Let's Not Meet Again

Sleep Devprived

I'd like to start this off by saying I do not take my experience as light hearted as this story may come off. Please, anyone and everyone, remember to make sure your doors are locked, regardless of how safe you feel. It's an unfortunate circumstance of society that we cannot always trust our neighborhood. Also, I am writing this on my iPhone so I apologize for any grammatical errors.

Today is the one year anniversary of my experience.

I (24F) and my boyfriend of 5 years (29) had recently split, and I found myself living on my own for the first time. I was understandably ecstatic. The relationship had been toxic for both of us, and our friends seemed relieved we split as well. He had moved out, and I was living alone for the first time. As a bartender, I work very late nights. The bars in my area of Georgia close at 3a.m., so I am usually home around 4 or so. This particular night had been slow, so I was cut early, around 1.

I don't drive, so I took an Uber back. Now, I had been living alone for about a month at this point. I had a pretty regular routine going. Awake at noon, out for work at 4p.m. or so. For a bit more backstory on where I live- I always felt very safe. I lived in a cottage house (very popular in the historic south) that sat next to my landlords house, a police officer for a neighboring town. His squad car was usually parked there- the first floor of the cottage house is actually a garage that always remained open. There is a set of stairs that lead up to my door on the second story.

This evening his car was gone, obviously out on patrol. I didn't mind, everyone in my area knew he was an officer and I felt reassured no one would mess with me. Because of this reason I didn't lock the deadbolt on my door.

After getting home and unwinding, I turned on my PS to play some Black Ops. I had a lot of leftover energy and was not ready to sleep. After about half an hour, during a gameplay intermission, I turned down the volume and stretched. That's when I heard footsteps. Now, I can be a bit paranoid. Instead of being irrational, I stood up slowly (I'm in the living room where the front door is located- there is no backdoor or emergency exit of any kind) and walked into my bedroom. There is a window where my bed sat that I can peek out of and look at the small balcony where my front door is. I didn't see anything. Shrugging off the noise, I sat back down for the next TDM.

Suddenly, BOOM! My front door is kickrd open with the force of 1000 gods. Seriously, it was insanely loud and caused me to jump out of my seat. It took me a moment to register what was happening.

I'll never forget his words;

"GET ON THE FUCKING GROUND!" DON'T LOOK AT ME!

He slammed my door closed behind him. I did look at him, only for a moment. He was tall. Slim, yet muscular. White. He wore sunglasses, a white v neck shirt and khakis. No noticeable tattoos or scars. Although he did have a very noticeable pistol. I learned in several survival magazines and articles (I'm a bit obsessed) that in the occurrence of a crime, absorb all you safely can about your attacker.

Anyways. I do what he says.

I laid down on the ground quickly, remembering my mace and knife located next to my bedside. The knife may had not done me well, but the mace would have subdued him in time for me to call the police. This didn't matter now. Calmly, I spread my arms out and touched my nose to the hardwood floor. If he is just a thief, he wants my stuff, not my life. Things can be replaced. My life cannot.

I heard his heavy footsteps approach me, and out of the corner of my eye I notice he is wearing a pair of well kept Doc Martins. Remember everything you can about him. Without speaking, he set he pistol down out of my arms reach and grabbed my arms, throwing them behind my back. I could hear him reach into his pocket, and then the familiar zzzzzof zip ties.

It took everything to not cry. I reminded myself that if I stayed calm for the moment, it would help in the future. He secured my arms together, then pulled out a white hanker chief and proceeded to gag me.

I kept my eyes closed as he lowered my head back down to the floor. I didn't really think a lot when it was happening. My adrenaline kept me still and silent. Instinct had taken me completely. I heard him walk into my bedroom. I thought he would take the MacBook and jewelery. Instead it sounded like he was going through the drawers of clothes and my closet. Then I heard some rustling in the bathroom.

I'm not sure how long the process was. It was probably about 5 minutes at the most, but of course, felt much longer. I heard his footsteps approach me again, and my heart began to race. He kneeled down and whispered firmly,

"I'm going to cut your tie loose. Then I am going to leave. You will wait at least 3 minutes to call the police," he paused, and took some of my hair in his hand. He was gentle- almost affectionate. He gave me a small kiss on the cheek, "Do you understand me?"

I swallowed and nodded. I heard the flick of a blade, and he cut my arms free. I did not move. He left quickly, shutting the door behind him. I did wait. I don't know if it was 3 minutes.

First I called the police. He had left my phone (or not found it), which had been in a tote bag with work clothes, and not in my purse. (Un)fortunately there had been a fatal shooting about 2 blocks away from me, so some of those officers were sent to my house. Then I called my officer landlord, who lost his shit and rushed back. I had about 5 officers in total, including my landlord, and a detective in my home for what felt like hours. My landlord made sure the place was thoroughly dusted, even though he was out of his jurisdiction and the local police seemed annoyed. They asked what was missing, and I realized I hadn't looked yet. Electronics, jewelry... Everything seemed in tact. Then I remembered by drawers and closet.

All my underwear. All my socks. My lingerie. My perfume. My toothbrush. Other small personal items. Gone. I reviewed my experience with all of them, at least 5 or 6 times. Once to write down, once for a voice recording, ect.

The detective and police seemed weary, then walked a few feet away from me to have a discussion. My landlord approached me, and put his hand on my shoulder. He told me that this was most likely a planned invasion, and the lack of valuables missing pointed to a possible deeper, more personal situation.

After the incident, my locks were of course changed. Patrol cars stayed around for about a week, but with my inability to sleep or understand the situation, I informed my landlord I needed to move, and I did so another week later.

I guess all I want to know is... Who is this man? Is he still watching me? How long has he been watching me? What did I do to deserve this? How did he know my door wasn't always locked? Will he find me again?

Although I am still terrified a year later, to this day, I refuse to leave the town I love because some pervert wanted to terrorize me. I have trouble sleeping still, but the city was kind enough to give me $3,000 worth of government funded therapy. I'd like to say it helped, and I guess it did. I just hope no other person has to experience what I did, and deal with the traumatic after affects of such an... attack.

So, potential murderer or stalker or whoever you are, please, for the love of glob, let's not meet again.