People Are Confessing the Darkest Secrets They Know About Other People

The 24 hours before my dad died (stage 4 lung cancer) he was in the ER and then the ICU and we were unable to be with him because of hospital Covid rules. My mother, sister and myself had been texting and calling him all day and got no response.

My mother even called the hospital and spoke with one of his ICU nurses who said he was awake and communicating fine. He passed very quickly at 3:30am the next morning. We were allowed to be at his bedside but by then he was no longer conscious so we said our goodbyes and he was gone.

Later that morning while my mom slept I was calling cremation services to schedule his body for pick up at the hospital and going through his bag of belongings the hospital had returned to us. His phone was in there and I wanted to read all our texts and take some comfort in my last words to him. I opened his phone and all our texts had not been read, not mine or my mom and sister’s.

I thought this was so odd but figured he must have been suffering so much he couldn’t find the strength. I began to scroll through his apps and noticed a chat app I’d vaguely heard of. I can’t recall the name but it essentially works like WhatsApp.
I opened the app and saw a single contact with a female name. I started reading and realized my dad has been chatting with this girl hourly for the last 24 hours and as far back as I could scroll. 

He was calling her princess and telling her he loved her and she was saying she was scared for him and wanted to know what was going on, why was he in the ER, etc. I scrolled back enough to know that this was someone he was having at the very least, an emotional affair with.

My grief was completely hijacked by hurt and anger and a week later I tracked the girl down and spoke to her (via dms) and found out she was 19 years old. She was 17 when they met. He was her high school bus driver and she told me they had been dating for almost 2 years.
My dad was 66 years old when he died and dating someone younger than his grandchildren, someone he chose to spend his last moments with and say his last goodbyes to. I hope it made him happy but it sure is a shitty secret to live the rest of my life with.

A secret that will forever overshadow my entire relationship with my dad with no chance to ever speak to him about it. It’s the one secret I wish I’d never found out.

/Fuzzy_Central/

NEVER ever told anyone this. My parents have been married for 30 years now. Great family, perfectly normal. My mom asked me to keep an eye on my sister's Internet activity because she was getting into some trouble, and hanging around some real losers.

So I installed a keylogger on her computer (which I seriously regret doing now). It was really the only way to get after her even though it was a massive invasion of her privacy. So I installed the keylogger. Not everyone is gonna know what that is so do a quick google, it’ll make sense. Anyway...

Turns out, my dad had been looking online for MALE sex partners in the area via craigslist, and even sending pictures of himself (fuck I wish I'd never seen those!). This went on for a long time, I'd hoped it was just a one time thing, but it kept happening again and again.

I got emails everyday with activity from the family computer, and I'd read one from different guys saying "Okay, I'll meet you at XXX at 2PM". Then come 2PM, he says "I have to go to the store, or I have a meeting" every single time. This happened like clockwork for weeks and weeks and every time it was getting more salacious and uncomfortable.

Eventually I couldn't take it anymore, my mom has no clue (and is a great, innocent wife... this would absolutely destroy her. So I calm ask my dad to go outside. I just asked him to sit down and said 'Mom asked me to monitor my sister's Internet activity, so I installed a program on the computer.

Then in a very stern voice said 'Just stop what you are doing', (long pause)... 'Do you understand'. He just said Yes, half looking like he wanted to cry. And that was the last I've heard of it.

I know he doesn't know HOW much I know, but it still bothers the hell out of me. I know A LOT and if he knew that I don’t really know what it would do to him. Really haunts me honestly.

Worst part is he is one of those tough guy types that you'd never expect it of, basically the image I had of my father growing up was completely destroyed. It’s not really about the nature of it, its the secrecy, the shame, his weakness in keeping it hidden like that. It’s a lot of things really.

This was all 5 years ago, but I'd be lying if I said it's not something that goes through my head often when I'm back home. Can’t really properly look at him the same way again, especially since we both know. Thank goodness no one else in the family found out. It’s just our dark secret that I will take with me to the grave.

/DefinitelyThrowaway8/

A girl in my neighborhood had 3 kids by 3 different fathers by the time she was 20. I think it had to do with daddy issues for the most part, but she always said her first son's father, she got pregnant with him at 14, was some guy who joined the army and she never saw again.

In actuality, he was the owner of the bar around the corner who had four grown kids of his own and in his late 50's. Second sons father was an american kid who's father was from Yemen and would pull the muslim customs excuse to try to save himself from ass beatings when he would start fights. ‘

Father of third kid was some street wanna-be thug who would bring over his friends to her house while she was pregnant and have her fuck and suck his friends while he watched. Anyway she was real headcase and easier than sunday morning. The state paid to have her tubes tied after the third kid.

In her 20's, she would put the kids to bed and have teenage girls come over to hang out. She would then butter up and con these girls into trying clothes on in front of her in hopes these girls would have sex with her. She ended up getting one 13 year old drunk one night and having her way with her.

She was having some financial, social, and housing issues, so her father manned up and moved her out to the county to an apartment complex so her and the kids would be safer, the would have a better life, etc. She ended up messing around with another 50 year old man from another apartment below. She left her kids with him one night while she went to go fuck someone else.

He found out about it and took all the kids outside and tied them to a tree practically naked. He was arrested and put in jail, but social services were leery about the girl. One night afterward, she heard the middle child crying and when she went to investigate she saw the oldest boy trying to penetrate him.

She asked him where he learned about this and he said that that it's what the 50 year old dude does to him and mommy. Police were called for that one and after a big investigation, all three kids ended up in foster homes.

After all of this, she ends up with some sucker (nice guy) who eventually marries her. He helps her get her kids back and moves them into his parents house. He works during the day so he has no idea that his now wife was going down the street to the corner store and blowing/fucking the store owners for cigarettes and beer. She was still screwing around with the father of her third kid and his friends too. She was also having sex with her father when she moved her out to the county.

I am not anyone mentioned in this. I found out from an uncle of one of the children and a neighbor. First child disappeared when he was 18, no one has seen him in years, second child is a drug addict and third child is a drug addict and prostitute. Girl is still married to nice guy and living in denial.

/throwaway31249238409/

I have three stories. When I was about twelve, my mom had just started dating a new guy. Once when I was over at their place, the guy she was dating asked me to copy a text document to a floppy for him.

When I went to the folder he told me it was in, I couldn't help but notice the folder next to it named "THEGOODSTUFF". I couldn't help but open it... I found pictures of my mom posing in sexual positions and eating some fat chick's pussy. I never did any favors for him on his computer ever again.

Same guy (who eventually became my step dad) once came home pretty wasted one night. Whenever he drinks, when he sleeps, he snores like a fucking bear. So when that happens, my mom usually ends up crashing on the couch. Since I spent 11 months out of the year with my dad, the couch was my bed whenever I stayed with my mom.

So usually if I was there, my mom would sleep on the floor and I would sleep on the couch. We traded places that night because her back was sore, so I slept on the floor, and she slept on the couch. In the middle of the night, I woke up to find my step dad standing over me. He had a beer in his hand, and he was naked. He slowly started pulling my boxers down, reached down, and felt my junk.

At that point I bolted up, and he instantly recoiled and started apologizing and giggling going "oh my god I'm so sorry I swear I thought you were your mother she never sleeps on the couch when you're here I'm so sorry", and I knew he was sincere (this was after finding the pictures in the last story, so I unfortunately knew they were sexually active...).

The next morning I asked him if we were going to tell my mom what had happened the night before. He said "wait. what happened?". He had no recollection of coming to the living room. I told him to nevermind. My mother slept through the entire thing.

Last story is about a buddy I used to hang out with in high school. We used to do videogame marathons on his PS2, usually renting something awesome like God Of War or Max Payne.

Anyways, we got to his place from blockbuster and he told me to get it set up while he took a piss. I turned on his tv to find the DVD menu for a gay piss porno. I promptly switched the input to his PS2 and didn't touch his DVD player.

I didn't bring it up. We spent that weekend fucking up Aries and all his minions and had a blast. And we're still good friends to this day even though we live on opposite sides of the country now.

/bajster/

My roommate freshman year in college was a forever alone type - always tried but things never seemed to work out. One day, I'm chilling on my computer and start getting hungry, so I asked him if he wanted to go get food. He replied "no, guess why?"

I guessed he had already eaten, but he surprised me by saying that he had a date with this hot chick from a class of his. So I congratulate him and ask him about her - he describes her as that ideal blonde, big boobs, perky nice sexy girl next door.

So I go get dinner and give him some space, being the generous gentleman that I am. I take my books and laptop and go study for a few hours at the library. I text him to ask if it's ok for me to come back to the room (it was getting late). He said yeah. Date turned out not so good though.

After him buying dinner and ice cream, she drops the bomb that she's actually a lesbian and apparently thought it was just a friend type thing. He wasn't very happy about it, but he didn't really want to talk about it so I let it go and went to bed. I figured he may be upset but it would just be best to sleep the whole thing off.

Around 4 am, I wake up, which is odd cause I'm usually a deep sleeper. I roll over and hear this kind of thudding noise. I glance over without getting up and there I see my hefty roommate humping rather vigorously the dresser - seriously, no pants on, just banging the dresser.

I immediately rolled over and pretended to be asleep... I didn't get to sleep before he finished though ಠ_ಠ. The loud sounds of intense creaking and humping still ring through my mind every now and then. I mean he really going at it. Really giving it everything he had. The dresser was being a good sport.

I didn’t mention it to him the next day or any day after. Frankly I don’t know how I would have or could have. There was mixture of hilarious and utter weirdness coming from my brain and I didn’t know if I reconcile that by talking to him about it anyway. Didn’t matter. He had his midnight ride.

Well, maybe her confession was the impetus he needed to finally admit to himself his true nature and come out as a furnie. What I perceived as a desperate act of a sad, horny bastard was actually a tender act of love and self-acceptance!

Besides, I bet that dresser was asking for it. Fuckin' dressers. With their knobs and drawers and such. Sluts, every last one of them.

/managerjen/

I found out my mom was having an affair when I was 17. I was in my senior year of high school and we had a shared computer. My mom had an email account on iVillage and she was always really weird when she'd log in to it, demanding nobody be in the room. She never logged in when my step-dad was home either.

I saw her put her password in and noticed part of it was the name of someone my sisters went to karate class with. He was an older student in his mid-20s and my parents and sisters were very social with the general studio, going out to dinner, going to parties with them. I'd met this kid once or twice and he seemed quiet.

We had moved to the state we were in a year prior and my parents didn't have much of a social circle so this became it. After I found out about the affair, it was really awkward for me to be around. I don't know if the affair was ever physical but it certainly was emotional. I noticed my mom was a lot distant especially towards my step-dad.

I knew this was going on and didn't say anything. I spent a lot of time in my room and I was giving permission to spend most weekends at my boyfriend's place. One of these weekends I came home and I found out from my sisters that my mom basically took off in the middle of the night and said that she almost went to my great-uncle's house a few states over.

I wonder if this was true, or if she spent that time with the kid. We moved out of state that summer and I went off to college a month or so later. The emails were still going on. My step-dad had no idea about this and I don't know if she ever told him.

A few years later my boyfriend (now husband) and I visited my parents. They had moved back to the first state where she'd met this kid because my step-dad said she and my sisters were miserable. He also mentioned how after I left for college, my mom had some sort of nervous breakdown and ended up going to my great-uncle's house. Still not sure if she ever did.

I don't think the affair has continued as it has been 11 years and she seems resigned to the fact that she will stay with my step-dad even though she's unhappy. It makes me upset because she's a decent lady and he's a decent guy. He was laid off soon after his move because he'd put himself in a vulnerable position and has had trouble finding work since.

The burden of the mortgage and everything has fallen on my mom and I think at one point if she was considering leaving him, the fact that one of my sisters still lives with them and the fact that they are grandparents assisting with my other sister's two kids has kept her there.

I really hope she is happy and not just treading water. I think at the point in her life where she started this stuff, she was really lonely and sad. I hope that isn't the case now. But that doesn’t seem like the most likely possibility.

/anon_throwaway_thing/

I have a friend who at one time thought he was in love. His girlfriend of the time and him would frequently commence with sexytimes without a condom. Well, his senior year (her junior) in highschool we find out that she's pregnant. Shocking, absolutely shocking I tell you. Who could’ve seen that coming, not I.

Despite the utter stupidity of the movement, the two of them decide to have it AND keep it (neither of them holding a job and the girlfriend living in a trailer). So yeah, all the makings for a shit-stew if you’ve ever seen one. Not even the prospect of a job mind you, and no money saved. I digress.

This is what the girlfriend doesn't know I know, and during mine and her senior year we were actually friends (although I had alterior motives). About 2/3 or 3/4 of the way through the pregnancy she gets cold feet. He wants to have the baby, she doesn't want to have the baby.

It's her body and he "loves" her, so he respects her I guess or some shit. The two of them commit multiple acts in an attempt to force the baby to be a stillborn (apparently full-force punches to the uterus, pills that SPECIFICALLY SAY NOT TO BE USED DURING PREGNANCY, etc.). Just Jesus christ...help me to stay sane witnessing all of this shit. Anyway...

Here's where it gets bad: She gives birth to the baby over the summer, and needless to say it didn't survive. She has become anemic and despite trying to hide the fact that she was pregnant in the first place AND that she just gave birth in secret (which I have no fucking clue how that all happened without anyone noticing but it did) the doctors reveal that she must have been pregnant.

