Here is a TRUE Haunted House Story that a gentleman by the name of “Kenneth” emailed to me last week that I am currently working on to narrate. This is one creepy story. 😬 I hope you enjoy. 🫶
Story by - “Kenneth”
I’ve been living in a house that is very haunted for the better part of 53 years. I guess you can say that, I grew up here. And lived here my entire life.
And I’ve made a happy home for my wife and daughter here as well. At least we try to make this a happy home. We’ve experienced things that are so bizarre you’d almost think that we were crazy for even talking about them.
Nevermind the things I’ve heard and seen in this house while growing up.
While I would love to talk about everything that has happened here, I would like to tell you about how it all started for me when I was seven years old. It's actually the very first incident that I encountered while living here.
The house was built in 1875. It’s been remodeled throughout the years to keep up with modern times, but it still rests on the very foundation it was built on.
This house… as I’m writing this, I can hear footsteps creaking above me on the second floor. This is an all day thing. But we’ve learned to live with it. While growing up here, and being the only child, my parents already knew about the house being haunted. But they tried sheltering me from it. Meaning, if I heard something strange, my father or mother would say something to the likes of…
“Oh honey, those damn pipes again. We need to call the plumber.”
Or if there were footsteps creaking on the floor boards they would blame the flooring for being very old. I would hear scratching all throughout the walls and ceilings. All sorts of strange and bizarre sounds.
But this incident, this day, changed everything. And I remember this day, or rather night, as if it happened yesterday.
It was around 11:00 at night. It was a school night. And I was asleep. But something woke me up. I heard a voice whisper in my right right ear…
“We can’t let them get away.”
My eyes slowly opened up and I laid there for a moment. I called out for both my mother and father and looked over at my bedroom door but it was shut. I flipped over to my side and fell back asleep.
I heard this voice loud and clear. I know I did. But I think my brain was telling me to ignore it. Well, that was just the beginning of it. Because a few moments later it decided to really stir things up with me…
“Boy… HELP THEM THEY’RE BURNING ALIVE!”
I jumped out of bed so rapidly and even peed myself as I ran to my parents bedroom. My parents both looked at each other and then looked at me like they knew something but didn’t want to tell me. They gave me the old mumbo jumbo and told me that I was having a bad dream. My mother got out of bed. Got me fresh pajamas and socks while I cleaned myself up.
Peeing yourself at seven years old isn’t fun. Especially when it’s a raspy old scary voice shouting that someone’s burning alive in your bedroom while you’re sleeping.
My mother asked if I wanted to sleep with her and my father in their bed after that. You bet your ass I did. I hopped in that bed quicker than a fox chasing a rabbit. I was a small boy for seven. And both of my parents were average sized too, so, I fit right in there.
Alright… Here is where it gets very, very scary. If this doesn’t scare the socks off of you I don’t know what will. And before I continue, the voice that I heard? We think it’s the original owner of the house. Without giving away too much information about my home, the very first owner of this home…
He was an evil man…
We’ve heard stories about him torturing animals, killing them, and then taxiderming them, scattering them all throughout the house like his own little museum of horror.
Throughout the years I would experience more voices, more scratching on the walls and ceilings. Eventually my parents wound up telling me that the house was haunted by a creepy man with an evil past. And we lived with it. We were never physically harmed by it. It was more of a nuisance than anything.
That all changed on the night I brought my wife home to begin a life here with me.
We’re high school sweethearts. So, she knows about this place. She stayed here overnight plenty of times before we got married. But on the night she moved in, it wasn’t happy at all.
I’ll never forget the hour and minute. It was 2:27 in the morning. We were both asleep. My wife woke up first because she felt something tugging on her arm. She then woke me up and told me what she felt. This was the first time in all the years anyone has ever been physically touched by this spirit. This had never happened before so it was quite a shock to me.
And after being awake for about a few minutes or so, our bedroom door slammed shut! Our blanket was pulled away from us and thrown across the room. And we heard heavy footsteps as if someone was walking across the roof!
It was as if the house was coming to life.
In all my years of living here, I have never seen this much activity. Yet alone in one single night.
After the blanket got pulled away from us and thrown across the room things finally seemed to calm down. And the entire house was ominously quiet.
Too quiet…
But then a dark black shadow decides to grace us with its presence by moving along the walls in the bedroom and fading into nothingness. My wife and I did not move from the bed during all of this. We were terror-stricken. And then a foul odor begins to come from underneath the bed followed by a sonorous growl that vibrated underneath us.
By this point it felt like something grave was about to happen and I had to do something. Or at least I had to try. I grabbed a hold of my wife’s hand and told her to be brave and to not fear this thing. Because that's what it wants. It wants to scare us out of our home and we can’t allow that to happen. But we mustard up the courage to face this evil spirit and began reciting the Lord’s Prayer.
The bedroom door slammed again and again, four times consecutively. With steady growls underneath the bed, but we stood our ground. Praying to the almighty to help and asking him to show this spirit to the light.
A raspy old voice then shouts from underneath the bed.
“Get out!… Leave my house!”
And I said…
“No! If you're stuck here like you’ve been all these years, then you’re going to have to learn to live with us. In peace or war. Because this is my house now. Not yours. You're dead! Leave already! Go! Go with God. And Go into the light.”
After 10 minutes of praying and arguing with this thing. It all just seemed to come to a pass. I wiped the tears of fear from my wife’s eyes and embraced her painful shivers.
I, too, was frozen over by the horror that leveled us during that night.
And nothing of that magnitude ever occurred again. And our home stood silent for a while. For a year to be exact. Which was very peaceful. The voices and scratching on the walls and ceilings, footsteps and disembodied voices eventually returned. But it doesn’t bother us at all. We pay it no mind.
Doesn’t bother my daughter. Not my wife nor I. We’ve just learned to live with it.
I know that must sound strange. But this is my home. Our home. And we intend to keep it that way.
Thank you, Kenneth Sr.
Disclaimer: This story is not to be used in any other way other than reading, sharing your thoughts on it, and enjoying the creepy thought of living with a Poltergeist/Ghost in your home. 👻
The content producer has this story copyrighted and protected by the Library of Congress/Copyright Office.
💀

Here is a TRUE Haunted House Story that a gentleman by the name of “Kenneth” emailed to me last week that I am currently working on to narrate. This is one creepy story. 😬 I hope you enjoy.
Story by - “Kenneth”
I’ve been living in a house that is very haunted for the better part of 53 years. I guess you can say that, I grew up here. And lived here my entire life.
And I’ve made a happy home for my wife and daughter here as well. At least we try to make this a happy home. We’ve experienced things that are so bizarre you’d almost think that we were crazy for even talking about them.
Nevermind the things I’ve heard and seen in this house while growing up.
While I would love to talk about everything that has happened here, I would like to tell you about how it all started for me when I was seven years old. It's actually the very first incident that I encountered while living here.
The house was built in 1875. It’s been remodeled throughout the years to keep up with modern times, but it still rests on the very foundation it was built on.
This house… as I’m writing this, I can hear footsteps creaking above me on the second floor. This is an all day thing. But we’ve learned to live with it. While growing up here, and being the only child, my parents already knew about the house being haunted. But they tried sheltering me from it. Meaning, if I heard something strange, my father or mother would say something to the likes of…
“Oh honey, those damn pipes again. We need to call the plumber.”
Or if there were footsteps creaking on the floor boards they would blame the flooring for being very old. I would hear scratching all throughout the walls and ceilings. All sorts of strange and bizarre sounds.
But this incident, this day, changed everything. And I remember this day, or rather night, as if it happened yesterday.
It was around 11:00 at night. It was a school night. And I was asleep. But something woke me up. I heard a voice whisper in my right right ear…
“We can’t let them get away.”
My eyes slowly opened up and I laid there for a moment. I called out for both my mother and father and looked over at my bedroom door but it was shut. I flipped over to my side and fell back asleep.
I heard this voice loud and clear. I know I did. But I think my brain was telling me to ignore it. Well, that was just the beginning of it. Because a few moments later it decided to really stir things up with me…
“Boy… HELP THEM THEY’RE BURNING ALIVE!”
I jumped out of bed so rapidly and even peed myself as I ran to my parents bedroom. My parents both looked at each other and then looked at me like they knew something but didn’t want to tell me. They gave me the old mumbo jumbo and told me that I was having a bad dream. My mother got out of bed. Got me fresh pajamas and socks while I cleaned myself up.
Peeing yourself at seven years old isn’t fun. Especially when it’s a raspy old scary voice shouting that someone’s burning alive in your bedroom while you’re sleeping.
My mother asked if I wanted to sleep with her and my father in their bed after that. You bet your ass I did. I hopped in that bed quicker than a fox chasing a rabbit. I was a small boy for seven. And both of my parents were average sized too, so, I fit right in there.
Alright… Here is where it gets very, very scary. If this doesn’t scare the socks off of you I don’t know what will. And before I continue, the voice that I heard? We think it’s the original owner of the house. Without giving away too much information about my home, the very first owner of this home…
He was an evil man…
We’ve heard stories about him torturing animals, killing them, and then taxiderming them, scattering them all throughout the house like his own little museum of horror.
Throughout the years I would experience more voices, more scratching on the walls and ceilings. Eventually my parents wound up telling me that the house was haunted by a creepy man with an evil past. And we lived with it. We were never physically harmed by it. It was more of a nuisance than anything.
That all changed on the night I brought my wife home to begin a life here with me.
We’re high school sweethearts. So, she knows about this place. She stayed here overnight plenty of times before we got married. But on the night she moved in, it wasn’t happy at all.
I’ll never forget the hour and minute. It was 2:27 in the morning. We were both asleep. My wife woke up first because she felt something tugging on her arm. She then woke me up and told me what she felt. This was the first time in all the years anyone has ever been physically touched by this spirit. This had never happened before so it was quite a shock to me.
And after being awake for about a few minutes or so, our bedroom door slammed shut! Our blanket was pulled away from us and thrown across the room. And we heard heavy footsteps as if someone was walking across the roof!
It was as if the house was coming to life.
In all my years of living here, I have never seen this much activity. Yet alone in one single night.
After the blanket got pulled away from us and thrown across the room things finally seemed to calm down. And the entire house was ominously quiet.
Too quiet…
But then a dark black shadow decides to grace us with its presence by moving along the walls in the bedroom and fading into nothingness. My wife and I did not move from the bed during all of this. We were terror-stricken. And then a foul odor begins to come from underneath the bed followed by a sonorous growl that vibrated underneath us.
By this point it felt like something grave was about to happen and I had to do something. Or at least I had to try. I grabbed a hold of my wife’s hand and told her to be brave and to not fear this thing. Because that's what it wants. It wants to scare us out of our home and we can’t allow that to happen. But we mustard up the courage to face this evil spirit and began reciting the Lord’s Prayer.
The bedroom door slammed again and again, four times consecutively. With steady growls underneath the bed, but we stood our ground. Praying to the almighty to help and asking him to show this spirit to the light.
A raspy old voice then shouts from underneath the bed.
“Get out!… Leave my house!”
And I said…
“No! If you're stuck here like you’ve been all these years, then you’re going to have to learn to live with us. In peace or war. Because this is my house now. Not yours. You're dead! Leave already! Go! Go with God. And Go into the light.”
After 10 minutes of praying and arguing with this thing. It all just seemed to come to a pass. I wiped the tears of fear from my wife’s eyes and embraced her painful shivers.
I, too, was frozen over by the horror that leveled us during that night.
And nothing of that magnitude ever occurred again. And our home stood silent for a while. For a year to be exact. Which was very peaceful. The voices and scratching on the walls and ceilings, footsteps and disembodied voices eventually returned. But it doesn’t bother us at all. We pay it no mind.
Doesn’t bother my daughter. Not my wife nor I. We’ve just learned to live with it.
I know that must sound strange. But this is my home. Our home. And we intend to keep it that way.
Thank you, Kenneth Sr.

scarystories #horrorstories #hauntedhouse #creepypasta #poltergeist

Disclaimer: This story is not to be used in any other way other than reading, sharing your thoughts on it, and enjoying the creepy thought of living with a Poltergeist/Ghost in your home. 👻
The content producer has this story copyrighted and protected by the Library of Congress/Copyright Office.
💀

Nothing special, feel free to leave feedback.

A year before I left Boston, we went for dinner one night. It was after ultimate frisbee, and Boloco was the only place open. We were still riding high from the last time, when we'd gotten everyone to swim across the Charles. Some kids from MIT had been eating grapes as they walked across the bridge, and I'd convinced them to throw some to me to try to catch in my mouth. They missed a few times before throwing down the ziplock bag, and I was able to throw one to you, which you caught.
So this time, I'd joked we should climb the fence to the reservoir and see if we could eat burritos on our backs as we swam across, like otters. You liked something I'd said, so instead of rushing it with Boloco, we wandered the grocery aisles to savor the planning. In the end, you'd proposed making a little boat by turning the frisbee upside down and duct taping two water bottles beneath as pontoons. "We could make smores," you said leaning toward me. We bought a tiki torch that we sat in the middle and then piled the rest of the frisbee with marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate squares from Hershey bars. Before we left, you ran back to your car to get a sharpie. You wrote "S.S. More" on the side of one water bottle. I posed for a photo.
The platter was awkward, and we dropped a couple pieces of chocolate in the woods. But we got through the fence easily. We broke sticks for our marshmallows and you lit the torch with a lighter from your car. I remember there were these little fish that would nibble at our toes in the shallows. It was unpleasant, but it didn't quite hurt, more ticklish. I was a more confident swimmer, so I pulled the jump rope, swimming on my back, the other hand balancing my marshmallow over the carcinogenic flame.
At some point out on the water, the wind picked up and blew out the torch. We treaded water several minutes as you tried to get the lighter, wet from where you'd stuffed it into your underwear, to work. At the other side of the reservoir, we stood and those little fish nibbled at us, and you shook out the lighter hard, and lit the torch. We ate as much as we pleased, laughing the whole way back. You took a turn with the jump rope.
That summer we drove up and stayed at the cabin your great uncle owned in Maine. The cabin itself was a converted boat, where your uncle, a local politician from Florida, spent his summers with his obese wife. They were the legal guardians of your cousin, whose father disappeared again after relapsing. It was early autumn, and you'd said it was too cold to swim. But we'd go down and jump in the water with your aunt and uncle, who were convinced the cold was soothing to your aunt's gout. I taught the little boy to skip rocks, but I got him in trouble by talking in character as Scarlet O'Hara during a game of Clue, which he wouldn't stop imitating for the rest of the afternoon. His grandfather sent him outside until he stopped. When you and I went to look for him, he was trying to split logs with an axe in his flip flops. We told him not to do that because he could lose his toes, and I told him that voices were only funny for a short time.
You and I didn't sleep in the old boat cabin, which was expectedly small. Instead, we slept in an L in a 12'x12' shed with a light bulb, which hung on an extension cord from a truss. We talked until 3am or 4am, about everything, work, girls, childhood, and the things that we'd done that had finally dragged us into sobriety.
The next morning, I'd said I wanted to see if I could swim across Lewis Cove and back. As soon as I said it, you were in. You were so lean from running all the time, and before we even got past the boats and the lobster traps, you were struggling from the cold. I'd suggested going back or even climbing out on one of the docks holding traps, but you refused. In the middle, you were worried about making it across at all. I figured I could carry you, but without a float, I didn't think I could carry you very far. When we finally got to where we could stand, you got out and tried to warm up. I stayed in the water, swimming back out a little because for some reason I thought a lobster might pinch me. Eventually, I realized how violently you were shivering. So I got out too, and we decided to go find the road and try to hitchhike back.
It turned out to be one of the islands scattered along the coast of Maine. Luckily, the restaurant, the only thing on the island, hadn't yet closed for the year. The staff, who lived on the island in warm months, were shocked to see us on their day off. You asked if they were planning to take their boat across the water anytime soon. "If you're already making the trip, maybe we could carpool?" you suggested. Two of them gave us a lift in a little boat, making thinly veiled comments about the stupidity of summer people most of the way.
The next day, you slept for hours with a fever. Your aunt was angry that I'd been a bad influence. I went back out and tried to complete the round trip swim. I did it carefully, keeping my head out of the water most of the time and swimming a modified breaststroke. I thought maybe a fast pace would help keep my body temperature up. On the other side, I kicked off the rocks and swam back, and it was cold, but I was fine. Back at the cabin, you were awake and gave me a hug when I came in. We looked up the swimming route on your phone and saw that it was indeed an island, a mile and change round trip. That night we bought a few lobsters from some place along the road, which your uncle boiled in seawater.
A few weeks later, you'd tried to set me up with a girl you knew. You showed me a photo of her, a knockout blonde from Florida. You said you'd been telling her all about me and had sent her my website, and that she wanted to visit Boston and meet me. You told me what a good person she was. "She does little things you'd do, like whenever she has spare change, she goes and puts it in the coin return of vending machines so that it'll make someone's day." I asked why you weren't dating her, but you brushed me off. We started arguing somehow at Bukowski's, some comment I'd made because you'd said she routinely got favors from an infatuated ex. I'd told you it sounded like trouble, and that remembering that beauty is fleeting was why I hadn't slept my way through the ultimate frisbee club yet. We ended up finishing our White Trash Cheese Steaks in silence.
I left Boston with some girl the following summer. It fizzled in weeks, but it was years later that I realized how much you loved me. My ex-wife had been organizing photos, and had come across the picture you took of me holding the frisbee boat. She was always jealous of other women, and she asked who I was smiling at in the photo. "He was my friend."

