When Mandy Appleyard discovered that her photograph was being used by a stranger online, she began a personal quest to find out how it had happened
…I was annoyed — but first things first. I would need to contact Match, explain the mess and have it investigate then report back: simple. Except that contacting Match as a non-subscriber was a challenge beyond my capabilities. I pored over the website. “Match does not have a customer support phone number … Please be aware that there are fake customer support numbers posted on various websites, none of which are affiliated with Match.” My blood was boiling by the time I read: “Profile checking: all ads and photos are checked individually before they are published.” What? My photos certainly hadn’t been checked or they wouldn’t have been published on a false profile for millions of people to see.
I asked my friend if he could message Clare5432 to tell her we were on to her. He kindly did so, but came back to me within minutes to say she had blocked him. “Would you contact Match then, and complain on my behalf?” I asked him. “Get them to take it down?” He did that, and Match took the profile down within hours. I assumed, naively, that was the end of the story…
Knowing my face had been used to create a bogus dating profile, I was irritated that someone had stolen my picture and at least part of my bio to sell themselves under false pretences. Terrible things happen on the internet, which from some angles looks like a cesspit of fraud, depravity and deception. What had happened to me wasn’t the crime of the century but it felt decidedly icky.
Things were about to get worse. In January another male friend phoned me to say he was on Match and had seen my profile on there. He knew I wasn’t online dating so he was immediately suspicious. I realised we were on familiar territory when he sent me a screenshot of “Wendy, 63, in Wakefield”. It was the image of me that had been used last time, with a profile that described an outdoorsy free spirit. My pal immediately contacted Match on my behalf and straight away it took the profile down.
When this happened for the third time, earlier this month, I was livid. A male friend of a friend said he’d been reading my profile on Match the night before and really liked it. “Great picture of you too,” he messaged. I told him I wasn’t on Match and asked him to send me a screenshot. He hasn’t — and now seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth. I can only assume “my” image and profile are still up there for the world to see and exploit.
So I now know that my identity has been stolen by online dating scammers at least three times, although it could be 1,003 times for all I know. I’m made aware of the theft only when someone I know happens to stumble across it and takes the trouble to alert me.
“Don’t you feel just a bit flattered that someone has used your picture? They must think you’re attractive to have bothered!” a friend suggested. The answer is that I don’t. No part of me is flattered, instead I find it deeply creepy. It feels like a trespass on my life, a theft over which I have no control, an invasion of my privacy that makes me feel queasy but which I can’t stop happening again. And again.
I posted on Facebook that I was looking for advice on how to close this fraud down once and for all, hoping someone in my online social media community would have an answer. They did — but not the one I was hoping for. A journalist friend said this probably wasn’t a lone woman using a false profile as romantic bait. Instead, she suggested, it was more likely to be the work of an industrial-scale scam where gangs of people in “fraud factories” (often in north Africa and southeast Asia) create false profiles on dating sites using stolen photos and false information. They then contact potential victims. Over time the conversations become more intimate and personal as the scammer builds trust with their target.
The targets are often vulnerable people in their fifties, sixties and seventies, perhaps new to dating after long marriages that have ended in divorce or bereavement, sometimes lonely, invariably trusting. Low-hanging fruit, in other words, for the wily thieves who groom them, telling them how beautiful and desirable they are, forge a speedy romantic connection then ask for money — a little to begin with, a lot later on…
These scammers commit a fraud, the false profile is reported and shut down, but the con artists immediately set up a new false profile using the same pictures — and on and on it goes.
Sadly there are a thousand iterations of this scenario: coercive controllers who manipulate vulnerable people into believing they have found love. They send photographs, gifs, songs and poems during their “courtship”, telling their victims they are surgeons or spies, Nasa physicists or retired army colonels. They send (stolen) pictures of their children, their luxury home, their fast car, then one day start asking for gift cards, crypto, or money to buy heart surgery or a flight home.
The people perpetuating these cybercrimes are often doing so because they have been trafficked and trapped. Sixty Kenyans were rescued from “fraud factories” after the customer service jobs they applied for in Thailand turned out to be a cover for cybercrime. One woman had been promised a monthly salary of £675 but ended up targeting Americans by creating enticing profiles on Tinder, Instagram and Facebook. “They fall in love with you and you can tell them about cryptocurrency. You start stealing from them,” the 31-year-old woman said, describing in Swahili how she was forced to work in a vast call centre-like hall with hundreds of people of many nationalities…
All of which brings us back to my predicament and how I’m being made to feel complicit in these grubby scams. My face is being used to deceive trusting people who could be fleeced of everything. The victims of a serious and organised crime repeated over and over again but which remains outside the victims’ control. I’m the frontwoman for online activity that may be illegal or dishonest. If it’s neither of those things it’s still plain embarrassing, because I have no idea what the person using my image is saying or doing.
Someone who knows exactly how this feels is Christian Gerhard Boving, a Danish doctor who says scammers have been using photos of him for years to target victims online. “Suddenly all these pictures were stolen by scammers using them to hit on innocent people around the world. They are cruel, sophisticated and evil people doing this.”
Boving has called on companies such as Meta, which owns Facebook and Instagram, to do more. “There should be verification of every new profile being created, like you have to verify yourself with a passport or driving licence, so you know it’s a real person behind the profile,” he says. Perhaps social media companies could use AI to trawl for photographs they know have been stolen and used before on fraudulent accounts — mine and Boving’s, for starters. Certainly the companies running dating apps should make it easy for non-subscribers such as me to contact them with a complaint.
The problem is getting worse, the latest figures showing that reports of romance fraud have risen by almost 60 per cent over four years. Action Fraud, the UK’s centre for fraud and cybercrime, says dating apps are a common place for scammers to find their victims. The top five platforms they use are Facebook, Plenty of Fish, Instagram, Tinder and Match.
As a journalist I like to think that I’m pretty savvy in the ways of the world, but stealing my credit card is one thing; stealing my face is something else. I’m tempted, next time this happens (and I have no doubt there will be a next time), to join whichever dating app is responsible and strike up a conversation with my alter ego. Let’s see where that takes me. Watch this space — and this face.