I believe they spoke to her mother. REGARDLESS - THE COPS WERE CALLED. My friend got in a ton of shit over it, they had a bitter break up and a restraining order against him was filed because the girlfriend made multiple claims of abuse and nonsense that absolutely DID NOT HAPPEN. Through the investigation my friend is completely honest, the girlfriend is not, and the tables turn against her.

What did the Cops find out? **The baby did not die until after delivery. Apparently, the girlfriend had the baby, killed it, and threw it a trash bag to be picked up in the morning.** She has no idea I know. Granted, I wish I didn’t but we are where we are.

Things mostly fizzle out without much more incident, even though that was plenty of incident to be had. He’s really fucked up about it, she’s really fucked up about it, im really fucked up about it to tell you the truth. The story sort of dies out but it still lives inside of me, festering and all that.

Occasionally I would find excuses to bring up the Summer before senior year, just to see how she responded. Needless to say, I learned as much as I could from her then cut off all communications. I never told her I know. I'm afraid to find out what she would do.

/stalkingstalkers/

The first time that I learned that my roommate was a cyber criminal was when I answered my door in my bathrobe and Special Agent Henderson handed me a warrant to search my apartment.
This was in the early 2000s so having high speed internet and a home Ethernet was a little ahead of the curve. But he was a gamer like me so when I moved in I just thought I was lucky that my roommate had a sweet internet connection. Turns out he was part of an identity theft ring that infiltrated financial companies. You know how they say most hacks are socially engineered rather than technical? Apparently that also makes those cyber crimes easier to prosecute since the perpetrators leave behind a 'paper trail' of their communications as they are conspiring to commit crimes.
My roommate was actually trying to use me as a fall guy and was routing traffic through my computer and writing enough data to my hard drive to implicate me. When the investigators knocked on the door they still didn't know which one of us was the one behind the keyboard and the extent to which each of us were in on it(my roommate used multiple screen names). They expected the computer forensics to shed light on it and the evidence on my computer was obvious compared to the lengths they eventually had to go to to find stuff on his. So I was super lucky that they had initially focused on communications evidence to build their conspiracy case.
But at first they thought I was involved. They compared my chat logs to his to see whose vocabulary and typing speed matched the evidence but that wasn't enough to exonerate me given the forensics.
They kept hammering me for alibi whenever I tried to get them to believe me that I knew nothing about it. He had been careful to stay active when I was home (often asleep). So I wasnt able to use real life friends to testify that I was with them at the times that he was online. Even my emails and stuff I sent at the same time he was active didnt take up enough time to prove I hadn't just done both things at once.
I had the bright idea of using my ingame activity as an alibi which the investigators were super skeptical of. But to their credit they were patient and wanted to use our testimony to built a strong case on the correct person rather than just toss someone in jail. I had messages from guildmates about raids and congratulating me on leveling up my Dark Ages of Camelot character.
I had a few instances of this happen at the same time my roommate was communicating with his accomplices. It was the first time I was able to get investigators to shift their focus to him since they found evidence on my computer from his tampering After that they were more inclined to listen to my side of the story and be skeptical of his.
As they dug deeper and time went on though, more signs started to point to him. Eventually he slipped up in an interview and revealed something he couldn't otherwise know about. They reversed it on me and fed me a false narrative of events that I believed since I didn't know what he had done which helped them realize just how uninformed I was. In trying to clear my name I made stupid assumptions about how hacking worked. I imagined he was the online equivalent of a bank robber and never said anything about overseas financial services companies. So it got kind of obvious I wasn't some criminal mastermind.
In the end there wasn't much testimony I could provide. But I was the only 'witness' that he was at the computer, at the scene of the crime.The other witnesses were experts interpreting the evidence rather than testifying against him. So it got kind of intense being cross examined and accused of being involved in something I first found out about standing in my bathrobe with my Cheerios getting soggy on the counter behind me.

/MrLongJeans/

A friend of my roommate at the time was this cute girl we'll call Mel. Mel and my Roomie (female) were heading out on a thursday to have some drinks with friends with the intention of returning to our Apartment at the end of the night to crash.

Mel had a bit of a crush on me and before she left she told me she was sleeping in my bed that night and I didn't have a say in the matter. Fine by me, I thought, I was single and she was cute. Who am I to complain?

Fast forward to 3am. I wake up to my roomie asking for help getting Mel upstairs, our apartment was on the second floor. So I get out of bed, look over the railing and see this girl absolutely out-fucking-cold at the bottom of the stairs.

Well, looks like I'm not getting any tonight, I then carry this girl upstairs to the living room where she gets tucked into the couch and I head back to bed. I snuggle in and go to dreamland with not another thought in my mind. Nothing could have prepared me for the morning.

I awake the next morning and head to the kitchen for breakfast before work. As soon as I walked into the kitchen the smell hit me. I immediately started looking around, it didn't take long to find the source. There, in the middle of the kitchen, is one of the kitchen chairs and on the floor in front of it is a cupcake tray.

Sitting on top of the tray is a steaming nightmarish pile of beer and shooter induced fecal slurry that would have made a grizzly bear proud. I shit you not, it was one of the biggest single piles I've ever seen and the kicker was that it belonged to a lady. Jurassic Park big.

A dainty, petite lady that at some point in the night had wandered into the kitchen, and had the where-with-all to put a cupcake tray on the floor before pulling out a chair to brace herself with(there was some shit on the chair too) so she could comfortably shit on the tray.

That's when I just walked away. I didn't see much of her after that but my roomie who worked with her said it's obvious that she has no clue she did it. At least she was creative about it. Or at least that version of her was. Ingenious really.

She was black out drunk so I'm not surprised. I guess the couple people that did know started calling her cupcake which she thinks is a cute nickname....

/Super_Human/

A friend of mine and I were looking for something in his dad's computer.

We found a hidden folder, and curiosity won over fear. Inside, there were a lot of pictures of [unclothed] girls, but most of all... cut-off fingers.

I'm talking about thousands of pictures with fingers that had been cut off.

His dad doesn't know we know.

/u/BabyBlue03:

A friend (David) and I were living together during our college days. A third person (Andy) came over and we all decide that it's a good night to get very, very stoned. Out comes the bong and we spent about an hour seeing just how much weed we could inhale.

Well, weed and mushrooms; we had a habit of mixing in a fair bit of shrooms just for shits and giggles. Temporarily sated, I settled down to watch TV, because fuck, even the commercials are amazing at this point, especially with the auditory hallucinations I always get from the shrooms.

After awhile I realized my roomie, David, and Andy have disappeared. Not sure how long it took for me to notice their absence. I decided to go looking for them, and more importantly, the bong they took with them.

I wandered out of the living room, down the hall, turned the corner and noticed David's bedroom door was cracked open. Without a thought I walked down the hall and stuck my head in...to find David balls deep in Andy's ass. My stoned brain doesn't really comprehend the scene at first and insists that we must be hallucinating, as we know that both of these friends are straight - god knows they've insisted on it enough times.

Stoned brain says the shrooms have stepped it up from auditory to visual hallucinations, which would've been cool except that the subject matter is kinda disturbing. Stoned brain says that if we watch long enough the hallucination will dissolve and life will return to normal.

Only it doesn't. Both guys, being very stoned and canted away from the door, didn't notice me standing there. David is ramming his member into Andy's ass, again and again, and both are grunting and groaning and obviously enjoying the ass fucking.

This is a sight that me, an actual straight guy, could easily do without, and to make matters worse I discover what the word "santorum" means long before the internet came up with said word. Shit-and-lube-covered dick, plunging into ass again and again, stoned brain finally realizing that we aren't imagining things yet unable to formulate an escape plan or retreat before that disgusting image is burned into our retinas forever.

I finally managed to regain motor control and slipped back down the hallway as quietly as I could. Not that it mattered; they were so stoned and so into the ass-fucking nothing short of a kick to the head would've caught their attention. Still, the pot acted like indelible ink with respect to that incident, and every time I see either of these guys that image immediately pops to mind.

David and Any have no idea that I caught them in the act. Can't imagine what their wives would think if I ever said anything, especially since they still go do things together once every couple of weeks. What things, who the fuck knows, but so long as I don't have to get an up-close-and-personal view of it I'm happy with my ignorance.

/justthewind/

I have a friend at work who I'm pretty close to (let's call him Paul), and he tells me most things. However people from another department, unbeknownst to him, know his flatmate through a mutual friend. These guys told me that Paul pulled some Greek girl one night and went back to hers.

He turns up back at their flat the next morning with what his flatmates called 'a haunted look' and they asked him what was wrong. Turned out she was a huge fan of BDSM, and put him on a dog leash and then proceeded to do him up the bum(I later discovered this was one of three she had on display - the medium sized one).I found this out about a year and a half ago, and didn't tell him as I'd been sworn to secrecy. However, a few months ago I alluded to it and he said 'How did you know about that?'. I managed to convince him he'd told me ages ago - I couldn't let him know that most of the office knows he was done up the bum by some random BDSM fan whilst on a leash.

/rhubarbcrumble/

This is more hilarious than dark: So, I used to work for this guy, let's call him Bob for the sake of simplicity. Now, Bob was a pretty average guy. Kind of your everyday, run-of-the-mill boss. Nothing special, really. Except for one thing: Bob had a son, who was a bit of a character.

For whatever reason, the kid had borrowed the company camera and forgot to return it for about a year. One day, Bob finally managed to track the camera down. He brought it into work, handed it over to me, and instructed me to take some pictures of some old equipment we were planning to offload on eBay and Craigslist.

So, I fired up the camera. It started asking for the usual stuff: the date, the time, you know, the usual routine. I obliged, punching in all the details, until the camera loaded up the first image in the gallery. Now, prepare yourself for this, because it was an absolute gem: a shot of none other than Bob's son's penis. I nearly choked on my coffee.

But the hilarity didn't stop there. Just at that moment, one of my co-workers, who happened to be standing nearby, glanced over. He got a full-on view of the picture, blinked a few times, and then let out a dry comment, "Well, isn't that lovely." Just then, Bob re-emerged from his office, curious about the commotion.

"What's going on?" he asked. My co-worker, still chuckling, snatched the camera from me and showed it to Bob. Poor Bob. He took the camera, his face a picture of shock and confusion. He started cycling through the images, and what he found was nothing short of a treasure trove. Dozens of pictures of his son, stark naked.

At least half of those photos involved the young man engaging in some, let's just say, adventurous activities with a variety of dildos. Bob, still holding the camera as though it was a poisonous snake, wandered over to his wife, who also worked with us.
"Wanna see what your son's been doing with the camera?" he asked her, trying to keep a straight face. Her reaction was priceless. She let out an ear-piercing shriek, and then started yelling. Accusations started flying, words like 'disgusting' and 'inappropriate' filled the air.

She wanted to know why on earth he had let us see those images, and Bob, still in shock, could only manage to blurt out, "How the hell was I supposed to know these were on here!" As for the camera, I think it's safe to say that it was thoroughly cleansed and put away in a drawer, never to see the light of day again.

Every time I think of that day, I can't help but chuckle to myself. It was a day I, and the rest of the office, would never forget. I've never been able to look at his son the same way again.

/photogineermatt/

One I can legally write: My straight younger more outgoing brother, indulges in drink and drugs to an excess on a regular basis, never a weekend goes by without a party of some kind.

He disappears from one party unusually early while high and I notice at some point later that night and decide to go look for him. 10 minutes after setting off towards home I get a call from the guy he shares a house with, he need's my help but he won't say what with, just wants me to get over there sharpish.

I arrive and an unbelievable scene is described which he absolutely does not want to deal with. I'm not sure why but I was certain that I could not call anybody else to help so I open the door and go to work.

My bro is sound asleep letting out the occasional ecstatic groan, butt naked except for a shit eating grin across his fizzog. He is sprawled over the shared couch with his legs akimbo, and...

I shit you not, he has the handle of an ornamental samurai sword **and** the neck off a bottle of beer disappearing confusingly between his arse cheeks, all while a dribble of c*m is running down the side of his beergut and his flaccid penis is staring right at me.

I try and wake him gently, doesn't work. I give him a thorough shake and shout at him to wake up, he turned his chin to his shoulder lets out a little loved up groan and rolls his head right back onto the cushion.

O.K. I got this, grit my teeth, take the bottle and pluck it from his sphincters shameful grasp. Similar story with the sword handle, which [did not look pleasant have what seemed like 8 inches of leather wrapped, metal tipped anal danger stuffed up there, but hey who am I to judge.

The bottle goes straight in the recycling, and I ask the housemate what to do with the sword, it turns out he'd "borrowed" the sword from the housemates bedroom display and he didn't want it back.

I grab my bro's duvet from his room, cover him up and leave his phone on the covers, so I can start ringing him once I'm out of there. On my way out the door, I asked to borrow the housemates phone as I'm out of credit, I checked it for blackmail pictures (none) then called a cab home.

I'm a dude who tends to befriend hot chicks with issues with the intention of getting laid but eventually gets too turned off by how stupid they are. I have many stories. Ex-friend's boyfriend is only with her cause was easy to seduce and knocked her up. He's excited about having a kid but he hit on my friend and is constantly trying to get casually laid.

Unrelated, friend that got hit on above is a sexaholic. She was constantly having oral sex with most of her guy friends. It's weird, cause she's an 8.5. Some piece of shit she worked with and hooked up with a few times got her wasted to try to take her V-card. That didn't work, so he slipped something into her drinks, and raped her.

