The Creepy Neighbor Boy

When I was in Fith grade, my family and I visited New Mexico a lot because we were born there.

I loved to hang out with my two cousins Tony and Paul. They were exactly like my brother and I, which is why we loved to hang out with them. When we were at their small home in Pecos, we would play soccer in their backyard or watch TV.

When we weren’t doing either of those, we would be messing around with are legos, trying to see which one of us could create the weirdest structure. One day, we were all playing a game we made called Pinecone wars, but I don’t really remember the rules because it’s been so long.

Then, the neighbor and some of his family comes out of their house. It was right next to Tony and Paul’s house and I think the neighbor’s sister was talking with my mom. Suddenly, the boy from the house walks up to us and says hi to Tony and Paul. He seemed normal at first, but that was only because I had just met him.

Paul introduced my brother and I to him. I’ll just refer to the boy as Owen.

We shook hands and immediently, my hand begin to itch. “Huh, strange.” I thought to myself shortly after my hand started itching.

I believe Owen was two years older than I was. We played Pinecone wars until my grandma called my brother and I to go eat dinner. I forgot to mention that the rest of my family was staying at my grandma’s house, except for my father because he drove us to New Mexico and then dropped us off at our grandma’s house.

After I ate, I went to the couch and played Legend of Zelda on my Gameboy color. Since my grandma’s neighborhood was relatively safe, she didn’t have an alarm system which probably explains what happened next. My brother and I had to go to bed, so I slept in the guest room. I left my Gameboy on the couch and then I heard the door open quietly.

My heart froze.

I layed there, stuck for a minute until I finally pulled the blanket above my head. I heard my door open and it felt like my heart was gonna burst out of my chest. I heard heavy breathing on the other side of my bed, and I put my hands around my nose and mouth to control my breathing. I then heard footsteps leave my room, and I didn’t get any sleep that night.

The next day, I found a note on the floor that was written in permanent marker. It said “Hi Lily, good luck sleeping tonight.” Next to the note was a rabbit paw which was stained in blood. I screamed so loud that the neighbors probably heard.

My mom came running into my room and saw the note and rabbit’s paw. Her face turned white and it looked like she wanted to throw up.

My little brother also bolted into the room and he screamed.

FInally, my grandma came in and gagged.

She grabbed a pair of gloves from the garage and used them to throw out the rabbit paw. I lost my appetite which caused me to not eat for the whole day. Also I forgot to mention that I never found my Gameboy after that night.

I didn’t feel very safe that night, so I told my family to lock the doors this time. In the middle of the night, I hear a knock at the window.

Unfortunetly, the bed I was in was right next to the window so I was forced to look out of it. I saw Owen giving me this painfully wide smile. I didn’t know what to do at that moment, and I saw him try to open the window. After realizing it was locked, he stormed off and I still didn’t get any sleep that night. Four years later, I found out that Owen murdered someone who lived in the same state as me.

Everytime I remember what happened that night, I realize how close I was to getting murdered just like those unfortunate people. I haven’t told anyone outside of the internet about what happened that night, but I’m not planning on telling anyone

This guy followed me

This was around January 2016, so around the same time as now.

A little backstory first. So, I lived in the wealthier part of town, not much crime happened around there, maybe to occasional break-in, not much else. It’s usually pretty safe. At this time I was a pretty small girl around this time, as I was only 13, and I guess you could say I was the perfect person to stalk. I have two dogs, Stan, a British Pointer, who I was walking during the first encounter. The other one was Ollie, a black lab/English mastiff, and I was walking him the second occurrence.

So, the first occurrence, it was around 8:30 or 9, and I was walking home from jogging with my dog, Stan. It was already very dark, and the only light was the street lamps. I was pretty tired, so was my pup, since we were running. As I walk down the street I keep hearing footsteps, but I figured it was just from me and Stan, the sound bouncing off the houses and echoing. I keep hearing it but it doesn’t sound like us. I turn around, and there he is.

