A
few years ago, I was at one of the lowest points in my life. My wife had left me, so
I was alone, heartbroken and depressed. I don't have many friends, so I had nowhere
to go. I would just walk around stores for hours so I wouldn't have to be at home by
myself thinking about how shitty my life was. I very nearly committed suicide on more than
one occasion but somehow talked myself out of it.
During this time, I happened across an adult webcam site that I would hang out on, not
only for the obvious reason, but also because you could actually chat with people. Eventually
I started broadcasting myself. If you've never been to one of these sites,
think Twitch but with nudity. People can view your cam, tip you and subscribe to be notified
when you're online. I didn't have many people in my room at first, but eventually I started
getting a few anonymous viewers, and it was kind of exciting that someone was watching
me. Before long, I was up to a dozens of viewers and some subscribers. I even started getting
some tips and making a little money doing something that, let's face it, I was gonna
do every evening anyway. It was mostly guys watching me of course, but although I'm straight,
it didn't bother me too much. It gave me people to talk to at least. I would however get females,
or at least guys saying they were female, from time to time.
Eventually a girl named Brit started stopping by regularly. She was different than most
of the people I'd met on the site because she actually seemed interested in talking
to me and I of course enjoyed the attention. Whenever she'd stop by, the whole room would
become a lot more fun. We started private messaging and I even made her a moderator
for my room. She asked me if I had KiK, which at the time I'd never even heard of, but she
explained it was a texting app that you don't have to give out your number to use. So we
started chatting offline using it. We would talk for hours , I found out she
lived halfway across the country, which I actually liked because there would be no pressure
to meet in person right away. We sent pictures (she was very attractive) and at some point
began sexting with one another. Even though I doubted much would ever really come of it,
it was great for me because it gave me someone to talk to and it was really helping me rebuild
my shattered self esteem and confidence. This went on for a few months and eventually
we started talking less and less. I had kind of expected that this wasn't going to go anywhere
so it didn't bother me when she stopped responding altogether. I had never held any illusions
that this was going to be a long term relationship. I figured she had found someone real near
her and decided that someone she could actually be with was better than a long distance fling
with someone she'd never met in person. It was fine, by this point I had met a few girls
myself, so I wasn't too upset. I did miss chatting with her sometimes because I had
really enjoyed talking to her and she'd been there for me during a pretty dark time.
Anyway, I went on with my life and started dating someone and we ended up going on a
trip to the beach together. A couple of days after I got back, I got a message from Brit
asking if I was in Florida. Wtf? How would she know I was in Florida? I said no, but
I had been there last week. She said she was there now and we must've just missed each
other. We talked for a bit, she asked me where I had stayed and told me she was just down
the street from that hotel. When I told her that I had been there with someone, she got
pretty upset and then stopped messaging me again. I was a little confused and more than
a little weirded out that she had known where I had been, but I didn't think too much of
it. I told myself it must've just been a strange coincidence and forgot about it.
Then things took a turn for the worse. A few weeks later I get another message from Brit
late at night after my girlfriend had gone to sleep. "Who the fuck is SHE?!" I had no
idea how to respond to her. I asked her wtf she was talking about and she went on to describe
my girlfriend and ask me why I thought I could get away with cheating on her.
I was literally floored. Not only had I never been in an actual relationship with Brit,
I had never even met her in person. On top of that, she had stopped speaking to me for
months and now suddenly she knew what my girlfriend looked like and was accusing me of cheating
on her. I expressed all this to her and then asked
her how she knew what my girlfriend looked like, thinking she was facebook stalking me
or something. Her reply made my jaw drop and felt like somebody had just tossed a brick
into the pit of my stomach. "Because I can see her in your fucking bed."
I immediately closed the blinds and checked the house and made sure the doors and windows
were locked. I told her that we had never been in a relationship and that we were most
definitely not in one now. I asked her to please leave me alone and not contact me again.