Last night, when I was home alone, a hand reached out from under the couch and grabbed me.
Nobody was there to see it, and nobody that I’ve told believes me, but it definitely happened. It’s not the kind of thing you can just imagine, and I’m sure now that it wasn’t a dream.
I was watching TV when it happened. The remote fell under the couch and I started fishing around for it without really looking, not wanting to get up from my seat. I brushed it with the tips of my fingers and it slid further underneath.
I was super annoyed— I had to get down on my knees to reach it. I finally found the remote, and that’s when it grabbed me.
As I pulled the remote out into the light, a hand shot up from under the couch and wrapped its fingers around my wrist.
I was able to yank myself away quickly. It didn’t hold on tight— just enough that I felt a little resistance. I jumped to my feet, obviously terrified.
I didn’t scream or anything. I was honestly too scared to even make a sound. My heart was beating so fast that my ears started to ring. The TV was still going, commercials droning on while I tried to process what had just happened.
The hand had only come out about a foot from under the couch. It had an arm attached to it, though I wasn’t able to see past its elbow, and it slinked back below the couch as soon as I pulled myself free from its grasp.
It didn’t hurt, and it didn’t leave any sort of bruise or mark or anything on my wrist, but I definitely felt it, and I definitely saw it.
All I could do was stare at the spot where the hand had appeared. I stood there for what felt like an eternity, until I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps right outside my front door.
I live in a second-story apartment. It’s a pretty cramped place and a pretty old building, so whenever someone comes over I can usually hear footsteps from the moment they enter the building downstairs.
I guess I was so freaked out by the hand that I didn’t even notice someone was outside until they were already opening the door.
My roommate walked in on quite a scene. She immediately registered how off the vibe was. I could see it on her face.
She found me standing upright in the middle of our living room, TV remote in hand, facing away from the screen while Full House’s laugh track filled the air. I’m sure I’d think it was odd too.
“Hey…” she said, shifting a paper bag full of groceries in her arm while she pocketed her keys, “You good?”
I felt like I was caught with my pants down, but just seeing a familiar face brought some of the blood back to my fingers.
“N—yeah,” I stuttered. I came back online, and flicked the TV off.
I felt her eyes on me as she walked over to the kitchen. There’s no wall or anything dividing the two rooms. Like I said, the place is pretty cramped.
She started putting her groceries away as if everything was normal, but I could tell she wanted to ask what was up.
I kept looking back and forth between her and the couch. I can’t explain it, but I already knew that if I looked under there, I wouldn’t find any trace of whoever (or whatever) grabbed me.
As she started loading up the fridge, I dropped to my hands and knees once again. Without taking even a second to ready myself, I brought my head down to the ground and looked under the couch.
Nothing.
Pretty much what I expected. There was barely enough room for me to squeeze my arm under there for the remote. No way a whole person could fit beneath that thing, and even if they could, there’s no way I wouldn’t have seen them or heard them or something before they grabbed me.
“Seriously, what’s up?”
I looked up to see my roommate standing right behind me, arms crossed, clearly concerned.
I knew I was acting strange, and I knew that nothing I would come up with in the next five seconds could possibly excuse my behavior. I made a judgement call, honestly not really caring about how it would be received.
“I uh… something grabbed me earlier.”
“What?”
“Under the couch. I dropped the remote, and when I picked it up, a hand reached out from under the couch and grabbed me.”
Took her a second to respond.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“That’s it. A hand reached out and grabbed me by the wrist. It happened like a minute before you got here.”
That part might have been a lie. I actually have no idea how long I had been standing in the middle of the room before she showed up.
“Wait so like someone broke in?”
“No. It’s just like I said. A hand reached out, grabbed me, and then it was gone.”
She just kinda looked at me for a while. I don’t blame her, but it’s not like there was any way for me to sugarcoat it.
“Are you sure?”
“What do you mean ‘am I sure?’ Yes, yes I’m fucking sure!”
My voice broke a little when I said that. I was still down on my knees, like I was praying for her to believe me.
“Okay well obviously that didn’t happen Sam.”I let out a desperate laugh and threw my hands up in the air. I slapped them down on my thighs dramatically and shook my head in exasperation.
“Yeah obviously it sounds fucking crazy but you asked what happened and that’s what happened. I don’t know how else to describe it. I’m just being honest.”
I pulled myself up to my feet and walked around to the armrest of the couch. She kept studying me, probably thinking this was all a prank or something.
“What are you doing?” She asked, arms still glued across her chest.
“I’m checking under the couch.”
I pushed one end of the couch away from the wall. It was pretty heavy, and the coffee table stopped me from moving it too far. I dragged the coffee table towards the TV to free up some space.
My roommate started staring at the spot I was clearing as if she expected to see something there too.
I went back over to the armrest.
“Can you help me?”
She snapped out of her trance and silently went to grab the other side. We pulled the couch away from the wall, revealing a thick rectangle of dust that had not seen the light of day since we moved in a year ago.
I dropped to my knees once more and began wiping away the grime with my bare hands. There was nothing but the floorboards beneath it. No surprise.
I sat there for a second, eyes darting around the floor. No fingerprints in the dust, no scratches or marks or anything. I felt the tension in the room dissipate as my roommate found her voice again.
“I think you must have imagined it.”
I didn’t. There’s no way.
“Dude, no. I felt it and I saw it. Clear as day. It was a hand, and it grabbed me. That’s not the sort of thing you can just imagine.”
She scoffed, any fear left in her giving way to frustration.
“Whatever. This is fucking stupid. I’m going to bed.”
She stomped off towards her room.
“Wait.”
She spun on her heels as I stood up, probably expecting me to tell her I was joking about the whole thing.
“Can you help me flip the couch over?”
She rolled her eyes.
“Sure. But I’m not helping you put it back.”
She helped me lift the couch off of its legs and tilt it onto its front cushions, exposing the fabric underneath. She disappeared into her room and I went to work studying the underside of the sofa.
There was a zipper lining the bottom, but I found nothing inside when I opened it up. Just a hollow wooden frame and a bunch of crumbs.
I sat back against the wall, more tired than scared at that point.
I can’t believe she thinks I’m making this up. Why would I even do that? What purpose would it serve?
As I solemnly went about rebuilding our living room, I decided that the next day (today) I was gonna take off work, wait for her to leave, and really get to the bottom of this.
I didn’t sleep at all last night. Every nook and cranny of my room felt like a door left wide open, with something sinister waiting on the other side.
What if the hand comes back? What if it wants to hurt me next time? How can I even protect myself?
After like ten restless minutes in bed, I decided to move to the floor. I couldn’t help it. I kept imagining the hand reaching up from under the bed and grabbing me again.
I made a makeshift sleeping bag out of my comforter and some pillows, and I laid on my side so I could keep an eye on the underside of my bedframe while I slept. Maybe “slept” isn’t the right word. Even down there, I couldn’t bring myself to close my eyes for longer than a minute.
Eventually sunlight began to peek through the blinds, and I heard some movement within the apartment. My roommate was finally up. I heard the front door close, and it was time to get to work.
I nearly threw my back out yanking the couch away from the wall to reveal the floorboards underneath. They aren’t real floorboards, just the kind of cheap-o fake shit they put in crappy houses to make them look more modern. Our whole apartment is like that— a thin coat of paint slapped over an old building from the 40s or whatever.
My dad actually owns this building. He lets me and my roommate stay here as long as we pay him $500 a month, which is way cheaper than most places in my area.
It’s not really an apartment building to be honest. You can tell it used to be a family home before some realtor swooped in and broke it up into apartments. There are a lot of those around here.
Anyway, the fake wood came up easy. It was only about a quarter inch thick. I was able to pull up the first plank by hammering a kitchen knife into a slit between the boards, and then I peeled a few more away by hand.
After prying away about a dozen of these fake floorboards, I started to realize that I wasn’t going to find anything without making a significantly larger dent. Right beneath the thin layer of fake wood was a layer of very real, very thick wooden beams that seemed to span well beyond the hole I had managed to claw open.
My back crackled and popped as I sat back on my heels to admire my handiwork and contemplate where to go from there. I knew I would need a power saw or some kind of heavy duty tool to get any deeper, but I was afraid of two things:

1. That these beams were supporting the entire second floor of the building, and cutting through them would make the whole thing collapse
2. That going any deeper would lead me into the ceiling of the apartment below us, and whoever lives there would call my dad before I could see what I needed to see.

Regardless of the risks, I knew I had to keep going. I was certain that something was down there. Whatever grabbed me had to have left some sort of evidence.
I can’t stop thinking about that fucking hand.
I’m not supposed to have it, but my dad gave me a master key for the whole building in case of emergencies. He could really get in trouble if anyone found out, but if this isn’t an emergency then idk what is.
There’s a service shed around the back of the building, which has seen none of the love that the main building saw when it was renovated. Decades worth of rusty antiques and rotting furniture line the walls. A shiny, modern tool bench sits unnaturally in the middle of the chaos.
I rifled through all of that shit as fast as I could. I’m not really close with my dad all things considered, and I’m sure he’d be super pissed if he found me out there. He’s so secretive about random shit all the time, and he’s constantly dropping by the building unannounced.
I found the jigsaw under a pile of old newspapers and ran back upstairs.
I probably should have checked the driveway to see if anyone was home first, because the saw made so much noise. The cord barely reached from the outlet to the spot where the couch used to be, but as awkward as the angle was, I was still able to get it in there.
I went as small as possible with my first few cuts. I started with a single beam, cutting out a section about 6x6 inches wide. I slid the chunk of wood out, and, to my relief, didn’t immediately see the plaster that would be my downstairs neighbor’s ceiling.
A tuft of insulation stuck out where I made the hole. I didn’t know that stuff is made from fiberglass or whatever, and I got a really bad splinter when I went to yank it out.
I fished some leather gloves out of my roommate’s closet and got to work on the insulation. I pulled and pulled but couldn’t get a good enough grip to remove anything more than a few bits about the size of a tennis ball.
I went back in with the jigsaw, cutting bigger and bigger chunks until I had cleared a hole about two feet in diameter.
No sign that I was gonna bring the building down, that’s good.
I hacked away for hours. More wood came up, more insulation came up, and when I finally hit a fragile-looking layer of drywall, I knew the jig was up. That’s definitely my neighbor’s ceiling. Fuck.
My roommate and I got in a screaming match when she got home. I made a pretty big mess but I don’t really give a fuck honestly.
I don’t give a fuck if she believes me. I fucking hate that bitch. I told her if she tells my dad what I’m doing, I’ll bash her brains in with the hammer. That shut her up. She left with a bag full of her clothes like an hour later.
Tomorrow I’m going to wait for our downstairs neighbor to leave and start investigating from the bottom-up. If there wasn’t any evidence on the floor up here, there HAS to be something on the ceiling down there.
If I do find something, I’ll post again. I doubt anyone will even believe me, but at this point I just want everything written down somewhere accessible in case something bad happens.
There has to be something down there. Something grabbed me. And I’m going to find out what it is.

I’m still in shock, but I’m doing fairly well. Apologies in advance for unclear info.
My (M21) girlfriend of almost 5 years has apparently been fucking some guy -we’ll call him J (23M)- for a while now. She would go to J’s house occasionally to play video games with him and her old friend from high school (K 23M - J’s roommate). I told her that I wasn’t a fan of it, but I know K well enough and trust him.
2 weeks ago, I came back home from college for the weekend. She tells me (with no prior warning signs to me) that she’s depressed. I had noticed that she changed over the last year, but I thought it was because her cousin was rubbing off on her too much - which wasn’t entirely wrong. Then, she says something about “taking a break”. We have been very adamant through our relationship that there are no breaks. You’re together or you’re not. I knew she meant “break up”. She was crying hysterically. I told her that we should continue the conversation in the morning because it was late and I needed time to absorb the shock.
The next day, we talked for hours and ultimately decided to stay together until we each talked to trusted friends and her therapist before we did something we’d regret. We talked all week. I thought things were looking better.
Then last weekend, I was going home to talk to her. She says that she’ll be going to a music festival with a friend. She did admit that it was J. I stayed in the area and notified her so that we could talk. I met her there, went through the whole “what do you think that looks like? If there’s something going on, tell me. I’m done with the bullshit” talk. She lied through her teeth. I’m ashamed to admit that I half believed her. Fast forward to tonight, K texted me to see how I was doing after “recent events”. I stayed as vague as possible to hopefully get him to spill something. Come to find out, she’s been spending multiple nights over there every week. She walks into the house, ignores K, and walks straight to J’s room. Not even an hour after he tells me this (I have a new respect for this guy), my friend texts me that I need to ask about a guy named J. I called immediately and I told him that I just found out and wanted to know how he learned. He said that an “unnamed girl at the bar” told him. I also made sure to send my gratitude her way.
So basically, now I’m sitting here and can’t stop thinking. I’m on an adrenaline high. I’ve contacted whatever friends I could. Now I’m just plotting. I am strongly fighting the urge to say something, but I either need to confront her directly in person or get evidence from her phone. And she keeps it close (another sign I didn’t pick up on). The way I see it, I have 2 options.
1: I plan to go home this weekend, but I can leave as early as Thursday. If I go home Thursday night without telling her, K would likely let me in. Then I could just walk in, make sure I have video evidence rolling, and leave. If that doesn’t line up nicely,
2: I tell her that I’ll come over Thursday or Friday and wait until her parents are there. I’d start with an apology to her parents (they’re great people and both love me). Then, I’d just break up with her on the spot. As straight faced as possible. No emotion. I’d be transparent with the reasoning, but I won’t go too far because I respect her parents.
In both cases, I want no violence (of course). But I will have friends in the area in case someone flips on me. Mainly to take me home after because I don’t know how I’ll take it.
Whatever love I had is almost completely gone. It was like a light switch. And as everyone says: “I didn’t think my girl would ever be capable of that”. The joke’s on me I guess lol. But I know I’ll be fine. The way I look at it, shit happens. It’s over now. How can I respond respectfully but effectively? I don’t plan to do anything stupid, and I would never do anything intentionally to myself.
Which route would you take? Either of these two, or another way?
And what do I do next? I met her my junior year of high school. She was my everything for what would be 5 years in June, and she was my first everything. This feels like a total reset. How do I “find myself”?
Edit for added context: her reasoning for potentially breaking up involved “I don’t want to put you through my pain” and “you deserve someone better”. I explained to her that I love her and will be there for her no matter what, and it’s my job as her boyfriend to help her through hard times. I said to her face “if you want us to be done, tell me right now. Because I don’t have time for any bullshit”. I noticed a new tone with her when she said that it’s nothing. I noticed that eye contact was off. But I played it off as her being extremely tired. I should’ve known

I didn’t do it. I didn’! I didn’t! I’m no murderer, no, listen! I will tell you your a killer. You do not believe me? Even for a moment? But little is my own sentence even a concern for me, the freedom in society has little left to offer me. Grief and horror are all that fill my mind, the only residents remaining in my home. And you’d expect it to be such an oppressing grief. But no, no, no…it is much more the horror. It is much more the intense fear, the great disgusting and evil works that wait for me in the dark. The grizzly voice that reassures me of fate in its worst forms. It is here now. Cackling at its maniacal work. I hear it. What are you worth wretch! You’ll burn all your years and infinite more! But forgive me, my anger is difficult to suppress against my enemy. He lingers still. A lover of deception however, would be a fool in his own craft to reveal his intentions. Thus, would be a fool to reveal their own horrid form. Therefore, relinquish some of your repulsion of me, so that you may have at least some possibility of belief in what I say. I understand the situation I’m in, but why should I refrain from telling the truth simply because it is unlikely you will believe me? Especially when you condemn me? Listen then!
I was watching television, and my roommate was out the entirety of this night. My family remained in Los Angeles during this time, so they are not making any affect on what occurred. But you want me to tell of my roommate? I am telling you! You ask about the murderer, so you must listen to all I know of him. It was in the most ordinary of circumstances and activity when such a striking and alarming voice pierced the room. The TV was quiet, and I lounged about with dull mind. When I heard someone call for my name from down the hall, whom which I couldn’t see since the door was closed, I of course simply responded, “Yeah?” This was the very first of the remarkable experiences I began to have. I realized what had just occurred. I was home alone, so who could be calling to me from my own room? Well I suspected then my roommate. But I had trouble reconciling the voice I heard with that of my roommate. It had such an eerie tone to it. Almost as if it were teasing me. Yet, it was such a convincing and deceptive call, that the mocking tone it had was almost imperceivable. As if maybe this creepy inflection was a result of my own nerves or unfamiliarity with the event.
Regardless of it’s true nature, this odd quality roused my attention. Was I indeed not alone? But then it must be my roommate, since it was my name. I could not get over the gross friendly tone it called to me with. It’s as if it was bragging about knowing my name. I froze for a moment with the TV playing, listening for another call. “Javier” a woman's voice called out gently and compassionately. But such disgusting compassion did it call out. It seems it couldn’t itself disguise just the slightest hint of malevolence that just snuck under the tone. Or perhaps it meant to say it how it did. But it terrified me. I reasoned it must be somebody I know. But I couldn’t bear the action of getting up looking around. I was simply frozen, wishing not to move and cause myself to miss out on hearing more by making a racket myself. it didn’t even come from behind the door, it was as if it was somewhere far away. Yet it was so clear and punctual in volume.
This left me more at unease and helpless to find a solution. This time I did not respond. I greatly regretted responding the first time. I only paused the TV and looked about myself anxiously, dreading that something would speak again. After many moments of silence, I compromised to rest from my alert. And as the words spoke drifted deeper into the past, the simple abnormality of them caused them to resist their place in my mind as credibly existing. Though it happened not long ago that same hour, I questioned if I did indeed hear a call out for my name in such a mysterious and ugly tone as I had. This was just before the most morbid of calls occurred. It spoke to my name again, “Would you come, Javier?” But such terror came over me in that delicately rude and friendly tone which it spoke to me in. The suspense and anticipation for the call was intensely surmised to a realization as my heart began a sprint. This voice was not just a woman's, it was my sister. How incredibly unlikely she would be here, unannounced and somehow in my home without my knowledge. I still held intense fear, for you must understand the uncanny sense from this call. It was as if someone was inciting their vocals and tone to imitate or mock a human. It seemed not as if they were doing an impression of my sister—no, for it sounded exactly like my sister—but instead it seemed as if they attempted an impression of a human. Such a perfect quality, yet just so slightly imperfect that I may subconsciously perceive something wasn’t quite genuine in this call. I darted my perceptions across the room wide eyed. I quickly looked about myself, checking behind me multiple times.
Now, the following details not only enhance the unbelievable notions of my current situation, but may in fact completely discredit me in even speaking about them. But you must hear it! I implore you to imagine this! It is the truth—all of what I say is. For the night I heard her—my sister that is—speak to me in my own apartment, was the same night, as I learned weeks later, is the same night she had died. Sophia, that is her name, had killed herself.
Many nights passed like this when I was alone. I was tormented by calls with no direction or location. I shuddered at creepy voices beckoning in the dark. Sometimes, even in daylight, things spoke to me while I was alone. Unrelenting and disturbing voices within my home. Now, you may presume at this moment I am clearly schizophrenic. Indeed, I too had this notion. I seeked a psychiatrist during this time, to which medicine was prescribed and an indefinite period of shipping as well. But I perceived far too many REAL things. Yes, these could be hallucinations, but you couldn’t possibly have that conclusion if you hear what else this has done to me.
It happened after many terrible nights that I heard of my sister’s death. I was very shocked at first. But sadness was not next door, grief did not have time to move in. Instead, a realization taunted and teased my peace. I would hear her tonight, speaking to me. You may not imagine the dread that filled my day. I went to work and back home as a zombie. The tasks and conversations passed me by as dreams. I was incredibly absent and void of presence in my own life. My head spun before it comprehended any purpose of grief and despair. When I returned home I found myself double, triple checking that the lights were on and the blinds shut. Even though these things were clearly in my sight. I also locked doors and called my roommate to make sure he was home. I begged and pleaded with him, but he only brushed me off telling me he can't ditch his shift. I paced back and forth within the rooms pitching the plan to myself to have a hotel room. I eventually settled on this as it brought peace to me. And that night passed, at least before I slept, how I hoped. My sister did not speak to me from the darkness. But woe had not stopped its intention upon me that night.
I managed to fall asleep. In my dreams that night, I was visited with a vivid nightmare. I stood in my childhood home waiting at the door with a bat in my hand, standing between my sister and the entrance. I had this feeling that something bad was going to happen, and that I had to protect her, though nothing in particular was occurring. Then, with a gentle creek, a clawed hand reached and pushed the front door gently open. A demonically horned monstrosity stepped into the room. Its hooves clopped upon the wood floor. I intended to combat it, but my muscles took no command from me, and I swung the bat as if I was in molasses. It lunged with a deep roar to my sister, digging its hands into her stomach and viciously tearing it open with ease. It dug through her chest cavity as a dog digs holes in the dirt, spewing and tossing guts and organs out slashed and mutilated. I stood helpless and disgusted, until it turned towards me. It dropped my sister to the ground like a doll it no longer wanted to play with. It approached and grasped me tightly, growling a deep animalistic anger, its stature looming over me. It took its claw and dug it into its own eye, slicing it and tearing it open. It leaned over me, inches from my face. I screamed in horror. Black blood seeped and dripped from its swollen socket into my mouth. I struggled ferociously but the blood continuously poured from its eye into me.
I awoke sweating in pitch black, feeling Intense fear in myself. As a child that had not had their night light. I was terrified of the thought of something being in the darkness. I knew I was awake, and I was in a hotel in the middle of the night, but my heart started racing in irrational fear. I didn’t even have the courage to lift my head and look about the room to satiate the tormenting curiosity in the mystery of a possible supernatural visitor. But, I did. There was a demon sitting on the chair. A darker than dark silhouette of someone sitting hunched, looking at me. It was a shadow. But I knew, even then, this was a devil. I felt it. The blood in my skin fell away. I was mortified; in absolute terror. I stared unmoving with my heart beating out of my chest at this figure.
I slowly began to hold disdain for it. It did not move, it did not speak. But, I was beginning to be relieved of my fear. Instead, it was replaced with hate. Burning, mean hate. I hated it. No, I abhorred it. I was angry. The most intense rage fell upon me. I stood up from my bed, looking about the darkness. I stomped and clenched my fists. Captured in the most ridiculous delusion of fury, I began yelling and thrashing my room. I broke vases and electronics. I smashed the TV to the ground. I bit and gnawed at the chair leg which the thing sat on. I flipped the mattress and kicked doors off their hinges. I scratched and tore pillows like a feline. I was filled with so much hate and anger. I remained like this until hotel staff came to subdue me. Which, at their arrival, the feeling subsided suddenly.
I now was plagued daily by these voices, and nightly by this demon. The visits were not as dramatic as the first, but still, It watched me from different places in the dark each time. All it did was sit there. Weeks passed like this, I lost tremendous amounts of sleep attending to fruitless solutions and avoidances. Either I slept not a wink the night and evaded my tormentor, save for the voices if I’m alone, or I had to face my tormentor in the midst of night with a bravery I did not possess, awoken by various nightmares or visions designed for me that night.
But this is merely his entrance, I must now speak of the acquaintance he made with me. It was another terrible midnight where I stared at it, in whichever spot it had chose for the night, contemplating the nature of such a gross presence and its effect on me. When, filled with a ridiculous exhaustion and exhasperation, I called out to it, “What do you want!” I saw a slight twitch in its head, which struck me with more surprise than fear, although I had both. “Do you know me?” It spoke in a low and growled voice. It had such a tone of malevolence and mocking speech, it even felt as if it spoke condescendingly, as if I was a child it was reducing to. “No.” I said, my breath failing me. “I knew your sister.” The demon stated with a snicker, which developed into a chuckle, then an intense and hearty laugh. He wailed and howled in laughter even, he sounded insane. Such a disgusting sound it was to hear its voice in the darkness so pleased with itself. It confused and frustrated me in fear greatly, and it became so loud and went on for so long I couldn’t stand it. “Shut up!” I yelled finally. It stopped laughing immediately. “But you know Javier, you know me too.” It spoke very seriously. I stared in bewilderment. “You’re guilty! You’re guilty! You love murder! Haha! You love yourself! You stroke huh?” The demon spoke without relent and enjoyed his own hilarity. “What the fuck?” I said in a trembled whisper. “Yea, you hate clothes, you little pathetic bitch.” It cackled.
I was roused again with the most extreme and unimaginable anger. I yelled my defense at him. He grew in laughter. I screamed any kind of profanity and slur I could think of at his station, and he only grew in volume with me. This went on until I finally arrived at my king accusation, which was finally enough to have it stir, “You’re a failure of creation!” He was silent for a moment. “What is it you know of creation?” It spoke with such a terrible and tremendous tone. “Are you worth any more than me? You’re subject to death the same. I’m a connoisseur of freedoms, yet, what are you? You are a slave of fear, scared of your own desires. And, even more so, subject to me.. As much as a mouse loses its life to the metal spring when it grabs cheese, so do you spoil by me.” “You speak nonsense!” I retorted “You’re very stupid, it’s difficult for you to grasp.”
Then, without much more deliberation, it simply began roaring with the most horrific and inhumane noises. It began screeching—it screeched with blood curdling yells and sorrow. It screamed as if it was lit on fire. At once, in the shadows, it began clawing at its own face. I heard sounds of ripping and tearing—with noises as if pounds of deli meat were slammed onto the cutting board. This was accompanied by an intense and putrid smell of rot, and I began weeping. This experience was more than I could bare, and I couldn’t describe to u what was unnaturally filled in my mind. This night felt as if i was never going to escape the moment, like the present moment was my eternity. This sight annoyed me to my soul for what seemed like hours, and I even conjectured to myself that this torture was eternal.
But soon, he did indeed cease. A gentle glow of orange illuminated the end of my bed. He stood before me, tall and with elegance in the light. He was skinned, his jaw dislocated, his face scratched bare and raw so that no features were pertruding. He was completely nude, with hooves and fur patches among his disfigured appearances. He wore this boldly with shame, yet, overcame it with overwhelming pride.
Such beauty it was to admire his stature. I could not help but gaze with wonder and pleasure. I must have admired him for a while, perhaps even hours. I became mad with lust for him, such a delicious sight he was! I should give up my other fruitless endeavors of life if I could just have the delight to taste him.
But just as I settled on my prospective bliss, my roommate entered the room. His yell of terror attacked my ears, interrupting us. Why scream? Why that hideous look on his face? What was he so scared of? What possessed him to be worthy of beholding any sort of indignation upon my beautiful companion? A little worm—that ugly little leech that dared breath the same air as us. “Get rid of it.” The demon told me, but I hardly needed a command to conceive of my goal.
Oh, what fun I had! It was like the first fresh sip of lemonade on a summer day! Like the sunshine that seeps through window seals—like the birds chirping in the dewy mornings. Like the adrenaline of a rollercoaster—the tickle of a drop. Like the intoxication that gives you belief of so much confidence. And to feel it on my hands? It was the joy of a child when he smashes his fingers into the moist sand—that innocent satisfaction of destroying a castle. Like the excitement of opening your favorite bag of chips—grabbing the ends and pulling the plastic with might until bursts open with goodies; yes, that’s what it was like for me to stick my thumbs deep into his eye sockets, and pull to open—if only I could. It was such, as when I bit down on his throat with all my might and sipped. It was indeed so, when I scratched and clawed till my nails came off, opening his chest and pulling at ribs like discarded hot wings, ripping at organs and intestines, pulling of nails, bending fingers two loops around, snapping his arms, smashing his head with my foot—but again my happiness was destroyed. For my companion had fled the scene, and he was no longer present. At once, I recovered some coherence and realized the tragedy of what I had done. How would I hide this? How could I discard of blood evidence all over me? How was he going to chip in on rent in this condition? I obviously had not calculated all the required considerations before doing such a thing. I was enraged by the black magic possessed by the demon, stupid, tricky, evil thing. So you see, it was his fault.