There’s a guy in a dark hoodie just walking behind me, about 15 feet behind. He was just strolling, his hood over his head. I thought he was just cold and trying to get home, the same as I. No problem right? Stan’s ear flick back, hearing the guy too. He kept looking back but I thought nothing of it. He has some problems as he’s a rescue, so I just thought he’s just being weird.

Well, each and every turn I take, down every road, he’s still following, keeping only about 15 feet between us. The road leading to my house is right there, but I pass it, I wasn’t going to lead this guy straight to my house. I speed up my pace, and he’s getting closer now. Stan starts growling, trying to turn around to warn the guy. But he still gets closer.

By then, I’m just thinking “Fuck it, I’m getting the hell out of here.” I start running as fast as I could down random streets, trying to lose the guy. I don’t know if he started running too, but after a few minutes, I stopped and turned around, and didn’t see him. I took another road home. My dogs usually sleep in my stepdad’s room with him, but my parents weren’t home, and they wouldn’t be for a few more days. I decided I would sleep upstairs in my room with both dogs with me, the gun safe in the room next to me.


A few months later, around April, I had forgotten about it, it never even really crossed my mind. I was walking with my other dog, Ollie, after just walking to the dog park to play a little. I left the dog park, and it was dark by now. I took a trail beside a creek to get there, and it never really had many people take that path. I’ve seen a few people walk on it but they were mostly just older women enjoying nature or some photographers. I took the trail back.

I hear crunching dirt behind me, and I thought it might have just been an animal or something. I’m pretty naive, I know. So, I continue hearing it, and it sounded just like footsteps. I look back and there he was, same hoodie and everything. He was closer behind me than last time, just only a few feet away. I remembered him now, and decided to just run then.

I started running, and Ollie thought it was play time again, as he’s not protective at all, or really that smart. He started jumping up at me, whilst I’m trying to run, causing me to trip a few times. After a minute, he understood it wasn’t play time. He began to run faster than I, almost dragging me. We ran off the path and onto the road. There were several different roads leading to my house, if you just take different streets, so i took one I never usually take, as it’s longer. I didn’t see him after we left the path, though.

My mom was home that night and I came home, sweating and pale. She chuckled, looking at me and asking “What’s wrong?”

I told her I just saw a big raccoon or something. If I told her, I would either not be believed or scolded and not be allowed to go out on that trail anymore. I didn’t sleep with the dogs that night, but I did take a large knife and slept with it under my pillow.

I don’t go out very much at night anymore, and if I do, I take both dogs at the same time, as they’d be more intimidating. I haven’t seen this guy anymore, and it’s been nearly a year since it happened, but i still take precautions. I still occasionally walk on the creek path, but never at night, and when there is people around.

I don’t want to think what might have happened if I didn’t have a dog with me. I wonder if he would have done more to me if I didn’t. Sometimes I also think I overreacted, maybe he was just trying to get home, and he lived close to me. Maybe it was all a coincidence, or much more sinister. Who knows?

Summer Time Salking

I’m currently a 54 year old single mother with two teenage kids. Over the decades I would say that I’ve acquired quite a few interesting stories from my youth. Unfortunately most of these such stories are not the friendliest. Many of them were shoved into my memory when someone I knew was stalking me.

I grew up in the city of London, Ontario, Canada from 1963 through to the early 90’s; however, if there was anything at all to say about London at the time; it would be that too many life threatening people lived there. From stalkers, to rapists, to serial killers; it was a dangerous place and it was wise to not get too friendly with anyone. Living a city like this all your life; you are bound to come across one or two of them. Unfortunate yes, but it was always like this.

I was about sixteen or seventeen, meaning the year was about 1979 or 1980. At this time it was summer and I started working at a truck stop and diner just a little ways away from London. It was half a mile away from my parents convenience store and my house. It was a lovely little establishment, as there were home cooked meals served everyday; and my boss was a wonderful lady who worked her ass off, although her husband was an absolute abusive knob head. There was about six of seven of us working there at the time, ten at most. I enjoyed working there for the first little bit as my boss and co workers were very kind to me, and overall it was an amazing job. The people who came in to eat seemed to enjoy the service; and my parents came on the Friday night when I was working for something to eat.