She blacked out, and I reassured her, but I know he raped her. Make things worse, he abandoned his kid in Mexico, he was 28, (she was 18), and his fiance is 40. She also did a bit of webcam porn when she was 17 with two dudes at once. I know her porn name, but the whole situation makes me too sick to attempt blackmail. I broke things off with her when I got too frustrated that she was a slut.

Have seen multiple nudes of my friend on account of her redneck boyfriend sending them to me. She is so pale I thought it was just a white screen. It burned my eyes in more ways than one. I still have the pics, and he's still sending the pics to random people to gloat. About half the town has seen the pics, she doesn't know.

I know someone, former phone sex worker and current financial manager for a construction company, has poor credit and her son is about to take legal action for stealing money from his accounts.

I keep getting calls from collection agencies/automated messages from TV lawyers. They don't believe that I don't know her or that I've had the phone number for over 7 years.

Another friend has has depression/attention issues. She's "attempted suicide" multiple times. She told me at one point on IM she swallowed 37 Advil PMs and I, not wanting to take the risk, convinced her not to kill herself and then she left to puke out the Advil. She succeeding in puking out all of them. Sounds like a funny story huh?

Her brother secretly filmed the whole thing with multiple cameras and presented it like a short film that he put on vimeo. The film included my chat logs so he sent me a link to it. She fakes the whole thing. At the same point she told me "I can't do it anymore, I'm sorry totheblack" she was sucking on a finger she just burned on the stove making soup.

I'm pissed but her brother's movie is so entertaining well done(he did it old Tom and Jerry style, with the piano and whatnot) I'm sitting on the info don't think I'll tell anyone. She's a better person now, and I don't wanna mess that up.

/ToTheBlack/

When I was in college, a girl I had friendzoned (yeah, unbelievable, I know) in High School was getting married to a guy she met at Uni. She had introduced us, and we became good friends mostly due to the fact that I was one of her few male friends who never actively tried to sleep with her (she was good looking, we just weren't compatible, odd I know).

Week before the wedding, I get a call from her.
"Hey P33J,"
"Sup K?"
"Not much, just nervous about the wedding and E (her best friend) isn't answering, so I thought I'd call you. I saw you were online."

"Oh, ok...everything alright."
"Yeah, I was just thinking about the wedding and how I'm only going to be with one guy for the rest of my life."

"Yeah, that's a pretty big commitment (laughs)."
"Well it's just...I've..."
"Look, K, you love him don't you."

"Yeah, I think."
"Ohhhhhhh-k, are you thinking about backing out, because this might be a conversation you want to have with J (her fiancee)."

"Well it's just. I was wondering why you didn't make your move on me that night in HS."
"Umm. K that was 5 years ago. You've dated a dozen guys since then, why on earth are you bringing that night up, we didn't even kiss."

"Because I think I love you."
"I think you're talking crazy cause you've got cold feet. Call E, wake her up. She'll tell you the same. Just relax. Get some sleep and if you feel the same way in the morning, call me and we'll figure out something for you to do."
I didn't sleep that night, out of fear that she was going to tell J, she loved me and he was going to kill me.

The next morning she sent me a note thanking me for being so understanding and not to worry, it was just cold feet. She got married a week later. Within 2 years she had an affair, with a guy who looked like me and divorced her husband.

J and I still talk to this day, but I've never told him about that call with K. And never will. Ever. Poor bastard...really feel sorry about the whole thing but that’s life. Better to have loved and such right?

/P33J/

So I used to work with and was friends with these two girls. We will call them C and S in this story.C's boyfriend was an abusive douche canoe and I ,to this day, have no idea what she was doing with a guy like him. She was a super hot girl and could have her pick of men.He was very bad to her and cheated on her all the time.

S was also a very pretty girl from a good family and had everything in life going for her. She is one of those girl next door "good girl" types who had never missed a day of church. You know the type. Really cleaned up and pretty looking with the hope-filled look in her eyes.

C and S get to be really close friends but C starts getting S into drinking,drugs, and partying all the time. At some point C convinces S that since they are such good friends she should sleep with her boyfriend so he dosen't cheat on her and end up giving her an STI.

This goes on for a few months and S ends up pregnant by the boyfriend. C flips the fuck out and tells anyone who would listen that S was cheating with her boyfriend behind her back and causes all kinds of drama. She’s just raging and raging at him and he’s just taking it like a champ. They can’t afford an abortion.

S asked the boyfriend to pay for half of her abortion because her parents would kill her if they found out she was pregnant and living the type of lifestlye that she was. C shows up at work screaming at S about how she's a whore and that she hoped she died getting her abortion in front of customers, other co-workers, and everyone.

She then throws a stack of money on her make it rain style and storms off. My best friend and I ended up taking S for her abortion and giving her support. She told us the above story and C has no idea that we know.

The aftermath of this story is also pretty entertaining. A couple of months went by and C accidentally on purpose got pregnant by the boyfriend and he ditched her right away. Like right on the spot pretty much, it was pretty brutal honestly.

C made a HUGE deal about how every baby was a blessing and that everyone should feel sorry for her because she was pregnant and alone. Granted no one felt sorry for her. She ended up super fat and alone and everyone hated her at work. Her little boy is super cute though.

S went on to marry a very nice well to do young man, lives in a big house, and has a beautiful little girl of her own. Pregnancy was far kinder to S than it was to C and she is still very pretty and you would never know she had a kid by looking at her.

/absinthevisions/

My friend Pete's left foot was totally indestructible. He didn’t find this out overnight. When Pete was in high school he broke his ankle competing in a slam-dunk contest. (I actually won, but that’s a different story.) The doctors did what the doctors always do: they took a bunch of x-rays, wrapped it up in a bunch of casts, and gave him a bunch of painkillers.
Weeks later the doctors sawed off the cast and Pete was good to go. But he'd find out over the course of the next few years that he was better than just good to go. He was better than ever. When the cast came off and there wasn’t any sort of noticeable difference between his right foot, which had taken over one hundred percent of all leg duties, that should have been Pete's first clue that something was different. The left foot had basically been given a month’s vacation, just swinging there limply while the right foot did all of the walking, the hopping, the kicking, the braking and the going. Wouldn’t there have been at least a little atrophy? At least a tiny difference in skin color? It didn’t even smell bad, like he would’ve expected it to after having been totally sealed in the cast for that long. It smelled cleaner than ever, like right out of the shower clean, even though he had to cover the whole thing up in a garbage bag every time he wanted to bathe.
But Pete didn’t think anything of it. Really, he was just glad to be back on his feet. Did I mention that Pete's a righty? No, I guess that doesn’t matter all that much. But it is weird, Pete being a righty and having a significantly stronger left foot. Indestructible. Pete didn’t get to noticing how powerful his left foot had become until he started running, years later. He began accumulating a lot of distance on his feet, and after several months of training, he ran my first marathon. After completing the twenty-six miles, his whole body was screaming in agony. His quads were on fire. His back felt like it had taken a ride through an industrial compressor. Everything hurt. Everything except for his left foot.
It felt relaxed, strong, like if the rest of his body were willing, it could probably have done another twenty-six, easily, just hopping up and down by itself. The next day Pete's whole body was sore. He couldn’t walk down the stairs without wincing in pain. So he found that if he just hopped on his left foot, he could get around fine, give the rest of his body the time it needed to recover.
That summer Pete went to the beach with me and all of our friends. We had a great time, playing volleyball, drinking beer. We quickly lost track of the hours, which was unfortunate, because Pete had meant to put on some sunblock. After a few hours he realized that it was too late. He was totally burnt. Every inch of his body, red, blistering, skin peeling. Every inch except for that left foot. Even weirder, the next time we went to the beach, Pete made sure to use sunscreen religiously, every twenty minutes. He basically hid under a giant umbrella. His body remained chalky white as usual. But not his left foot. It was bronzed, a perfectly golden tan. That’s when we all became curious as to the extent of its powers.
One night after a heavy drinking session, Pete made the unfortunate mistake of getting behind the wheel. Of course he got pulled over and the cop made him do a field sobriety test. He could barely see straight, but that left foot somehow led his body to walk that line precisely. And then it started doing tricks. He wound up blacking out, but my friends told me that his left foot grabbed the wheel and got everyone home safe and sound. After that, whenever we went out drinking, his foot made him hand over the keys before Pete took even a sip. It was unbelievable.
I did say indestructible right? It’s like, if I tripped, normally I’d at least stub a toe. But Pete would actually do damage to whatever got in the way of his left foot. Its powers were so great that it took over the majority of responsibilities in Pete's life. A short while back it got this big promotion at work while the rest of his body was still stuck as a junior assistant Life seemed to be moving at much different speed, at least it did on the left side of his body, below the ankle. Shopping for shoes started to become this ridiculous chore. His whole body would be dragged to the shoe store more and more, he'd have to stay there forever trying out shoe after shoe. And of course he'd only be allowed to wear the left shoe. The right foot was consigned to the same old pair of New Balances that he'd been rocking for years. Eventually they had to split up. As much as Pete would have wanted for it to stay, that left foot had a whole new world opened up to it, and he was just holding it back. It found a surgeon willing to perform the amputation. Pete objected, he begged it stay. “What about me? What about the right one? What am I supposed to do without two feet?” But it wouldn’t have any of it.
Pete woke up from the operation groggy from the anesthesia, the left foot nowhere in sight. He asked the doctor where it had hopped off to. “Unfortunately,” the doctor told me, “within minutes of being separated from the rest of your body, your left foot found itself without the means necessary to refresh itself with a constant supply of oxygenated blood. It didn’t have a brain, no central nervous system, no means of eating or going to the bathroom. What I’m trying to tell you is, it died almost instantly. There really haven’t been many, any cases of human feet surviving after being separated from the rest of the body.”
I feel bad, for Pete, for his foot. Mostly for Pete. That stupid foot didn’t know how good it had it. And there's Pete. No foot. His right foot is starting to get used to the new responsibilities, the walking, the driving. But it’s getting pretty independent lately, stronger every day. The other night he woke up to his foot searching the Internet, some online cashmere sock web site. I’ll always think back to that surgery, after the doctor told him what had happened. Pete asked, “Did it at least enjoy its few minutes of independence? Did it seem happy? Was it worth it?” to which he replied, “I ... I really don’t know what you’re asking me here. It was a foot. You’re paying in cash, right?”
/Rob_G/

A little back story here to make this more understandable. I am a Home Health Aide, which means I go to people houses and take care of folks (mostly elderly) who can't really take care of themselves anymore. I give them baths or cook them meals or do some organizational projects and light cleaning that they can't manage to do due to illness, injury, etc. The majority of my clients are wonderful and nice people, but as with any job there are the crotchety cranky assholes too. This story is about one bitchy lady in particular.
Everyday I went to, Lets call her Ursula, Ursula's apartment she was consistently rude and not particularly nasty but gave off a very distinct feeling of dislike. She kept me at arms length and never really said much to me. She's very anal about her home (which is absolutely fine with me, its her home I'll do things however she wants me to) and she called my supervisor multiple times to complain about ridiculous things like I wasn't holding the rag right when washing dishes or vacuuming in a linear patter rather than by sections. Again, If she had said something to me about those things I would have done it her way immediately; what I said earlier, its her home, I'll do it how she wants it done. However, despite her air of complete dissatisfaction with my performance she requested she only ever have me as her Aide. If I called in sick, she would cancel for the day rather than take anyone else. I'll tell you I could not figure this lady out.
Every day I did exactly what I was supposed to do, come in, greet her, get her mail, and ask if she would like me to help her into the shower today. And everyday she would say no to the shower and make up some reason as to why not. Since I'm not a registered nurse I'm not allowed to push the shower issue, just say okay and move on. So one day I go in do the usual greets, get her mail and ask her if she wants a shower already knowing the answer by now, and she says, "I bet you are wondering why I always say no to a shower. You aren't an Idiot, you have figured out by now that I just don't want you giving me one."
At this point I'm kind of shocked shes said more than 5 words to me and I begin to explain that its fine some people just aren't comfortable having someone help them shower and thats o.k. blah blah blah. She says, "well let me help you understand why, I don't want you going home everyday feeling like you haven't done your job. See I don't like people touching me. Period. Because from ages 9-14 my father was raping me." I can only imagine the look of shock on my face. I had no words. Which was fine because the story wasn't over, and it only continued to get worse. "I thought it was normal.
He told me all fathers did that to their daughters because that's how they loved them. But he told me not to tell anyone because then my mom would find out and she would be jealous. Made sense to me. This went on until I accidentally let it slip to a friend, when she asked me to do something and I told her I was too tired because dad kept me up all night, she looked confused and when I explained she went and told her mom and they took me to a church where I talked to a priest and realized what always felt wrong in my gut was actually wrong. It was a huge realization for me, and a huge tumultuous turning point in my life."
I was in tears at this point. I was raped when I was 11 once and I could not grasp the idea of the horror and torture I endured multiplied by 5 years. But her story wasn't over, and again it has yet to get worse. She continued, "With all this finally coming out it didn't matter, It was already too late. I was pregnant with his child. I was pregnant with my brother." Yeah folks. Fucked up shit. Still worse to come. I'm serious. She continued her story, "So obviously the authorities are involved at this point, my father trying to save his skin said it wasn't his he would never do that etc. He got away with it. They believed him because someone backed up his story. It was my mother. She took his side. Said I was a liar and a whore.
I know she knew. She lied. It doesn't matter. they sent me away to give birth to my son/brother, and then took him away from me while I spent time in various psychiatric hospitals and juvenile detention facilities. I got straight, Or at least learned the right things to say to convince everyone that I was ok now. Anyway, I got my son back, and he is a normal guy and he still doesn't know. I keep telling myself I'm going to tell him and set a deadline to tell him. but the deadline comes and goes and I never say a word. I don't know if I should. I love my son with all my heart, but I can barely look him in the eye knowing who and what he is a product of."
I didn't know what to say, Just continued to listen to the rest of the years of her life where she married men just like her father, the first of which she said she basically killed. (he was apparently not great health wise, and she hid his medication that would help him. Can't say I blame her. Her last husband she said was a good man and friendly with her father who maintained a position in her life (we all know why that is, guys like that get off on cowing their victims just as much as commiting their crime itself), but when she told him about her child hood, he couldn't understand why she doesn't "just get over it". Her dad continued to say horrid things to her when no one was around, like "I wish you were sitting on my face" and "I can still taste you all these years later."
Its been months since that conversation, and we haven't said a word more about it. I have learned so much working in this job and especially with her. When I come across some one rude or cranky or over all a jerk, I hold my tongue and think about Ursula, "I know nothing about this person or why they are how they are, I'll just continue to be kind." If anyone has a right to be bitchy on a regular basis, its her, and I know there are more people like her. Thanks for reading if you did, I've been keeping this in for months and its been chewing at my soul. The moral of this story is, Everyone has a reason for how they are, some justified, some not. but everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt.

