# 8 True Applebees Horror Stories for Sleep True Horror Story You Won't Forget

An episode of [AfterDark Reddits](https://invisiblenetwork.ai/podcast/1896809423), 13 Oct 2026, 59 min.

Audio: https://dts.podtrac.com/redirect.mp3/api.spreaker.com/download/episode/74987438/088_8_true_applebees_horror_stories_for_sleep_true_horror_story_you_won_t_forget.mp3



## Transcript

[0:03] Speaker 1: I moved to Des Moines because I needed to disappear
[0:05] Speaker 1: for a while. Chicago had rung me dry, bad breakup,
[0:10] Speaker 1: a landlord who stopped answering my calls, and roommates who
[0:13] Speaker 1: thought my food was theirs until I called them out.
[0:17] Speaker 1: That went sideways fast. So I left. Packed two suitcases
[0:22] Speaker 1: left my half of the deposit behind and took the
[0:24] Speaker 1: first job I could get. Applebee's night shifts on Grandview Avenue.
[0:29] Speaker 1: My sister Kate helped me find a cheap apartment a
[0:32] Speaker 1: couple blocks away. Third floor walk up, no elevator, windows
[0:36] Speaker 1: that didn't quite lock right. But the rent was low
[0:39] Speaker 1: and no one knew me here. It wasn't glamorous, but
[0:42] Speaker 1: it worked. Most nights I walked home at 1.30 in
[0:45] Speaker 1: the morning, shoes aching, tips stuffed into the bottom of
[0:48] Speaker 1: my coat pocket. Sometimes I'd see other night shifters heading
[0:51] Speaker 1: home too. Mostly I just passed quiet streets, shut up
[0:55] Speaker 1: gas stations and the occasional drunk guy yelling at no one.
[0:59] Speaker 1: Then one night, just as I was getting into bed,
[1:02] Speaker 1: I heard a knock. Not a loud one. Just two
[1:05] Speaker 1: soft taps. Like someone was checking to see if I
[1:08] Speaker 1: was home. I waited. Didn't move. Figured maybe it was
[1:13] Speaker 1: a neighbor locked out or drunk. I peeked through the peephole. Nothing.
[1:19] Speaker 1: Nobody in the hallway. Weird, but not terrifying. I went
[1:23] Speaker 1: back to bed. The next night. Same time. Two knocks.
[1:28] Speaker 1: Quieter this time. Still no one outside. By the third night,
[1:32] Speaker 1: I was wide awake by 2.30, just waiting. And like clockwork. Tap, tap.
[1:37] Speaker 1: No footsteps, no voices. Just those two little knocks and then... silence.
[1:44] Speaker 1: On the fourth night, I sat in the dark near
[1:46] Speaker 1: the door, heart thudding, holding my phone in one hand
[1:49] Speaker 1: and a kitchen knife in the other. I felt stupid
[1:52] Speaker 1: like I was being dramatic. But then I heard it. Breathing. Heavy.
[1:57] Speaker 1: Right up against the door. Slow, steady breathing through the
[2:01] Speaker 1: mail slot at the bottom. I didn't move. Didn't say anything.
[2:06] Speaker 1: Just sat there while some stranger, some guy, breathed into
[2:10] Speaker 1: my apartment like it belonged to him. When the sound
[2:13] Speaker 1: finally stopped, I didn't go to bed. I just waited
[2:17] Speaker 1: for the sun to come up. I called Kate that morning.
[2:20] Speaker 1: Her first words. Pack a bag. You're not staying there
[2:24] Speaker 1: another night. I didn't tell anyone at work what was happening.
[2:28] Speaker 1: What could I say? Some guy's been knocking on my
[2:31] Speaker 1: door and breathing at me through the mail slot. I
[2:34] Speaker 1: could already hear the jokes, so I stayed quiet. Wore
[2:38] Speaker 1: my tired face like armor. About halfway through my shift
[2:42] Speaker 1: that night, I noticed him. Middle-aged. Probably late 40s. Dark jacket,
[2:49] Speaker 1: clean-shaven except for a bit of gray in his beard.
[2:52] Speaker 1: Sat alone at one of the booths near the back.
[2:55] Speaker 1: Didn't look at a menu. Just waited for me. Can
[2:59] Speaker 1: I get you started with something? I asked, trying to
[3:02] Speaker 1: keep it light. He looked up, right into my eyes,
[3:06] Speaker 1: like he was checking to make sure I matched a picture.
[3:09] Speaker 1: Then he said, Just coffee. Black. Didn't smile. Didn't blink much.
[3:17] Speaker 1: I felt my stomach twist, but maybe I was just
[3:19] Speaker 1: on edge. Maybe I was imagining things. I brought the coffee.
[3:24] Speaker 1: He didn't touch it. Just sat there. Fifteen minutes later,
[3:29] Speaker 1: He left a five and a couple ones, then walked
[3:32] Speaker 1: out without saying a word. I went to clear the table,
[3:36] Speaker 1: and that's when I saw it. He'd written something on
[3:39] Speaker 1: the back of the receipt. I like your red curtains.
[3:43] Speaker 1: That's it. No name, no signature. And here's the thing.
[3:47] Speaker 1: I do have red curtains, but they're in my bedroom,
[3:50] Speaker 1: and I live on the third floor. There's no way
[3:53] Speaker 1: he should have seen them unless he was close. Real close.
[3:57] Speaker 1: I stood there staring at the note until Marcus, our bartender,
[4:00] Speaker 1: passed behind me. You good? He asked. I didn't answer.
[4:06] Speaker 1: When my shift ended, I didn't walk home. I called
[4:09] Speaker 1: Kate from the employee bathroom. She picked me up ten
[4:12] Speaker 1: minutes later and drove straight to her place. I didn't
[4:15] Speaker 1: go back for my stuff that night, or the next.