She just responded "LOL" and a smily face. It was at this point that I noticed the light
on my webcam was on. She had somehow hacked into my computer and turned my fucking webcam
on. I unplugged it and threw it in the closet. Brit then sent me another message, "Awww!
You're no fun anymore." I reiterated that this was unacceptable, I did not want to talk
to her again and that if she didn't leave me alone I would contact the police. Then
I blocked her from every form of communication I had ever used with her and uninstalled KiK.
The next day I had my cable company change my IP address and I haven't heard from her
since, but I'm still paranoid that this isn't over.
So I'm a Paramedic in the southern United States. I have been involved in emergency
medical services and the volunteer fire service since I was a senior in high school - so at
the point this story was told, 7 years of it. In that time, I had seen some really strange
and frightening events - some of which I couldn't explain.
I was also aware that I had a lot of exposure to violence - both towards my patients, and
towards myself. I've been punched, kicked, bitten, plowed through by mental patients
trying to get out of an involuntary hold, cut, and even stabbed with a used needle by
a jerk who didn't like I took his blood for the police after a DUI accident. But this
incident was by far the most disturbing. Not only for what happened to me, and could have
happened to my partner, but for the events that preceeded it and the fact that seemingly
nothing was done after. In November 2011, I was working for a very
large, nationally renown ambulance company for which I no longer work for. While I won't
name the company, I will say that they will cease to exist in 30 days because of a merger
with another very large, nationally renown ambulance company. We had the contract to
provide 911 service for a predominantly rural county in Western Tennesse, and it was a fun
gig. One call a day usually, and usually really sick or injured patients - the kind of stuff
you love being a Paramedic for. Lots of drug and domestic violence-related calls as well.
That night, it was particularly miserable, rainy, and just dark. The local 911 office
had recieved a call about an assault, and now the deputies were calling for us to come
assist them. The call came out as a "woman down, unresponsive", and we flipped on our
lights and sirens and headed that way. Paramedics generally work with an EMT, and mine that
night was a woman about my age, and six months (obviously) pregnant. Alex, as we'll call
her, was about 5'2, incredibly non-threatening, and not a very pushy person. I'm 5'7", at
that time maybe 180, and I'm not a type A personality at all - introverted and kind
of a goofball. Not overtly a take charge, authoritarian guy. I often joke that if I'm
serious about something, something has gone terribly wrong.
As we arrived there, I immediately knew something was very off. This was an older neighborhood,
dating back to before WWII. The house was an old "shotgun style" house, where the rooms
are directly behind one another. So the living room would empty into a kitchen which would
empty into a bedroom. If a door was shut, the rest of the house was an unknown. The
lights were off, other than the light from the blue strobes of the cop cars. There was
a deputy at the door, who said she was in the living room, but the deputies were all
at their cars about 50 yards away on the main road. No one was doing first aid. The deputy
said that the husband had said he had came home and found his wife laying face down on
the floor and called the police. He said he knew his brother did it. The deputy warned
me the husband seemed drunk - and then, vanished. Back to his car. As we walk in, we see no
one around - no husband - which should have immediately raised a red flag. We found the
woman laying between a couch and a living room table, and a recliner in the corner.
The door to - wherever - was closed. But we went to work on the woman. She was
beaten to a pulp - her nose deformed, her scalp was split open, and she was unconscious.
She had areas of bruising all over her, some in various stages (Another red flag). But
there was work to do, and we set about stabilizing the woman and beginning the process of starting
an IV and placing a neck collar to immobilize her.
In our distracted state, we hadn't noticed the man step out of the bathroom. I had just
placed the collar and an oxygen mask, and was listening to her breath sounds, when I
heard the distinct click of a breakdown shotgun and footsteps. My partner was at the door
with her back turned to get the stretcher off the porch, and I stood up straight to
come face to chest with a nearly six foot two man standing there, putting a pair of
12-gauge shells into the shotgun. He was African American, massively built,
and drunk - with an angry scowel on his face. "I'm going to get them" he would repeat, looking
at me with this gaze that - if it could have killed - would have cut me in half. No emotion
other than anger at all. You could smell the alcohol, and he was sweaty and jittery.