/lauraschafer/

When I was around 8 years old I met a girl named Molly. Her family had moved in that summer to a house a few houses down and I really didn't see her for the first month or two that summer. My first memory of her was when I was playing with a small ant hill in my back yard and she came over and join me. She showed interest in my ant hill and by 8 year old logic she was the coolest person ever and we became best friends. We would play everyday that we could in her backyard or my backyard go to the pool, ride bikes ride scooters, play basketball basically if I went outside she would be out with me.

A few years later we were still best friends and did ever thing together. When we were about 12-13ish I remember it was the late fall of 7th grade when she didn't show up for a month of school. When she came back she didn't really tell me why she was gone she said that she was sick and was taking medication to get better so I never thought too much about it after. We would still hang out every day but I started to notice that she wasn't the same she wasn't as hyper as she always was like she would have to take breaks more often when we were doing stuff.

The summer before 8th grade and 8th grade year she still seemed pretty normal but I remember that her mom would call her in to take medication and she could stay out as long with me anymore. High school started we went to the same high school but didn't get to hang out as much because I was playing baseball and she started to take up playing the piano. She used to play softball/baseball with me until she said she had to stop playing baseball so she took up an instrument. Because of our different schedules we didn't get to see each other too often and we would once or twice a week but it felt like we never talked. In the summer after freshman year we used to hang out everyday and but she couldn't go out as much she would be inside her house more and I would go over to her place and watch tv, play video games and she got really good with the piano so she would play when my family would go over for BBQ's.

This summer was also the same summer she was going to the doctors more often she would always tell me it was just a check up and if she didn't say check up she would say she was getting testing done. She would tell me that she was ok but I knew something wasn't ok. Our family's shared a beach house down in south Carolina that we would go to in August of each summer. About the second week of being there that's when I found out. We would go out to the board walk pretty much every morning before it go too hot and just go to the beach get ice cream cones everyday and do what ever this was the first summer that her dad had to come with us every where and it wasn't really a big deal neither one of us really minded but I didn't know why he wanted to come. We were standing in line to get food when I saw her pass out in the middle of ordering food for everyone. I was freaking out while her dad called her mom to meet them back at the house because Molly passed out.

So he picked her up we ran back to the house which was about 5 minutes away and just got in their car and started speeding towards the local hospital. Her parents took her to emergency care and I waited in the waiting room I called my parents told them what happened and they met me at the hospital.

About 6 hours later I was allowed to see her and she told me that she was ok and that she must have passed out from the heat and not drinking enough water. She was staying at the hospital over night so her and my parents took me out to eat and stopped by the house first to get changed and stuff before heading back to the hospital. I had just finished showering and getting changed when her mom stopped by my room and told me that she and parents had to talk to me.

This was the scariest moment of my life. Her parents had told me that Molly was diagnosed with ALS back in the 7th grade and that she wasn't expected to live to much longer. Her condition was getting worse and she might only live for a few more years. I didn't know what ALS was so they were explaining it me and I remember crying for an hours. I went back to the hospital with her parents to check up on her and get her food and then we went to her room and they told her that they told me what was happening. She was literally a year or two from death but she didn't cry or feel sorry for her self.

She had just passed out and was smiling and joking about saying she wasn't going to have to do her summer projects and homework at least and was comforting her parents and I. She was the most amazing person I have ever met to be able to be that happy and confident in the face of death. She ended up coming back to school that fall with me and she told our small circle of friends what might happen to her in the coming year and how she wanted it to be the best year. It was the most bitter-sweet moment of my life.

All my friends and I quit sports and after school clubs so we could hang out with her everyday. And we all just did what ever she wanted. Any place she wanted to go anything she wanted to do. My parents would even let me sleep over at her house when ever we wanted and I basically ended up living with her for the entire sophomore year of high school. That was the most fun year of my life and I won't forget it. That summer her condition worsened. And on August 17 she passed away. She was the Prettiest, Smartest, Funniest most confident out going, energetic, friendliest and loving person I will ever know.

/childhoodfun/

I was friends with a couple for about a year. We never planned hanging out or anything, but we frequented the same few bars so I'd see them from time to time, and became pretty good friends.
Then I started seeing him out by himself a lot more, and being increasingly flirty with other women. One night when I overheard him trying to talk a woman into heading to a hotel (his gf lived with him), I messaged his girlfriend on Facebook. I asked if they were still together, and then just simply told her what I'd observed. She thanked me for being a good friend, and then actually showed up about 5 minutes later. They left together pretty quickly, and then I didn't see either of them for a couple months.
One night I finally saw the guy out at the bar again, and I expected some hostility - I'd heard from mutual friends that he was pissed, and some other mutual acquaintances had suggested to him that he confront me with physical violence. Fortunately, his better sense prevailed, despite him being probably a dozen drinks in already when I showed up that night. Here's a summary of how the conversation went, leaving out irrelevant personal details:
"I believe we need to talk, ePants, and I think you already know what about." "Yep, I suppose so." "I don't have much to say to you, because I mostly can't believe you'd do that to me, so my only question is why would you do that?"
"Because you're both my friends and I'd have done the same for you if I'd seen her out and trying to hook up with other guys.""Alright. I guess I can see that. I just still can't believe you'd do that to me. Guys are supposed to look out for each other, man."
"Guys or girls - I look out for my friends, and if see someone getting screwed over and don't say anything, then that means I'm screwing them over, too." "Ok. I can see where you're coming from. But just so you know, we're broken up now because of what you did."
"Come on man, it wasn't what I did that was the problem there. If I was cheating on my girlfriend, and you told her, I wouldn't be pissed at you for telling the truth. Telling the truth and looking out for someone isn't a bad thing."
(after he thinks for a minute) "It wasn't entirely your fault. You just kind of forced us to confront some issues we were already having." (thinks some more) "So I'm not going to try to start anything with you, and I'll be civil when I see you, but we're not friends anymore."
"Alright, well, I guess I can understand that." It was a surprisingly civil conversation, given how drink drunk he was, and considering that our mutual friend was also there, who piped up a few times to point out that he had advised the guy to "beat my ass for betraying him." All in all, I found out that a handful of guys who I thought were pretty upstanding, had this secret code of helping cover for each other when they cheat.

/ePants/

So I've been wanting to get this off my chest for a while, and this seems like a place to do it. I've been a bit burdened by this for a while. It's about my stepmother, she's really unusual and my friends who have met her all feel rather uncomfortable around her. I did not grow up with this person, thank the lord, but she has still managed to impact my life in negative ways even though I am an adult. I won't get into all the gory details of what makes her such a horrible human being, because there are many stories I could tell. So here are the things that really burden my brain and kind of make me sad knowing them all the time and not being really sure how to react or what I should do.
My father and stepmother adopted a baby from overseas about eleven years ago, but they are in their sixties. Apparently they began the adoption process only a month or two into first meeting. I was estranged from my father for many years because he was/is quite abusive, and this is documented in court proceedings. I imagine they adopted from where they did because they would not be able to pass a background check in the United States due to my father's record. When I reunited with my father my sister was probably around two or three years old. Aside from my stepmother being just kind of weird and cold, it wasn't until I lived with them for a bit that I started to get a gut feeling something was up. What I don't know.
I went to the store with my stepmother and she asked me to go to the pharmacy to pick up some prescriptions while she continued to shop with my sister. I did just that, and by the time I met back up with her at the grocery store she was in a panic because she lost track of my sister and tried to blame it on me. A store employee thankfully found my sister. Over the course of several weeks my sister managed to severely burn her hand over an open flame on the stove, fall down a flight of stairs, and get out onto the roof somehow.
I was playing with my sister one evening on her bedroom floor and she got into a bottle of lotion and it exploded all over. We had a game where we'd just be messy, like I'd take her for ice cream and smoosh a little on her face, then she'd do it to me. You know, just be a cool older sister and let her get totally messy with me for a bit. I loved how much it would make her laugh and it means a lot to her when we get to do things and have it be only us. So she started immediately giggling and began her lotion assault on me full force, getting it all over my face and in my hair. I made a lotion beard and began to stroke it thoughtfully and my sister followed suit. When my stepmother walked into the room she sat on the floor with us and instead of joining in on our lotion beards she forever creeped me out and made me feel horrible inside. I was maybe 18 at the time. After my sister walked over to her mom to begin the bearding my stepmom said how "sensual" my sisters touch was and that I should let her apply more lotion to me. My sister was maybe three, but very young, I can't really remember. But fucking creepy and I just didn't know what to do or say other than just kind of leave the room suddenly and clean up. I began sleeping almost constantly while at the house as a way to escape my stepmother. It was her house, not one she got with my dad, and it was way up in these hills over a pretty dense semi-urban area. It wasn't really safe at all to walk down the road out of there, but I started doing that too to get out after that. A short while after she called my toddler sister "sensual" my stepmother asked if my sister could watch me shower one evening. It was again, fucking weird and creepy and it made my blood run cold. I didn't know what to really make of it.
My sister had a really advanced knowledge about sex for her age and would speak really openly and graphically about things. It was really upsetting to hear her talk that way at that age. My stepmother would blame it on things she would hear other kids at preschool say, but many kids don't say those things. My father was/is extremely passive about all of this, strangely so. Several years ago a close friend of my stepmother's called Child Protective Services regarding the language she would hear my sister say. My sister was put in therapy and I think the case was dismissed. As soon as the case was dismissed my sister was removed from therapy and has since been placed in a private school so CPS cannot speak to my sister while there, or her teacher like they did at public school.
My stepmother was always smacking up her cars causing $1000 repairs here and there, all related to running into or hitting something. She quite significantly smacked up the passenger side of her car ramming into the curved wall of the driveway. My sister was in the car at the time and although she was alright, where she was sitting was impacted pretty good. The next day I heard my stepmother on the phone practically bragging about the fact that she was drunk at the time. She openly drank perhaps a bottle or two of wine a day. I told my father and her accused me of judging my stepmother.
Most recently within the past year, my sister is now 11, I spent time with my stepmother and father at their house once again. Aside from the fact that I was practically held there against my will, and out in the boonies making it hard to just leave. I literally had to pack up what I could while my family was gone for the weekend and drive away while I had access to a car in order to finally get away from them. But not long before I escaped I was listening to music one night. When I took my over ear headphones off I heard my stepmother talking. I listened closely because it sounded like she was talking about sex or something, but that she was in my sister's bedroom. After several minutes I realized that she was not giving a "birds and bees" talk to my sister but explaining that some people enjoy kinky sex and wearing lingerie. My sister was 10 at that time. Why would she be telling those things to my sister?
I texted my brother about this because I was deeply disturbed and alarmed. He had lived with them and grown up with them. He said, "Yeah she would say that." WHAT? I'm not that close with my brother either mind you. My brother had a falling out with my father and stepmother a few years back. Since meeting my stepmother my father has since become isolated from both my brother and myself, and to a good extent his family. He is unable to retire despite his age and will probably have to work until the day he dies due to my stepmother's spending. He owns nothing of his own, a house, car, nothing, and has not grown his retirement savings since divorcing my mother.
Despite already knowing my stepmother and father were messed up I had no idea until this past year while I lived with them for a bit. I know my stepmother hides her drinking and use of painkillers. She also says hello to the Ambien Walrus nightly in conjunction with the drinking and sometimes pain killers. I really fucking think my sister is being sexually abused. It all adds up, right? It's nuts and disturbing me and has been burdoning me as it's all added up since I was 18 and it's now 9 years later. If I call CPS I'm worried nothing will come of it like what happened the first time they were called, but I know my stepmother will somehow find out I'm the one who made the call. I am seriously afraid of her after being held at their house, there are many things I'm just not taking the time to write, because my sister matters more. She found out who called CPS on her the first time and she is god damn insane. I am truly afraid of her and what's going on in that house that I don't know about. Phew.
/sothrowingthisaway/