found this on facebook marketplace but i’m afraid it’s too small for me. seller is also not responding lol so i have no idea who the designer is. i’m in love with it 😫

I joined this group recently and I see so many people sharing their experiences with melasma and how it has and continues to affect their self esteem. Like many women, I was completely unaware of Melasma or what it was until one day I started to notice it develop for many years, still having no idea it was even a thing.
The struggle of a Melasma still bothers me, and I often still feel very frustrated that it’s something I have to deal with. While I’ve done so much to try and improve it, there has been some acceptance over the past few years where I refuse to let it overwhelm the feelings I have about myself. In a world that so greatly values how we see others, I just wanted to remind you that we are more than our appearance.
Hoping that posting an actual photo of my Melasma when it was at its worst will help some of you not feel so alone. I promise you’re not, and I’m personally so grateful to know there are others who understand and can sympathize with something that for too long made me feel unpretty. Highlight: I’m sorry if you’re struggling with this, but I hope you still feel cute.

The next part is here! This episode is so long that I had to split it, and today, you're finally getting part 3 of 3.
You can find the previous episodes in the side bar! (Community info page in the app)
DISCLAIMERS (the same ones as before)
The point of this fanfiction is not to be a straight-up continuation of events with the same themes, intensity, and tone. If you go into it with those expectations, you are probably not going to like it. Rather, it’s supposed to be how I wish things went if these events were real life. The resolution you want for a real-life situation isn’t often the right choice for a show, but it can be incredibly beautiful. Think of what you’re about to read to be a separate show then.
Episode 1 of this fanfiction begins after the episode “2:00” (season 2 episode 4), so it replaces the episode “Cake” and the ones that follow it. This fanfiction expects you to have seen the entirety of seasons 1 and 2, so you should watch those first.
I myself am bursting into the story here. The narrator and me are the same. While my character is like 95% real me, don’t take events about my life described here as facts. Some aspects of my life have been changed for the story. In my head, I started writing like an “alternate me” character in 2016, fulfilling a lot of the things that I wish I had in life, adding that to my story. I’m not really from Ukraine. I speak fluent Ukrainian as a foreign language, I started learning it in 2014, and I’ve talked to tons of people from there, but I’m not from Ukraine. I also don’t have as much money as I do in the story. I wish lmao.
If you want to post your own fanfiction, feel free to do so! To get your own post flair for your fanfic, and to appear in the side bar, please message me.

