I have an Instagram account with about 11 hundred followers. I had it set to public so anyone could go on my page and look at my pictures, like them and comment on them. So often times I'd get people I didn't know liking my photos and/or commenting on them. But one person stood out from the rest. . . I remember his first comment on one of my photos. It was a beach picture with one of my friends, and I was wearing a swimsuit. I had, like, 11 comments on it. But 1 of them was from someone I didn't know. It was 3 flame emojis. . . I clicked the man's profile. He had 3 pictures, 80 followers and was following over 200 people, including me. All 3 pictures were of him, selfies, which didn't look right given that he was maybe 40 or 50. I didn't mind though, it's expected to happen up to a certain extent. However, after that, it started becoming a thing as to where the man would comment on every new photo I posted. One just said, "hot." This one was a little creepy honestly. But then 2 days later after posting my next picture, the man didn't comment this time. Instead, he sent me a direct message. It said, "hey, I just wanted to tell you that you're beautiful, even tho I'm like 30 yrs older than u, lol." I responded, "lol thanks." Which. . . I'm surprised I did. Most people would have probably ignored it. He got back to me with, "I would kill to meet a girl like you." I replied 10 minutes later with "thanks" hoping he wouldn't say anything else. But. . . He got back to me with "maybe I'll meet you in real life some day. . Lol" I didn't reply go that one. I found everything about the guy creepy. But I didn't block him. I figured 'why get rid of a free follower and likes?' I hadn't heard from him until I posted a new photo. This of my sister Carol and I in front of my house. The man commented quickly on this photo saying, "you and your sister are so cute." NOW it was becoming too much for me. So I removed the comment and blocked him. Later in the day, me and Carol were home alone. I was in the bathroom doing my nails and getting ready to go out. I noticed a car I didn't recognize pull up in front of the house through the window. But only the front, the back of the car was blocked by the bush separating our front yard from the neighbors.' The headlight shut off, but I didn't see anyone get out of the car. I took note of this only because we live on a dead end block, so we don't get any through traffic. I shut the blinds just because I was on full display. My sister was in her room, on her laptop when it was time for me to leave. I didn't bother saying good-bye. Usually we just text each other saying we're leaving or going out anyways. I went to my car, looking at the mysterious car which appeared to be a black Maxima. The tinted windows mixed with the darkness of the night made it impossible to see inside of it. I got in my car, made a 3 point turn and drove down the one way street to the nearest main road. I went to a social gathering at a friend's house. I wouldn't call it a party, but a decent amount of drinking went on. I cut myself off a little early since I knew I had to drive. But, still, I'll admit and I don't usually condone this kind of behavior what-so-ever: I was pretty tipsy when I was driving home. It was only a 5 minute drive though. I pulled up to the house and the first thing I noticed. . . Was the Maxima still parked out front. I needed to know whose car that was! I passed it slowly but still couldn't see inside of it. I parked and texted a few friends that I made it home safely before walking up to my house. I was eyeing that car all the way up to the front door, where I dropped my keys. At, for which point I was too scared to bend over and look for them. Instead I rang the doorbell like 5 times and hoped my sister would answer it quickly. She never answered the door though. . . So I was forced to get down on my knees and look for the keys. They actually landed right on the doormat. I opened the door and went inside pretty swiftly, taking one last look at the Maxima before shutting the door. It was past midnight, but my sister was usually up this late. So I dizzily walked up the stairs towards her bedroom door. And, oddly enough, it was wide open, but the lights were out. Maybe she went out for once. I crept into the room and my heart skipped a beat as my mind tried to put together the faint noise I was hearing. It took me a while to realize it was a whisper. The whisper of my sister. . . Was coming from the closet. The closet was slightly open, and I saw my sister peeping her eyes through the crack. She was visibly shaken and appeared go be crying. I knelt down next to her and opened the closet all the way, whispering "What's going on?" She didn't say anything though. She just kept putting her finger on her lips telling me to be quiet. I tugged at her arm to pull her our of the closet. And when she was out, I pushed the closet shut quietly. This revealed my sister again, as well as somebody clear as day standing direct center in the middle of my sister's room. I don't know if he was facing us or not, but that didn't matter because we both wailed as we ran together. I felt the vibration of the man stomping after us close behind us. We got into my car and I was able to lock the doors without even a second to spare when the man chasing us tried the door handle. When he realized it was locked, he started bashing at the window with his shoulder while my sister was screaming and crying, making the situation worse. Through the intensity of the situation, I still was able to make the connection. It was the same man who had been stalking me on Instagram. I had to do a 3 point turn, while honking the horn and trying to get as much attention as possible from the neighbors.' I think it worked because he got in his car, which turned out to be the Maxima, and did a 3 point turn as well. At first we thought he was tailing us, but instead he booked it past us and turned down a different street never to be seen again. At that point we just turned around and went back to the house. I called our parents and then the police. The police were able to figure out how the man broke in: Through the upstairs window. He climbed up the ladder, onto the yawning and boosted himself up onto the window sill. I told the police about how he was stalking me on Instagram and that he somehow found my address when I posted my most recent picture with my sister, which included my house number. I tried to help them by giving them the man's Instagram account but when I went into my blocked account section, it was empty! That meant that the man already deleted his Instagram. Therefore, even if there is a way for them to track down deleted users, it didn't matter, because I didn't remember the man's username. So, I hate to say it, but there was nothing the police could do. And I knew it. I've since then set my Instagram account to private and only accept follower requests from people I know. I'm also a lot more paranoid and wary of posting some revealing photos.