I only worked at this place for about a week or two, I actually quit due to a boy the same age as me that I will call Elliot for this story.

Elliot was a relatively attractive guy, tall, blonde hair blue eyes; basically Disney Prince material if he wasn’t such a huge nut case; but I didn’t know that at the time. He worked in the truck and bar area of the building, and out of the whole time I worked there, I only talked to him once. Although I suppose that was all the time he needed to figure out that I was his brand new obsession; which opened a can of worms that were endlessly dumped on my head for the next three years.

You see, during our conversation it was as if he went into a trance like state; he started going off about war and morbid topics in that area and if I’m being completely honest; that was more than enough to convince me to stay away from that guy. Not because he was talking about war; but because of how quickly he went off topic to our original conversation and how strange he acted whist in the trance like state. Alas; I wish I could say that’s where the story ended.

Like most jobs, phone numbers of each one of the staff members were posted on the wall inside the staff room, encase anyone ever needed a shift covered. I guess before I quit, Elliot wrote down my phone number because, just before I quit; I started to get strange phone calls from who I assumed at the time was him; back in the eighties you couldn’t track phone calls since they were landline phones; so I was pretty much screwed and couldn’t talk to the cops since I didn’t have evidence.

The things he would say on the phone to me are what I can only describe as disgusting and honestly made my skin crawl, it didn’t help that I would get a phone call every time I had seen him earlier on in the day. Even if I may not remember every call word for word, I can certainly remember the way the phone calls would start out. Nearly every one would start out with a mans heavy breathing. Now imagine being home alone, just relaxing after coming back from a day of shopping and picking up a ringing phone, only to hear heavy breathing. As a teenage girl, it is fair to say that it scared me shitless.

One of the first instances where it got really creepy, was when I was out at a bingo with my folks and a friend of mine.

At this time I was still working at the diner. My sisters daughter, who I grew up with, was working in my parents shop that night and I had told her if anyone called and asked for me; just tell them that I was out, and would be back later to get back to them.

The bingo when as normal as bingo in a city full of criminals, alcoholics, and farmers could go. My dad yelling about how stupid bingo was, my mom didn’t really give a fuck and just wanted to enjoy the game; and my friend and I were holding back the urge to yell at my dad for yelling at bingo. Believe it or not; it was actually quite fun.

As fun as the bingo was, on the drive home it was unavoidable that we’d have to drive past the area where Elliot lived. I just continued watching our surroundings when out of nowhere, Elliot appeared on his bike and acted as if he was going to head on collide with us. All of us knew he was fucked up, but I didn’t expect him to act suicidal like that. When I had got home, my niece explained that Elliot had called several times on end, wanting to talk to me; I suppose it was scarier that when he was on his bike; he was coming home from the direction of my house.

Long after I quit working at the diner, I was working with one of my friends at a kiosk restaurant in a Walmart that day; when my co worker spotted a man hiding in the racks of the ladies wear department, which was right across from us.

“That guy has been staring over here for quite some time now.” She told me, seeming skeptical yet a little scared. I had no clue what she was talking about until I turned to see Elliot hiding himself in the clothing racks of the ladies wear department, to say the least it was scary as hell and I felt like straight up puking, what was worse was that; since there was no buses going out to the area of London that I lived in, I had to thumb a ride home.

I ended up getting off early after explaining to my manager what was going on.

It wasn’t a surprise to me when I got yet another one of his calls; but I got a little angry when he started to talk. It was as if he hadn’t had a drink of water in days; his voice was so raspy you could hardly understand him; but nonetheless, I was pissed.