Part 3 (days 3 and 4)

We’d wake up on day three, and still, nothing would be any different - we’re still locked up. We’d both feel really worried not knowing if we’ll have to forfeit our whole plan because we might run out of food and water and take the risky route - calling the police and getting ourselves into a situation where we’d have to be freed by force, which would be so dangerous because the Turners have proven that there’s nothing they’re not prepared to do to us to “get Jericho back”. Leanne would ask me “What do we do if we call the police, and Mrs. Turner comes up here and tries to hurt us?” At first, I’d insist that we start thinking about that when we do run out of food the next day, but she’d insist we should come up with a plan. I’d point at the corner on the edge of the attic facing Spruce Street, the corner that’s to one’s right when coming up into the attic,
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and say “Then you’d curl up and hide over there, and I’d take the radio, you’d take the metronome, and I’d sit down in front of you, shielding you, and if she gets in here before the cops do, we’ll defend ourselves. And we’d record everything on my phone. And we should probably hide behind the sofa. Maybe then, she might not notice we’re still up here at first. She’d probably be in a state of panic.” She’d look at me with sad, but touched eyes and just hug me and say thank you. I’d reply “Of course”. After some silence, I’d tell her “If anything happens to me… Please bring me back”.

She’d be touched by that, but say that if she reanimates me, the Church of Lesser Saints will come after ME as well because they’ll believe that I’ll be obligated to join. With a worried smile, I’d say “I know... But they’re probably already gonna do that, right? Because I won’t let them get to you!” We’d both nod with the same half-happy, half-worried expression. “And if things go terribly wrong and you have to bring me back, we can try again!”

I’d ask if I’m getting it right that the “great sins” they think she’s committing are not spending time with the Church and helping another family from the one that was assigned to her. She’d say yes and add that there’s a lot more they hate her for, like her “disobedient and rebellious streak”, disobeying their instructions, putting curses on people, and now, leaving the Marinos.
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After a few seconds of silence (out of shock that this is how the Church of Lesser Saints frames it), I’d be like “If you disobey so many of their instructions, then...”, look her directly in the eyes, and go “Good! Keep on disobeying them! I’m actually kind of stunned that this is how they frame your actions, because that is so manipulative. Wanting to have a life where you don’t have to worry about your every step being watched and controlled, where you can actually freely explore what you believe – not what they tell you to believe, but what YOU believe, where you can do totally normal human things like listen to music, and where you can go wherever you want and make some basic decisions for yourself and work wherever you want, that doesn’t make you...” (doing the “quote-on-quote” with my hands while I say it) “quote-on-quote ‘disobedient’ or ‘rebellious’, it makes you a normal human being. If they forbid every little thing that people do that makes you happy, if you then look for happiness elsewhere, that’s on them. You can’t take every bit of joy away from people and then expect them to just deal with it. You wanting to run away, that’s the logical result of their bullshit. And you didn’t ‘leave’ the Marinos, you were taken. Don’t let them think you’re at fault in any way!” She might have never heard any verbal confirmation before that her feelings about leaving are valid, and this would be so reassuring to her. She’d tell me that whenever she did things like not be there for meals at the Church, skip assemblies, or curse people without permission, she would be brought before May and the rest of the community, get questioned about her behavior, and she’d have to self-flagellate to receive forgiveness.
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I’d go really still and quiet when she mentions the self-flagellation, which she’d then explain is a frequent punishment. That would freaking break my heart... I’d ask her when was the last time she hurt herself, and it was a little less than two weeks ago, before she was forced to leave the Turners. Very carefully and quietly, I’d ask her if it would be okay if she can show me her scars and add “You do NOT have to if you’re not comfortable, PLEASE don’t do it if you’re not”, and after a second, she’d nod and show me her back. My heart would break for her even more seeing her scars, I’d just express how horrible it is that they made her do that… I’d show her some of my cut wounds from when I self-harmed, which I hadn’t done in like three and a half years at that point. I’d want her to know that way that I get the urge, that I really do, but I’d tell her that hurting oneself achieves nothing. All it does is make you feel horrible mentally and physically, and every time you do it, there’s a risk of infection and even death. I’d just tell her I understand while taking her in my arms. I’d ask her to please look me in the eyes and tell me she won’t hurt herself again, and that when she feels like doing it again, to please talk to me first. She’d quietly say “I promise” while looking me in the eyes, and after some longer embraces, we’d both smile a bit, that would make me really happy to hear! I’d ask that when we’re out of here, if we can call a doctor sometime soon and get them to look at her scars to make sure none of them are infected, if she’s comfortable enough, and she’d nod and smile at me a little bit some more.