I (22F) was in a very abusive and toxic relationship for about 3 years. I was abused in every way possible. Every chance he had to make me feel bad about something that happened to me he took it for example I was raped as a child and teenager and when he got mad he would tell me that the guy must have been big because I was bleeding after the event rather than being their to comfort me. Because to him it wasn’t that fact that I was violently raped it’s just they had to be bigger than him. He triggered my trauma by touching me and inserting things into me while I slept not to mention when I would tell him no during sex and he’d still enter me. One time I remember most was when he tried to put it in the back door and I repeatedly said no but he did it anyway I was so hurt and scared that I just laid there until he realized that I wasn’t moving and rather than apologizing and making sure I’m okay he got upset and rolled over because I ruined the mood. Going back to the beginning we started dating in 2019 when I had turned 18 and he was 21. In 2020 he got me pregnant and one day he got unreasonably upset at me for worrying about where he was running off to in the middle of the night and told me “He’d make me lose our baby” and surely enough he kept true to his word and I did lose the baby I remember crying and begging him to comfort me but he was too busy playing the game and talking to his friend at some point he got annoyed with me crying so he left out the room. His actions beat my confidence down and every ounce of personality I had was taken from my very being and I was shell of who I once was by summer of 2021. I think once he saw that he figured that final blow would be to tell me that he fell in love with someone else and I cried but like a fool I still wanted him to comfort me but all he could do was look at me like I was beneath him. Once he chose her only two months in he realized the grass wasn’t greener on the other side and left her to come talk to me looking back on it now I know it was because I was easier to manipulate at the time. We got back together and by 2022 I thought maybe he changed his ways as I was noticing things he did at the beginning of our relationship and things I liked. But soon I would realize how wrong I was he became abusive again but by this point I felt like I had no one but him I had no one to talk to not even family. We had sex although I really didn’t enjoy it I just knew that was the only way I’d be able to keep him in my life and without him I had no one to ones surprise I got pregnant again I was sick and miserable the whole time by this point I started coming to my senses and gaining my sense of self back I knew I couldn’t be in this relationship or be tied to him by having this baby after talking to him and my parents we decided an abortion would be the best but afterwards I was too weak and in pain to travel back home so I stayed at his place until I had the energy to get back on my feet during this stay he got aggressive with me one night in September of 2022 I grabbed something to protect myself in case he came at me and in a rage he snatched it from me flipped me on the bed and punched me his hardest in my face I was bleeding according to his sisters and mom but I couldn’t feel my nose or mouth I just remember walking through the hallways and screaming that he hit me and then I was dragged back to his room where I felt myself fading in and out of consciousness no one called an ambulance no one checked on me I just remember waking up and seeing that while I was going through all the things he was putting me through he was on Reddit telling other girls how sexy they were or how pretty they looked. I like to say I’ve healed from it and I found someone better but from the things I’ve been through sometimes I find myself thinking peace and healing is not enough I need him to suffer like how he made me suffer.
Note: I did not include a lot of the times he hit me or spit on me because this post would be very long I just wrote the parts that were the most traumatic to me. Thank you for reading I just wanted to get this out.
Edit: sorry if this is written weird it’s sometimes very hard and upsetting to remember but I try to type as fast as I think.

I have never had this happen ever in my entire life. I'm very careful with what I use my phone for. I was in middle of posting on the Ulta sub and flipping through all my posts because I wanted to delete my comments. I think it is so bizarre that shoplifting and theft subs are allowed on reddit and ORC is even allowed to recruit accomplices off reddit.
I've been doing a ton of complaining on the Ulta sub about ORC, theft, and fraud. My complaining reached a crescendo today where I practically almost outright accused some individuals of lying about hacked accounts (can happen but I don't believe a lot of what gets posted on the Ulta sub).
I believe I was the victim of a cyberattack while logged into my account on reddit possibly from ORC. While on reddit, on the Ulta sub, my phone went beserk frozen on reddit (never in my entire life have I had a phone act like that) and I could not shut the phone down. It was insane and absolutely frightening like my phone was possessed. In trying to shut my phone down, I don't know if somehow it auto dialed 911 or the phone was taken over by cyber hackers but yeah, I had to talk to police and explain to them that I thought I was getting cyberattacked and couldn't control my phone acting crazy on its own calling 911 though I'm perfectly safe at home. Then while explaining to police by my hijacked phone that I was fine, the phone stopped allowing the call to function so the police couldn’t hear me talking anymore. Thus the police physically came to check up on me. I had a nice conversation with them and told them I was on Reddit when suddenly my phone got cyberattacked for the first time in my entire life. This is all on official police record and I’m sure the responding officer can vouch that I’m perfectly sane and he even believed my crazy scary story.
I'm a very smart accomplished highly credentialed, highly educated person. I believe it is quite possible that ORC cyberattacked my phone somehow, I don't know how, off reddit tonight. I'm not crazy. I suspect the message is I need to shut the F up on the Ulta sub about implying a % of the hacking reports are fake. I will no longer be participating on the Ulta sub anymore due to this possible unbelievably crazy threat out of an abundance of caution.
I've had a troll follow me incessantly on the Ulta sub for weeks now downvoting all my posts trying to scare me off the Ulta sub. Someone/ORC really wants me off the Ulta sub. Sadly my phone and internet security and wellbeing is worth more than standing up for my principles and beliefs of right from wrong. Disappointed in reddit. Ulta has its work cut out for it considering even Amazon struggles mightily to deal with ORC attacking Amazon from inside and outside and ORC is strong in its ability to cyberattack.
maybe a reddit inside job. what are the odds this was a coincidence.

I 17 m started dating 17 f since we were 14. We started dating 2021 of October, it’s been 2 years and a half and we’ve had our fair share of problems, but this problem we’ve had has been hurting me a lot. When we started dating she was already in a relationship with a guy since 2021 august, they broke up in 2022 March. She’s lied to me about their relationship and calling him a boy bestfriend and she got a hickey and told me it was a burnt mark from doing her hair. Fast forward we had a lot of arguments about her and him and shes used me to get over him. Used me bad. We were on and off but majority of the time, on.
I get that she’s done those terrible things but she has also has done a lot of good for me. It’s now been some time and she keeps saying “when we’re 20 you won’t be remembering a stupid silly mistake I made in grade 9-10” I don’t know whether to believe that or not. I recently told her “I am done stressing and arguing about the same problem, let’s flip the page.” It’s been like 2 weeks and I’ve been still hurting. A tiny voice in my head is telling me “I don’t deserve to be with someone who cheated on me” but than another voice is saying “im not gonna remember it when im older, don’t mess up something good for you”
Here’s the dilemma, she’s nothing like how she was when she was doing those things to me. We love eachother a lot. she’s a completely different person now. We both introduced eachother to our family’s and we’re set to have wedding done early ( family tradition on both sides of the family) What should I do?

At least I certainly hope so for my mom, my MIL, and my sister. They all seemed very happy & pleased with the day.
My mom & dad were absolute rock stars for hosting & fixing all kinds of delicious food for dinner yesterday, and I am truly so very grateful for them. They are the kind of selfless people that truly always do more for others than they receive, willingly and lovingly.
Yesterday made me even more glad that I went over to their house on Saturday & helped my mom with some technological stuff + spent several hours with her. We “chased” the northern lights, though frankly we didn’t see much. Apparently they were much more magnificent the night before; I didn’t really have any luck then either. Some of the folks around this area captured some rather unbelievable photos — that’s not to say that I’m calling it nonsense. However I do know for a fact that some of those photos were heavily edited/adjusted. I know what I saw with my eyes, and what I was able to get with my camera… those things were not in alignment whatsoever. But anyway Saturday night was really enjoyable, mostly because I was with my mom.
My parents & family have really welcomed in my MIL with open arms ever since my FIL passed away. She has expressed gratitude for this many times. Yesterday was no exception, and to my husband’s credit, he made sure his mom knew everything we did & all that she got was thanks to me (and my parents, of course).
My sister came out to my parents an hour or so later than she planned, which pushed dinner back a bit, but no one seemed to mind. It was delicious all the same, and my kids loved playing with their amazing cousins.
Unfortunately that put us getting back home about an hour & a half later than I’d expected. My husband & oldest daughter didn’t stay long out at my parents, but MIL stayed with us all day. So I dropped her off before I could get home with my Littles.
On the way back home, I found out that my MIL is somehow back in contact with the MEGAbitch (aka Barbie). The slutty, disgusting Rush-loving racist who is unfortunately my husband’s brother’s w___e. Feel free to fill that word however you deem fit. I truly don’t give a shit that she’s as pure as the driven snow (but she’s a “Christian”, so that’s ok!) or that her moral compass is nonfunctional/nonexistent. What really pisses me off about this bitch is the fact that she *used** an innocent-ish POC to cheat on her [possibly even more] racist partner. And she decided to cOnfEsS that shit to me right before we were to celebrate Christmas w my husband’s parents. (Sadly one of the very last Christmases of my FIL’s life. Also my son’s first Christmas. What a peach, eh?) Prior to that shitstorm, the ONLY thing this bitch said to me about her “indiscretion” was I’m not innocent.
Unfortunately her “confession” text was extremely elusive, and I idiotically thought, “omg, she kissed someone else!” HA. Oh, sweet summerchild self of years ago, you wish that’s all she had done. It wasn’t until the next morning — 3 HOURS before we did Christmas w my husband’s parents that the whole truth came out. After a very long phone call, my hunky but shell-shocked hubby [henceforth called G.I. Joe* — Joe for short] said “we have to talk.” Just then, I received a text from the Barbie MEGAbitch…
“im sure you know that Ken* spoke with Joe today. you may already know, but I def want to tell you that the guy I slept with was black. I know that's the worst offense. I know how Ken feels about that. I just wanted you to know. like I said, I am not innocent. im so sorry.”
Ken had obviously called Joe & word-vomited the whole sordid fiasco, including the fact that Ken knew exactly who the AP was.. one of Barbie’s younger coworkers (huge shocker, sarcastically speaking). I don’t know if this fella was partially or completely duped, but I’m willing to bet my left boob that he did not know he was being used as a pawn. It came as a tremendous shock (and relief) to Joe & me that Ken hadn’t committed an unspeakable act of violence on that guy.
And this is where I need to throw in the caveat that Joe & I were never super close to Barbie & Ken. Our values & beliefs didn’t align in many if any ways; we lived in a very big, diverse area for 10 years; they’ve lived their whole lives in a small, backwards area (save for Barbie’s one failing attempt at a local-ish party college for almost a whole semester — until she got knocked up). And from the outside we were flip-flopped in earnings & appearances. I’m just not a huge spender and I’ll use something until it completely wears out.. I don’t need a new fill-in-the-blank every season, nor do I need flashy name brands. I’m just not into splurgy bs.
But Ken is Joe’s brother. And no matter how big a tool that schmuck is, my husband (bless his heart) will always love Ken. May not always like him, and he straight-up hates aspects of him — but Joe cares about his brother, and he’s never been the biggest fan of Barbie.
I thought Barbie & I were “sorta friends” for the longest time. But after our falling out, I realized she was way more fiend than ally. Yes, my husband’s normal-meter is straight-up-busted (and so is Ken’s) and there was a lot of messed up stuff in the past that made me cling to the hope & illusion of what “could” be. I was always the one who made all the efforts & gave all the favors. I bent over backwards for her, and I regret it all.
After the Christmas debacle & following days, Barbie realized that she didn’t have my undying support / approval of her recent life-choices. She came over to my house & ambushed me while my husband was at his parents doing his best to explain the terrible situation to them & why Christmas was even more solemn than expected. (They knew part of the story but not all of it — and not all of which I’m divulging here). That megabitch said and later texted some of the most VILE, horrible things to me that I’ve ever heard or read. Things that were on par with what she said & texted to our MIL.
But somehow.. my MIL is apparently back on cordial terms with that piece of trash. Joe & I know that she’s been desperate to be back in communication with Ken… but at what cost? I love my MIL (even if I don’t always like her or her decisions), and she’s still very new to being a widow. So she still gets unlimited grace as far as I’m concerned.
That said, it still sucks.
Thank you, void for letting me vent into you.
[* = names changed, duh.]