“You Slut” He growled darkly into the phone and began to call me other vulgar names. I really didn’t care for the guy but it seemed that I wasn’t going to lose him anytime soon. It was a week after when I lost my shit on him though.

Earlier that day, when I was working in my parents store; he came in. I recall him buying a drink for himself, like a pop or coffee.That evening, like every ‘normal’ phone call I got from him, it started off with heavy breathing before I budded in.

“Listen buddy, I know who you are, and I know where you live. Stop calling before I get the cops at your door, then, maybe we can see how you like being harassed” I shot to him. I really don’t think you could blame me for getting pissed off. At that point, it was already released to the public that this guy was a fucking werido. Near the end of his days, which I might add; were spent still stalking me, he was caught behind a local pub in downtown London with grenades with the intention of setting them off.

I felt like our conversation subject change the only time we ever thoroughly spoke to each other, connected to this event. Later on, the last day of his life and the last day of my fear of him; proved it to me loud and clear.

He had been shooting at a bunch of low rent townhouses in the area, most likely aiming to kill someone.

According to records, he nearly killed a baby in its crib that day. A police standoff would have happened, but the law knew better than to all of a sudden stand off to a insane young adult such as him. Though their wait was short lived when they heard a gunshot; he had shot himself in the chest. Speculations after he died were whether or not he suffered for the shot.

Despite the three years I was tormented by this kid, there is one thing about his death that makes me a little sad to think about. Almost no one went to his funeral.

After almost four decades, I haven’t thought of those three years all that much.

I moved way out west to British Columbia, and I haven’t been back to Ontario at all since 2003 when my dad passed. Of course it has had its ups and downs, but I now have two beautiful kids, I have gotten in touch with a few of my old Ontario buddies as well. I grew up with stressful situations, but I guess for me; looking back forty years later; it has really been somewhat of a learning experience for me.

Ordeal with my Ex

I am a female. In 2015, I was in my first year in college. That summer after graduating from high school, I broke up with my first serious boyfriend. It was long distance and lasted about a year and a half. I was the typical, newly-single college girl who had used dating apps like OkCupid to meet new people and go on dates. After having met a few unmemorable people, or people that just didn’t click with me, I met my next boyfriend. For this story, we will call him Bruce.

I had met Bruce on OkCupid, and at first he seemed nice. Cliché, I know, but I notice many people start out like that when you meet them as they just want to make a good first impression. He certainly did, and it pulled me in like a fly approaching a spider’s web. Our first date consisted of walking in the downtown area of our city, and because of the time of year, it was tourist season for this particular city, so we grabbed a bite to eat at a pizza joint away from all the hustle and bustle of the autumn festivities. It was also pretty cold. When we got to a major city landmark by the water, we shared our first kiss. Looking back, I pretended to like it – I felt like his nose was dripping on me. I looked past that, and that same night, we made it official.

I know it sounds ridiculous, why would I become official with someone I only knew for one night? I was dumb and naïve. Little did I know this would start a crazy shitstorm until February 2016. So, at first, he seemed kind and nice to me, but by the time I had to leave for holiday break, a new side of him began to show itself. My home was a half hour or so from my university, so this made it impossible to visit Bruce, let alone any of my college friends, for the time being. I didn’t have a car or my license, so I couldn’t drive. Taking a taxi or an Uber would have been very expensive round-trip. I actually had a stomach bug just before leaving my dorm for break, so I was stuck in there until the last day we were allowed to be in our rooms. Bruce had brought me saltines and ginger ale, which was nice of him, but he was very hot and cold about wanting to see me. In one breath, he told me he wanted to see me and take care of me. The next minute, he told me “I don’t want to catch something.” This (what I called) “Jekyll-and-Hyde” business became more and more prominent as time went on. From about late December on, Bruce would change his tone with me every other hour. He would at first be all happy and tell me how beautiful I was and just be flirty over messaging. The next hour, he would be angry and explosive for no reason, even went as far as blowing up my phone if I didn’t answer right away. He would text me even if he was at work.