We’d eat after that. We’d run out of tomato soup that meal, and I’d tell her that when we’re getting out of there, I’d get her all the tomato soup in the world! “We’re gonna fill a whole hotel fridge with tomato soup!” “And with Ben & Jerry’s?”, she’d ask, and I’d say yes and say that we’re probably gonna need more than one fridge. I’d say we’re gonna pick the nicest and most expensive hotel to stay at, an idea that she’d love! “You still think Allentown is a good idea?”, I’d ask her, and she’d think my reasoning from the day before makes sense and say yes. We’d look for the nicest hotel in Allentown online and see that there are “only” three-star hotels in Allentown. Leanne would ask if getting such an expensive place to stay is really okay, and I’d say “Money is not an issue, don’t worry about it” while reaching across her back and like caressing her right shoulder, looking her in the eyes, and smiling. “And besides, let’s spoil you, you fucking deserve it after all this!” We wouldn’t book anything yet because we wouldn’t know when we can get out of there yet, but looking at all those insanely nice hotels would lift our spirits a bit.

After eating the first half of that day’s rations (only two half day’s rations would be left after that…), we’d think that it would probably be a good idea if we started writing the document for the police right now. Writing it can take hours upon hours, and there’s no point in delaying the rescue to write the document after I leave if we can do it right now, so we’d begin right that moment. It would begin something like “My name is Daria Horenko, born July 30, 1999 in Odesa, Ukraine, residing in 501 Pembroke Ave, Philadelphia 19050, Pennsylvania...” (I don’t live there. I have no idea who does. Please leave them alone lmao) “...I sent this statement to my Facebook friend Liam [...] (residing in Tipperary, Ireland, using Facebook as Liam [...]) as a PDF file and told him to call the Philadelphia police and read this statement to them if I don’t come back online and confirm that I’m okay by 10 PM Philadelphia time / 3 PM London, UK time on December 22, 2022. If he is reading this to you, it probably means that there was no sign of life from me by that time, and that I’m not safe, probably kidnapped and locked up by Dorothy Turner, Sean Turner, Julian (I’m not sure about his surname, but I’m referring to Dorothy Turner’s brother - redhead, not very tall, moderately overweight) in the attic of their residence at 9780 Spruce Street, Philadelphia 19139, Pennsylvania”, and then document everything I’ve seen in chronological order and everything that Leanne has told me, with a link to our video and photographic evidence, references to DNA evidence that can probably be found in the hole in the basement if they haven’t covered it up by now, and a statement at the end saying that I’ve written it together with Leanne to make sure that everything is correct. That would take a really long time, hours for sure. But when it’s done, I’d run spell- and grammar checks on it and send it to my printer at home, to be queued for printing when I get home and turn it on. We’d also know that today (December 21) or tomorrow will be the day when we leave one way or another, so I’d schedule a text message to 911 in 30 hours from that moment. The message would say “This is a scheduled message. If you’ve received it, then Leanne Grayson (born October 13, 2001)...” (We only ever learn Leanne’s birth year from the gravestone. October 13 is Nell Tiger Free’s birthday, so October 13, 2001 being Leanne’s birthday is kind of my headcanon)
https://preview.redd.it/0hr9niq1pu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=4dbead2015781ed8beee236188b8273aac1b3fb0
“...and me (Daria Horenko, born July 30, 1999) are probably not safe, abducted and locked up against our will by Dorothy Turner, her brother Julian, and Sean Turner in the attic of their house at 9780 Spruce Street, Philadelphia 19139, Pennsylvania or somewhere else on the property. We need help immediately. The Turners should be considered dangerous and very clearly willing to use violence and intimidation. We need help NOW. Details in our prepared statement: [the link]”. Because we’re holding out hope that we won’t have to call the police from inside the attic, the document would include information on what our plan is to get Leanne (and me) out of there as safely as possible and call the police from the taxi, but that if we run out of rations, we won’t have a choice but to call the police while we’re unarmed and while the Turners still have the upper hand.

