Let's Not Meet~ Reddit Horror Stories

My Dad Almost Sacrificed Himself For Me

This memory of mine begins about 3 years ago when I graduated high school. I had grown up with my grandparents but decided to move to a different (and much larger) city to live with my dad for the first time in 12 years. I somewhat knew the city already because I spent my summers with him, but this would be the first time I would have the freedom of an adult. To come and go as I pleased, drive my car anywhere, smoke cigarettes whenever I wanted! I was excited (though sad to leave all my friends).

As soon as I was settled in my dad and stepmom sat me down to discuss the few rules and what I needed to know about the complex. Basic things like go wherever you want, but let us know when you leave/when you're coming back. (Even if it's 2 AM). Oh, and you'll have to park on the street because the apartment complex has limited parking.

"One more thing. There's the neighborhood creep."

This guy, George, was well known to all the women in the complex as well as the police that patrolled the area. He was tall and fairly huge, very intimidating looking. My parents were pretty certain that he would leave me alone for one reason: my dad.

Though George had a habit of stalking other women in the complex, he would stop and find a new target if they had a man make a show of being in their place. A brother, a lover, or a father. It didn't matter what he was to the woman or what he looked like. George would back off immediately. Since I lived with my dad who is also quite tall and rather big—read: intimidating—I felt also confident that I would be alright.

And I was. For a time.

It started about 6 months after I moved in. My stepmom and dad were fighting a lot more until she got up and left him. One night I was sitting on my porch having a cigarette and browsing Facebook or whatever. I wish I could say that I felt like I was being watched, but I probably just looked up because I felt a bug or something.

George was standing about 15 feet away, a little bit behind a tree, staring intently at me. I nearly dropped my cigarette. Shakily, I stubbed it out and went inside. I was home alone, so I made sure to lock all my doors and then played a video game in my room. I told myself that I was probably just paranoid.

The next morning I got up for my morning cigarette and coffee. Lo and behold, minutes after I got onto my porch, George came ambling out of his apartment to look my way. I sucked down my cigarette and went back inside.

This pattern continued for a couple weeks. It was like George stood at his sliding glass door peeking out, waiting to see when I would pop out. I told my dad about it, and he tried to sit with me whenever I went to smoke. If he came with me, George wouldn't even peep a head out of his door.

Of course, the other women in the complex have already tried to call police about George. But he lives in the complex and staring isn't a crime, so there wasn't much they could do. I didn't know how far George had taken it with other women before. With that info in my mind, I knew calling wouldn't be much use.

Things slowly escalated. Once my stepmom left, I had access to her parking spot. So I had 3 ways to get from my car to my apartment depending on how I parked. 1 of the ways went just past George's apartment, about 5 feet from his door. Since I got off work late most nights, I avoided that route as much as possible. Slowly but surely—like he memorized my schedule—he would be on one of the paths when I was coming home. Not directly on the concrete, but a few feet away on the grass. "Behind" a tree.

It was like he thought I couldn't see him? Picture a child hiding very terribly behind a tree. You can see 90% of their body and you know that they are there. That's how he would do it. I would rush past him, avoid eye contact, but prepare to scream if I heard him come after me. I started to carry my keys between my fingertips. I bought a pocket knife and I would walk from my car with it halfway open already, even though I've never been in any kind of fight in my life.