Things got worse after we became intimate for the first time that January, just after New Year’s. My parents agreed to take me all the way to his house to spend the night. We ended up “doing it” that night, and I happened to be a virgin. As expected, it was a really bad experience. Not just because I was nervous, but because he was having trouble getting it up. It was around this time Bruce’s troubling behavior peaked, and he became obsessive, and even delusional, about me and our relationship. He would want to see me every night, come hell or high water. I remember one occasion, I was out in the snow at night waiting for him to come and walk to his house from my dorm, which was relatively close. If I wanted a night to myself or with some friends, he would make me feel guilty somehow and I still would end up being with Bruce for the evening. I remember sending him selfies in the morning after my makeup for a day of classes was done. Instead of appreciating it, he would tell me things like, “who are you wearing makeup for? You’re all dressed up just for class.” He said this suspiciously, and I reminded him that I always wore makeup to class. He would remark to me, “you won’t wear it for me, yet you’ll wear it for complete strangers.” Which was not at all true. Makeup has always made me feel presentable and confident, as it does many females. Yes, by that point, I wasn’t really wearing makeup to his house anymore to see him, but that’s because I just didn’t feel like it. It was nighttime when we saw each other, and I was in comfortable clothes by that point and too tired to do it.

I had Instagram and it was actually around this time that I made Facebook for the first time. I had many friends from campus on it just for the sake of having friends, as well as thousands of Instagram followers – I no longer have Instagram for personal use, for the record, but not because of Bruce. Some of these people in Instagram were guys, and also friends of mine. They would comment on my pictures or like them, and I was fine with it. I didn’t see anything wrong with it. They all knew I had a boyfriend at that point, which is why I didn’t worry. Bruce, on the other hand, asked me on several occasions: “who is so and so?”, “who is this liking your picture?” “I don’t want so and so commenting on your pictures”, “why do you answer these people, you don’t know them and I’m your boyfriend.” On Facebook, Bruce decided to pick on one person on my friends list who happened to be a guy, who at the time I did not know or speak to, and accuse me of having a quote on quote “secret thing” with said person. One thing is for sure, I am not a cheater; never have been, and never will be. I know that Bruce was aware of this fact, but was extremely insecure about it. I told him to stop, when he had been accusatory a few times toward me. He’d have a Jekyll-and-Hyde episode, being explosive and verbally abusive, and then an hour later, acting like nothing happened. When I told him that he should owe me an apology for his behavior, he did not see anything wrong with it, or felt he was justified just because he was the first person I was intimate with.

To mask the verbal and emotional abuse he put on me, he would get us dinners or buy me jewelry if we went downtown. If he noticed I wasn’t wearing a piece of jewelry he had gotten me when I sent him a selfie or was around him, he would act offended by it. At the time, him doing these things made me forget about his behavior, but again, that was me being stupid and naïve. Around the point where it was 3 months into the relationship, he told me he loved me, and mentioned stuff about marrying me and having children. I can see why two people would talk about that stuff, in order to understand what each other expects from a relationship, but 3 months is a bit too early to be talking about it as seriously as he did.

It was early February when things got really bad. His outbursts over text messages became more inflammatory, accusing me of making him mad over the smallest things. We fought almost every day, more than a married couple would in their life together. My own mother even noticed his behavior. I had also quit smoking cigarettes by this point, which I had only smoked for four months before it became a habit, and he was even angry at me for quitting. Things like me smoking either cigarettes or weed in front of him, or me clearing my throat, aroused him sexually. This was incredibly weird, but thought past it because, again, I was naïve. When I told him I may have needed throat surgery (which I ended up having), he got all defensive and even mad about it, saying “you don’t need to, I don’t see why you should”… even when I told him about the issue causing me to need it in the first place. I knew it was because it aroused him. I also quit smoking for my health. It was just before my 19th birthday that he called me, having drank, and he was in a bad mood. I was upset on the phone, and he heard me in tears. I forget exactly why he was upset, but it was another ridiculous thing that he exploded over. Soon after that, I got on the phone with my mother, who told me that it would be best if I left Bruce. So… I did it. I texted him saying we are over.

