Doors have locks for a reason, folks! And despite the fact that most people know their assailants personally, these 9 stories are damn good reason to make double sure you’ve locked the house up tonight:
#1. “There was only one window in the house…”
Just to give you some background information, I am a 29 year-old female, and this happened to me 4 years ago. My family lived on a farm in rural, Western Australia in a modest-looking wooden farmhouse.
My son and I lived here alone most of the time, while my husband worked on rotation up north on the mines.
We had no neighbours, no mobile phone reception and very little connection with the outside world with the exception of the television.
There was only one window in the house, situated above my bed in the bedroom. It was a small old wooden framed window with no curtains. However the window was completely jammed, and as much as I had tried to close it, there was about 2 inches of opening near the bottom of the window frame.
My husband and I had spent a while trying to oil the hinges and loosen it up the day before he left to go to work again, but we gave up as it wasn’t a huge issue at the time…
Fast forward to a couple of nights later, I am standing in front of the television doing the ironing and watching ‘Sex and the City’ reruns while my son is asleep in my bed.
As I walk up the hallway to enter the laundry to grab another load of washing, I pass my bedroom and pop my head in to check on my son.
My heart stops.
The window frame above my bed is shuffling from side to side, my eyes scan down, and what I see next will never leave my mind again.
There were two hands squeezed through the gap of my window trying to lift up the jammed frame.
I screamed the house down, grabbed my son, grabbed the phone, locked myself in the bathroom, and called the police.
I’d hate to think what would have happened if I wouldn’t have been walking past my bedroom at that exact moment…
#2. Time to move out…really, go.
About three years ago, I moved to London. I was looking for a flatmate, but had no luck. I turned to my friend, Marcus. After a week or two, Marcus and I moved in together. After we moved in, he put some of his stuff in storage so that he could make room for me in his flat.
When I moved in, everything was fine and well.
Fast forward about a year.
I went to get some stuff out of the storage locker that Marcus put his stuff in. As I opened the door, an absolutely RANK scent hit me like a bat. I switched the light on, saw a couple old boxes and a couch.
I was looking for the source of the smell, but I couldn’t find it. I grabbed what I came for, and left before I could vomit.
Now, fast forward to about a month ago.
I went back to the storage unit to get something else, and the smell was even worse than before. I had to hold my nose as I walked into the storage unit. I saw an open box, and I decided to look into it.
I found stuffed animals. Like, dead animals that were stuffed. I looked into the box under that one, and I found rotting animals.
I was competently disgusted, so I went to Marcus to confront him. As I walked into the flat, I shouted “MARCUS, YOU SICK FUCK. WHY ARE THERE DEAD ANIMALS IN OUR STORAGE LOCKER?!”
He came out of his room and sat me down on the couch. He told me that he wanted to be completely honest with me, and he told me that he was into necrophilia.
Let’s just say that now I’m moved in with my parents.
#3. “Always lock your car doors.”
I was driving home from work at 2 am. I’m a nurse, and I live in a small city. The roads were totally deserted, and it was a freezing night.
I don’t live far from work, maybe a couple of miles. I’m driving down a residential street around the corner from my house, and I see a man laying face down in the street.
Now remember, I’m a nurse. My first thought was “Great, gotta help this guy up.” I was coming off a long shift and falls happen all the time. As I slowed down the car, I suddenly realized what an idiot move that was. I’m a 100 lb woman, and I don’t carry any weapons.
I thought I should do something to help the guy, so I called 911 as I drove past him and slowed to a stop at the end of the block. While I was stopped at the light I explained to the dispatcher that there was a man in the road who might need assistance.
All of a sudden I hear a loud BANG! BANG! from the driver’s side window. I screamed and looked over. A man was pounding on my window and jiggling the handle of my locked car.
I looked in the rear-view mirror and saw that there was no man laying in the street. Still on the phone with 911, I screamed “I’M SO SCARED!” to the dispatcher and floored it through the red light. I quickly told him what had happened and even though I was right by my house, he told me to keep driving. After a few minutes I had calmed down, and he told me to loop back around.
I pulled over down the road from my house and stayed in the car. I didn’t see the man anywhere, so I got off the phone with the dispatcher who told me he was sending a police car to cruise the area.
As I gather up my things, I do a final scan of the area, and I see the man. He is walking with two other men. I hunched way down in my car until they were far down the road, then bolted into my house.
I don’t know if he had ill-intent, but it freaks me the hell out that he wasn’t alone.
ALWAYS LOCK YOUR CAR DOORS.
And carry mace.
#4. “Stay at least 3 yards behind her…”
I live in a semi-sketchy town in the Pacific Northwest. About two blocks from where I live, there’s this bridge over the ocean, (with a little beach), where a lot of crime takes place. Lots of things like bodies being found there, rapes, etc.
So I got off the bus that takes me to this bridge (it’s the closest bus stop to my apartment), and three teenage boys cross the street towards where I am.
I cross the street away from them to get to my building.
They cross back.
I thought that was weird but whatever. I start taking this narrow path up the beach towards another street, and they’re following me. I pick up the pace and glance over my shoulder. I’m a 21-year-old woman and these guys looked maybe 16 but I’m 5’4 and pretty skinny, so I’m doing that thing that a lot of women do when they think perhaps they’re being followed and weigh the odds of fighting them.
This path I’m taking is fucking desolate, and no-one’s around, but there’s still some light out, and I was glancing over my shoulder as they were filling the gap between us.
I couldn’t be totally sure they were following me until I heard one boy say, “Stay at least 3 yards behind her or she’ll notice.”
When I turn the corner out of sight, I sprint behind a hedge and wait for them to head out once they realize they lost me. I text my boyfriend that I’m being followed, and he agrees to leave work early to meet me where I am, just in case.
They turn the corner just then, and I realize the middle one, the tallest and possibly oldest, has a fucking knife on him.
I hear one of them say something like “She’s probably on the street over there,” and they leave.
My boyfriend meets me soon after. I’m so glad they didn’t figure out that I lived right there.
#5. Check those beds…
This incident happened to my mum before she had me over 20 years ago..
She worked at a local pub, and the pub mainly catered for fisherman, as the town is on the coast of Western Australia. So, she knew most of the people who would come in for drinks or a feed.
However, every now and again, people from town would come in. She told me one bloke used to come in who she’d known from house parties around the place and always wanted to talk to her while she was working, and she would say sorry and keep doing her thing.
One night she finished work around midnight and started walking home, which was a few kilometers away.
She lived with a few house-mates who were blokes, all good mates. When she got home from her shift, she decided to have a shower. Making her way back to her room, she realized her door was open which is normally shut.
All the fellas were asleep, so she blew it off as wind or something. She laid down in bed to go to sleep but something didn’t feel right and for reasons she cant explain to me, she felt the need to look under her bed.
What she saw under the bed was the bloke from the bar who had followed her all the way from her work.
She tells me that she just stared at him for ages and he didn’t move, not even a breath, to the point that she thought he was dead. She calmly went out of the room to one of the guys’ rooms to tell them she had a dead bloke under her bed.
They raced in with baseball bats to find the guy half way out the window.
He managed to escape and run away. The police were called, and because they all knew who he was, the cops picked him up the next day.