We would debate whether we should include information about the Church of Lesser Saints right away or tell the police about them later because we know how that sounds, considering that this would hurt the credibility of our testimony,
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but we’d modify the document and include the most important information about them as well, with more believable explanations - how they forced Leanne and other members to self-harm (meaning that current members or those who recently left), where they’re currently operating from in Lancaster,
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that they faked their deaths, that they forced Leanne to leave the Turners, and the necessary lie that they took the real baby, and that Leanne hasn’t seen it since that day and doesn’t know where they’ve taken it. We’d also include names and stuff, and most importantly, reference the baptism tape and say that it shows May and George watching us from the sidewalk outside the church less than three weeks ago, and that piece of evidence would change everything in regards to investigating the Church of Lesser Saints and make the police believe us. We’d add that it’s probably among the other DVDs in the Turners’ living room, and that I’ll try to get it when leaving the building if our original plan is still going to be an option, rip the DVD at home, and add a link to the video file to the document. We’d modify the scheduled text message as well, and we’d charge both phones, mine first because the scheduled message is so important, but it’s an iPhone, so we could charge it to 100% rather quickly and then charge hers. And we’d add that we’d want the police to get Leanne’s things from the Marino estate. All her stuff being there would be further evidence that she was taken suddenly and against her will. We’d also add what number Leanne can be reached at for now with the Samsung Galaxy phone. And then, I’d send the document to Liam on all platforms where I know how to reach him, followed by a message to alert the authorities if I’m not back online confirming that we’re both okay in what’s now probably more like 29 hours, the phone number of the Philadelphia police, and caps at the beginning saying that it’s an actual emergency.

Out of nowhere, I’d ask her if she’s seen “Titanic” lmao, and with her near total isolation growing up, she wouldn’t have seen it. “I’ve only seen movies on TV”. I’d be like “I can show you lots of movies if you want! I got several subscriptions to streaming services, and also a bunch of stuff offline on an external drive at home.”
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Back on talking about “Titanic”, I’d tell her it’s wonderful and so freaking romantic, albeit over-the-top at times for sure and a bit overrated. It has that glossy feeling and some superficial characters to it that all James Cameron movies have, but it’s still really wonderful. After explaining the plot to her (since she’s grown up so isolated), I’d tell her about one scene that I’m thinking about a lot from time to time - near the end of the movie, when old Rose is done telling the researchers her story, she says that she doesn’t even have a picture of Jack, and that has hit me so hard from the first time I’ve seen the movie.
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She has no physical memories of him, she can never see his face again, and she can never show people what he looked like. That just rips my heart. I’d ask Leanne if we can take some pictures together. We’d look pretty horrible because we haven’t been able to shower in days, but we wouldn’t care and take them anyway and really, genuinely smile so hard. I’d send them to her email address (leanne_grayson@icloud.com, that email address is on her resume in the show),
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manually sync my gallery with iCloud, and I’d send them to Liam. I’d ask what phone she got back at the Marinos’ and if she’s got any pictures of herself in her iCloud gallery, but she’d tell me she’s rarely ever taken pictures of herself, only for the resume she applied at the Turners’ for, and I’d be like “Whaaaaat? But you’re so beautiful!”, and she’d smile hard, a bit embarrassed. I’d look her straight in the eyes and say it again and say that I mean it for real, she is so incredibly beautiful! It’s probably so rare that anyone’s ever said that to her in her entire life (her mother definitely didn’t, and given that the Church of Lesser Saints believes that anything that feels good is dangerous,
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it’s rather unlikely that they did), Tobe saying it in “Balloon” might even have been the only time ever…
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I’d then add “Inside AND out!”, and she’d smile some more in a bit of embarrassment and then look me in the eyes and say “You, too, Daria!”, and as you’d expect, I’d smile so hard and even with my eyes!

It would be rather late by then, so we’d eat and listen to some more music together from the Spotify playlist I created for her and talk so much about what we’re hearing.

After dinner, she’d bring the topic up on her own (this is kind of making fun of these fan theories) - she’d tell me that some in the Church of Lesser Saints think she’s the Devil or Lilith because of her rebelliousness, and how she’s inspired doubt in some people in the Church. I’d make such a weirded-out face. After realizing she’s serious, I’d say “If you are the Devil, then hail Satan! Like, seriously, if YOU are what God is threatening will happen if we don’t follow him, then that’s literally the weakest threat I’ve ever heard of. Then God is the villain here. We need more people like you in the world!” Shy as she still is, she’d still be almost embarrassed to hear this (she’s so not used to compliments), and I’d make it clear I’m serious, that I really think she’s fricking wonderful and the sweetest, and that she clearly has a huge heart full of so much love, and that she deserves so much better than what she’s ever experienced! Almost in denial, she’d see in my eyes that I really mean it and just smile and hug me, and then, we’d both smile even more! I’d rub her back a lot in that moment and promise her again that everything will be okay. “I’ll make sure of that!”