From there, it went downhill. He begged me nonstop for another chance, and that he would see a therapist. Because I take promises seriously, and he did promise to get help for his behavior, I foolishly gave him another chance the next day, after having unfriended him on everything only to get him back on social media all over again. Bruce, once he had me back, got very angry with me for breaking up with him and getting him off all my social media: “I can’t believe you did that,” and “you make me feel like a psychopath.” I told him why, and from there, we were together another week before I finally ended it for good. The last straw was this: we had been intimate on the night of my birthday, and during the act, he asked me “why can’t I cum in you?” I told him that I could not risk getting pregnant because I was in school. He pushed at a very hard, fast pace, and I needed to tell him I was in paid to get him off me. It wasn’t a lie; being intimate with him was often horrible, and he was very selfish. I was afraid he actually was going to do it [finish inside me] even though I explicitly said no. He got off, put on his clothes, and played on his phone passive-aggressively. This night resulted in me going back home that same weekend so I could see my doctor. Over the few days between that night and my doctor’s visit, I began to feel symptoms, particularly a dull pain in the middle of my abdomen. I suspected that I had an infection in my bladder, and sure enough, the doctor diagnosed it. I told Bruce this, and that it was from that night and him being too hard on me, and he said this: “you act like I injured you”. That was the last straw. I broke up with him that same day, and he begged and begged for me to take him back but I just was not having it. I blocked his phone number and on all social media I could manage, but on Snapchat, when I had it, I had forgotten to do so and found a message that said something along the lines of: “I can’t believe you, you hurt me so badly, I gave you all my love and this is how you treat me. Thanks so much for teaching me this life lesson.” I still wasn’t fazed – I blocked him.

I wish I could say this was all over, but it wasn’t. I remember looking at my call logs for the month following, which was March, and by the end of it, 6 blocked calls were made by Bruce. I even had voice messages saying: “can we talk? I miss you.” It was bothersome, but I was glad he could not text me. In May, I wanted to ensure he was blocked on my Messenger app for Facebook, so due to some technical issue, I had to unblock him only to block him again for it to be effective. During the 48 hour grace period, as you can’t block someone on Facebook only to block them again right away, guess who messages me? Bruce.

I read it, and it says something along the lines of: “hey, I hope you’re doing well, you’re such a good person” and it just sounded redundant. He used the same phrasing for the same meaning over and over. I told him, “how did you find me?” He said back, “on People You May Know.” I didn’t answer. I knew he was deliberately looking for me on Facebook. I’m glad to say by the end of the wait for 48 hours, I was done and was able to fully block him.

I hadn’t heard from him at all for about a year. Fast forward to May of 2017. Around this time, I have repurposed my Instagram, with the thousands of followers, into one for my business which I will not name for privacy. By this point, I have had a serious boyfriend for quite some time. I get a direct message on my Instagram, and thinking it is relating to business, I look to see who it is from. You guessed it – Bruce. I don’t know how he could have found me on there when I had blocked him, but it turns out, he made a new account. I didn’t even tap it to read it, as it gave me the option to Accept or Decline the message. I declined and blocked it. I have not heard from Bruce since, and I really don’t wish to.

So… Bruce… let’s never meet again. Also, never try to contact me again. It’s all in vain.

The man at the bus stop

this only happened acouple days ago,well only about 9. you see i’m a 16 year old girl that the guys would call very pretty and i have a very nice body. for I do work out and try to keep my face clear.

I’m only 5’4 with dark blood red hair with bright blue eyes, and my hair goes past my butt. i’m not every strong so its pretty easy to take me down if your a male. but before i go more into the story i have to say i’m a sassy little thing and don’t take nothing for anyone.

and i have a natrul bitch face so alot of people don’t mess with me.