I knew this kid through scouts who was three years younger than me and a total pervert. He lived down the road from me and for a while we would hang out and play Nintendo games. His parents were pretty laid back and let him decorate his room with girly posters and swear in front of them. He also had an older sister who was in high school at the time, but she stayed in her room on the phone (like typical teen girls).
One day i went over to hang out and we had the house to ourselves. After a while he got up and went into his sisters room for a moment, then came back in the room were I was playing Contra and showed me a waste basket that had a used rubber on the top. I thought it was gross, but he told me that he had seen her use it the night before. I asked how and he showed me a hole in his closet that he made that looked directly at her bed. He then told me that he would stand there and jack off to her in his closet.
He then told me that the fresh rubber was his dad's and he watched them the night before. I knew this kid was a chronic liar, so I didn't think that part was true. He then told me that some times she sucked him off and if she came home before their parents, I could use the closet. She didn't come home before I left. This wasn't the only time he wanted me to masturbate in his presence, but I paid no attention to it because I figured he was trying to show off to a older kid.
About a two weeks later, I was over there with him alone in the house. He was telling me that his sister must have found the hole and had moved some furniture in front of it. He was mad so he had gone into the room and attempted to move the obstruction, but couldn't because he wasn't strong enough. So in his mind he was going to punish his sister for it buy poking holes in her rubbers. School started a week later and we didn't get to hang out as much.
That was fine with me because he was creeping me out and I was about to drop out of scouts because I was losing interest with the group, plus he had attacked a fellow scout with an axe. The kid was fine, but my "friend" was about to get kicked out. I saw his sister on the bus a few times and I thought she looked like she had gained some weight, but I didn't connect the previous events to her appearance.
Well, shortly after the axe incident, I went over to his house one last time and he had a few boys over that were close to his age. He had talked them into putting tampons up their butts. They didn't stay long after I got there, but after they left, he told me that he got his sister to let him have sex with her. I don't remember the details but he said that he used one of the altered condoms. He told me that they were moving soon and wanted me to have a few things.
Thankfully they were games and not magazines with crunchy pages. After they moved I learned a lot in school about incest and all of that in sex-ed class. I was ashamed that I didn't contact an adult, but I honestly didn't know if all his talk was all made up or not. Well, 12 years later I bumped into him at a local movie theater. He was still the same but fatter from a fast food diet. He told me that had had lost his license for the second time for speeding and racing.
I asked him about his sister he told me they moved because she got pregnant, but they didn't know who the father was. When I asked, he laughed and told me it was his, not his dad's. He seemed pretty proud about it too. If it was all true, karma caught up with him.
About a month later I read about a horrible crash that killed one driver and injured three other people. In the back of that same news paper was his obituary. He was still driving, and street racing, despite having his license revoked. At the bottom were it mentioned surviving family, it mentioned his parents, sister, and a daughter.
/The_Mad_Gasser/

There was this one girl I'd known for a long time but wasn't massively close to who we all thought was being terribly controlled by her boyfriend. She would tell us that he decided when you was allowed to drink, when she was allowed to go out, what she was allowed to do etc. and that he hid things around the house, and that he had started to impose bedtimes for her and shout at her over what seemed like extremely minor things. We all thought he was awful and encouraged her to leave.
Then she moved in with me and I realised she was extremely emotionally unstable and an alcoholic. Within months, I found myself wanting to do, or in some cases actually doing, all the things she said her 'controlling' boyfriend had done. I remember one time after trying to remain patient with her for a while, she said one thing that was relatively minor and it was the last straw - I just snapped and screamed at her. I then got phone calls from all our mutual friends to talk about "my behaviour" and "anger management" presumably as a result of the story being told back to them in a ... somewhat biased way ... So, in a way, her secret changed my opinion of him.

Another one: So my sister starts dating this guy. He left his ex for my sister. My sister and I are pretty close so I hang out with this guy quite a bit while hanging with her. He tells us all these crazy things his ex did and how she was this psycho bitch. So, of course, I'm like "whoa, good on you for leaving, she sounds terrible".

Eventually, the guy starts to get super clingy and annoying showing up at my sisters house randomly at all hours of the night. Staying at her house when she goes to work on his days off. They had only been together a couple months at this point and it was too much for her. She breaks it off.
Fast forward about 6 months. I'm a groomsman in my buddies wedding. I really hit off with the maid of honor (bride's cousin). We were chatting before the rehearsal dinner. She seems super cool. End up sitting by her at dinner and laughing and talking the whole night.

After I get home, I look her up on Facebook, because I'm a creep. Finally find her page and pull it up. Who do I see in her profile picture with her? My sisters ex boyfriend! I'm like what the fuck. Creep on her profile. Definitely her boyfriend. I message her like "dude, your dating [his name]?".

She confirms. Ask for how long. She tells me it's been like 3 years, but they broke up for a few months while he was with someone else and got back together. This chick is the crazy ex girlfriend! I tell her that the person he was with while they were broken up was my sister. She says she knew already. She knew who I was and apparently was freaking out when her cousin told her I was friends with her husband and would be in the wedding with her.
Against my better judgement, I continue being friends with her. She invited me over for a super bowl party and a few other get togethers at her and the boyfriends place. Start getting closer with this girl and start to see that the guy is actually super controlling and was physically and emotionally abusive. 

Took everything I had to not knock his teeth in. Eventually convince her to leave him and move in with me just to get away from him. Now, it's 3 years later and we are getting married next year. Crazy roller coaster ride that has been.

/reallybigleg/

University in my halls of residence. Made friends with a guy who was into heavy metal music. He was quite different compared to myself. Me sporty involved in university football team etc. He was big into his pot and metal music. But I talk to anyone and if you're not a dick I don't care how you dress or what music you like etc.

He had come from the other side of the country and I could tell he felt quite lonely and was just about surviving financially. So I use to invite him into my room with other friends and it would always end up me and him talking about conspiracy theories and all sorts till the early hours.

When we were going out I would drag him out with me and I would stick a 20 or so in his pocket and say when you make it big (he was a musician) you can give me a backstage pass. I started a cook off with him in the halls as he wasn't sure how to cook so gave him a few recipes and he ran with it. He was a great guy, we liked totally different things but at the same time connected.

Anyway one of these nights I forced him out because he was looking home sick in his room. He was drunk and we were walking home he put his arm around me and said. "You know if it wasn't for you I wouldn't be here right now."

Me thinking he was referring to him being out and drunk I said. "I know you were tough to persuade to come out." He responds "No, not this I mean you saved me so many times and you don't know it." Being confused I asked what he meant. "Dude I'm so unhappy here I've thought about suicide and at times gone to do it, only for you to come in and start talking to me, or you've forced me to come out. I never wanted to be here, my parents forced me here, I just wanted to end it all."

I was drunk and a bit in shock and said back that he should never end it over being somewhere you don't want to be, doing something you don't want to do. You can change that by just dropping out and doing something you really want to do. No one would see you as a failure but as someone who has the balls to go against the flow and chase the dream of what they want to do.

I remember him looking straight at me and he smiled and nodded at me, he then motioned to the takeaway and asked if I wanted anything he was buying, he then laughed and said "Well you are it's your money."

A few weeks later we broke for Christmas and we all went back to where we came from for the holidays, he rang me and he was in the car with a friend driving back to university to get his stuff he was leaving I remember him sounding so relieved he thanked me for everything.

It was only later i realised the difference I made, and it messed my head a little bit, started thinking how if i hadn't of been the way I was what would of happened and the knock on effect it would of had for me and his family. Hope you're doing well Jim and rocking it.

/interyama/

Wow, when I was in the Marine Corps, a guy in my platoon had this young pitbull. She wasn't trained right because he was never home to do it, and when he was home, his way of teaching her was to beat the shit out of her.
One day I see the dogs not there and I ask why. He told me he took her out to the woods and shot her in the back of the head with his .45, he was sick of her pissing on the carpet. He gave that same expectant laugh, as well as laughing when he described how he had to shoot her twice because she kept twitching.

I was seeing red, I smashed his face as hard as I could, left, and never talked to the shit-head again. I found out about 3 months after I got out that he died. Choked on his own vomit after passing out drunk. Karma, I say.

I actually have another fucked up story related to two different guys from the very same platoon. For anyone interested in this platoon of fuckheads, it was 2d Intel BN, HQ Co, Ground Sensor Platoon(GSP). We were a bunch of grunts trained to operate ground sensors, think of the little motion detectors from Battlefield games, only we used several different types of sensors.

It's not nearly as cool as it might sound, trust me, and for some reasone GSP seems to breed these fucks. So, one of the guys in my platoon gets married. He's an asshole of course and did it just so he could be allowed to move off base. I'm pretty sure he hit his wife too. Anyway, the whole platoon had a party there, myself included, for his new place. It was a pretty cut and dry, alcohol fueled, young idiot enlisted Marine party.

Except it seemed a bit off when 3 of the guys came back after 20 minutes out of nowhere, the new husband included, and he tells his very timid and seemingly lonely wife that her kitten ran off and they couldn't catch him. She was devastated, even though she thought he'd probably come back.

Fast forward maybe a month. We're sitting in battalion and it comes up in conversation from one of those 3 guys how it was funny how "that annoying worthless cat disappeared". The husband just up and openly admitted that they went and strangled the kitten and threw it in a dumpster.

Three people involved, and nothing I could do about it. The worst part is that I was looked at like the asshole when I let some rage show, as if I was fucked up for being outraged.
As much as I loved the Corps (and hated it), it really seemed to attract some fucked up individials. I don't know about everywhere, but my experience of the infantry mindset is basically "fuck everyone and everything that isn't us".

/sickmoranis/

A little late to this party, but here it goes. Back in elementary school, my mom was escaping an abusive relationship, and took us from the city to a beach. Needless to say this was a huge change for my brothers and I. Anyway, I had trouble fitting in but I bought a skateboard and made a few friends with the other skateboarders.
I started hanging out with this one kid, we will call him A, who lived in the small town and we would skateboard down near the hospital because he lived near there.

Eventually I put 2+2 together and realize his dad is my pediatrician. I say something along the lines of, "oh man, that's cool. He is a really nice guy. My mom really likes him" and he responded with "no. He is an evil asshole. I hate him." And things just got really dark. Just then he decided he didn't want to play anymore. Eventually him and I weren't friends anymore.

Highschool came and I had a really big crush on his younger sister. She never talked to anyone though, and I remember asking someone about her and they just kind of laughed at me and was like "that girl doesn't do anything except go straight home after school. I don't think I have ever heard her talk." Whatever, some girls are shy.

Just before high school, I needed a physical for little league and my mom took me to our normal pediatrician. Obviously, there is no need for my mom to come into the exam room with me anymore. The doctor comes out, and he is all smiles.

Shakes my moms hand, and they exchange pleasantries. So, we head back. As soon as the door closes, the whole mood changes. He has this almost mean look on his face. We go throw the exam and it comes to the part where he needs to grab my junk.

No warning, he just rips my gym shorts down. I jump up off the bed and he shoves me back down on it and says he isn't going to hurt me. Anyway, he finish the exam and I head out of there. On the way home, I tell my mom that I don't really like that doctor much, so she changes doctors for my brothers and I.
Anyway, years later, I am in jail at this point, and we are watching the news, and whose face do I see? The doctors. Apparently, he was a child molestor of epic proportions. 

His wikipedia calls him the "worst pedophile in american history" with 103 confirmed victims. This just really messed with my head. I don’t know if I’ll ever live it down. Ever.

/Wizahd-of-ahhhs/

I live next door to Mr. Thompson, an elderly gentleman who's always been a pillar of our community. He's the kind of neighbor everyone wishes they had: kind, generous, and always ready with a smile or a helpful hand. Our families have been close for years, so when he asked for help cleaning out his attic one weekend, I didn't hesitate.

While we were sorting through boxes of old books and memorabilia, I came across a small, locked box tucked away under a pile of blankets. Mr. Thompson had stepped out for a moment, and my curiosity got the better of me. I found a key nearby and opened it. Inside, there were several old newspaper clippings and some photographs that looked decades old.

The newspaper clippings were about a series of unsolved crimes in a small town from many years ago. I was casually skimming through them until I saw a photo that made my heart skip a beat. It was Mr. Thompson, unmistakably, but much younger. He was in several of the pictures, and in one, he was labeled as a prime suspect.

I was in shock. The man I'd known as a kind, harmless old neighbor was linked to these dark, unsolved mysteries. The contrast was jarring. I carefully put everything back as it was and never mentioned it to Mr. Thompson. But from that day on, I couldn't help but wonder about the man living next door.

Was Mr. Thompson really involved in those crimes, or was it a case of mistaken identity? The thought haunted me. I started to observe him more closely, looking for signs of the person I saw in those clippings. But he remained the same friendly neighbor, always waving and chatting about the weather or local news.

I considered going to the police, but what would I tell them? That I found old newspaper clippings in my neighbor's attic? Without any real evidence, it was just a bunch of old papers. And what if I was wrong? Accusing a beloved, elderly man of such heinous crimes could ruin his life.

I started doing some research on my own, trying to find more information about the crimes and the investigation. But it was a small town, and the events had happened so long ago. There was little to find, and nothing that gave me any clear answers.

Living next to Mr. Thompson became a constant internal battle. The friendly chats and neighborly gestures were now tinged with a sense of unease. I was living next to a mystery, a man who might have a dark past hidden behind his friendly demeanor.

In the end, I never found out the truth about Mr. Thompson's past. Maybe he was innocent, or perhaps he had secrets that he took to his grave. The mystery of the man next door remains unsolved, a haunting reminder that we never truly know the people around us.

- u/MysteryNeighborTales

My friend Sarah has always been the epitome of success and happiness. We've been friends since college, and I've always admired her – a successful career, a beautiful family, and a lifestyle many would envy. She seemed to have it all, and I was genuinely happy for her. That is until the day I accidentally stumbled upon her darkest secret.