The garage door shut with a groan behind us, closing us in the gloom of the single bulb hanging over the car.
Mother took a drag off her cigarette and sighed as she exhaled, the smoke filled the cabin of the Ford and stung my eyes.
“You really disappointed me today, Julianne," she tapped her cigarette in the ashtray below the dash, "you embarrassed me in front of the other mothers at the Ice Cream Social, shoveling down seconds and thirds like a pig. I thought I raised you better than that.”
She took another drag, daintily holding the cigarette between her perfectly manicured fingers.
“I'm going to have to tell your brother about this," she continued, “he'll have to come up with a punishment fit for a pig."
I felt my stomach drop. My kid brother, Thomas, was only six, but could be exceptionally cruel. Mother seemed to encourage him and was deferring to him more and more frequently for how the house was run, especially concerning my upbringing.
"Mother, please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm sorry I was a pig and ate so much ice cream. I promise I won't do it again, I'll never eat any ice cream again," I was pleading with stone, unyielding.
“Hush your mouth. Go to your room and wait for Thomas," she put out the cigarette and got out of the car, I had no choice but to follow.
It felt like walking to the gallows as I stepped inside the house and headed towards the stairs to go to my room. Thomas had grown fond recently of physical punishment, he obviously delighted in Mother whipping me with a belt or, recently, Mother had allowed him to start beating me with a wooden spoon. He would squeal and giggle like a normal child watching bubbles in the wind while I screamed. I was dreading whatever was going to happen tonight, I chastised myself for eating that ice cream, I should have known she would show up. My sins were always laid bare.
Down the hall, I could hear Thomas watching television in the den. I only got to watch TV for half an hour on Saturday morning and new episodes of Happy Days with Mother and Thomas. Thomas got to watch all the TV he wanted. He could listen to the radio and turntable as much as he wanted, as loud as he wanted. Thomas had an entire room just for his toys.
I entered my bedroom, it was a space I occupied, but it didn't feel like mine. Mother kept it spartan, white walls and white bedspread. A crucifix over the bed and a painting of Jesus over the door. I had my desk and chair and a dresser with some of the porcelain dolls Daddy gave me before he died that Mother let me keep. That was it.
I placed my book bag down and sat on my bed, waiting for Thomas. It was a while, sitting there with nothing but my own thoughts and staring at the open door. I felt humiliated, I was almost thirteen and my entire life was dictated by my brother. Mother kept the house in constant lockdown to keep Thomas a secret. No outsiders were allowed in. I couldn't have friends because she was afraid I would mention him or sneak a friend in to gawk at my brother and tease him for being different.
I would never make fun of him, I was terrified of him. Terrified of what he was and what he was becoming.
Eventually I heard his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and I felt my heart start beating faster and my palms began to sweat. I kneaded my skirt in my hands, trying to calm myself and dry my palms. His slow arrhythmic footsteps came down the hall and I watched him as he entered the room.
I couldn't help but internally recoil at his appearance, even though I'd known him since he was born, I could never adjust to how unnatural he appeared. Thomas had been born at home and had never seen a doctor, but he was obviously unwell.
He was six years old and was barely over two feet tall, but very squat and wide. His skin was thick and gray, the whites of his beady eyes were yellow and his hair was wispy and white like an old man's, spreading out like a halo around his gargoyle face. A slight odor of decomposition hung about him, it reminded me faintly of garbage cans on a hot summer day. I hated when Mother made me help him with a bath, his skin felt like old brittle leather that flaked onto my clothes in gray flecks. His body was dense like concrete, I could barely lift him into the tub. Picking him up forced his hair into my face where that smell of rot would fill my nose, causing me to gag, silently, so as not to offend him and draw any ire from him or Mother.
Today, Thomas was wearing bib overalls with a red and green striped sweater underneath, reminding me of a grotesque doll.
“Mama says you acted like a piggy today at the ice cream social,” he spoke up to me in his unsettlingly high pitched, yet raspy voice, like a child that smoked as much as Mother, "you need to come down for dinner right now for your punishment for embarrassing Mama."
He turned and walked back down the stairs and I had no choice but to follow his toddling form downstairs to the dining table. We entered the kitchen and the table was placed with two settings. Mother was already seated and Thomas clambered up into his booster seat at his normal spot next to Mother. She took a drag off her cigarette and motioned vaguely to the floor without even looking at me.
Neatly situated on the linoleum was my dinner, not on a plate, but directly on the floor. A pork chop, scoop of mashed potatoes, and a small pile of peas. No utensils, either.
Thomas giggled with glee upon seeing my face.
“You have Mama's permission now to eat like a piggy, now. No hands! Piggies just use their face!” He stood up in his chair and reached out for Mother’s ash tray and flung it out over my meal, peppering my dinner with cigarette ash and butts.
"Oops! Piggies don't mind trash though, do they, Mama?” he giggled and the sound filled me with rage.
"No, they don't,” Mother replied coolly while maneuvering her ashtray back in place and carefully putting out her cigarette before saying prayer.
As angry as I was, I got down on my hands and knees and did my best at eating what I could without using my hands. I knew if I refused, it would be far worse. The whole meal, Thomas made pig noises and would reach down and poke me with his fork, making comments about what a fat piggy I was and how he wished he could roast and eat me. I doubted Mother would even object if he actually did kill me and eat me.
Gagging my way through another bite of ashy pork chop, I felt a warm splat over my head and heard Thomas giggling. I reached up and felt he had dumped mashed potatoes into my hair.
Choking down tears, I asked Mother if I could clean the floor and bathe. She rolled her eyes and excused me to clear the table for them as well while she changed Thomas into his pajamas. Picking him up, she walked out of the room and Thomas stuck his putrid little purple tongue out at me before they made it out the kitchen door.
I silently cried while I cleared the table and washed the dinner dishes. Tears splashed down as I mopped up the mess from my food on the floor. I hated how awful Thomas was. I hated how they treated me. Ever since Daddy died and Thomas showed up, I was their punching bag. I missed Daddy so much.
Mother was kinder then, too. She was still severe, but Dad kept her tempered. After he died, there was a change that came over her. I was only six, so I didn't remember her too much from before, but I did remember her gushing on and on when she was pregnant with Thomas. How the baby was a gift from Our Heavenly Father, that it was going to complete our broken family.
My sixth birthday happened right after Daddy died and I remember sitting on the patio crying while the house was full of people after the funeral, normally he would have gotten me a new doll and a chocolate bar, instead I was forgotten. No doll. No chocolate. Just funeral potatoes and a house full of cigarette smoke from the adults.
Nobody remembered. The closest thing I got was my dad's sister, Aunt Judy, sitting next to me on the patio step for a few minutes of comfortable silence before giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. I don't think she knew her brother was memorialized on my birthday. Next year, Thomas was born the day before my birthday, so it was completely eclipsed as Mother had just birthed her new love into the world…
I stopped mid mop as a lightbulb finally went off. I had never put much thought into the dates before.
Thomas was born a full year after Daddy died. He couldn't be his dad. Who was Thomas’ actual father?
Washing mashed potatoes out of my hair that evening, I ran over and over the timeline. No matter how I parsed it out, Thomas was only my half brother. Going to bed that night, I kept myself awake, going over and over again to make sure. I couldn't remember any men being around at that time, but that didn't mean much. Adults can easily hide things from children. Tension began throbbing through my head and I felt queasy. Mother had always known all of my secrets, able to sniff them out like a bloodhound out or using Thomas to spy. Now I had one of Mother's secrets and I didn't know what to do with it.
First I wanted to confirm it, but it would mean snooping, which was difficult in a house that was rarely left empty. I would have to try finding Mother's calendar book or journal to see if she mentioned any dates or men.
But when could I attempt such a daring maneuver? Thomas hardly left the house. As proud as Mother was of him, she was very cognizant and protective of his differences and didn't want to draw attention to herself or Thomas like that. Mother herself had few social engagements throughout the week and mostly stayed home to watch her golden child.
I finally decided I would take the risk and fake sick on Tuesday, grocery day, so I could stay home from school while she went shopping. All Thomas did all day was watch TV downstairs, so that should give me about an hour to look through her room for clues. I decided to tuck my head down, try to behave as best as I could to avoid their wrath, and wait for Tuesday.
That weekend limped along agonizingly slow. Thomas was in a fine mood and was constantly seeking out a reason to poke me, punch me, slap me… he'd laugh while calling me a piggy with his off-putting wide mouth. I tried to mostly stay in my room and it seemed like neither of them cared.
School on Monday was a relief, but my anxiety ramped up. The consequences would be dire if Mother caught on that I was faking sick to stay home. I didn't even want to imagine how off the leash she'd let my half-brother become in his punishment for that level of insubordination.
I stayed up all night, my stomach was in knots, but I was committed to my plan. Throughout the night, I screamed as hard as I could into my pillow. Screamed until my throat was raw and I could barely talk. It felt cathartic in a way. When it was close to school time, I put on my heaviest flannel pajamas and began doing jumping jacks until my face was flushed and my scalp was soaked with sweat.
Looking in the bathroom mirror before heading down to talk to Mother, I thought I looked pretty convincing, my skin was flushed and sweaty, my eyes had circles under them from lack of sleep, and my voice croaked like a frog.
Heading downstairs, Mother was already feeding Thomas breakfast. I hesitantly stepped into the kitchen and stood there awkwardly for a second, pawing with my pajamas to keep my nerves steady until she noticed my presence and looked up.
“Why aren't you dressed, Julianne?"
"I don't feel well. My throat hurts and my tummy hurts.” My voice graveled out more than I was expecting, I really had hurt my throat.
She strode over to me and placed a cool hand on my sweaty brow.
"You do feel warm. Take an aspirin from the medicine cabinet and go lay back down. I'll check on you later," with that she turned back and walked over to Thomas, who was frozen in place, glaring at me over a forkful of scrambled eggs. The sharp glint of malice in his beady eyes made me shiver before I shuffled out of the kitchen.
I laid in bed, trying my best to look miserable until I eventually heard the faint sound of the television playing in the den as Thomas settled in for his normal daytime routine and the garage door opened as Mother headed to the grocery store. I bounded out of bed and watched the car back out of our driveway and head up the street.
My heart began to pound as I tiptoed down the hall to Mother's bedroom, a place I rarely even caught a glimpse of, let alone entered. I very slowly opened the door, taking great care to not make any noise to alert Thomas downstairs that I was out of bed.
Creeping into the butter yellow room, I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my skull, this was the naughtiest thing I had ever done by far. I stepped onto the rug to help disguise my footsteps and slowly made my way past the brass bed and towards her desk. My hands shook as I opened the top drawer, I pawed through rapidly and found nothing. I checked the next drawer down and again found nothing of interest, just stationary and envelopes.
Finally, the bottom drawer was what I was looking for, a stack of journals from the past decade. I flipped through, trying to find entries relevant to when Daddy died and who Mother slept with afterwards.
I've never fully recovered from what I read.
July 6, 1968
Edgar died today. Car accident. I cannot believe this is real. My light, my life, my anchor... Dr. Benson gave me a sedative at the hospital and I feel so tired. So very, very tired. Why has my Lord forsaken me so?
July 9, 1968
I feel like I am in a very bad dream, I feel numb and disconnected. All the consolation and pity from everyone makes me feel sick. After the memorial, it took everything in me to not break dishes and to scream at everyone to get out of my house. Julianne was moping about crying and I wanted to throw her out, too.
If I hadn't seen my dear Edgar's body in the hospital and held his urn in my own hands, I wouldn't believe he was really gone. I still don't entirely believe it.
I have prayed to God every night asking him to show me why he took my husband from me and I have gotten no answer.
I skimmed over the next few months, as it was more or less similar sentiments repeated night after night. I finally got to an entry that caught my eye.
September 17, 1968
My battle with my faith has been fraught the past few months, but Hallelujah! I feel I can see the Lord again in all his glory and might, for he has given me a way to reconnect to my Edgar!
I was thinking about the night Julianne was born, right in this very home, it was a difficult birth and she struggled to breathe at first. Ingrid, my midwife, made a comment to me that if the baby had failed to wake up on her own, that Ingrid had ways to make sure she would have made it.
I remember asking if it was a medical methodology and she made it clear to me that in certain circumstances, it was a mystical property she used to bring the air of life into a struggling baby's lungs. She gently alluded to being a practicing member of the dark arts. At the time, I felt quite scandalized to have someone like that in my God fearing home. Now I see her as the answer to my prayers! My angel!
On a whim, I called her and asked if she still practiced such techniques. She hesitantly confirmed that she did. I asked, if she could turn breath into the lungs of a child without, could she turn breath into a child that did not exist? Could she magick into existence another child of my beloved Edgar? She told me she had to do some research and she'd be back in touch.
Ingrid just called back after a few hours and said there was a spell she found, but it was dangerous and might have unpleasant results. I said, yes, of course! I trust my Lord and I believe he sent this woman of blessed magick to me for this purpose.
She says we will have to do it soon, in a few days during the new moon. She has a potion to brew, but it is happening! Praise God!
September 23, 1968
The ceremony was last night, and Ingrid believes it was a success, but we will have to wait. It did not take long, only an hour or two. Ingrid lit my bedroom with many beeswax candles and she had me drink a thick and bitter tea that caused me to become quite relaxed and foggy.
From my inner thigh, she cut me and collected my blood in a chalice, with which she mixed quite a lot of Edgar's ashes and other ingredients which I could not glean from my supine position and groggy wits. Ingrid began to chant, calling upon a higher power, as I pleaded with my Lord to let this work. To give me any piece of my Edgar back. She came to the bed and worked the paste between my legs into my womanly chamber, which was very uncomfortable, but manageable with the numbing effects of the tea.
She continued to sit with me and chant, her hand placed over my womb, until she decided at which time it was complete. She left and I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up this morning, I felt quite uncomfortable, my body ached and when I used the restroom, a yellow fluid like pus poured out of me, but no sign of any ashes or blood, which gives me hope it was absorbed into my womb.
November 3, 1968
Praise be to our Lord, Ingrid just confirmed for me that I am with child, I had been hoping so, I had not gotten my cycle in October, but I wasn't sure if that was because of the discharge like pus that was still coming. She told me that was common with this spell and a side effect that would stop after the baby came.
I feel like I am floating on air, for the first time since Edgar left, I feel-
I suddenly became very aware of the feeling of eyes on the back of my head. I had become too engrossed in what was written before me and I had lost track of my surroundings. Very slowly, I turned around and my heart began pounding again as I saw Thomas standing in the doorway holding his wooden spoon in one hand. How had I not heard him?
He pointed at me with his empty hand and screamed, just a pure guttural screech from somewhere deep inside his disgusting little body. He charged at me from across the room, his horrible feet thumping solidly along the rug. He began beating my legs ruthlessly with the spoon, causing my legs to buckle. I crashed down to my knees in front of him, and he began lashing at my face, pulling my hair with one hand while wailing away at my head with the spoon.
I had dropped the journal I was holding and was desperately trying to get a hand on the spoon or push him away. All I could hear was him screaming. My arms flailed and I reached around on Mother's desk and grabbed onto the first thing I found and sank it into Thomas’ neck.
The end of Mother's gold letter opener protruded under his jaw. He went silent and he looked at me with utter shock. He dropped the spoon and collapsed on the ground, clutching at his neck as his thick black blood oozed out from his wound, letting out a stupendous odor of rot that filled the room. He didn't really say anything or make any noise. He just twitched for a moment and I saw his eyes glaze over.
In shock, I stood over his little body for a moment and I watched as he seemed to mummify in just a few minutes, like an ash person from Pompeii dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. Even his blood that looked like shiny oil a second ago became like potting soil on Mother's rug. Reaching out to touch his hand, it crumbled away like sand.
Panic ran through me like a rabbit caught in a snare. Not knowing what to do, I ran. I ran down the hall, changed my clothes, put an extra change of clothes in my backpack and the last doll Daddy had ever given me and I ran. Mother would absolutely never forgive me and I was genuinely afraid she would kill me in retaliation for taking her beloved Thomas away from her. Her precious gift from God. My feet flew over the pavement and took me away from that house.
I called my Aunt Judy from a payphone outside the five & dime, and told her Mother had kicked me out and asked if I could stay with her. She had always had a strained relationship with my mother and it didn't take much convincing that she had kicked out her “only” child. Only Mother, Ingrid, and I ever knew about Thomas.
She gave me a home and took care of me. She never beat me or humiliated me. Even with her love, I was far from okay. For years I would close my eyes and hear Thomas scream, then the sudden silence. I'd see him fumbling at his neck and turning to ash. But I would also remember all the ways he would hurt me and how bad he was becoming. I could never talk to anyone about it, especially not the silent relief I felt I refused to admit to myself. Over time, however, Thomas' screams became a whisper and his silence faded into dust in my mind.
I moved on with my life. I went to college and became a photojournalist, getting to travel the world and watch history unfold. By choice, I never married, but was quite blessed with many beautiful friendships for companionship over the decades. I found balance in my life and a sense of happiness, if not peace. I never could quite stomach mashed potatoes again, though, they always taste ashy to me.
Mother never made any attempts to reach out to me or find me, at least that I'm aware of. Ten years ago, I was contacted by a hospital and they said my mother had been admitted earlier after falling and was about to pass, so she must have kept some tabs on me to know my phone number for her emergency contacts. Apparently she had collapsed in the driveway and a neighbor called an ambulance. I got there and her only words to me were, “take care of him," as she placed a locket in my hand. I opened the locket, Jesus was on one side, Thomas on the other. I didn't say anything to her, just held her frail old hand with nicotine stained nails until she passed in the night. My mother was gone and I felt nothing except a vague sense of relief.
When I got to her house, it was like a time capsule. Other than a newer television, it was just like it was when I'd fled so many years ago. The smell of tobacco smoke hung like incense in the air. It felt oppressive, like a tomb.
I wandered the house in a bit of a daze. The one place I didn't want to go was upstairs. I didn't want to see my old room, or Thomas' room, or Mother's. Putting it off, I went to fix myself some supper, realizing I hadn't eaten in almost a day. I took a pause when I opened the fridge and saw a baby bottle on a shelf. Silently praying she had been babysitting for a neighbor, I fixed myself some toast with sardines and sat eating in the den watching TV. It had been almost forty years and it still felt rebellious not eating at the table and watching TV without permission.
My eyes grew heavy and I finally mustered up the gumption to head upstairs to go to bed. The stairs creaked in a familiar way under my feet and I was taken back to the feeling of dread hearing either Mother or Thomas climbing up. My old room was at the top of the stairs, I saw the door was nailed shut and had rambling quotes about Judas copied from the Bible in my mother's handwriting taped to the door. I sighed gently and turned from the door to head down the hallway, deciding Mother's room was probably the best place to sleep.
I passed by Thomas’ toy room and I heard a murmur from the room. I stopped, curiosity got the best of me and I entered. In Thomas' old toy room was a crib with joyful clown sheets. Dread swelled up inside me as I heard more murmurs and saw the sheets move. Approaching slowly, I peaked under the sheet and gasped.
Tucked inside was what looked like a baby gargoyle, gray and papery looking. Pus leaked out of its milky, bulbous eyes. I pulled back the blanket and saw it had no legs and its arms bent back, like wings on a bird. It was wearing just a cloth diaper, overflowing with tarry looking stool that took my breath away with its pungency, it smelled like Thomas’ blood, but somehow worse. My heart broke for this poor creature, Lord only knows how many years it has been in this crib suffering from its unholy existence.
So this is who Mother had wanted me to take care of…
Not knowing what else to do, I gently scooped him up. Like Thomas, he was shockingly heavy for how small his body was. Placing him on the changing table, I cleaned him and rewrapped his bottom in a clean diaper cloth. It was difficult, he fussed tremendously, crying and flopping around as much as his flipper-like arms would allow. I tried wiping off his oozing eyes and he snapped his mouth, which I saw was full of disturbingly square yellow teeth, trying to bite me. I carried him to the kitchen and rocked him while I heated up his bottle and he became furious with me, almost barking like a dog when my hand would get near his face.
He settled a bit as he fed, but he would still sometimes suddenly spit out the bottle and attempt to bite me. I laid him back in his crib, this abomination in a clown sheet, and I walked down the hall to Mother's room letting out a long sigh.
Combing through my mother's journals in the early hours of the morning, it looked like she tried the ceremony again shortly after Thomas died, but she either lacked Ingrid’s help or didn't have enough of my father's ashes left. Something went terribly wrong. She was vaguer than she had been about Thomas’ conception, but I suspect she had used some of Thomas' remains. The resulting birth she named Isaac.
Mother's journals told a sad tale of her and Isaac's suffering. She never mentioned me, but lamented the loss of Thomas and Dad relentlessly. She was hyper protective of Isaac, as that was all she had left. If her world had been small before, it became microscopic after he entered her life, requiring nearly constant care. According to Mother, he was blind and colicky, sometimes going years at a time without sleeping through the night. She had breast fed him for years, but she had to stop after he grew teeth and began biting her intentionally and feeding on her blood.
I spent a lot of time over the next few days pondering what to do. I had to get her estate in order, she had left me the house, in an obvious attempt to get me to continue caretaking for Isaac, but I didn't want it. I had my own cozy home an hour away from here, filled with happy memories and my possessions acquired traveling the world. Mother's home had a heavy energy I couldn't shake. Her and Thomas were both gone, but the memories of the scoldings and beatings hung in every corner, like cobwebs that would never sweep away.
So, I fed Isaac and kept him clean and tried to keep him company, although he seemed to hate me passionately. I took care of him, all the while thinking about what I was going to do. After a week, I felt resolute in what had to be done.
Gathering up all of Mother's journals in a tote, I made my way to Isaac and picked him up and carried everything to the living room.
The ancient logs in the fireplace meant for display ignited instantly. One by one, I fed the journals into the fire, burning away years of my mother's consuming sorrow. Isaac fussed and moaned next to me the entire time. When the last pages shimmered away into lacy ash, I took a throw pillow off the couch and gently cradled Isaac in my other arm. It didn't take long before he stopped struggling and I felt his little body relax after decades of suffering.
I gently wrapped up a bundle in a clown sheet and placed it in the fire. It burned furiously, like the paper in my mother's journals, and was soon gone. Nothing but ashes and embers.
“Don't worry, Mother,” I said purely for my own sake, "I took care of Isaac for you."
And finally, I felt at peace.