But for some reason nun of this worked on this was man i seen at my bus stop one day. I live in a small town and everyone knows me andi know everyone but i have never in my life seen this man.

i was walking to the bus stop looking down at my phone scrolling on instagram when i bumpped into someone. it was the man he looked to be in about his 20’s and he was very handsome man. he had large muscles and a very sharpe jaw line his eyes where green and his hair was black.

I told him i was sorry but all he did was raise his hand and say “It’s nothing its my fault for standing in a pretty little gems way” his eyes just sharpened at me and he looked at me the way he said it sent a chill up and down my spine.

i just stepped away and put my earbuds in and waited for the bus.

when it came we both got on and out of all the seats that where empty he sat right next to me . his shoulder touching mine and everytime i moved over so did he. the day past and i didn’t see him i kinda forgot all about him and he wasn’t on the bus for the ride home. but on my way home there was a man in all black standing by the corner of my street not moving. i had my pepper spray ready just incase. but when he seen me getting closer he left. later that night i got a friends request on my instagram and you could tell that this user just made there pf and i was the first person and only person they followed. so i accepted and then they started liking all my post and putting hearts under my post.

i had no idea who it was till they commented what a pretty little gem under one. and i knew who it was i blocked him because i dont do the stalking stuff. the next day i got a ride to school form my boyfriend that i have been with for two years. later that day while i was at my locker i heard my name come out of a mouth and said by a voice that sounded angry but was trying not to show it.

i turned and seen him he was standing there with the look of hate in his eyes. he kinda pushed me up to my locker and said”who is that man you where with” he started getting louder and more rough “who is he why was you with him” he started pushing my head to my locker but i said before i dont take nothing from no one.

so i punched him in the face and his nose started to bleed.

all i did was say fuck off and i shut my locker and left. looking at my hand i had some of his nose blood on it and went to the bathroom and washed my hands. i came out to see my boyfriend lets call him max.

Max was pissed and was yelling at me saying”so your cheating now yeah i found out aboout him” i just looked at him with a bumd face on what the hell are you talking about max is what i said back he then explained that a biy he never seen before came up and told him everything about the sex and the nudes and him staying over at night. i was shocked and at this point crying i thought i was gonna losse him untill i told him everything about that new guy i didn;t even know his name. and now max was even more pissed and hugged me and said he was so sorry and kissed my forhead. when i layed my head on max’s chest i turned my head to see that guy looking around the lockers. i spent the night with max and i didnt see him at school the next day. and boy was i glad but later i had to go to work and he was there. he was at my work and noone else but another girl was there. he looked at me and never stopped so being the little sassy thing i am i gave him the two fuck you fingers and all he did was lick his lips. you fucking perv is all i said but what he said was the most creepest thing out of this how story “you and max had a fun night last night” now me and max didn’t do anything lastnight all we did was watch a movie and fall asleep but how did he know i was at max’s place.

I texted max to come pick me up for my shift was almost over “Stop texting him he don’t love you ” is what this man said but i said nothing and acted like i didn’t hear him he then stood up and came over to the counter. can i help you sir is all i said as he opened his mouth “i dont see your number on the menu” i rolled my eyes and looked at the other girl that was working she could tell how i felt and just took over his order. max then pulled up and as i got ready to go out to him. that man was out there talking to max. and max just looked at me and the girl pulled me back “he has a pocketknife” is all she said wheni seen max get out of the car and stood in front of the man. i ran outside and pushed him and told him to leave me alone that he was a creep. thats when he pulled out the knife. thats when max picked me up and put me in the car which kinda made me mad because he knows it makes me feel small when he does it. the girl i was working with called the cops and he tried to stab max but max grabbed his arm and punched him in the face knocking him out. i left and me and max moved in together and i have no idea what happened to him and i quit my job and got a new one. i guess all i could say is that i never even got his name and i hope i never see him again because if i do i’m gonna kick him where the sun don’t shine