Gavin, who apparently had not been taught the same as
me.
Every single day Gavin and I would walk home from the school, the three blocks from the
elementary school down to his house and then finally mine at the end of the street.
We had been doing this for the better half of the school year without instance, however
all it took was one singular moment for that to change.
Gavin and I were making our regular trek from school towards Gavin's house, making jokes
and exploring what we were going to do that day.
( It was usually watching Pokemon and re-enacting our favorite scenes from the most recent episode.
)
As we turned onto his street a beat up old red truck stopped on the road and a ratty
looking older man with a salt and pepper beard and bloodshot eyes stuck his head out of the
grimy looking vehicle and immediately leaned towards Gavin and I and in a voice, filled
to the brim with 'worry' he asked us: "Would you two help me find my dog?
I think she's just down the block.
She likes to run off on me and I could really use your help."
I was skeptical at best.
I shook my head and explained that I really had to get home and that my mother was waiting
for me, but Gavin?
Gavin promptly said yes and ran towards the truck without a seconds hesitation.
I was frozen in place.
The truck took off and I was left on the side of the road cursing Gavin and wondering what
in the hell was I going to do now?
As a child, I didn't realize that moment could have been the last I would ever see of my
best friend.
I didn't put it together that the man was full of evil intentions and just wanted a
child or two to do god knows what to them.
A dozen thoughts ran through my mind, of whether to get Gavin's mother or my own but at the
moment, the very real thought that he was attempting to kidnap us wasn't on my mind.
All I knew was that he gave me a very bad vibe and I was to NEVER go off with strangers.
I had only made it a couple more steps down the road before the unmistakeable clunking
of the man's red truck hissed up behind me.
I froze in fear before it quickly took off, speeding away and leaving Gavin behind!
I was so relieved.
I turned and saw my friend clutching a dollar to his chest and running towards me, showing
off his new reward.
I asked him if they had found the dog and Gavin said no.
That they drove around the block and he was given the dollar and dropped back off on our
street.
We never told our parents and I never saw the man again but it wasn't until years later
I realized that the only reason that man let Gavin go was because...I didn't go and out
there an 8 year old girl would know what this man looked like and what car he drove if Gavin
never came back.
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