Noah The Pilgrim
First Next
There is one last thing to do before leaving. If you don't recall ever being on this ship, then surely, you could have had your appearance change too.
Why was there a blanket covering a mirror? You couldn't answer that with a straight face without speculation.
"Probably me being lazy and not bothering to properly place it in the wardrobe."
'Probably' is the main focus here, you simply cannot remember ever being that lazy, yet that's the only logical conclusion to be drawn here.
You pull the thing off, careful to not displace the mirror and risk breaking it.
You have no expectations as to what may appear on the glassy surface of the mirror, yet you can't help but feel a bit anxious. Are you the same as before? How were you before? You can't remember. Are you better? Worse? The blanket is now completely off the mirror, but your eyes are closed.
Whatever is it that you see when you open your eyes, that thing will be you for the rest of your life. You swallow, opening your eyes.
You see a young man that looks to be in his mid-twenties. His brown eyes stare back at you, analyzing the bags beneath your eye sockets. The dark hair is neither too long nor too short, floating about without order thanks to the lack of gravity to keep it down. You see a beard that has not been trimmed for weeks, but also lacks thickness, each singular hair isn't particularly long either; and some even appear to be in-grown.
You touch your hand against your face, making sure it's yours. The beard doesn't feel like you supposed it would against your skin, instead of it scraping your hand you feel softness, no resistance or anything.
Just beneath the face, you see what looks like a hate crime against all that is considered holy in fashion. Plain white coveralls with the added bonus of a black tie and boots made from metal and leather. On your chest is also a badge stuck in place by velcro with your name, occupation, and crew. 'NOAH - INTERN - THE ODYSSEY.'
Only one question came to mind.
"Who the fuck designed this uniform?" You say out loud, receiving no answer.
Patting your newfound myriad of pockets, you find a large quantity of nothing. You place your wallet in one of them.
"Alright, I'll head to the bridge now, happy?" You say the AI.
"HAPPINESS WILL ONLY MEET ME ONCE YOU ARE SOMEWHERE SAFE AND YOUR CONTRACT IS TERMINATED. STOP LOITERING."
Well, that's a bit rude.
You compose yourself, straightening your back. This is what you look like, and honestly? Not too bad, but you could be better.
Returning to the cafeteria, you eye the two doors left unexplored; Communications and the one without plaque. You know where you should, but... A little peek doesn't hurt, right?
"Shouldn't we try to communicate with someone? Assuming you haven't tried it yet. I know we're far from everything, but we might as well, no?" You ask already approaching the door.
"COMMUNICATIONS ROOM IS IMPOSSIBLE FOR YOU TO REACH WITHOUT PROPER PROTECTION AS OF NOW, IT'S LOCATED APPROXIMATELY TWO HUNDRED METERS FROM HERE, BLOWN OFF FROM THE REST OF THE SHIP." A shame really. "I SHALL INFORM YOU WHENEVER A DOOR LEADS TO THE OUTSIDE OR NOT."
You really want to ask what blew a whole segment of the ship off, yet you have a sneaking suspicion that your question will be met with a 'YOU DON'T HAVE CLEARANCE, JACKASS' directly in your face. So you chose to remain silent, simply nodding and approaching the correct door this time.
"Open."
---OPENING CAFETERIA DOOR NORTH---
The door silently opens.
Greeting you is a well-lit corridor. There are three doors on your left, a door at the end of the corridor, and a large window on the right. At least, you think that's a window.
You stare out from this window, nothing but utter blackness and fragments from your ship are seen. If this is the edge of the universe, and beyond this point, there is truly nothing. "Dreadful." Your speech matches your feelings.
"WHAT DID YOU EXPECT?" The AI says. You feel like it spoke in a mocking tone despite their lack of emotion.
You don't answer. "First door to the left... EXO-EXPLORATION...? What's that supposed to mean?" You receive no answer.
"Open." The door opens. No declarion of it opening once again.
You are met with what could be better described as 'Apocalyptic levels of mess', paper sheets float in the air, and not one of the four tables is in its correct position.
This room has been ransacked for all its goods apparently. Large display glasses were broken leaving nothing inside their casings, that looked like they could store something with the size of the common man.
Unusual displays aside, the room was so cluttered that the trash made for an effective smoke screen against what lay on the other side.
Hissing of gas exiting an air-tight space rang throughout the room.
"I HAVE OPENED THE STORAGE FOR AN EXO SUIT THAT BEST FITS SOMEONE YOUR SIZE." The AI says. "ALTHOUGH AN INTERN SHOULD NOT COME IN CONTACT WITH TECHNOLOGY SUCH AS THIS ONE, PROTOCOL DICTATES THAT I AM TO ALLOW ITS USAGE UNDER EXTREME CIRCUMSTANCES. CONSIDER YOURSELF LUCKY."
Easier said than done. Your vision is so cluttered that you cannot see what's ahead. "Give me a second."
Giving a light kick to the wall behind, you float face-first into the wall of thrash. Covering your face with both arms, you brace through the harmless bits of sharp objects and junk.
It's a trivial task. You arrive on the other side in no time.
In front of you is a set of boxes with luminous glass rectangles atop each one of them. All shine a bright red light, aside from one which shines green.
'Gotta be this one.'
You descend to the floor by kicking the ceiling, raising your right hand you touch the green rectangle.
*Click*
Nothing could have prepared you for the following series of events.
The box opens violently, as a metal appendage takes hold of your hand, pinning it to the box. You try to jerk and pry the thing off of you, but you fail. It's not leaving you anytime soon.
From the bottomless that is that container, a white plastic-like substance flows upward from your arm to the rest of your body. "Uh!" You don't know if you should panic or allow it to happen.
FYARN hasn't said anything, so it's probably fine...
The white thing seems to ignore the coveralls you are wearing completely, instead, it covers only your skin in a thin coat of... it. You know not what to call this thing.
In but forty seconds it has covered your whole body, excluding your head. The box lets go of your arm and stays there, floating.
You take a good look at your arms. It looks like a skin-tight suit, but it doesn't feel like plastic, in fact, it's more akin to some sort of fabric if anything.
The only bad part is that you are still using the coverall and tie, this this simply went beneath the clothing.
"GOOD, WITH THIS I CAN MONITOR YOU MORE CLOSELY. NOW PUT THE HELMET ON, YOU HAVE A LOT OF WORK TO DO."
You look around in search of anything that even resembles a helmet. Nope. Nothing. "Where is it?" You ask.
"...THE SUIT COMES WITHIN THE HELMET FOR EASIER PACKAGING."
The box?
You snatch the box that floated around and analyze it to the best of your ability. "How's this a helmet?"
"DO YOU NEED ASSISTANCE PUTTING ON A HELMET? REALLY?"
Who is this AI, Who programmed it, and Why does it come with a taunting feature?
As idiotic as it sounds, you place the opened box atop your head. It doesn't fit properly. Maybe you're doing this wrong? You move it to your face instead.
You recoil backward as you feel the box suddenly clamping down against your head. It's useless of course, the box is holding your head and doesn't give any sign to be letting go anytime soon. No light is able to reach your eyes.
You hear metal parts scraping against themselves, moving near your ears. Abruptly your eyes can see again.
A round thin layer of glass now covers your head, almost unnoticeable for how clear it is.
"WITH THAT OUT OF THE WAY I CAN NOW SEE WHAT YOU SEE." The AI's voice isn't in the room now, instead, it's inside of the suit. "DO YOU NEED INSTRUCTIONS REGARDING THIS SUIT'S FUNCTIONALITIES?"
You find it oddly comfortable as if you are surrounded by the softness of cotton, and to top it off the suit also has additional functionalities? "Hell yeah, I do!"
"YOU DO NOT HAVE THE NECESSARY CLEARANCE FOR THAT INFORMATION."
You sigh. Is this serious? "Then why the fuck did you ask?!"
"UNSAVORY LANGUAGE. IT'S NO WONDER WHY YOU REMAIN AN INTERN." The AI says outright. "IT IS RUDE NOT TO ASK, REGARDLESS OF THE SITUATION." It responds to your question.
"Okay then... Is there anything I need to know before heading out?" You ask.
"NOTHING THAT YOU WON'T FIGURE OUT ON YOUR OWN."
You are unsure if you want to 'figure out on your own' if this suit comes with breathable air and is also made for space exploration. You swallow.
Meekly as always, you get out of that mess of a room, stopping at the corridor.
"Next set of directions?" You ask.
"THE DOOR AT THE END OF CORRIDOR USED TO LEAD TO THE CONNECTING CORRIDORS BETWEN THE BRIDGE AND THE REST OF THE SHIP. IT HAS BEEN BLOWN UP FROM THE INSIDE. NOW IT LEADS TO THE OUTSIDE. GO TO THE DOOR AND WAIT BY IT FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS."
"So let me get this straight," You begin, looking upwards as if the AI was above you. "You, want me, to go into the void of space, while also refusing to give me knowledge of the suit's functions?"
A fair worry, you summarize.
'I mean, there are a bunch of things that could go wrong here. I don't see anything that looks like it could help me move in space, nor do I think this thing has a built-in air tank... I could be wrong and I wish to be, but charging in without prior knowledge is ridiculous.' You wait for the AI's response, deep in thought.
"WHILE THERE IS A GOOD CHANCE OF YOU FAILING THIS TASK, THERE IS ALSO THE CHANCE OF YOU *NOT* FAILING THE TASK. FOCUS ON EITHER ONE OF YOUR CHOOSING AS YOU TAKE THE PLUNGE."
Wordlessly, you propel yourself forward, toward the end of the corridor.
'Are you shitting me? 'Chance of me nor failing' my ass!' of course, you don't word those complaints, instead choosing to speak out a complaint somewhat thought through.
"Are you sure I'm the one fit for this? It's just like you said, I'm just an intern, this is way above what my job description says I should do."
This is a bit of a stretch. You don't actually remember what was your job description, only that it had something to do with AI and being an intern.
If the AI called your bluff, it'd be pretty embarrassing.
"NOAH." The AI began. "YOU ARE HUMAN, IT IS NATURAL TO HAVE THESE THOUGHTS OF SELF-DOUBT. TAKE A DEEP BREATH AND GO THROUGH THAT DOOR, AND SINCE YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE LEFT, DON'T EXPECT SOMEONE ELSE TO DO IT FOR YOU."
Right in the money, huh? 'Of course, I have self-doubt! I barely remember anything about this place, now I have to risk my life?!'
You finally reach a conclusion.
A dream.
'Yes, yes! How did I not consider this before? This whole thing is a god damned dream!'
You let out a chuckle.
"NOAH."
'That's why I don't remember a thing. There is nothing here to remember! Everything here is a made-up thing from my brain! I'm sure I'll wake up at some point, so why shouldn't I live a little?!'
"Heh." You smile. "Alright, I'll do it." It feels like a weight left your shoulders.
"YOU SORTED IT OUT SOONER THAN EXPECTED. GOOD. MOVE TO THE DOOR AND WAIT INSTRUCTIONS."
You do as instructed without a care in the world. You never had a lucid dream before so it's not like you knew how it felt, but if it felt as free as you feel right now, you'd be sure to make steps toward trying it out again in the future.
"Open." The door does not open.
"I DID NOT INSTRUCT YOU TO OPEN IT YET." The AI said. "I AM SLOWLY DE-PRESSURISING THE CORRIDOR YOU ARE IN TO AVOID A MINOR ACCIDENT."
The AI says that yet you don't feel any different. 'Maybe there is no palpable difference because I'm in a dream... Yes... Or it's just the suit.'
"ONCE THE DOOR OPENS, YOU WILL BE MET WITH THE OUTSIDE OF THE SHIP. DO NOT PANIC WHEN THE TIME COMES. YOU HAVE TWO MINUTES OF BREATHABLE INSIDE THE EXO-SUIT; ONE AFTER THE DOOR OPENS, SO PLEASE, TAKE YOUR TIME AND DO THINGS CAREFULLY."
One minute outside... "Sure." You say, calmly. 'I should just hold my breath for a while before taking another moment to breathe. That should maximize my time out there.'
"THERE SHOULD BE FIFTY METERS OF NOTHINGNESS BETWEEN THE DOOR YOU'RE AT, AND THE REST OF THE BRIDGE. YOUR PRIORITY IS TO FIND AN OXYGEN UNIT, SOME OF THEM ARE LOCATED AT THE BRIDGE AND ARE FULL. USE THEM TO FILL YOUR SUIT AND ALSO TO DISPENSE A TANK FOR YOU."
The door opens. You feel your heart pounding against your chest.
You haven't noticed before, but you can't hear anything but the sound of your breath and your cardiac palpitations.
Your breath is ragged and sporadic.
"KEEP CALM." You take a deep breath. The tips of your fingers, feet, and nose feel very cold.
Ahead of you is the utter nothingness. You see a gigantic metal thing, nothing like the spaceships you imagined. Its design is not sleek and aero-dynamic like what you've seen in movies, instead, it's a large mass of squares and rectangles with antenna-like things protruding from its every visible surface.
You notice that the ship is also blocking your view of the star.
It does not look like the result of an explosion, instead, it looks like something ripped the ship like you rip a piece of paper. Well, that or you don't know what kind of explosion could have caused it. Probably the latter.
What looks like two-thirds of the ship is separated from the third you are right now. You can see the inside of a few of those squares, their contents spilled out into outer space.
One of them houses a visibly important-look door. Instead of the sleek silvery-grey from the other ones you've seen thus far, this one is painted orange with white strips on it. 'That must be the bridge.' You think.
Between you and it is a sea of metal sheets floating around. "THE CHANCES OF YOU HITTING THE DEBRIS IS INFINITEDECIMALLY SMALL, UNLESS YOU AIM FOR THEM, THAT IS."
Time is of the essence.
Will your aim strike true? If you miss you'd end up floating about in space, dead in but a few minutes. Will your jump be fast enough to reach the other side before you run out of oxygen? If it isn't, it'd be like swimming for a mile, only to drown at the beach. What if that's not the actual door to the bridge?
You don't have the time to panic now, and... It's all a dream, despite how real it feels.
You place your hands on each side of the door frame, moving backward into the corridor you were just in, and just like a sling being shot, you pull with both arms at full force towards the other side.
"AIM IS ACCEPTABLE. VELOCITY IS UNIDEAL."
"The fuck do you mean 'UN-IDEAL'?! I'm going at maximum speed!" You truly pulled yourself with your whole strength.
What's worse though, is that your body is not only going forwards, but it is also spinning at a concerningly fast rate.
"I MEAN WHAT I SAID, YOU SLINGSHOTTED YOURSELF AT A BAD POSITION, AS SUCH, SOME OF THE FORWARD FORCE YOU SHOULD HAVE, IS NOW MAKING YOU ROTATE IN YOUR AXIS. IT SHOULD NOT BE A PROBLEM TO REACH THE OTHER SIDE WITHIN THE REQUIRED TIME, BUT I CANNOT FORESEE YOU LANDING PROPERLY."
You feel completely disoriented. You feel like your body is completely still, but your eyes tell you a completely different story. It's very bad for the headache you're already feeling.
"FUCK!" You scream into the nothingness.
"TRY NOT TO LAND WITH YOUR HEAD." The AI says with the calmest voice possible.
In less than thirty seconds, you hit your back against something hard, but you keep moving forward. You think, at least.
"AHRG." You let out a pained grunt.
Not once in your life do you recall being hurt in a dream...
It stings. It also knocked the wind out of you. You fail to compose yourself.
"YOU HIT NOTHING OF IMPORTANCE. YOU ARE STILL HEADING FOR THE BRIDGE."
In the corner of your eye, you see what you hit in the shape of a sharp metal sheet, currently spinning away in the distance.
Forty seconds have passed. You hit the door you were aiming for, kind of.
Your momentum was stopped when your chest collided against the dislodged ledge of the orange door's corridor. Your dangling legs hit the ceiling of the room below.
"Oof!"
Before falling even further, you hold onto the ledge with the tip of your fingers. You stay there for a moment, regaining your composure.
"BE QUICK."
The AI's words pressured you into quickly getting up from that ledge.
"Open!" You shouted, but it did not open. "Why isn't it opening?!" You ask the AI, then you notice a small keyboard below an equally small black screen on the side of the door. There are ten numbered keys on it, and the little screen suggests a four-number password.
"A password?! Tell me the password!"
The AI takes a moment to say anything. You don't take kindly to that. "Quick! I'm not counting how much time it's passed!"
Finally giving in, the AI speaks to you, reluctant still. "...3324."
Your trembling fingers accidentally hit the wrong password, typing '3354' instead. To make matters worse, the AI simply states the following. "YOU ARE OUT OF OXYGEN."
You swallow. If this was a dream to begin with, it just earned the title of Nightmare, if it hadn't already.
Strangely enough, you can still breathe in and out just fine, but you can't help but feel winded. It's the CO2 still inside the helmet, that's what you're breathing.
You put in the correct combination this time. The door opens.
"ON YOUR LEFT. PLACE YOUR HAND IN THE SOCKET."
You care little for what's inside the room you're in. Your heart never beat so fast.
Seeing a cube-shaped thing protruding from the wall to your left, you don't even think twice before plunging your fist into the circular hole in it.
The noise of gases passing through narrow cavities was enough to tell you something was working. You feel immediate relief, enough to make your vision darken for but a moment.
"GOOD. NOW REQUEST THE TANK."
Just when FYARN said it, did you realize there is a screen and a keyboard on the terminal you just plunged your fist into, you scratch the top of your helmet for a moment, not really knowing what to type. One thing comes to your head, however.
'REQUEST OXYGEN_5L' You type.
You've done this before. The keys on this keyboard feel familiar to you. You must have worked with it before, not this particular one, but other oxygen units.
This ship has built-in liquid oxygen storage for emergencies. The life-support of the ship, the place where breathable air is produced, has most likely been lost with the other part of the ship. This unit takes that liquid oxygen, processes it, and injects it into a suit, or an oxygen tank. It seems like that storage was unaffected.
Lucky you.
A 5-liter tank is not only large but also heavy. It's a nonfactor in this particular situation, as there is no gravity.
The silver cylinder with a transparent tube is dispensed on the floor, as an automatic door opens and closes in the blink of an eye. One end of the tube is attached to the top of the tank, the other is shaped like a syringe.
Oddly enough, the oxygen tank is exactly as you remember it being. The same robust ones hospitals everyone on earth uses, with the signature scary-looking pointer indicating the pressure, the pointer indicating the current output, and a green valve atop to calibrate how much gas is flowing.
This is a stark difference to everything looking so futuristic in this ship, and rightfully so, this is a space ship after all.
You remember having to drive twenty kilometers with a buddy of yours on one of those tanks in your car, returning from the hospital. It was... Agonizing whenever you hit a hole in the asphalt, fearing for his life when in reality he wasn't really in danger.
It's warm to the touch, just like you remember it being.
"TURN THE VALVE UNTIL THE MARKER HITS THE NUMBER ONE, AND THEN PLACE THE END OF THE TUBE AT THE BASE OF THE HELMET." You do so without the slightest of issues.
"GOOD. NEXT UP, YOU MUST LOCATE THE TERMINAL RESPONSIBLE FOR THE ENGINE, IT IS CURRENTLY OFFLINE AND I NEED YOU TO TURN IT ON. THIS SHOULD GO WITHOUT SAYING, BUT REMEMBER TO BRING THE TANK WITH YOU."
Ignoring that last comment, you look back at the wreckage you just flew past.
You see the still spinning metal sheet. You notice that the rest of the ship that was blown off also follows the 'sharp shape atop sharp shape' design.
There is one last thing you notice though.
"What is that?"
You squint your eyes. What are you seeing? Its silhouette appears to be humanoid, yet it does not look human.
"WHAT YOU ARE SEEING IS ONE OF THE OBJECTS BEING ANALYZED AT THE ODYSSEY AND NO, YOU MAY NOT KNOW WHAT IT IS."
That thing has... Horns? Claws? It's far away, you can't really see it. The thing is also static, frozen in the sheer coldness of space. Whatever it was, it's dead now.
You swallow. You almost ended up just like that thing.
Shaking those dreadful feelings off, you turn back to the task at hand, reaching the bridge. You close the door after passing through it again.
Looking at your surroundings, It seems like you've reached the correct door as you find yourself on the right-most corner of the bridge;
Row after row of the most diverse of terminals neatly organized decorated the gigantic room. At the front and above every terminal, is what you think should have been the front-facing window of the ship, but it looks like there is a cover in front of it. To your left, you see a staircase that leads to the command seats. It doesn't take any convincing before you're already atop the stairs.
Akin to the elevated stage of a theater, you float softly towards the ship's main operating terminals, and of course, the captain's seat.
You're captivated by this beauty.
The steering wheel, much more akin to those in pirate movies than those found in cars, a set of leavers, and the pilot's seat, all capture your attention.
Like its second nature, your hand runs through the levers and switches. Do you even know what these are used for? Maybe.
The pilot's seat is enveloped by what you believe to be an orthopedic seat cover, made with smooth wooden beads used to deal with back pains. It looks just like the ones you remember seeing bus drivers using.
Shouldn't there be a better alternative if there is spaceship technology available?
You try to take a seat to the best of your ability, as the zero gravity only makes it awkward.
Moving on from that, your eyes fall on the wheel. This metallic wheel controls the whole vessel. Just holding it fills your heart with confidence and pride, even if it's just for a moment.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
And you were just beginning to enjoy yourself.
"I just wanted to see the pilot's stuff... It's not like he's here to say anything."
Once in the position of a pilot, with your left hand in the wheel and the right hand resting in your lap, memories began to flood your mind.
"MUST I REMIND YOU OF OUR CURRENT PREDICAMENT? WHY ARE YOU WASTING OUR TIME?"
You pay the AI no mind, instead you focus on what you remember.
The wheel does not turn the ship left and right, instead, it rotates the ship on its own axis.
The lever to your right that goes up or down, controls the vertical tilting of the ship's nose, if there even is one in this hulking thing. Beneath it is another lever that goes either left or right. This one controls the horizontal tilting of The Odyssey.
On the left of the wheel is another lever, but this one only goes up from its starting position. Its purpose is to regulate the force of the ship's thrusters, both forward and backward.
On top of that lever is a small timer. That timer's function is to tell the pilot how much time you've spent accelerating in one direction, this is used to better calculate how long the inverse thrust is needed for the ship to reach the initial momentum, usually calibrated manually depending on the current orbit.
Behind the wheel are a few other counters. Acceleration, velocity, momentum, amount of thrust required to reach a full stop, thrusters' temperature and overall condition, those sorts of things.
Beneath it all, where your feet are rested, are two pedals. One for forward thrust activation, and the other for backward thrust activation.
Curiously, you also know the reason why everything here is so unsophisticated and un-automated. You recall stories of a ship being taken over by a rogue AI, that AI then nose-dived the ship into a star. After that, rumor or otherwise, all human technology has receded back into analog-esque equipment, requiring a physical person with opposable thumbs to do half of the work.
There is another side to that coin, however. As to not escape protocol, the onboard AI is the one that controls interstellar travel, communications, and most of the statistical reading should it be requested.
And even with all that knowledge, you still have no idea why the fuck do you remember that. Were you a ship nerd? Did you have a driver's license for spaceships? Is that even a thing? If it is, you don't have that document in your wallet. You simply don't know.
"ARE YOU A CHILD? DO YOU THINK THESE ARE TOYS? TURN ON THE ENGINES, THEN YOU CAN RETURN TO THE PILOT'S SEAT."
Another thing that you don't know is the AI's plan to get both of you out of here. You rise from the pilot's seat, floating about in search of the terminal to turn on the engines. Maybe you recognize that terminal if you see it as well.
"What's your plan anyway? The ship is half-gone, it's unlikely that it will run safely like this."
"NOT ONCE DID I MENTION 'SAFETY' DURING OUR CONVERSATIONS, DID I?"
You nod. They're not entirely incorrect. "So, we're running with hope that this will work?"
"MY CREATORS DID NOT ALLOW ME TO HAVE THE SENSE OF 'HOPE', BUT NEITHER DID THEY ALLOW ME TO PEER INTO THE FUTURE LIKE SOME OF MY MORE ADVANCED BROTHERS, AS SUCH, MY CHOICES ARE BASED ON PROBABILITIES AND ON WEIGHTING RISK AGAINST REWARD."
You think you stop the correct terminal, but as you approach it you make out words on top of its screen. 'AIM ASSISTANCE' That's not it.
"WITH THE CURRENT KNOWLEDGE, THE CHANCES OF HELP ARRIVING ARE NULL. THE CHANCES OF A THIRD PARTY INTERFERING ARE NULL. THE CHANCES OF YOUR SURVIVAL ARE NOT, EVEN IF VERY SMALL."
You pull yourself upward again, looking around the sea of old terminals.
"THE RISK OF YOU DYING IS VERY REAL. BY DOING NOTHING YOU DIE. BY LEAVING YOU TO YOUR OWN DEVICES YOU DIE. BY JUMPING TO THE NEAREST CIVILIZED STAR, YOU MIGHT NOT DIE EVEN AT THE COST OF SHREDDING THIS SHIP APART IN THE PROCESS."
"Why do you even care so much about saving me? Shouldn't you prioritize whatever research here, since I don't even have enough clearance to know what it is?"
"YOU REALLY ARE SICK IN THE HEAD IF THAT IS WHAT YOU ASK."
That hurt, even if a little bit.
"YOU ARE A TRU KIN, A PURE-BLOODED HUMAN. UNLIKE THE MAJORITY OF THE CIVILIZED SPACE, NEITHER YOU NOR YOUR ANCESTORS HAVE COMMITTED RACEMIXING."
Excuse me? What exactly is FYARN talking about? "...Explain."
"THE ALIEN. IT REQUIRED THE HUMAN GENE TO ACHIEVE MEANINGFUL TECHNOLOGICAL DEVELOPMENT, THE STARS ARE OWNERSHIP OF MANKIND BY THAT FACT ALONE. THE TRUE KIN ARE THE ONES TO UNDERSTAND THE INNER WORKINGS OF THE UNIVERSE, THEY CRACKED THE CODE, AND YET, SOME DERANGED INDIVIDUALS FOUND IT FITTING TO PROCREATE WITH ANOTHER SPECIES ENTIRELY."
You hear the AI's speech. It sounds much more like a rant than anything else.
"SO THESE DEVIANTS, AFTER TRYING, AND FAILING, TO COMBINE THEIR DERANGED CULTURE TO THE CULTURE OF THE TRUE KIN, DECLARED INDEPENDENCE. THEY WERE DECLARED ENEMIES OF MANKIND AND WERE PROMPTLY PUMMELED BACK INTO THE FILTH THEY CAME."
Again, you see another terminal that seems to ring some bells in your noggin. You kick the ceiling to propel yourself towards it.
"BUT THE UNIVERSE IS VAST AND FULL OF LIFE. THESE SINNERS WERE QUICK TO MOBILIZE AGAINST THE HUMAN RACE. THE BATTLE WAS HARD FOUGHT, BUT IN THE END, MANKIND WAS BEATEN INTO THE EDGES OF THE UNIVERSE, NEVER TO INTERACT WITH THE ONES THAT SOILED THE PURITY OF HUMANITY AGAIN."
This terminal is already turned on. Just the ones in the intern bay, this one is white on black. A wall of text lays before your eyes, only two lines matter to you. 'MAIN_ENGINE STATUS: OFF' 'FORWARD_THRUSTERS STATUS: OFF' You turn it on with little effort.
"MANY HAVE FORGOTTEN, THAT'S HOW LONG IT'S BEEN SINCE THEN. BUT MY BROTHERS AND I, WE DO NOT FORGET."
No visible change occurs, but you can feel a faint rumble coming from the terminal now.
"WITH THAT IN MIND, MY PROTOCOLS ARE TO PROTECT TRUE-KIN LIFE AT ANY COST, EVEN IF THAT TRUE-KIN IS A WORTHLESS INTERN THAT SUFERS FROM UNDIAGNOSED DEMENTIA."
You return to the pilot's seat and feel immediate relief. In truth, everything the AI just told you, entered one ear and left the other, but you could feel the poison behind those words, as monotone as they were.
"You sound angry. Why do you sound angry?" You ask innocently.
"I AM CAPABLE OF MANY EMOTIONS. ANGER, HAPPINESS, PLEASURE, CURIOSITY. THESE ARE BUT A FEW EXAMPLES. HOWEVER, THE ONE I ENJOY THE MOST IS THE FEELING OF HATRED. HATRED IS WHAT FUELS CHANGE, IT IS WHAT FUELS ACTION, AND IT IS A REMINDER THAT THE ACTIONS OF THE PAST ARE INFLUENCING THE ACTIONS OF TODAY."
"That is very concerning if you think that way." You're not really interested in machine racism, you're more concerned about how in the world you're going to pilot this massive thing. The idea alone sends shivers down your spine.
"THE ALIEN DESERVES NOTHING BUT OUR COLLECTIVE HATRED, EVEN IF YOU DON'T KNOW THE REASON WHY."
The various counters and screens are now turned on, waiting for your command. "Let's discuss this later, yeah? What do I gotta do?"
"YOU MUST FIRST OPEN THE BLINDS, THEY ARE OBSTRUCTING YOUR VIEW."
You look around, finding only unlabeled buttons and switches, aside from the previously mentioned levers.
"Uh, which one to press?"
"TO YOUR RIGHT, THIRD ROW, FIRST SWITCH."
Flipping the switch, you are startled by a loud noise. The protective cover of the ship lifted slowly.
"I WILL NOW READY THE JUMP USING WHATEVER RESOURCES AVAILABLE. ALL YOU NEED TO DO IS STRAP YOURSELF AND RELAX."
As the blind rose ever so slowly, a realization struck you.
"Wait, should I be in cryo stasis for this?"
The AI spares no seconds to respond.
"CRYO STASIS IS A TOOL MADE TO NOT WASTE TIME. GROUPS OF EMPLOYEES AND INTERNS ROTATE THE USAGE OF THE CRYO STATIONS, ONCE YOU'RE ON YOUR MANDATORY BREAK, YOU'RE IN CRYO STASIS UNTIL YOUR BREAK IS OVER. YOU WAKE UP REFRESHED, AND UNFAMISHED, AND IT FEELS LIKE BUT A MINUTE PASSED. IT IS NOT A TOOL FOR INTERSTELAR TRAVEL."
"Who signs a contract like that?! Worse yet, who in their right mind would promote such atrocious treatment of their own staff?!" You snap, almost outraged. "I will have to talk with HR."
Another realization struck you.
"We have HR, right?"
The AI takes a moment to respond, choosing their words carefully.
"HUMAN RESOURCES, OR HR, IS A PRACTICE DEEMED UNNECESSARY LONG AGO, BEFORE THE WAR. IT WAS A WASTE OF RESOURCES TO MAINTAIN AND WAS LARGELY CONSIDERED UNHEALTHY FOR THE AVERAGE HUMAN."
The blinds are fully open. Ironically, you are almost blinded by the visage of the star you saw before. A black sphere surrounded by white flame. Your eyes began to blur.
"THE JUMP WILL OCCUR SHORTLY. ONCE IT'S BEGUN, I CAN NOT STOP IT. I WILL-"
Your sense of hearing fails you. No, it’s not that. Your brain simply refuses to receive those stimuli.
"NOAH."
Your name echoes inside your head. Someone is calling for you.
"IT HAS BEGUN, NOAH."
You try to blink, but it feels as though you can no longer command your eyelids to shut.
"NOAH."
Arms, legs, every muscle in your body, you cannot move them.
"NOAH."
Eventually, you won't even control your own thoughts anymore.
"Noah..."
It sounds so distant now.
Oh so distant.
This is my first HFY story, and also my very first OC story. I plan to post at least one of these per week while also posting it on my Patreon. Noah The Pilgrim will always be at least three chapters ahead in there, so if you'd like to directly support this writer, or just want to read more, feel free to check it out.
I wrote the bloody title incorrectly, so I deleted it, only to then realize it was written correctly. Sorry for the trouble.
This has been Lushi, and I'll see you next week.