One evening, I received an email from Sarah, but it was clearly not meant for me. It contained detailed financial statements and a series of messages discussing substantial amounts of money. At first, I thought it was a mistake, but as I read further, the truth began to dawn on me. Sarah was involved in something illegal.

The emails detailed a sophisticated embezzlement scheme at her company. Sarah, it seemed, was the mastermind behind it all. She had been funneling large sums of money into private accounts for years. The level of planning and deceit was astounding. This wasn't the Sarah I knew, or at least, I thought I knew.

Confronted with this knowledge, I was torn. Should I confront her? Should I go to the authorities? I was struggling with the ethical dilemma, but more than that, I was struggling with the shock of discovering this hidden side of someone I considered a close friend.

I decided to confront Sarah. It was the hardest conversation I've ever had. She broke down, confessing everything. The pressure of maintaining her 'perfect' life had driven her to make choices she deeply regretted. She was trapped in a web of her own making, and now she was terrified of the consequences.

Sarah begged me to keep her secret, but I was in an impossible position. Keeping her secret meant being complicit in her crimes. I was also scared for her - the longer this went on, the worse the consequences would be when it inevitably came crashing down.

After much internal debate, I anonymously tipped off the company. It was one of the hardest decisions I've ever made, but I believed it was the right thing to do. The fallout was immediate and devastating. Sarah was arrested, and her perfect life unraveled before everyone's eyes.

I watched my friend's life crumble, knowing I had played a part in her downfall. Our friendship couldn't survive the revelation. I lost a friend, but more than that, I lost my belief in the façade of perfection. The realization that anyone, no matter how seemingly successful or happy, can have dark secrets, was a hard lesson.
I still think about Sarah and the complexity of human nature. How desperation can lead to unthinkable choices, and how the pressure to maintain appearances can destroy lives. It's a secret that changed me, and the way I view the world around me.

- u/ConflictedFriend82

I met Mike at a mutual friend's party. He was charming, charismatic, and had a way of making everyone around him feel special. We hit it off instantly, and before long, we were dating. He was the perfect boyfriend, always attentive and caring. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

A few months into our relationship, Mike started opening up about his past. At first, it was just small anecdotes about his tough upbringing, which I found endearing - it showed a vulnerable side to him. But then, the stories started taking a darker turn.

One night, after a few drinks, Mike confessed something that chilled me to the bone. He casually mentioned how he used to get into fights, not just minor scuffles, but serious, violent altercations. He spoke of them with a disturbing nonchalance, almost with a hint of pride.

He detailed one particular incident where he had severely injured someone. The way he described it, the lack of remorse in his voice, it scared me. This wasn't the Mike I knew, or at least, the Mike I thought I knew. This was someone else, someone capable of real violence.

I lay awake that night, trying to reconcile this revelation with the man I'd fallen for. It felt like I was living a lie. Every tender moment we shared was now tainted with the knowledge of his violent past. I didn't know what to do or who to turn to.

In the days that followed, I became more and more distant. Mike noticed and became increasingly insistent on knowing what was wrong. But how could I confront him about this? How could I tell him that the man he revealed himself to be terrified me?

Finally, I gathered the courage to end things. I told him that I couldn't be with someone who had such a violent past. Mike didn't take it well. He pleaded, he apologized, he promised he had changed. But the trust was broken, and I couldn't see him the same way anymore.

After we broke up, I struggled with feelings of guilt and fear. Guilt, because part of me wondered if I was abandoning someone who had trusted me with his past. Fear, because now I knew what he was capable of, and I didn't know how he would react to the breakup.

It's been a while since I last saw Mike, but his confession still haunts me. It's a reminder that people can have dark chapters in their lives that we know nothing about. It made me more cautious, more aware that the face people show to the world is not always who they truly are.

- u/ShockedAndAppalled99

Growing up, there was always a sense of mystery surrounding my family's past. My parents and relatives were oddly silent about our heritage, brushing off any questions with vague answers. This secrecy always intrigued me, and as I grew older, my curiosity only intensified.

Determined to uncover the truth, I started digging into our family history. I spent countless hours researching, going through old records, and even visiting the town where my family originally came from. It felt like I was a detective in my own family mystery.

The breakthrough came when I discovered a series of old newspaper articles. They detailed the criminal exploits of a man who bore my family's name. As I delved deeper, the shocking truth became clear: my great-grandfather was a notorious criminal, involved in a range of illegal activities.

He had been a mastermind in various illicit schemes, from fraud to smuggling. His actions had caused much suffering and had been a significant scandal at the time. The realization that my family descended from such a person was both shocking and unsettling.

Armed with this information, I confronted my parents. They were taken aback but eventually opened up. They had kept this secret to protect us from the stigma associated with our ancestor's actions. They wanted to spare us the burden of a tarnished family name.

The revelation cast a shadow over our family. It explained the secrecy and the reluctance to discuss our past. But it also raised new questions about identity and legacy. How much did this hidden past influence who we are today?

I struggled with this new knowledge. There was a sense of betrayal – not just because of the secret itself, but because of the years of deception. I felt disconnected from my family, unsure how to reconcile this dark past with the family I loved and knew.

As time passed, I came to terms with the truth. I realized that we are not defined solely by our ancestors' actions. My family had chosen to move away from that dark legacy, to build a new, honest life. This, in its own way, was a legacy too.

Discovering this secret about my family's past was a journey that changed me. It made me more aware of the complexities of history and identity. It's a part of who I am, a piece of a larger, intricate puzzle that makes up my family's story.

- u/FamilySecretsRevealed

My best friend Laura and I were inseparable since childhood. We shared everything - hopes, dreams, fears. Then, one summer during high school, she vanished without a trace. Her disappearance left a gaping hole in our lives and our community. Despite extensive searches and investigations, no trace of her was ever found.

Years passed, and the mystery of Laura's disappearance remained unsolved. The pain never really went away, but we learned to live with it. Laura's brother, Tom, and I grew close in the years following her disappearance. He was like the brother I never had, and our shared grief brought us together.

One night, years later, Tom and I were reminiscing about Laura. There was a heavy air of sadness, but then Tom's demeanor changed. He became visibly distressed, his voice trembling as he started to reveal something he said he had kept secret for years.

With tears in his eyes, Tom confessed the unthinkable. He and Laura had gotten into a heated argument that fateful summer day. The argument escalated, and in a moment of uncontrollable anger, he pushed her. She fell, hit her head, and died instantly.

Tom was overcome with panic and fear. He hid her body, and then fabricated a story about her going missing. He had lived with this guilt, this horrific secret, for all these years. His confession shattered everything I thought I knew about Laura's disappearance.

I was in shock, unable to process what I had just heard. The Laura I had mourned for years, the friend I had desperately hoped was still alive, had been gone all along, and her brother, my close friend, was responsible.

I grappled with a torrent of emotions - anger, sadness, betrayal. I wanted to hate Tom for what he had done, but I also saw the immense pain and guilt he had been living with. His life had been a prison of his own guilt, a silent torment he had endured every day.

The revelation changed everything. Our community had been haunted by Laura's disappearance, and now the truth brought a tragic closure. I was torn between my loyalty to Laura and my complex feelings for Tom, who was both a perpetrator and a victim in this tragedy.

Tom's confession remained a heavy burden. I was one of the few who knew the true story behind Laura's disappearance, a secret that weighed heavily on my conscience. It was a stark reminder of the fragility of relationships and the profound impact of a single moment of anger.

- u/TornBetweenTruths

I've been a wedding photographer for over a decade, capturing countless joyful moments. But there's one wedding that haunts me to this day. The couple, Emily and Mark, seemed perfect for each other, and their wedding was set to be a grand affair.

During the wedding, I took hundreds of photos, capturing the laughter, the tears, and the love. Everything was picturesque, but while editing the photos later, I noticed something odd in one of the images - a shadowy figure lurking in the background, almost hidden, but distinctly there.

Curious, I enhanced the image and recognized the figure as someone I had seen before - Emily's ex-boyfriend, who had a history of stalking her. The realization sent chills down my spine. He wasn't just a random guest; he was there uninvited, watching.

I debated whether to tell Emily and Mark. Bringing it up could ruin their memories of a perfect day. But the presence of her stalker at their wedding was a potential threat that they needed to know about.

I decided to show them the photo. Emily was visibly shaken, and Mark was furious. They had taken great lengths to ensure he wouldn't know about the wedding. How he found out and managed to sneak in was a mystery.

The discovery led to a police investigation. It turned out that the ex-boyfriend had been keeping tabs on Emily for months. Seeing him in that photo wasn't just creepy; it was evidence of his obsession.

This incident changed the way I approach wedding photography. I became more vigilant, always looking out for anything out of the ordinary. The safety of the couples I photograph became a new priority for me.

Emily and Mark moved on, but the incident left a scar. They were constantly looking over their shoulders, fearing he might reappear. The stalker was eventually caught and dealt with, but the fear he instilled lingered.

This experience taught me that sometimes, the most significant moments are the ones you don’t realize you’ve captured. It’s a reminder that behind the facade of perfect moments, there can be hidden dangers.

- u/CapturedShadows

I work as a librarian in a small, historic town. Our library is a treasure trove of old documents and books, and I've always enjoyed exploring these relics of the past. One day, I stumbled upon a collection of old journals that would reveal a chilling secret.

The journals belonged to a prominent figure in the town's history, known for his philanthropy and esteemed by all. As I read through his personal writings, I expected to find insights into his charitable works, but instead, I found something entirely different.

Hidden within the pages were confessions of criminal activities, including fraud and blackmail. The more I read, the more horrified I became. This respected figure was actually a master manipulator, using his status to exploit others.

The journals detailed how he used his influence to cover up his misdeeds, implicating others to divert suspicion. His victims were numerous, and the impact of his actions had shaped the town's history in ways I couldn't have imagined.

Struggling with what to do with this information, I consulted my colleagues. Some suggested making the journals public, while others feared the repercussions on the town's image and the descendants of the figure.

After much deliberation, we decided to present the journals to a local historian. His expertise helped us understand the full context and impact of these revelations on our town's history.

The historian's research corroborated the journals' contents and shed light on long-unresolved mysteries in the town. It was decided that the truth needed to be told, but in a manner that was sensitive to the present community.

The revelation about the town's benefactor was met with mixed reactions. Some were in disbelief, while others felt vindicated as it explained injustices their families had endured. It sparked a reevaluation of our town's history.

This experience taught me the power of the past and its echoes in the present. History is not always as it seems, and sometimes the truth can change our understanding of the world around us.

- u/LibrarianOfTruths

I've been a bartender for years, and I've heard more confessions than a priest. Most are trivial, some amusing, but one night, I heard something that still haunts me. It was a slow Tuesday, and a regular, Jack, came in. He was a middle-aged, unassuming man who usually kept to himself.

That night, Jack was different. He seemed agitated, restless. After a few drinks, he leaned in and, in a hushed tone, began to tell me a story. At first, I thought it was just another drunken tale, but as he spoke, the gravity of his words hit me.

He confessed to being involved in a hit-and-run accident years ago. He had struck a pedestrian, a young woman, and in a panic, he fled the scene. He said he'd lived with this guilt, tormented by it every day.

I didn't know what to say or do. Here was a man I'd known for years, revealing a dark secret that changed everything I thought I knew about him. The weight of his confession was overwhelming.

Jack begged me to keep his secret, saying he couldn't bear the thought of his family finding out. He claimed it was a moment of cowardice that had ruined his life. I could see the pain and regret in his eyes, but I was torn between sympathy and the severity of his crime.

After that night, I couldn't look at Jack the same way. I was conflicted about whether to report what he told me. The thought of the victim and her family not knowing the truth about what happened to her weighed heavily on me.

In the end, I decided to speak to a lawyer friend, anonymously. He advised me that without proof or Jack's willingness to confess officially, there was little that could be done. It was a moral dilemma that offered no solace.

Jack stopped coming to the bar not long after his confession. I don't know what became of him, but his secret stayed with me. It was a stark reminder of how little we truly know about the people we see every day.

This experience changed me. It made me more aware of the hidden struggles and guilt that people carry. Sometimes a friendly face hides a troubled past, and a casual conversation can reveal a lifetime of regret.

- u/BarkeeperSecrets

As an avid scuba diver, I've explored many underwater wonders, but one dive changed my perspective forever. It was off the coast of a secluded island, renowned for its vibrant marine life. I was excited for what I thought would be a routine dive.

Descending into the blue depths, I was mesmerized by the colorful coral and schools of fish. It was a different world, peaceful and serene. That serenity, however, was soon shattered by a chilling discovery.

I stumbled upon a sunken car, eerily out of place in this underwater paradise. Curiosity piqued, I swam closer, only to find a skeleton inside, still strapped to the driver's seat. The sight was macabre and unsettling.

I surfaced and immediately reported the find to the authorities. The car was eventually identified, and so was the skeleton. It belonged to a man who had been reported missing years ago, a presumed runaway case.

The investigation revealed a darker truth. The man had been a victim of a crime, his car deliberately pushed into the sea with him inside. It wasn't an accident or a suicide; it was murder.

I was questioned as a witness and followed the case closely. The man had been a local, with a seemingly happy life. But underneath the surface, there were secrets and a motive for murder.

The case eventually led to the arrest of a close acquaintance of the victim. The motive was a mix of jealousy and financial gain. It was shocking how greed and envy could lead to such a heinous act.