After some more music together, knowing that tomorrow will be the day we leave, no matter which plan we’ll go with, we’d make sure we haven’t forgotten anything. Looking around, I’d realize I have to give her my earphones with a cord because the internal mic of my Samsung Galaxy S5 Mini is essentially useless. I’d tell her that when I call her the next day to tell her it’s safe to come downstairs now, she should answer the call, plug in the earphones, and then, it will take a few seconds until I can hear her, but then, it should be fine. We’d set a code phrase that I’ll mention to let her know if the Turners got me and it’s NOT safe to come down. She’d suggest “tomato soup”, and I’d smile and say yes, that’s gonna be our code phrase. “And if it IS safe to come down?”, she’d ask, and I’d suggest “ice cream”.

I’d realize that we should probably find her fresh clothes in the attic and a coat right now, so as I said, it’s not too obvious that she’s been locked up for a long time the second she walks out of the door, because if she’s in dirty clothes or nightwear, with it being obvious that she hasn’t showered in days, and I get her out of there and into a taxi to drive off while I got a gun, it would look as if I was kidnapping her, so we’d find her a nice dress and coat up there, and I’d turn around and close my eyes while she puts it on, and when she’s done, I’d tell her again that she looks amazing! 😊
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And she’d smile and thank me this time, sort of the way she says it to the makeup artist at the street fair in S3E5 “Tiger” in that typical way of hers that’s so adorable for real,
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and she’d look in my direction and say “You look really beautiful, too!”, really shy, before peeking me in the eyes for a moment, and we’d just look at each other for a moment. “Can I have your pictures?”, she’d ask me, and I’d say yeah, open my iPhone, and select ALL pictures of myself in my gallery and send them to her email address, and send her those that are too large via a Google Drive link (iCloud isn’t great for sharing files lol), and then, I’d take her Samsung Galaxy S5 Mini, download them all (which would take a while because that phone is ancient), and set one of the pictures we’ve taken together as her wallpaper, and then set it as my wallpaper on my iPhone as well! 😊

We’d consider if there’s anything else we’ve missed. She’d mention that parts of the floor screech, especially one tile, so when I sneak out, I gotta be careful on the stairs, especially with that one tile.
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After a few seconds, she’d ask me if we wanna book a hotel now, and I’d smile and say sure! “Did you like any hotels in particular, out of the ones we looked at?” She’d say “The one with the big jacuzzi looks great” with big eyes and enthusiasm in her voice, like she does during some of her conversations with Tobe in S3E5 “Tiger”. “You’ve ever been in a jacuzzi?”, I’d ask her, and she’d go “Nooo, but I wanna try!” in the same tone,
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and so, after lying down now, we’d look up which hotel she was talking about and book a two-room suite in that hotel in Allentown for three weeks. I’d add “So we can easily look out for each other, and so you’ll also have some privacy.”, and she’d smile and nod, that consideration would probably mean a lot to her.

We’d then get ready for bed. For the next day, I’d get some better clothes as well and put them on while she’s turned around with her eyes closed. I’d take the last ration of food out of my backpack, put the clothes I just took off at the bottom of it, above Leanne’s Bible (the porcelain baby and card are already in one of the other pockets), and put my phone and the chargers in another pocket. I’d look around and ask her if there’s anything else I should take with me to safeguard, and at first, she’d also look around because she wouldn’t know how to answer right away, but she’d then point at Mrs. Barrington with her face,
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and I’d be like “Well, I think she’s a little too big for my backpack, but I can talk to the police when we’re out of here, maybe we can try to get her!”, and Leanne would nod with a big smile again.