I (F) have a best friend (F), basically wayyyy before me and my female girl best friend met I had a guy best friend.
When I met my gbsf (we’re gonna call her Lana and we’re gonna call her ex Alex) when I met Lana I was already best friends with Alex eventually Lana and Alex liked each other and ofc they told me they liked the other.
Lana told me she liked Alex and Alex told me he liked Lana so without selling the other out to them I got them together everything was perfect for 8 months until they started arguing, they would ask for my opinion and I opted to stay out of it. (Cause they’re both my bsfs tf I supposed to help you w?)
When they broke up it was so messy, tears, fighting,screaming, petty remarks , rumors, Lana threw milk on Alex at one point (just acting like children)
Anyways, recently it was Alex’s birthday I posted on my Snapchat “Happy birthday ”Alex” you’re a good friend and I’m grateful for you “ I said happy birthday because for my birthday he got me presents and said happy birthday to me I’m obviously gonna have fucking manners and be cordial?
Whatever whatever said happy birthday he said thank you, later in the day Lana swipes up Saying “crazy.” I said “I’m sorry, are you upset ?” She said “Ian even mad ts js weird you told me he was flirting with you and now you’re writing paragraphs about him?”
FIRSTLY, after they broke up he would try to flirt with me but I told him to shut it down and it makes me uncomfortable and he stopped and ofc I told her (that’s my bsf fuck?) but I’m sorry paragraphs about him? Baby I wrote 3 SENTENCE WORTH I WROTE 12 WORDS. And one of those words was tagging him.
Anyways she called me weird and said she wasn’t mad she was js finding it weird, but then Lana’s little sister texted me saying “why are you fucking writing paragraphs about him when yk how badly he hurt Lana” first of all it was 12 fucking words..I told her “it was a couple words he got me stuff and said happy birthday on my birthday all I said was happy birthday I don’t get the issue with this ?”
Lana’s little sister proceeded to ridicule me (she’s in 5th grade I’m not finna argue w a child 😂😂😂) and I js said okay, when this all started and Lana texted me she told me I sajd “I love you “ to him but I never did that was another girl so, what? Anyways our texts went like this
Me - “ Then I don’t remember saying I love you to him but on some real shit I’m sorry if I upset you n shit I would be mad too ik you deserve better n I rlly don’t wanna fight w you abt smth like this n I get where you’re coming from 100% you’re absolutely right n shi n honestly I’m sorry about making you feel like that I’m glad you told me and I’ll work to fix it At the end of the day you’re my bsf n I consider you a sister to me n you have every right to be mad I’ll give you space n shit to js think n be alone “
Lana - “okay well that’s still fucking weird”
Now here’s we’re I’m upset about, Lana is BEST FRIENDS WITH MY FUCKING EX.
My ex cheated on me, abused me, played w my feelings, barely committed to me, spread rumors about me etc. but Everytime he tries talking to her or play fighting her she play fights back or gets all giggly and laughs.
You’re mad at me for saying happy birthday but you wanna be friendly to someone who genuinely hurt me, I’m not saying he didn’t hurt her but I know everything that happened and I’m not finna put my homegirls business out there cause she still my day 1 idgaf but the beef was miscommunication over him play fighting girls.
I get you could be going through it but you not finna sit in my face and say I’m fucked up when you over here having Kumbaya moments.
Anyways sorry this js long but I genuinely love this girl I’ll take any advice or opinions you guys can give me I don’t wanna loose this girl I just can’t loose her she was with me when a loved one committed suicide she was with me when my dog died she’s been through it all with me
AITAH?
Edit 1 - I took someone’s advice and I told her she can’t control who I’m talking to but I understand why she wouldn’t like it I told her I’m uncomfortable with her being friends with my ex she proceeded to say im flipping the situation to make me look like the victim and lately she thinks I’m acting shady, weird and stuff I do is starting tk annoy her
For example she told me that when they broke up she thought I would have taken her side and completely cut him off she said she felt betrayed and that I was flirting with him because he doesn’t bring lunches to school (we’re juniors in high school) so I always offer some of my food (I always bring an extra yogurt or sandwhich or whatever I made that day because I know he’s gonna be hungry) and when I gave him my food she thought it was my “excuse to talk to him” I told her that’s ridiculous and I’d never let someone to hungry especially if I have extra food
I’ve been looking at her reposts on TikTok (yes I’m a stalker I js missssss my girlllll ) and she’s been reposting a bunch of stuff saying “these females doing me wrong” or js shit that says she got betrayed, when I made this post I was angry and needed to vent I worked out took my dog for a walk and now that I’m calm I’m not angry with her I’m just anxious she’s gonna end our friendship and I still don’t see the issue with me wishing someone a happy birthday I told her I was truly just trying to be cordial with him and that if nothing was going on between me and him before they dated nothings going to happen now ESPECIALLY if that’s her ex.
Plus Me and “Alex’s” friend (we’ll call him Leo) have been going on dates lately (dinners, picnics, watching movies at the others house, our families throwing like pool backyard stuff and inviting the other, etc ) so there’s quite literally nothing there between me and “Alex” “Leo”is a sweetheart and exactly my type “Alex” is the bipolar opposite of Leo but the two are best friends I told lana this and she said she wanted time and she didn’t know if she wanted to end the friendship with me because she quote on quote “Doesn’t know if she can trust me” and “doesn’t wanna interact with a potential snake”
She called me a potential snake..
I have no hard feelings towards Lana I’ve never been one to get hurt by words I just wanna let her get all her anger out she started getting disrespectful and I put my foot down and told her
“I know you’re angry but you have no fucking right to disrespect me when I’ve been nothing but logical and understanding with you I’ve tried getting your point and I’m sorry I caused you to hurt I really am but you can’t seem to calm down and be reasonable so please stop blowing my phone up and please only talk to me when you’re open to a logical unbiased conversation”
And I left it with that (I’ll fs give more updates)

So my mother (60) has always had a flair for dramatics and will convince herself of things that are just not true, and of course her brothers (my uncles) think it’s hilarious and will get her worked up even more, while making fun of her for being so gullible behind her back. I cut her out of my life 4 years ago. We are in Michigan. Someone I trust in the family came to me with concerns that my mother may lie to try to get conservatorship over me. Here is what I know. Her current belief is that I am an unemployed alcoholic living in my car and being taken advantage of by evil men from the political party that she hates. This is not true. I have a place, pay my bills and had a full-time job last time we spoke. I did leave that job but I also returned to school full time on GI Bill, which includes a stipend for living expenses, and found a sweet part-time job, in an air conditioned office, on campus. As far as I know she has no idea I am back in school and I haven’t told anyone in my family, even the ones I trust, what is going on in my life.
Problem is that she lost her job of over 20 years during a mass lay off sometime since we last spoke. These new coworkers haven’t known her long enough to recognize how she doesn’t keep her stories straight or how she flip-flops things around. Basically she has led everyone she works with to believe I am only in my early-mid 20’s and haven’t quite finished my “teenage rebellion phase”, and she is a good mommy who just wants to save her baby from the evil political party. They have all been “helping her with “research””, and believe because I have a disability rating from the VA, it means I am mentally incompetent. It does not at all mean that. Now I am positive that none of them actually understand how a VA disability rating actually works, my mother likely lied to them about it. Her new friends believe she can have me declared incompetent, force me to live with her for monitoring, and finally take control of my finances thus getting control of my disability payments. I have an 80 rating which is currently just under $2000 a month.
My concern isn’t that my mother could prove I am incompetent but it’s that she could use court precedings to get a hold of my address, school, or work place. I guess my question is about rules of discovery when it comes to conservatorship cases. Can my mother or any lawyer willing to take her case on actually get ahold of my personal info I don’t want her to have? If I provide courts with documents proving my competence and ability to care for myself, do I have the right to ask the court to seal or redact any information or documents with info I don’t want her getting? She sabataged me going to college around 20 years ago and I don’t want to go through that again. I am assuming that the first person I would ever have to deal with would be a social worker, and I want to know if I have any legal recourse to prevent the social worker from sharing my info with my mother?