This experience stayed with me. Every dive since then has had an underlying sense of trepidation. The ocean, which I had always seen as a place of beauty and tranquility, now also held a sense of mystery and danger.

The sea, much like people, has hidden depths and secrets. What appears calm and serene on the surface can conceal darker truths underneath. This dive was a stark reminder of that reality.

- u/DeepSeaSecrets

I’m a musician, and I’ve played in countless bars and venues. Music was my life, my passion. That was until one night, a performance led me to a secret that would change everything. I was playing at a small, cozy bar, a regular gig for me.

That night, a woman approached me during a break. She was older, with a melancholic look in her eyes. She requested a song, an old, obscure melody. It was a song I knew well, one that my mother used to sing to me as a child.

As I played the song, the woman began to weep quietly. Her reaction was intense, and it stirred something in me. After my set, I approached her, curious about her connection to the song.

She revealed that the song was written by her son, who had been a musician too, years ago. He had disappeared mysteriously, leaving no trace behind. His loss had left a void in her life, and the song was her only connection to him.

Her story touched me deeply, and I offered to help her find out what happened to her son. Together, we embarked on a journey, tracing his last known steps and contacts in the music world.

Our search led us to a former bandmate of her son. He reluctantly confessed that her son had been involved in some risky dealings, getting mixed up with the wrong crowd in the music industry.

Delving deeper, we uncovered a network of exploitation and corruption. Her son had tried to expose it but was silenced before he could. His disappearance was no accident; it was a cover-up.

The revelation was shocking. The music industry, which I loved and devoted my life to, had a dark underbelly. I was torn between my passion for music and the disillusionment of this discovery.

This journey not only uncovered the tragic fate of a fellow musician but also opened my eyes to the realities behind the scenes. The melody that brought us together became a symbol of lost dreams and the harsh truths of the world.

- u/MelodySeeker

I work as a housekeeper in a historic hotel known for its grandeur and mystery. Over the years, I've witnessed many peculiar occurrences, but none as unsettling as the secret of room 413.

Room 413 was always off-limits, supposedly due to renovations. However, one night, out of sheer curiosity, I unlocked the door. The room was perfectly intact, frozen in time with a layer of dust covering its vintage decor.

In the room, I found a hidden compartment behind a loose wall panel. Inside, there were stacks of old letters and diaries belonging to a woman who had stayed in the hotel decades ago. Her words revealed a chilling tale.

The woman, a famous actress of her time, had been involved in a scandalous affair with a prominent politician. The letters detailed their secret rendezvous and plans to elope, which never came to fruition.

As I delved deeper, I discovered that the actress mysteriously disappeared shortly after the date they planned to leave together. The diaries hinted at a growing sense of paranoia and fear she felt before her disappearance.

I was torn about what to do with these revelations. These documents shed light on a decades-old mystery that had intrigued the public and haunted the hotel's history.

After much deliberation, I handed the diaries and letters to a local historian. The findings ignited a renewed interest in the actress's unsolved disappearance, leading to a series of investigations.

The story uncovered by the diaries caused a sensation, with speculations and theories filling the media. The hotel became the center of a historical mystery, attracting visitors eager to see the infamous room 413.

This discovery changed my view of the hotel. Behind its grand facade lay hidden stories, each room a keeper of secrets. Room 413, once a mere number, became a symbol of untold tales and mysteries waiting to be uncovered.

- u/WhispersFromThePast

As a small-town librarian, I've always taken an interest in the lives of our regular patrons. One such patron was Mr. Carter, a seemingly ordinary elderly gentleman, always polite and soft-spoken.

One day, while organizing old newspaper archives, I stumbled upon a series of articles from the 1960s that featured a man who bore a striking resemblance to Mr. Carter. The man in the articles was accused of being a notorious con artist.

The articles described his scams in detail, ranging from identity theft to elaborate fraud schemes. The resemblance was uncanny, but the idea that our Mr. Carter could be this criminal seemed far-fetched.

Curiosity got the best of me, and I began to discreetly investigate. I compared photos, dug into public records, and even followed Mr. Carter a few times. The evidence I gathered pointed to an unsettling conclusion.

It became clear that Mr. Carter and the con artist were one and the same. He had assumed a new identity and had been living in our town, undetected and unsuspected, for decades.

I was torn between exposing him and the potential fallout. What if I was wrong? What if exposing him brought unwanted trouble to our peaceful town?

After much internal debate, I decided to confront Mr. Carter. His reaction was not one of denial but of resignation. He confessed to his past but insisted he had changed his ways long ago.

Mr. Carter's story was one of regret and redemption. He had turned a new leaf in our town, living quietly and doing no harm. Yet, the shadows of his past lingered.

I kept his secret, respecting the life he had built here. But the discovery changed how I saw the people around me. It was a reminder that everyone has a past, and sometimes it's a past they desperately wish to leave behind.

- u/SmallTownSecrets

I'm a piano teacher, and I've taught many students over the years. However, one student, Lily, stood out not just for her talent, but for the mystery she brought with her.

Lily was a quiet, introspective child, but when she played, she transformed. One day, she played a haunting melody that I had never heard before. It was beautiful yet tinged with sadness.

Curious about the piece, I asked Lily where she had learned it. She told me it was a song her grandmother used to play, a song from her homeland, a country she had fled during a war.

Intrigued, I researched the song and discovered it was from a small, obscure village that was destroyed during the conflict. The melody was virtually unknown outside that area.

The more I delved into the song's history, the more I uncovered about Lily's family. Her grandmother had been a renowned pianist in her village, known for her compositions, which were thought to be lost.

Lily's playing had revealed a forgotten piece of musical history. I encouraged her to share the melody, to preserve her grandmother's legacy and the memory of her village.

We recorded Lily playing the song and shared it online. It resonated with many, especially those from her grandmother's homeland, stirring memories and emotions.

The melody became a symbol of resilience and hope. It connected people from around the world, bringing attention to the forgotten history of a small village and its rich cultural heritage.

This experience taught me the power of music to transcend time and place, to uncover hidden stories, and to heal. Lily's tune was more than just a melody; it was a bridge to the past and a beacon for the future.

- u/MelodicMemories

I've been a tech support specialist for a local IT company for years. I've seen all sorts of computer issues, but one particular case still sends shivers down my spine.

A regular client, Mrs. Henderson, brought in her laptop complaining it was running slow. She was an elderly lady, very sweet but not tech-savvy. I expected it to be a routine clean-up.

As I dug into her system, I found a hidden folder that was unusually large. Curiosity piqued, I opened it, only to find hundreds of encrypted files. The level of sophistication was far beyond what you'd expect from an average user.

Upon further investigation, I discovered the files were linked to an underground network involved in illegal activities, ranging from identity theft to financial fraud. It was a shocking discovery, especially coming from Mrs. Henderson's laptop.

I debated whether to confront her or report it to the authorities. The dilemma was complicated by my relationship with her as a long-time client and the fear of falsely accusing a seemingly innocent elderly woman.

After a sleepless night, I decided to report it. The police took over and began their investigation. It turned out Mrs. Henderson's grandson had been using her laptop to run these operations, exploiting her naivety.

Mrs. Henderson was devastated when she learned the truth. Her trust and familial love had been manipulated. I felt a mix of relief for not having accused her directly and guilt for shattering her world.

The incident brought to light how easily trust can be exploited in the digital age. It also showed me the dark underbelly of the tech world, where the innocent can unknowingly become entangled in criminal webs.

This experience taught me the importance of vigilance and the ethical dilemmas we face in the tech industry. It's not just about fixing computers; it's about understanding the human element behind every screen.

- u/DigitalGuardian

I inherited an old mansion from a distant relative, a place I had never heard of before. It was located in a remote town, surrounded by dense woods and steeped in silence.

Exploring the property, I stumbled upon a hidden garden, overgrown and forgotten. It was like stepping into another world, a secret haven untouched by time.

In the center of the garden was an ancient statue of an angel, weathered but beautiful. Beneath it, I found a small, rusted metal box, partially buried in the earth.

Curiosity piqued, I opened the box. Inside were letters and photographs, yellowed with age. They belonged to a woman named Isabelle, who had lived in the mansion many years ago.

The letters were written to a man she loved, someone she planned to escape with. But the correspondence stopped abruptly, with no indication of what happened to them.

Intrigued, I began researching Isabelle's story. Local archives revealed she was a young woman who vanished without a trace, her disappearance a mystery that had never been solved.

The more I learned, the more I felt connected to Isabelle. Her story was a tragic tale of love and loss, a secret kept by the mansion and its hidden garden.

I restored the garden, bringing life back to the once forgotten place. It became a tribute to Isabelle, a space where her memory and the mystery of her fate lived on.

This discovery gave me a sense of purpose in preserving the past. The forgotten garden, with its secrets and history, became a part of me, a reminder that every place has a story waiting to be uncovered.

- u/GuardianOfMemories

As a detective, I've encountered many cases, but one that lingers in my mind involves a silent witness: an old, abandoned house at the edge of town, rumored to be haunted.

The case began with a series of unexplained incidents in the neighborhood. Locals reported seeing lights in the house and hearing strange sounds at night. It was my job to investigate.

Upon entering the house, I felt an eerie sense of history. The dusty furniture and old portraits suggested it had once been a home filled with life and now held secrets.

In the attic, I found a locked trunk. Inside, there were letters and journals belonging to the original owner, revealing a tale of betrayal and a forbidden love affair.

The journals detailed a tragic story of a young woman, in love with someone her family disapproved of. The affair ended in heartbreak, with the young woman's lover mysteriously disappearing.

Piecing together the story from the journals, I discovered that the lover was rumored to have been killed, and his body hidden within the house. This house held the key to an unsolved disappearance.

The case took a turn when I found a hidden room behind a bookshelf. Inside, there were belongings of the missing lover, and a diary that confirmed the murder and the identity of the killer.

The revelation solved a decades-old mystery. The killer, consumed by jealousy, had confessed in the diary, unable to live with the guilt. The house had been a silent witness to this tragic tale.

This case taught me that sometimes, the answers we seek are hidden in plain sight, waiting for the right moment to be uncovered. The house, once a source of rumors, became a key to unveiling the truth.

- u/DetectiveNarratives

I'm a landscaper, and I've always found peace in the quiet company of trees. But there's one tree, an ancient oak on the outskirts of our town, that holds a secret I accidentally uncovered.

One autumn day, while tending to the land around the oak, I stumbled upon a metal box buried at its base. It was old and rusted, clearly hidden there for many years.

Inside the box were letters and a diary, all dating back over a century. They belonged to a young woman, Elizabeth, who lived in our town during a turbulent period in history.

The diary entries revealed Elizabeth's secret love affair with a man from an opposing political faction, a relationship that was dangerous at the time. Their meetings were held in secret, under the very oak tree where I found the box.

The letters between them were filled with passionate declarations of love and dreams of a future together, a future that, I learned, they never got to live.

Further research led me to discover that both Elizabeth and her lover met tragic fates due to the escalating tensions of the era. Their love story was cut short, and they became lost footnotes in history.

I decided to share this discovery with our local historical society. The documents shed light on a personal story against the backdrop of our town's history, bringing to life the human aspect of the past conflicts.

The story of Elizabeth and her lover sparked interest in the community. The old oak became a symbol of enduring love and a reminder of our town's complex history.

This experience taught me that history is not just in books or museums; sometimes, it's hidden in the landscape around us, waiting to be rediscovered and told.

- u/NatureNarrator

As an antique shop owner, I've come across countless relics with stories to tell. But one particular item, an old pocket watch, held a mystery that unfolded in a way I never expected.

The watch was intricate, with engravings that hinted at its age and value. When I opened the back, I found a hidden compartment containing a small, faded photograph and a cryptic note.

The note was a plea for help, dated back to the early 1900s. It mentioned a wrongful accusation and a desperate situation. The person in the photograph was presumably the watch's owner.

Intrigued, I began researching the watch's origin. The trail led me to a family in a neighboring town, whose ancestor, according to local lore, had vanished under mysterious circumstances.

I contacted the family and learned that their ancestor was accused of a crime he didn't commit. The watch, it seemed, was his last message, an attempt to reach out to anyone who might find it in the future.

The family had long sought to clear their ancestor's name. The discovery of the watch and the note was the missing piece they needed to piece together what really happened.

With the new evidence, the family pursued the case. It turned out that the ancestor was indeed innocent, a victim of a wrongful accusation fueled by the politics and social dynamics of the time.

The revelation brought closure to the family, who had lived with the shadow of the accusation for generations. The watch, once a mere antique, became a symbol of justice and truth.

This experience showed me that every item in my shop has a story, some with the power to change lives. The watch wasn't just a piece of history; it was a key to unraveling a century-old mystery.

- u/AntiqueChronicles

I've been managing an art gallery in our city for years, showcasing various artists and styles. But it was the work of one reclusive artist, Gregory, that held a deep secret.

Gregory's paintings were mesmerizing, often depicting serene landscapes with a touch of melancholy. His work was popular, but he always shied away from the limelight.

One day, while setting up for a new exhibit, I discovered a hidden compartment in one of Gregory's larger frames. Inside, there was a series of letters and an old, faded photograph.

The letters were written by Gregory during a darker time in his life. They spoke of a lost love and a deep regret, themes subtly reflected in his art.

Intrigued, I delved deeper into Gregory's past. I learned that his muse and love had passed away tragically, an event that profoundly impacted his life and work.