We’d lie down on the mattress and share the covers again. Just like the night before, I’d lie down on the side of the mattress that’s closer to the stairs, in case Dorothy changes her mind and tries to assault Leanne again… On the mattress, she’d suddenly hug me really tight, break into tears, and thank me over and over again, and I’d just hold her tight, say “Of course”, and assure her that everything’s gonna be okay, that we’ll get out of there tomorrow. I’d wipe some of her tears off her face 🥺 On the mattress, we’d just look each other in the eyes and both just smile more and more, and after a minute or two, she’d kiss me on the lips for a tiiiiny moment and then, we’d just smile at each other even harder! She’d say “I’m not supposed to do that” while still smiling just as hard and looking me directly in the eyes! “Says who?”, I’d reply. She goes “My aunts and uncles”, and I’d say “I don’t think they’re a reliable source!”, and we’d kiss each other some more and longer, and both feel each other’s smile on our lips, and peek at each other a few times in between 😊🥰❤️ We’d both put our arms around each other before telling each other good night and before I promise her one more time it’s all going to be okay!
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At some point during the night, she’d wake me up, and when she does, I’d realize I had a nightmare, like, not from my night terrors, and she’d tell me I had a nightmare, that I was sniffling in my sleep, and that I told her two days earlier to wake me up if this happens. Still feeling terrible (the feeling of immediate dread always takes a while to subside for me), I’d thank her. I’d ask what I was saying, and she’d say that I wasn’t speaking English. I’d consider if I should tell her for a moment, but then, I’d take a deep breath, look up for a second, and with a heavy voice, slowly say “What if we try plan A tomorrow, and I fail? I’m scared… I don’t wanna mess this up… I don’t wanna fail you…” And she’d slowly look at me and just say two words: “You haven’t!” I’d look at her and almost laugh a bit out of joy. I’d smile and just cuddle up to her a bit, and she’d do it back. I’d say I’ll try to listen to music for a while to calm down because doing something else makes it much easier for me to zone out of the feeling of dread again. “Why only you?”, she’d ask. “I don’t wanna keep you awake”, I’d say, “You need the sleep”, and she’d say “It’s okay” and just smile a bit, and so, we’d listen to some music together for about half an hour.

I’d tell her that my sleep is so horrible (she’d say she can tell) because I don’t have my meds, and I’m really fricking looking forward to taking them again. Without them, the quality of my sleep is terrible, and it takes so long for me to fall asleep at all if I don’t take them. She’d ask if I’ve taken them for a long time, and I’d say that I haven’t taken these particular meds for long because whatever I take, my body builds up some resistance to them pretty quickly, so after a while, I always have to get new ones, but I’ve taken sleeping meds for years now. “It sounds like they’re really helping you, right?”, she’d ask, and I’d nod and say “Yeah, they really do. I’m also taking antidepressants, and they were an absolute gamechanger for me. It’s okay if I don’t take them for a few days because they don’t work in the moment, but they like rewire your brain over time, and they’re the best thing that’s ever happened to my mental health. Before I started taking them, it was so hard for me to avoid bad thoughts or resist them, like, it was hell, but ever since then, it got sooo much easier, and not letting things get to me or not letting bad things really take over me is just so much easier now.” After a while, I’d say “I was at a psychiatric clinic voluntarily for six months, but I also had nowhere else to go, and the doctors and employees really abused their power. They only intervened when there was physical violence, they didn’t intervene in any other conflicts, so because of them, the patients constantly bullied each other. My doctor switched to another department while I was there, so I got a new one, and the new one wasn’t perfect, but at least, she cared. I got really lucky to get a place at a living group for mentally ill people, which was when I could finally leave. But honestly, all my experiences with mental health professionals since then have been better. I went to a different clinic for four or five days voluntarily in 2019, and even they were far better. “That sounds scary…”, she’d say. I’d reply “It was. But things got much better after that. I had lots of setbacks, like, you know, but if you get help, it’s always better.”

After the current song’s over, we’d lie down to try and sleep again. We’d smile at each other again in bed, and I’d give her a short-ish kiss before saying good night, and we’d both smile even harder after that 😁 And we would fall asleep for good after a while (it would still take me longer than her).