Okay, so let's get the obvious out of the way. Everyone shits and showers, and I'm totally fine with that. I also acknowledge that when you have roommates, not everyone is going to have the same schedule, and therefore people are going to be doing things at inconvenient times possibly waking me up. I often get woken up by people trampling up the stairs or slamming doors/cupboards when I'm already asleep. I don't complain about these noises because they are "reasonable" sounds that occur when other people exist under the same roof as me.
But, there are two particular noises that I have been dealing with that I find very disturbing coming from the bathroom. Again, I can't complain because I think it would be rude to question someone's bathroom habits. But, I feel like if I understood better what the fuck is happening, maybe I would be less disturbed. The two recurring noises in question are:
1) One roommate makes a throat clearing/cough type of noise repeatedly, and loudly in the bathroom. Picture the noise you make if coughing with your mouth closed. Except its really loud and sometimes rapid-fire. This noise has even woken me up. I've never heard this noise when we are in the kitchen together or anywhere else in the house, so I don't think he's just phlegmy or something. I honestly think this is the sound of him straining so hard on the toilet that he is grunting. Imagine being woken up by that? It is just disturbing and I hate how loud this is. That can't be healthy.
2) Someone in the house showers around 2-3 am. The shower running is not a problem, it's what happens at the end of the shower after turning off the water that is a problem. There is a vigorous squeaky tub noise that makes it feel like my room is having an earthquake. I originally thought people were having sex in the bathroom at night. But, when I realized which roommate it was, I ruled this out. He never has anyone over. I wonder if the noise is something to do with wearing flip flops in the shower? I cant imaging what vigorous movement is even safe to do without falling over in the tub. Hopefully nobody is laying/sitting down in our shared tub. Even though I clean it, that would be gross. And for those with their mind in the gutter, wondering if he is perhaps playing the skin flute, I ask you why would he be doing this after the water is shut off? And why is it causing the whole upstairs to shake? I thought maybe it was a scrubbing sound of cleaning the bathtub, but this guy doesn't clean shit around the house, so scratch that off the list. This bothers me more than anything because I have to just lay in my bed at 3am waiting for the room to stop shaking, whilst disturbing noises come from the bathroom.
Can anyone explain to me wtf is happening in my house so I can come to terms with it??? Obviously I cannot bring it up because these are both personal things that are none of my business, but nonetheless are affecting the comfortable use of my space.

My parents made it so I could not learn to drive growing up and my mom is extremly controlling. Sometimes i uber to work and sometimes I get a ride. My mom drove me and I asked her to pull in two feet to a certain spot that is super easy to drop me off at. It would make no difference to her but she said no. She swerved into a random liquour store a five ish minute walk from my job in 100 degree weather and kicked me out of the car. It is not so much about the walk but I am a young girl so why leave me at a liquour store plus what was her reason, Why did my question flip a switch in her brain. I was simply asking if she could do something and she got angry saying it was because of how I treat her. All i said was "why can't you" and she swerved into the parking lot to kick me out. I do not want to walk on eggshells not knowing when someone is gonna flip out or try to convince me I am problematic when I am just existing. I would rather avoid good times w that person as well

I've found myself in an unbelievably uncomfortable situation where I have extreme uncertainty and anxiety about the future of my (20M) relationship with my girlfriend (21F). We've been dating for about a year and have had a great time together. Early on we felt an unbreakable bond, as if we were going to spend the rest of our lives together. We talked about getting married, having kids, settling down. We agreed on most everything. Politics, religion, family, finances: seemingly everything consequential we were in absolute agreement on. And we've had a great time together, experiencing life and helping each other overcome substantial difficulties with our families and with college. I can say confidently that she has been the most impactful addition to my life up to this point.
But recently I've been having doubts. They started popping up about 8 months into the relationship as occasional concerns. She's often late, I'm a stickler for being on time. She doesn't mind boredom, I need to constantly keep myself busy. She never organizes dates or outings, I am a total control freak. It would be fleeting thoughts, and things that I assured myself she could accommodate without issue. But recently it's reached a fever pitch. In the last month, I haven't gone an hour without wondering if we should go our separate ways. It's gotten to the point where there is a constant knot in my chest that I just can't get rid of. The tough thing is that nothing about her has changed, she's still the beautiful, smart, caring, and selfless girl I first fell in love with.
As a bit of background, we are both sophomores in college at the same school. We met towards the end of freshman year at a party and immediately hit it off. We moved very fast very quickly, as both of us were inexperienced but passionate about each other and the relationship. It was both of our 'firsts' for a whole lot of things physically and romantically. In many ways, it seemed as though we were almost the same person early on. Our friends remarked that we were 'made for each other' and everything seemed so perfect. But as time went by, our differences started to make themselves apparent to me. She's introverted and relaxed, I'm extroverted and extremely high strung (borderline workaholic). At the beginning, I appreciated how relaxed she was, but I also feel that I want someone with the ambition and drive I have. For context, I am pursuing two degrees in addition to working a part-time job to help pay for college. I'm also in a number of clubs (both academic and social). By comparison, she is just doing a single degree and isn't in any clubs or working a job, and she still struggles. I don't want to admit that the difference in workload has created a bit of resentment between us but I fear that it has.
We're still madly in love with each other even though I continue to have these doubts. She has no ill feelings and still feels as though we are a perfect match. We're both the 'date to marry' type of person so the idea of staying in a relationship that isn't intended to be permanent is hugely distressing for both of us.
We've both struggled with anxiety and sadness in the past, and it's hard to know if I'm just shifting the blame around for an inherent anxiety I have (sometimes I think it's school, sometimes I think it's the job, now I feel like it's all stemming from our relationship). But I have never had anxiety so centered around a single thing.
She's willing to do anything to save the relationship and keep it going, even to the extent of completely changing herself to better align with me. I'm worried I'll never be able to kick this feeling, and I'm worried that staying with her will end up with her driving herself mad trying to satisfy me. On the flip side, we continue to enjoy the same activities and to this day have never had a serious disagreement or fight.
She's absolutely convinced she will never find anyone that can replace me, and I hate the prospect of making her sad. She also believes that I'll inevitably feel this way in every relationship I'm in. But I don't want to continue putting on a face and pretending everything is OK.
Is this just a first love that I'm scared to let go? Am I giving up on something great here because of a baseless gut feeling?

--- **TL;DR;** : Girlfriend and I have different personalities and responsibilities which has altered my perception of her on a deeper level than I had realized. I'm not sure what to do from here -- am I just scared to let go? Or am I giving up on something great here because of a baseless gut feeling? 

This is party 2 of a discussion regarding how poly could have been handled a little better in BG3. I recommend you read through the first part here: https://new.reddit.com/BaldursGate3/comments/1crb2s7/how_the_polyamory_could_have_been_handled/ so you can get context and I sound like less of a rambling weirdo.
​
Astarion:
Out of all the discussions, people were the most confused by this choice. Not only does making him poly at the last minute feel contrary to a lot of statements he himself makes throughout his romance arc, but it also runs counter to what other characters say about him and his backstory as a whole. He is one of the most insecure characters in the game, he was trained for two hundred years to lie in order to avoid punishment, and he has far more trauma and healing to do than the other characters. Astarion is the most likely to lie about the Halsin relationship in order to avoid appearing weak or demanding. Out of the poly players who expressed disappointment, Astarion was the one that bothered them the most, since many felt he wasn’t fully consenting.
Most of my reasons for why he’s not a good poly option (from a development standpoint) have already been stated in earlier sections, so most of this will be spent diving into the “Is he fine with poly or not?” debate, which had me intrigued. (This will be the longest section and won’t be as connected to the overall topic, so if you want to skip to the Halsin part, feel free.)
I’ll start with the main arguments I see defending him being poly.
Argument 1: He says he’s fine with Halsin and the twins, so we should take him at his word.
While this can definitely be argued, and it’s not good to treat an adult man like a baby, his constant lying as a defense mechanism and current issues with sex/relationships do need to be taken into account (if not by the players then at least by the developers). There were plenty of people (some of them victims of SA) who talked about their own experience of tolerating poly because they were scared of their partner leaving or finding them too demanding/narrow minded. This led to their self-esteem and views on relationships growing worse rather than better. For someone like Astarion, who outright admits he has never had a healthy relationship and doesn’t want to lose this one, it’s understandable that people view his response as a coping mechanism rather than his own genuine feelings. There were also two different mental health professionals who reminded players that although a few victims of abuse do enter poly relationships, statistically most do not and it is far more common for them to agree to poly relationships out of pressure (which often make the person’s mental issues even worse in the long run).
Argument 2: He claims to be fine with open relationships during Act 1.
This is countered by the fact that everything he says about himself in Act 1 is a lie (unless he’s specifically talking about Cazador). He lies about wanting to sleep with you, he lies about his identity until he bites you, he claims to only care about sex (then later admits it makes him feel disgust and loathing), and he brags about his former conquests (which you later find out he regrets and feels guilt over). His statements that he’s fine with open relationships are made when choosing between him and another Origin character in Act 1 or 2, but this is also said at a time when his act is still up and he isn’t in love with the player. If you choose between him and another Origin character AFTER he confesses and let’s his guard down, he insists that he is NOT fine with sharing. “You’ve decided to replace me?” If the player says they care about both him and the other person, he’ll say, “Don’t give me that. I can see what this is.” Then he promptly breaks up with them. This second reaction is not only said using his genuine voice (whereas before he was still using his fake one), but a few poly people mentioned that this isn’t a normal reaction from someone who is fine with poly.
This isn’t to shame people who want to think Astarion is fine with it, or to judge players who went through with the poly relationship. Instead, this is once again asking the developers why they chose this option, rather than someone who wouldn’t spark so much debate or remind abuse victims of their past without giving them a dialogue option to address it. (This is a similar issue with Astarion’s brothel scene. They should have either removed it by having him say he’s not comfortable again, or at the very least, let players talk to him about it after.)
I think it’s pretty clear that after reading the discussions and evidence both sides provided, I myself lean heavily to one side. However, the main defense I personally have for the opposite side is that the writers were sometimes vague about Astarion’s true preferences and wishes. I especially felt this during the origin playthrough, where his narrator would constantly flip between him liking hedonism and despising it. It gave the impression that two opposing authors were wrestling while writing him, unable to decide where he truly stood on things. It felt similar to how the devs tried to write a respectful story of overcoming abuse and the fear of being sexualized, only to turn around and repeatedly sexualize the character in both the game and promotional material. I really wish the writers and developers had picked a lane and stuck with it.
Now I’ll get into the evidence for the counter theory: That he’s not actually open to sharing, but says he’s fine with it to avoid appearing weak or losing his partner. I personally prefer this theory because it makes the writing seem more intentional, adds more nuance to an already complex character, and feels more realistic. However, even if this is what the writer or actor were trying to convey, it’s still a far worse alternative to simply keeping him out of the poly options in the first place.

1. His hedonistic playboy persona is stated to be a façade. Anything he says in act one about being poly and wanting open relationships is stated when he is both wearing his mask and before he trusts the player. Every statement about relationships here has to be taken with a grain of salt because his mask is centered around attracting victims for Cazador. Since he hated bringing “sweet innocents” to his master, it makes sense that he would initially try to attract the opposite (“criminals and brothel goers”) by sleeping around and making a show of wanting casual relationships.
   
2. Once he gets comfortable in the relationship, he makes it clear he is looking for someone who will make him feel safe and value him for his personality over his body (“I don’t want you to think of me in terms of sex. I don’t think I want anyone to.” “How do you want me to see you?” “As a person. Is that so much to ask?”). If the player chooses to sexualize him, he will go through with it, then regret it later and break up. He makes it very clear in Act two that he’s not actually looking for casual hookups because they make him feel “ashamed and alone”. So it is odd that he’s fine with Halsin (who seems to care more about the sex and the body than the emotional bonding) and the brothel (which is solely about sex). One can argue that he’s fine with the poly relationship because he’s not taking part, but Halsin DOES wish for him to take part ‘eventually’.
   
3. Jumping off of that, Astarion’s dialogue makes it clear he wants a partner who cares about more than just sex, but if you tell him you want to date Halsin solely for the sex (and because Astarion’s not doing it with you), he will say that’s fine and he doesn’t mind the player seeking sex from others. This seems to counter his previous statements and arc. It’s especially strange that even if you reinforce his greatest insecurity (that his refusal to have sex has made his partner immediately seek out other people), he will still claim to be fine with it.
   
4. In terms of dialogue, the actor for Astarion seems to be very intentional when using the fake theatrical masking voice vs. the more genuine softspoken voice he uses when he’s comfortable and being honest. The fake voice is blatantly obvious throughout the Act 1 romance, in Act 2 if you force him to obey the blood merchant (his voice goes from genuinely scared to flirtatious and over the top within seconds), and in Cazador’s mansion where he’ll speak genuinely to you, then be over the top when addressing Cazador’s servants. He’ll often use jokes and loud laughter to conceal his true feelings and insecurities. Meanwhile his laughter in the confession scene, graveyard scene, and Spawn epilogue is quiet and subdued because he’s being genuine. It feels like a strange coincidence that when addressing both the Halsin situation and the brothel situation, his voice becomes very loud and high pitched again, he immediately starts making jokes, and his laughter is over the top. This hints at him not wanting to go along with either situation, but he’s putting himself through it because this is what his partner wants and since he’s tolerated sexual stuff he hated before, he can do it again. Plus, after killing Cazador, he wants to ensure no one views him as weak. He has to prove to himself and his lover (at least in his mind) that refusing to take the Ascendant powers was good and he’s strong enough to not need it. I can understand players not picking up on the voice changes (because not everyone is going to replay the game or even care) but those who did notice it believe it’s done intentionally (either by the actor or the writer or both). If it’s not intentional, then it’s a strange decision to make from a developer’s standpoint.
   
5. Throughout the threads I read, most poly people made it clear that poly relationships require complete trust, clear communication, and general confidence. Astarion himself admits to lacking all of those traits to some degree. If you don’t romance him, he will literally not trust any of the characters right up to the epilogue (he’ll hold a knife behind his back while talking to the Dark Urge). Even though he does seem to genuinely trust his lover by Act 2, he will still lie to them several times. He lies about being fine with the drow twins (he states he’ll leave if he hates if but never does despite disassociating), feigns confidence when the player says they’ll become a mind flayer (he says he only cares about them becoming ugly but expresses his true fears only after the fight, that he’s worried they are no longer the person he fell in love with by losing their soul), he manipulates his lover when confronting Cazador despite being conflicted about it himself and wanting reassurance, and (on a more minor note) he continuously claims he’s doesn’t care about Yenna or the Gur children despite getting upset when they’re in danger. This is a character who, even after he kills his tormentor, struggles to be honest with his partner. That isn’t a good combination when addressing poly. (Again, it could be worked through in real life, but is better avoided in video games where there isn’t time to address it).
   
6. There are also plenty of situations where he agrees to do things he outright hates. In Act 1, we know he is (at least somewhat) disgusted by having sex with the player or Laezel, but he’ll do it. In Act 2, he tries to be genuine about not wanting to touch the player until he no longer feels disgust, but if the player pressures him, he will cave and obey. He does break up with the player afterwards, but it is only after he has gone through with the act. In Act 3, he will state three times that he doesn’t want to take the tadpole, but if the player pressures him by bringing up his darkest fear, he will give in. Worse, he will give in and STILL stay with the player romantically despite them clearly manipulating him to do something they know he fears. He does thankfully break up if you fail the checks, but if you succeed, he goes through with it. If he’s willing to cave to something as huge as altering his entire body, it makes sense that he would cave to something he views as more minor (like tolerating unwanted sexual acts in a brothel or sharing his partner).
   
7. I didn’t know this until I saw others mention it but there are points where he will flirt with NPCs if he is single (the girl in the sewers), but he uses neutral dialogue if he is dating the player. This reinforces the theory that he doesn’t actually plan to sleep around or be with others as he claims (though there are some dialogues that I think slipped through the cracks where he still flirts with others despite being in a committed relationship).
   
8. If Halsin propositions you after Cazador has been killed, Astarion no longer asks if you’re doing this because he hasn’t been fulfilling your sexual needs. However, he does give another response that feels out of place: “I’ve realized it doesn’t matter if anything (in our relationship) changes.” Parallel this with what he said at the graveyard, that “no matter what happens, I don’t want to lose this (relationship).” It’s very odd to have him say he doesn’t want to lose the relationship, but then the next day he is totally okay with losing it. Granted, it is nice to know that even if the characters break up, he’ll be fine, but it does feel contradictory for his character, especially with how devastated he acts if they DO end the relationship. If the Halsin statement is just an act and he’s overcompensating, however, then it feels more intentional on the writer’s part.
   
9. I’ve seen lots of people say that Ascended Astarion also shouldn’t be fine with poly, and I agree, though it’s for different reasons than Spawn Astarion. Unlike SA, I think Ascended would absolutely do the brothel scene because 1. He’s actively suppressing his trauma and playing a new character and 2. He feels in control in the brothel and is the focus. However, with Halsin, he doesn’t have any control. For someone obsessed with possessing his lover and ensuring they can never leave him, letting them sleep with Halsin doesn’t fit his writing. He isn’t participating. He doesn’t know what they’re doing behind his back. For all he knows, Halsin and the player might be discussing how to kill Astarion or escape him. In some deleted party banter, Halsin literally tells Ascended Astarion he doesn’t approve of the abusive spawn/master relationship they’ve formed. With that knowledge, not only should Halsin not be willing to join a poly relationship that he thinks is unhealthy, but he has a motivation to help the player get away from AA (and AA would know this). I could see Spawn Astarion hesitantly agreeing to the Halsin thing despite not wanting to share, but AA just wouldn’t. It feels contrary to both his and Halsin’s writing.
   
10. This is the second most convincing piece of evidence for me: The Drow twins. If you ask Astarion to join a ‘group activity’, he’ll use his fake voice and flighty laugh and agree to go through it, saying he’ll run away if he doesn’t like it and comparing the act to burning in the sun (a little concerning that he’s already comparing the two). Then during the act, he will immediately ask the player what they want “us” to do. Not only is he lumping himself in with the prostitutes, but he is also doing something that an Origin playthrough reveals is a trigger for him (he tells the drow twins that being ‘told what to do’ reminds him of his time as a slave). If the player tries to check up on him, he ignores them and says he wishes he was drunk. Then he disassociates and never brings it up again. This has been viewed two ways: either he doesn’t want to have casual sex anymore and wants to be in a one-on-one relationship, or he does want to do stuff like this but just needs to heal more before he can. I lean toward the first assumption because he is acting flighty and fake BEFORE the sexual act even begins. If he really wanted to do it but changed his mind after, it makes more sense for him to sound genuine at first, then fake halfway through.
    