It felt like a movie playing that I was watching. All that training of "If the scene is safe,
get out" was rushing through my head, but at this point, I realized he would probably
shoot me if I tried to run. As I stood up from his wife, and kept my eyes locked on
his, I said "Alex....get out...now" and heard her scream as she must have turned around
and saw him. "Alex. Get out. Now. I'll be fine." I repeated slowly, methodically, as
I placed myself over his unconscious wife, between him and my pregnant partner. He stopped,
stared me down, and pointed the barrel of the shotgun straight at my face as he did
so. Again, no emotion. No concern. Just anger and rage. Alex took off down the driveway,
screaming for the deputies. "I'm going to kill them who did this. Get
outta my way or I'll kill you too" Cold as ice, and with a growing and incredibly
creepy smile, he said this. I thought this was a joke at first. Someone's
sick idea of a prank. "Well, please don't miss" was my response, with a laugh. He wasn't
laughing. He just stared ahead at me, gun at his hip pointed at my face. I replied:
"If you shoot me, shes gonna die. I'm the only one who can care of her."
Was my response. At this point, I was trying hard not to break down.
"She dies, you die" was his response, and he sat down on the recliner across from us.
He still had that smile. That creepy, toothy smile and those white eyes bearing down on
me. I had shivers going down my spine. I thought
this was it. This was going to be how I died. All I could think about, as I worked to tokenly
bandage these cuts on this woman's head was how I was going to look up and suddenly feel
and see nothing - my head would be hamburger meat.
But then, he lowered the gun, and looked at his wife. "My brother makes me do this. He
made me do all that, you see. She was cheating on me. I had to. I didn't want to hurt her.
She made me." That same creepy grin. That same wide eyed look. The same sweaty, trembling
behavior. I was running out of things to do to keep
this guy convinced I was busy saving her life. All of the sudden I finally heard screaming
and was blinded by flashlights. The deputies had been called back to the scene (after they
had left!) by my partner. When she realized they had gone looking for the "brother", she
called over the radio and had them come back. They stood there, guns drawn, yelling at the
man to drop the shotgun. He did, and they threw him onto the ground and cuffed him.
He started crying, screaming how she was dead, how it was his brothers fault, not his, and
to leave him alone. Standing there, shaking - no - trembling,
and wondering just WTF had happened, we regained our composure, got our injured patient in
the ambulance, and took her to the local trauma center. When we got back, a deputy took a
report from us, and we had to file an incident report with our employer. We never heard anything
after that. Fast forward to 2013. I'm not working in the
county anymore. While I occasionally see Alex and treat the whole incident as a joke, I
don't really talk much about it. I never saw anything on the news about us (thank FSM)
and honestly never pushed the issue. I'm working for another service at this time, and picking
up a kid from that county's hospital when I see Alex and mention the event, and ask
what ever happened. She pulls me aside and tells me the rest of the story, and at that
time I realize more just how close I came to dying that night.
The woman had regained consciousness a day after the attack, and told the hospital staff
that her husband had been drinking heavily that day, and not taking his medicine. He
had began accusing her of sleeping with his brother that night, and had started hitting
her until she had gotten knocked against the living room table, and blacked out. He had
eventually pled to the domestic violence charge, and was placed in an inpatient psychiatric
facility. AFAIK, he's still there. The creepy thing? His brother had died in
2002 in a car accident in another state. According to the wife, he took medication becaue he
had lucid and intense hallucinations of his brother doing things to people, and telling
him what to do. The deputies knew the house had a history of mental illness calls, and
never warned us or flagged the address in our dispatch system.
It raised more questions than answers. Why wasn't he charged with the attack on us? Why
did the deputies leave us there? And why wasn't anything done on follow-up to help us?