In the morning, Leanne would wake me up again. She’d show me that the door is unlocked and open by a little bit now (they’re “letting” her out for a few hours…),
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and we’d both just embrace and chuckle in huge joy, as we can go with plan A now, the less risky one! We’d remember to quiet down after a few seconds and whisper from then on out. I’d go to the toilet roll, take eight pieces, rip them into two bands of four pieces each, and roll each of them up into a little bunch. I’d give them to her and tell her to put them into the wall pieces of the door when she gets out (so it looks like the door is closed while it can’t actually lock) and give me an audible signal when the third floor is clear, so I’ll get out with my backpack, take out the toilet paper, and hide in her room.
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“Is there anything you want me to get from there?”, I’d ask. “No. Everything is here or at the Marinos’.” I’d go “Okay” and move on - since I’m almost definitely unable to come down to the second floor right away (I’m using American English in all of these episodes. “First floor” in American English = “ground floor” in British English; “Second floor” in American English = “first floor” in British English; “Third floor” in American English = “second floor” in British English, etc.), she’d give me a signal when coming back upstairs. We’d agree that when she comes back upstairs, if it’s safe to go to the second floor, she’d shout something, maybe in conversation, maybe some sort of cry, doesn’t matter, and if not, she’d kick something. She’d be locked upstairs again after that, so I’ll have to tell when to get further downstairs myself, which I’d do as soon as I’ve heard absolutely no sounds from inside the house for at least a few minutes. On the first floor, I’d get the DVD from March 11, 2001, and if the baptism tape isn’t clearly labeled among the tapes, I’d unplug the DVD player from the TV, turn on the player, open the DVD slot, and if the tape isn’t in there, I’d take all unlabeled tapes. I’d then listen in on the basement door for a few seconds, and if I hear no sounds from down there, I’d quietly open the basement door and go downstairs, and if no one’s there, I’d get out through the side entrance down there, out through the back gate, walk back to Spruce Street, drive my bike home, take a shower, watch the tape from March 11, 2011 like she told me I could, hide it somewhere at home, print out the document for the police, take it with me in an envelope, print out a second version of it to give to the taxi driver, so I can say “If I’m not back in an hour, please call the police for me and read this to them”. I’d then call a taxi (a taxi with a large trunk whose driver is allowed to drive to Allentown and back), load my gun, and leave for the Turners’ and get Leanne.

We’d see that Liam has replied by now. Of course, he’d be super worried, but he’s got our backs for the plan, and that would be really reassuring. We’d look each other in the eyes, and then, I’d hug her sooo tight for several seconds, and we’d have one loooong kiss (hoping it’s not the last time we see each other…) before she goes downstairs while looking back at me on the way before putting the toilet paper in the door. I’d then put on my backpack. Once Leanne loudly shouts “Mister Turner?”, that would be my signal, and I’d hide in her room for about 45 minutes before she’s “let” back upstairs and shouts “You can lock me in now, Mrs. Turner”,
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which is when I’d sneak into the storage/guest room and wait. It would take like five hours until I hear nothing for a while, which is when I’d sneak onto the first floor, look around to make extra sure no one’s there, and go to the living room. I’d get the tape from March 11, 2011, and the baptism tape would be among the labeled DVDs, and I’d put it into the box of the March 11, 2011 tape (I’d put the original DVD loose in there and use the spot inside the box for the baptism tape because it’s probably more important. I then wouldn’t hear anything from the basement, so I’d slowly and quietly go down there. No one would be there, so I’d leave as planned and go home and take a shower. I’d watch the March 11, 2011 DVD. I’d be surprised to see the interaction between Leanne and Dorothy for sure, but sort of knowing her, I wouldn’t think anything bad of it. I’d actually get it because of my past celebrity crushes (which I know isn’t what she was feeling for Dorothy) and the desire to meet them, especially with Blanche. I’d get why Leanne wouldn’t want the police to see it, it would look bad for her. I’d wrap up the DVD in a thick piece of paper and tape it to the back of my closet, between the closet and the wall. I’d burn the piece of paper in the DVD case in my bathtub with a bucket of water next to me just in case. I’d test if the DVD of the baptism tape still works (it does), rip it, upload the video file to Google Drive, add it to the document for the police, cancel my printing queue, print the document (two versions of it. The one for the taxi driver would just have a short introduction at the beginning, like, that I’m the person who ordered the taxi), order the taxi, pack my things for the next couple of weeks and anything that Leanne might need, so I’d include any clothes that I think could fit her, and go to the taxi. I’d tell the driver to get me one block away from 9780 Spruce Street (which isn’t actually a real address, by the way) and wait there for me. Before leaving for the Turner house, I’d give him the envelope with his version of the letter for the police and tell him what I said I would tell him. I’d then get my backpack with the gun in it from my luggage in the trunk, and walk to the Turners’ house.

I have already "written" so much more in my head, but I've now reached the end of what I've actually written down, so it will take longer until the next episode is out now! Hope you've enjooooyed this one!