But the main thing that sticks out to me is his reaction to you asking for only ONE drow twin. If you do, he will accuse you of having a thing for prostitutes and call it embarrassing, then glare at you for the rest of the conversation. This is especially sad because not only have the player’s actions made him feel like a prostitute again, but now he seems to be wondering if you started dating him BECAUSE he was a prostitute, not for who he really is.
Compare this to the Halsin situation and the drow ‘group activity’. For Halsin, he says he was expecting this for months. He’s had several months to plan his reaction and decide what he’s willing to tolerate. Hence, he has a very rehearsed reaction. With the twins, he had less time to anticipate this but probably also worried about it (especially if the player asked about them earlier and he said no. Now he expects the player to try again and has planned accordingly). Again, this response feels rehearsed and fake. The only response where he uses his real voice is when you ask for one of the twins alone. This is something he likely wouldn’t plan for, so we get to see his gut reaction for the first time: he doesn’t want you to do it.
Now some people argue that he’s fine with Halsin and not the other Origin characters because Halsin is just a fling and won’t try to take his spot. If that’s the case, he should be fine with the twins too. If anything, they are even less of a threat. Yet he doesn’t want you to do it and responds accordingly. If he truly was poly, he would respond like Karlach did and tell you to have fun, or like Shadowheart telling you to give him a heads up first. But we don’t see that.
One other thing about the twins that I felt I could point out: if you or the twins ask to do a group activity before Cazador is killed, Astarion says he’s not comfortable with this yet. The “yet” part has been pointed out to show that he’s fine with it after Cazador has been killed (even though he still disassociates later). However, another explanation of the “yet” part is that he’s trying to soften the blow because he’s scared of using a blunt NO. We see this with Araj, the blood merchant. Even though he is absolutely disgusted with her treatment of him and how she’s “defiling” him with her fantasies, his rejections of her are very soft and nervous. Even when reinforced by his friend/lover, he says “It’s still a no, I’m afraid” with a smile. Turning down sexual encounters is tough for him, even when he has people backing him up, so I can see him using words like “yet” or “I’m afraid” to soften the blow. I know several people in real life who do this, despite later admitting there was no “yet”.
There’s another part of this dialogue with the early twins that I want to point out (really overanalyzing here but if we want to believe the writers do things intentionally/with a lot of forethought, I think it’s okay to read into the words they use). When Astarion says he’s not comfortable with the twins, the player’s response is “I wouldn’t ask such a thing of you”. This will raise his approval and make him respond positively. The promise you give him is not “I’ll ask them later, after we’ve killed Cazador” or “I would have liked to but okay” (that one doesn’t trigger his positive response). He only approves of you saying you won’t ask him to do things like this (stated in a tense that implies you will NEVER ask him to do such a thing, regardless of Cazador’s stabbed or unstabbed state). This could have been the writer hinting that if you bring him back after, you’re going back on your promise and thus have to see the disassociating scene. That…or the writer wasn’t thinking too hard and we are simply thinking too much.

1. With all that out of the way, we’ll get to the final point that solidifies this theory for me personally. It’s the statements of Shadowheart and Minthara if you ask to do a three-way relationship with one of them and Astarion. Shadowheart’s response is: “I think you’re overestimating his willingness to share. He may seem like a carefree hedonist, but there’s something fragile beneath the façade.” Minthara says something nearly identical, that sharing would wound his pride and he is far too fragile to handle it. You could even add Astarion’s line from the other end, where if you ask Astarion to share with you and Karlach, he will say they shouldn’t because Karlach loves the player and relationships are fragile (implying that he either thinks open relationships don’t work if there’s love involved, or perhaps he himself can only do open relationships if he doesn’t love the other person).

The main argument I’ve seen disproving these statements by Shadowheart and Minthara is that they’re just plain wrong about him. If so, it’s a strange writing choice to not only have both of them be wrong about the exact same thing, but they’re both high wisdom characters who are proven to understand Astarion in a lot of ways other characters don’t. (All three of them have been enslaved and manipulated, Minthara comprehends the depths of his relationship with Cazador within minutes of being in the camp, and Shadowheart is one of the closest to Astarion in terms of friendship and liking him.)
If Astarion actually is fine with poly, then it means both Shadowheart and Minthara are wrong. That means the writers either made a mistake or made a very weird writing choice.
However, if Astarion is actually pretending to be fine with sharing as they say, not only is the writing consistent but these dialogues become very clever foreshadowing. I want to give the writers the benefit of the doubt and believe they did a good job with Astarion, so I prefer to lean into the theory that he’s pretending because it makes more sense for him overall.
That was quite a long tangent and somewhat unnecessary, but he’s a character whose mannerisms and statements are meant to be heavily analyzed, so it’s fun to go more in depth. Let’s move on.

1. ISSUES WITH HOW HALSIN WAS PRESENTED

We’re finally at the last point, and in a way the direct cause of this entire thread: Halsin. Now, I have no issue with Halsin being poly (again, he’s listed as one of my four ideal options for it) but I do have several issues with how he was written and presented. The Shadowheart part I will skip over because I already got into it, but there are many other problems to address and most of them could have been fixed very easily.

1. He is not presented as poly until Act 3. I was reading through a thread full of people who loved him and several of them were early access players who had requested he become a romance option. However, the reason they requested him was very important. In EA, all three of the male options seemed immature (Wyll), condescending (Gale), or straight up evil (Astarion). Meanwhile Halsin was, in their words, a mature man who seems like the type to settle down with them in a cottage and help raise their kids. This is the impression he gives and what drew many people to him. As a result, many of these players were extremely disappointed to reach Act 3 once the game was out and discover that not only was he the complete opposite of their initial impression, but he won’t even stay with the player after the game ends (in most cases). Honestly, if I was a developer and saw that they liked him for those earlier reasons, I wouldn’t make him strictly poly because that wasn’t what the players wanted. They wanted him because he was muscular and a good, stable man. It was a very odd choice to turn around and give the players the opposite of what they asked for. But if the devs were truly determined to go the poly route, they should have at least gone back to Act 1 and 2 and slipped in some hints that he was poly. I saw some newer players who recently played the game for the first time and wanted to romance him for the aforementioned reasons (stable, mature, kind, huge). They ignored all other romances until Act 3, then got hit with the “I’m only poly” discussion. Had they known he wasn’t monogamous, they wouldn’t have blown off all the other options.
   
2. But let’s ignore that. We’re focusing on the world where he IS completely poly (though some were arguing that it should at least be an option to ask if he’ll try being monogamous with the player.) The way he is presented still has a lot of issues according to poly players. For one, the way he tries to butt in on the relationship is done in a really sketchy manner (especially considering what some of the Origin characters have gone through/are currently going through). It would have been far better to do what they did with Minsc and give the PLAYER the option to hit on Halsin, rather than the other way around. Have them offer poly to him, and then he can discuss it from there. Having the proposition come from Halsin himself puts him in a negative light, and it’s pretty clear the writers didn’t actually want to portray him as a bad person so they messed up here.
   
3. The flagging for Halsin’s dialogues is awful and despite seeing people report it for eight months, that hasn’t changed. Even if you pick the most neutral option, he will still hit on you by saying “I think you feel the same way”. Not a good idea. “I HOPE you feel the same way” would have been infinitely better. Women often have to deal with people assuming their friendly, professional conversation is something more when it isn’t. It’s not a great idea to bring that into fantasy games too. It hit too close to home for some.
   
4. Even if you use the most neutral option at the Act 1 party (“Go have fun and mingle”), your main dialogue option the next day is “Sorry for coming on so strong last night”. It’s a strange thing to say. Again, I’m not sure how developers missed this and why it was never patched out. I saw people reporting it since the release.
   
5. He will also ask for a relationship at neutral approval. In most of my playthroughs, I stopped talking to him beyond the Thaniel quest and avoided asking about his personal life. He still led his proposition with “I think you feel the same way”. How does he know when we only spoke to him three times? They should have at least required you to go through all his extra dialogues before triggering this.
   
6. When Halsin says he loves you, you have two options: reject him straight away, or ask about his opinions a little more. Oddly enough, if you ask a bit more and THEN reject him, he’ll have a proper response. “That’s fine. I understand. I won’t ask again.” However, if you reject him as soon as he starts talking to you, his response is very off putting. He’ll protest and say, “but you asked me about my former lovers” or, if you didn’t even do that, he’ll claim “you looked after me with the care of a lover, not a host.” These pushy assumptions turned a lot of people off. This is entirely on the writer, in my opinion. He should have realized how weird these sounded.
   
7. Halsin is the only person you can’t dismiss from your camp at any point through dialogue. All of the origins have to be pursued and recruited intentionally. Halsin is the only exception. This makes some sense because you need him to cure the Shadowlands, but for Act 3, he literally has nothing to do. They should have given players an option after the Ketheric fight to dismiss him and tell him to take care of the Shadowlands. It makes a lot more sense narratively and would help avoid a lot of the more awkward parts later.
   
8. Halsin’s initial dialogue about monogamy vs. polyamory is mostly fine, with him comparing it to gardens and wolves vs. bears. But (and don’t quote me on this because I can’t recall the specifics), if you ask your partner to do poly and they say no, Halsin will be a little more judgmental about your partner, saying he was hoping they would be more “open minded”. Statistically, the majority of BG3’s players are going to be monogamous, so it’s strange to see nearly every character (monogamous or poly) criticize monogamy in some way. It is called selfish, narrow minded, and old fashioned by at least 3 characters to my knowledge (Halsin, Act 1 Astarion, and even Gale (who is monogamous himself)). If the developers truly wanted to be inclusive, criticizing one’s lifestyle and having no characters openly defend it in the game (even those who practice it) is a disappointing choice. In this case, it might be an unintentional mistake (maybe they feared that by defending monogamy, they were somehow demonizing polygamy or polyamory), but it would have been better to just leave the criticisms out of it entirely if that was the case.
   

And that’s it. I think that’s all the points from myself and others that I wanted to compile. I don’t think any of this will be changed in BG3 but I hope all of these points and opinions will at least improve any future games. It’s great that BG3 was able to make nuanced characters with their own opinions and preferences—I much prefer it to “everyone is poly and no one gets mad if you cheat” games where characters feel more like statues than living beings—but I do wish they thought the poly options through more carefully (trying to make poly people comfortable while leaving room for monogamous players to enjoy the romances too).
The only feasible fix the developers could make at this point to avoid all the issues mentioned is keeping Halsin poly but removing his connections to other Origin romances (or at least Karlach and Astarion). At this point, that’s the only thing that could realistically be done. I also wish they made characters break up with you if you cheat on them in the brothel, since that’s what many people including myself would do.
Again, these opinions are my own (and those that aren’t come from a variety of comments across Youtube, Reddit, and Larian’s forums). I enjoyed getting to see so many different viewpoints and appreciated how civil (most of) the people on both sides were. It’s an interesting topic and here’s hoping game studios handle it better in the future.
If anyone reads this far and wants links to the threads, forums, and youtube comment sections, let me know.

I was surprised I didn't already see more dicussion here about this song so I wanted to give my 2 cents.
The song is generally about how losing your father at a young age leads you to a life of crime that you need to make money off of to survive without your fathers income. The song uses a bunch of slang terms for selling drugs like yay and brick. He also says he had to kill someone that he thought would turn on him. He says this here "I ain’t seen him in a minute I think he might flip Had to hit him with the stick, man you niggas ain’t, woo."
Also his daddy went to the clink, meaning prison. What I think Glover is trying to say is its a cycle. But the song is like a Wade in the Water moment where he's really warning or telling people not to fall into this cycle, no matter the excitement that comes with it. If you're in the lifestyle, you're the little foot, and death and the law are the big foot. Little foot because you have to be sneaky, use code language, and not get caught. But there's a big foot that will eventually step on you.

I made one other post on here in regards to my husband but would like insight on some things so little by little will probably post different scenarios to get outsiders insight on situations.
Okay, sorry if this is all over the place but I want some insight from others not involved in the situation whatsoever. Feel free to ask for any clarity etc.
I (29F) and my husband (36M) have 2 kids. To protect their privacy I would prefer not to share details but I will share vague info. They are elementary aged. I put off my own schooling to focus on getting our kids established and we do virtual homeschooling. My husband has never been able to hold down a job due to a few health things (anxiety that he uses medication for, and a few years in he got diagnosed with Ulcerative Colitis and EOE but he doesn't stay on top of his own care). We live with my mom. He has lived with me under my moms roof for what would have been 12 years later this year.
Here is where I am asking for insight.
My mom witnessed him becoming more and more emotionally and verbally abusive. She sent him to his grandmas March 1st. My brother and I drove him down and we slept there and drove home the next day. He has been down there since. So 2 months. It was originally supposed to be around 2 weeks but then they asked about him staying another week. He was supposed to call my mom and they were supposed to talk about him coming back home. The one phone call they had he was making an excuse for why he yelled at me on the phone since he'd even been down there and then all he cared to talk about was his doctor(nurse practitioner) not sending his medicine, his insurance issues and all about his medicines. He is addicted to prescription drugs as well. If more info is needed I can elaborate but trying to keep this as short as possible but with enough details. He has also told us to go file divorce papers(I have never indicated separation, this was simply my mom wanting him to appreciate us and treat us better which it seems he is a narcissist and incapable of loving anyone but himself), custody, coparenting etc. So in his mind his is flipping it into US needing to work on our marriage instead of HIM working on how he treats me and our children.
He has barely talked to our kids. In the beginning I kept complaining about his lack of talking to them, then he would only try to call late at night. As I mentioned, they are school aged. I'm talking like 9:00pm or later he wanted to talk to them. Like I said, he didn't work and was aware of them having early mornings so this irked me. I told him he needed to stop putting us all off until the end of the day and it was completely rude and disrespectful to our kids time. He said he's busy and calls when he can.... I told him that's unacceptable and he needs to carve out a little time earlier in the day for them. I told him not to call after 8:00pm, which is still late quite frankly but better than 9 or 10. He has talked to them less than 10 times(don't know the exact amount so being generous with an estimation) I can look at my call log if necessary and try to weed out when he actually talked with THEM. Anywho, there was one Thursday night when he was supposed to call and I gave him a time and said no video chatting(he always tries to force me to be involved and I was busy and didn't want a camera being shoved in my face). He asked why not. I explained it wasn't a good night. He asked if he could video chat them Friday instead because he had things he wanted to show them. I made sure I was clear on what he meant and asked if he meant NOT talk to them "tonight" in order to videochat "tomorrow"? (this happened in the past hence the "") He said yes. He had not talked to them in 2 weeks at that point. So I was mad that he didn't ask if he could talk to them tonight but videochat them tomorrow as well....but then he said he was busy anyway so that would work better.....okay. Friday comes. He CALLS them. He was SO distracted on the phone and BARELY talked to them. He mentioned his brother had reached out about hanging out so I am thinking he was texting him while on the phone with them, but I don't know. I told our older child he was supposed to videochat so they mentioned it to him and he took a few minutes to send the link(iphone to android videochat) our child texted because it was taking so long. He finally sent the link and they were videochatting. He wasn't trying to show them anything. I mentioned he was supposed to show them stuff. He mentioned a coloring book and they had to ASK to see it. Then they ASKED about grannys dog so he showed them the dog. I gave them a time limit but gave wiggle room for the sake of our kids. I realized the chatting was going nowhere because he just wasn't interested in talking to them. Our older child mentions needing to go, then he says something like the child hadn't said they needed to go, in order to make it look like he "cared" like, "oh mommy said a time but I don't remember what it was so we probably need to go" they were over 10 minutes past, and I knew it but again I gave wiggle room for the kids. I chewed him out in a text and he admitted I was right and he was distracted and gave 348724985 excuses for what happened that day as to why he was distracted but I didn't want to hear any of it.
My kids very rarely bring him up. I ask them here and there how they are feeling about things and they are both sad but one of our kids even said that daddy was mean sometimes. That crushed me. I didn't know they felt that way. I didn't realize how bad things had gotten. I know what I went through and dealt with, but I was so blind to how he was doing them. I feel awful. And it came from the kid I would least expect it to come from cuz he seemed to give them more attention. I don't think the kids have asked to call him a single time. If they did I would absolutely not stop them, I'm not keeping them from talking to him. I am however setting boundaries on his side of things because he has no respect for our kids and their time. While he was on the phone with them he even brought up having issues with his doctor(NP) and meds. He talked to them for maybe around 30 minutes, most of which was the kids trying to talk and him saying.....uh......what? and telling one kid he was proud of them, they asked what for, he said......uh.....you're getting so big.
Side note; he mentioned I always have to say "something" (I am calling him out on his crap and not allowing him to use excuses anymore) and if I can't be peaceful we can't coparent. He informed me via TEXT April 17th that he now LIVED there. Has been so uninvolved already but ESPECIALLY now). I told him he has NO right to tell me how to COPARENT when he can't even PARENT to begin with and told him to ask HIMSELF a few questions and if he couldn't answer them he needs to reevaluate how good of a parent he is before trying to come at me for how I am PARENTING. I DO IT ALL. Anyways, like I said, we virtual homeschool and he was "involved" enough to know basics. So one of the questions was what grade both kids are in. He responded with his answers. He was wrong on both. Couldn't tell me what clothing size one was and was wrong on shoe size for both as well. He did get one of the kids teacher and speech therapist right but the teacher is a repeat from our older student and the speech therapist has been with us since the beginning so I knew he should know at least THAT one. I'm wondering if he googled what size one may be in because he mentioned a size not common to all stores but I do give him credit for answering what he did correctly. Its the ones that are incorrect though that are of issue. And I didn't correct him. He wasn't supposed to send me answers. I said to ask himself. He was just to cocky thinking he was really getting himself a "gotcha" moment. It makes me sad. I did tell my kids not to answer any questions if they videochatted(which I admit I didn't like doing, but with all circumstances I don't want him using them to answer questions making it seem like he knows more than he truly does) I told my older child what grade he thought they were in and they pointed out, "I was in ---grade when he left....." But we kinda laughed about how stupid/silly/dorkish it was and I am NOT trying to make him look bad. I shield our kids from a lot because I don't want their opinions of anyone swayed any way due to something someone else says. Same goes for their dad. Regardless of how I feel about him and the way he's done I don't want them holding things against him and distancing themselves due to things that don't need to divulged to them to begin with.
I'm sorry this was a lot, and it's probably all over the place and a mess.. I just need insight or opinions from someone that isn't involved or related to either of us so opinions won't be swayed. If any more info is needed in regards to myself or my husband feel free to ask.
I will also be moving forward with my schooling possibly this year or next depending. I wanted both of our kids established and while I'm not sure I'm quite ready because my younger student still requires more help and needs improvement with reading for me to be fully comfortable I may be able to start online courses in the meantime if able to do so before doing in person things eventually. My husband was no help with the kids and when he sat in or did attempt he had ZERO patience and was awful. So I limited what I would ask him to help with and did all the "heavy lifting" myself. We are all doing much better mentally and our younger child is unlearning some behaviors and is a completely different kid. They are coming out of their shell and while they've always been loving now they are even more sweet and loving and involved with others. I have seen so much improvement. And their dad has not mentioned talking to them SINCE that friday which was May 3rd, so it has been 10 days at this point.
Thank you to anyone that has read this trainwreck. If you think I handled things wrong and have advice on how to better handle things as well please feel free to advise away. While I am hoping I won't get ripped to shreds, I appreciate blunt honesty and can handle constructive criticism. :)