Gregory's paintings, I realized, were more than just art; they were expressions of his grief and his undying love. Each piece told a story, a silent tribute to his lost partner.

I approached Gregory about my discovery. He was initially shocked but then shared his story with me. His art was his way of coping with his loss, keeping his love alive through his paintings.

With his permission, I organized a special exhibit, showcasing his works alongside the letters and photograph. It provided a deeper understanding of his art and the man behind it.

This experience reminded me that art is not just a visual experience but an emotional journey. Gregory's secret added a profound depth to his work, turning his paintings into windows to his soul.

- u/GalleryOfSecrets

As an investigative journalist, I've always sought the truth, no matter how hidden or uncomfortable. But one story challenged my principles more than any other.

I received an anonymous tip about corruption in a high-profile charity organization. The tipster sent me documents that, if true, would expose a massive embezzlement scheme.

I started digging, and the evidence began to mount. It became clear that someone inside the charity was siphoning funds for personal gain, betraying the trust of thousands of donors.

As I prepared to publish the story, I received a threatening message. It warned me of severe consequences if I went public with the information, not just for me but for my family.

The threat shook me. I had faced intimidation before, but this was different. It was personal and direct. I had to decide whether exposing the truth was worth the risk.

I wrestled with the decision. On one hand, I had a duty to the public to expose the corruption. On the other, I had to consider the safety of my loved ones.

After much thought, I chose to move forward with the story. I took precautions to protect my family and worked with my editor to ensure the story was bulletproof.

The story caused an uproar. The charity's officials were arrested, and a full investigation was launched. The public's reaction was a mix of shock and gratitude for bringing the corruption to light.

This experience was a stark reminder of the risks journalists face in the pursuit of truth. It reinforced my belief in the power of the press but also the need for vigilance in protecting those we love.

- u/TruthTellerReports

Every child in America has been to McDonald's. Don't try to deny it and I won't either.
When I went, it always seemed to be in celebration of something or other. This particular incident happened around the time my brother was potty trained, so I'm guessing that was why we were there. I always loved McDonald's (I mean heck, I was a kid), but this establishment in particular I loved more than any of the others, as my friend and I would meet up there and pretend that one room would dispense "chocolate mustard" from the AC vent at the top. I was a weird kid; don't question it.

Now, there's something that everyone must know about my brother. He, as a young boy, was very small. It wasn't his fault; his tonsils were inflamed to a degree which can best be described as obscene. They almost completely blocked off his throat, making it impossible to get the nutrients he needed to grow in the proper levels to do so. As a result, he was comically skinny. This comically skinny boy had recently been potty trained. He was wearing his "big boy" pants as his own personal celebration of the matter. They were grossly oversized. For reference, the boy's legs were about as thick around as the fat end of a carrot, and his tighty whities had leg holes designed for average sized children. The fateful day started as any other did. My brother and I ordered happy meals, expecting to just get our cheap plastic toys, eat our food, and play at the playplace until we tired, at which point we would go home. Oh, we were so innocent.

We wolfed down our fries as my mother ripped open the plastic packaging of our toys (neither one of us had the might to do so ourselves), and took the mandatory three chicken nuggets like they were poison (I have no idea why we were so reluctant to eat those, they were everything a little kid could want). Before we knew it, our time had come. We were going to the playplace. We rushed to the strange compilation of plastic tubing, metal support beams, and chewed gum with a frenzied glee. I scampered into the chocolate mustard room to prepare for my adventure, and quickly lost track of my brother. Soon, I found myself staring out of one of those big plastic bubbles, looking over the restaurant below. The people under me looked like ants as they scurried around. I was so much bigger. They were tiny compared to me. I WAS THEIR GOD! Or, I was just playing spaceman, which is more likely.

As I scanned the crowd, I noticed my mother was gesticulating wildly, almost as if doing the breast stroke. I had no idea what she was trying to do, so I kept on playing. Little did I know, but only five feet away, in the next bubble thingy, my brother was doing his "I have to make poopy" dance, the One Leg Shake. For those of you who would like to try it at home, it is extremely easy. One simply holds their upper arms to their sides, forearms bent outwards at an angle almost parallel to the body, and flaps their hands in time with their foot. One flaps only the right foot, and keeps the balls of said foot touching the ground. Very simple. It's a fun little jig one can try at all times.

Now my brother was doing said jig not five feet away from me, and I was completely clueless. I probably went back to my special room for more chocolate mustard. My brother's (oh let's just call him J, he deserves a name) newfound skills took over his brain and told him that if he wanted to make poopy, he had to go to the potty, and so he started his trek to said potty. Unfortunately, J's willpower did not hold up to the primal urge to unload, and so his prostate let loose.

Now, remember how skinny this boy was? Well since the holes in his undies were so grossly oversized compared to his scrawny legs, he ended up depositing what I can best describe as a solid brown log the size of his forearm in the four way juncture one must use to exit the playplace. He left via the slide, a brown rainbow following him down. The McDonald's floor burst into a frenzy. People ran everywhere, as (or at least I am told) an overweight Hispanic woman screamed "That boy pooped in the tubes!" The place was evacuated in seconds.

As I was in a room with an AC vent, I took no notice of the chaos happening below, or the smell. I just sat there and played. Eventually a scent somewhere in between rotting flesh and old fish reached my nostrils. I was intrigued, so I investigated. The sight that greeted me was not pretty to say the least. What had once been a very solid piece of poop was now the consistency of day-old pudding- not quite a liquid, but not quite a solid, and extremely lumpy. I decided not to touch it, and left via the stairs.

I was greeted by a nearly empty McDonald's. I, at the time, had no idea why, but my mother ushered me out the door, post haste, strapped me into my booster seat, and took me home. A month passed. Two months. We still hadn't gone back to the McDonald's. I was almost to the point of asking my mother if we could please go to McDonald's, when I caught wind of a new McDonald's opening up, one with dinosaur fossils on the walls. Of course we went.

I was so awed by the beauty of the place (and so young) that I never thought about the location of the establishment. In fact, it wasn't until years later that I realized that it was the exact same as the one my brother had defaced, so long ago. Now I won't try to make you believe my younger brother was the reason for a major renovation, but these are the facts. You can draw your own conclusions, but I feel like you will draw similar ones as I.

[redacted]

The year was 1996, I was 16, got on IRC, and fell for a girl I met. A very convincing girl, who was very cagey about her identity, but swore me to secrecy that her name was "Tina Yothers" (no, but let's say it was). Yes, we got frisky online. She was supposedly from Montreal, but just happened not to be there whenever I visited.

I got suspicious, and she disappeared for the most part. I was crushed, all the same. She would email from time to time with updates on her life, and sometimes pop up on IRC, and we'd still talk. I moved on. This continued until 2010.

.. except I didn't buy it. In 2000 I found out about the SMTP EXPN command, which basically made her ISP's mail server spew out the name associated with the email address, and it was nothing like what she had told me. It was a guy's name - let's say "Joe Stamos". she said it was her dad's accountant, and he handled all the billing. I was still suspicious, but it wasn't enough proof. The email address was very unique - all references to the username part were either a female born in 1980, or a guy with this guy's name. Both would use the same weird punctuation and smilies.

In 2006, she sent me a photo of her and her family. In the EXIF data was a hidden tag, mentioning two names - let's say "Michelle/Tom". In 2009, I google'd the guy's name from the EXPN earlier, and found an obituary listing him as a son-in-law, along with all his wife's family.

Through 2010, I tracked them all down through facebook and other sources, and all of their children, and grandchildren. I built up a family tree for the entire family, including blanks where I had found references to children, but no records of names. I also found an article written on a fantasy basketball forum, in the style of a newspaper article, with "Joe Stamos" as the username, and "Tina McYothers" as the byline on the fake article.
Then a month or so ago two of the family members on facebook became friends with someone named "Michelle", and I'll be damned if it wasn't the same girl I'd got photos of all those years ago. After 13 years of searching, I'd found our her real name, and it was the guy's niece. 

There was lots of other correlations that fell into place after that - a photo she'd given of them outside a house, and street view confirms it was her parents place in Colorado, the "Michelle/Tom" in EXIF and she was married to a guy named Tom.

I also found out that she had been on the Martha Stewart show a few times (if only I watched..), and featured in an episode of a Discovery Channel show. From that I matched to a photo I got years ago taken at the same angle, and they're dead on.

I also found an account on photobucket, with the username of "jms" ("Joe M Stamos") with photos and her and him and the entire family from a Christmas party in 2007, I found a website with apologies from she and "Tom" for not being able to make another family member's wedding in 2009 too.

/crouchingwombat27/

I hope this all makes sense because it sounds like something out of a midday TV show. Names have been changed. My Mum and Dad have been married for over 30 years. 10 years ago when I was 27 years old, I found out that my Mum was married to a guy when she was 19 and had a daughter with him. That daughter is my half-sister, Clare, who both my parents pretended did not exist at all, and I had no idea she existed.
At the same time I also found out that my eldest brother, Sam, is actually my half-brother. My eldest brother left home when I was young, I don't have many memories with him but he came back into our lives again when I was 16. only to have an argument with my parents when I was 18 and we never heard from him again. Suddenly all of that made sense, Dad and Mum were always especially critical of him, I don't blame him for never wanting to speak to them again.

I found out about this because my half-sister reached out on Facebook and told my other brother, Peter, point blank she was out half-sister. My brother was pissed and this resulted in Mum and Dad having to tell us.

Apparently they were trying to "protect" us. Pretty sure they just were never going to tell us. Mum casually mentioned Sam is also her first husband's son, which is when I replied "Wait, Sam is my half-brother?", to which she replied "Well, duh!". She also turned on the tears and at the time I just comforted her but honestly the last 10 years have been especially hard for me. I dislike my parents, I don't trust them at all.

Clare lived with my Nan her whole life from the time she was 4. When Mum got with Dad, they tolerated Sam but Clare wasn't wanted. She ran away from home a few times before my Nan took her in.

I only saw my Nan twice my whole life, the first time was when I was 18 years old. The last time was just before she died. I didn't know all of this before Nan died. My Mum avoided all contact with my Nan and Pop when I was growing up and now I understand why.

My parents like to pretend everything is fine. I've never recovered from it. My Mother's texts give me anxiety. I moved 2 hours away and I've been here for 8 years and they've never offered to visit, yet expect me to visit every Christmas and every other month, and Mum likes to guilt trip me if I don't.
Sorry, I've barely spoken to anyone about this (other than a therapist), my heart is actually racing posting this. Thanks to anyone who got to reading it this far.

I should add that my Mum has 4 sisters that we barely saw growing up. Mum acted like they all hated her and us. My brother and I never really spent any time with our extended family. Mum and Dad were always judging everyone and acting like our cousins and Aunties weren't worth visiting.
We missed out on so much time with extended family that when they do reach out to us, it's like speaking with a stranger, it's so awkward and I feel so sad about it. I only found out about the details about Clare because one aunty speaks to me quite regularly and I asked her for the truth.

/popdiggity/

Bit of a side story about my father's life, but one I wanted to share regardless. When he was a kid, he had a really, really rough childhood. He was basically the "love" child of my grandmother and my "real" grandfather and got... Abandoned at the young age of five. From what I heard, apparently the two of them really did love each other, but their parents were so against it that they even canceled their wedding that was well underway.

It just sucked. He couldn't remember much of his childhood, apparently he couldn't even remember some of his memories even if he tried. Yet, at a certain point, he grew bitter- To the point of loathing his own father. Because for context, after a few years, he got adopted back by his mother and was introduced to a new man that she was already married to, he even had to face the fact that he now suddenly had three step siblings he never knew about.
I don't know how, but at some point, my father heard that his real dad was living it up with a new wife, got rich, and had a new happy family. Apparently, he supported his other kids with their goals and dreams with both money and affection... And all that time, he never even reached out to him, didn't even give him any sort of support, and was basically a dead man to him for the rest of his earlier life.

I couldn't even imagine what he must have felt during those times. He hated everyone. Including himself, saying that he might as well not have been born... And let's just say that his step dad... Was a rather abusive person back then, to the point that he would even put BOILING WATER on his own kids and most of the farm animals he was raising just because he thought it was "right".

I really don't wanna describe the kind of sick person he was back then, but you get the idea. Well fast forward a few decades, my father was already an adult? And one day... When he was visiting his mother and was trying to grab something from the top of her closet because he was helping her clean up.

An old chest suddenly fell on the ground, revealing a stockpile... And I mean a HUGE pile of opened letters from none other than his real pops. Apparently, there wasn't a single month when he didn't send a letter to him when he was a kid. Simple stuff like, "How's school?", "What are you doing this Saturday, wanna meet up?", "I hope you're eating fine..." Birthday cards, Valentine cards, Christmas cards, hell, even just out of the blue letters...

Truth of the matter was that my dad's father never forgot about him and loved him very much, there wasn't a single day where he wasn't thinking about him. And the sad part? He was also sending money to pay for my father's tuition, for gifts, even for allowances to have him buy the things that he wanted... He even got him a plane ticket for him so that my dad can go visit him...

Yet what did my grandma do? What did his own mother do?? She hid them and took the money for herself. Probably even using a lot of it to support her terrible husband's gambling addiction.
My dad said that he felt his whole world shatter in that very moment, not just because of the pain, nor the betreyal that he had felt from his own blood... 

But rather, it was mostly because of the fact that he grew up and spent his whole life hating a man that, unbeknownst to him, really did love him. And well, the sadder part? By the time that my father had found all that out... My real grandpa was already on his deathbed.

/S0r4Z/