[4:19] Speaker 1: Kate didn't ask too many questions, which was good. She
[4:21] Speaker 1: could tell I was on edge. She just made space
[4:24] Speaker 1: for me and kept Rudy, her giant mutt, close that
[4:29] Speaker 1: dog didn't let me go anywhere alone not even to
[4:31] Speaker 1: the bathroom i quit applebee's by text two days later
[4:36] Speaker 1: told the manager i had a family emergency she said
[4:40] Speaker 1: she understood it took a couple of weeks before i
[4:43] Speaker 1: started feeling halfway normal again i stopped checking the locks
[4:47] Speaker 1: three times a night even started sleeping a bit then
[4:52] Speaker 1: darren came to town he and i had gone to
[4:55] Speaker 1: college together in chicago He'd always been solid. Kind of
[4:59] Speaker 1: a goof. But good-hearted. He texted and asked if I
[5:04] Speaker 1: wanted to grab dinner. And after hesitating, I said yes.
[5:08] Speaker 1: We met at a different Applebee's across town. I wore
[5:11] Speaker 1: a hoodie and tied my hair up. Just wanted to
[5:13] Speaker 1: blend in. Dinner was good. We joked a little. Caught up.
[5:19] Speaker 1: It felt nice to just be me again. Until we
[5:22] Speaker 1: walked out to the parking lot. Darren stopped walking. Hey.
[5:27] Speaker 1: Is that guy staring at you? I turned to look.
[5:31] Speaker 1: Across the lot, near a beat-up beige pickup truck stood
[5:34] Speaker 1: the man from before. Same face, same beard, just watching.
[5:40] Speaker 1: He didn't move when we saw him. Didn't flinch when
[5:42] Speaker 1: Darren squared his shoulders. You know him? Darren asked. I nodded, barely.
[5:49] Speaker 1: You want me to go over there? I shook my head.
[5:52] Speaker 1: My chest was tight. Number, let's just go. We got
[5:56] Speaker 1: in Darren's car and left, but the whole drive home
[5:59] Speaker 1: I kept checking the mirror, because I was sure we
[6:02] Speaker 1: were being followed. The drive back to Kate's wasn't long,
[6:05] Speaker 1: but it felt like forever. Every time we changed lanes,
[6:08] Speaker 1: a car behind us did too. At first I thought
[6:12] Speaker 1: I was being paranoid, but then it happened again, and again.
[6:17] Speaker 1: At one point, three different cars had followed us across
[6:20] Speaker 1: two exits. Darren noticed too. He offered to drive around
[6:24] Speaker 1: some more, but I asked him to take me to
[6:26] Speaker 1: the hospital parking garage downtown. It's big, confusing, hard to
[6:31] Speaker 1: follow someone through it without being seen. We pulled behind
[6:35] Speaker 1: an ambulance bay and waited in silence for 15 minutes.
[6:39] Speaker 1: Eventually the cars disappeared, or maybe they gave up. When
[6:43] Speaker 1: I got back to Kate's it was after midnight. I
[6:46] Speaker 1: didn't say much, just gave her a look and she nodded.
[6:49] Speaker 1: I fell asleep on the couch, Rudy curled at my feet.
[6:53] Speaker 1: Then at 3.03 a.m., I woke up to a sound.
[6:57] Speaker 1: Two soft knocks. This time, not on the front door.
[7:01] Speaker 1: On the back window. We called the cops. They showed
[7:04] Speaker 1: up 30 minutes later, tired and a little too casual.
[7:08] Speaker 1: Asked a bunch of questions that didn't really go anywhere.
[7:11] Speaker 1: You see anyone? No. Any footprints? No, it's dry. Any damage? No. Well...
[7:22] Speaker 1: Not much we can do then. But we'll make a note.
[7:25] Speaker 1: A note. That's what they called it. A year's passed.
[7:30] Speaker 1: I live in a small apartment now. Ground floor. Security cameras.
[7:34] Speaker 1: Deadbolt on everything. No more night shifts. I work mornings
[7:38] Speaker 1: at a cafe. Smile at strangers but don't give out
[7:40] Speaker 1: my name. Not even to customers who are just being friendly.
[7:44] Speaker 1: I don't post online. My old profiles are gone. No
[7:47] Speaker 1: more tagged photos. No more status updates. I don't want
[7:50] Speaker 1: anyone to know where I am unless I tell them directly.
[7:54] Speaker 1: Sometimes I still think I hear knocks at night. Just two.
[7:59] Speaker 1: Sometimes I wake up out of breath, heart racing, certain
[8:02] Speaker 1: someone's outside my window. And maybe they are. Or maybe
[8:06] Speaker 1: they were once. And now that fear's just settled into
[8:09] Speaker 1: my bones. Either way, I don't ignore it anymore. Because
[8:14] Speaker 1: the scariest part wasn't the man. It was that he
[8:17] Speaker 1: never had to break in. Never had to touch me.
[8:21] Speaker 1: He just stood close enough to remind me that he could.
[8:24] Speaker 1: If something feels wrong, believe yourself, even when no one
[8:27] Speaker 1: else does. Trust isn't just about other people. It's about
[8:32] Speaker 1: your own instinct. Some threats don't come with shouting or
[8:36] Speaker 1: bruises or weapons. Sometimes they come softly, like a knock,
[8:40] Speaker 1: and that's enough. You think once it's over, it's over.
[8:47] Speaker 1: That once you walk away, slam the door, block the number,
[8:51] Speaker 1: change the locks, that the fear will loosen, that it
[8:55] Speaker 1: won't follow you home anymore. But I learned the hard
[8:58] Speaker 1: way that just because someone's out of your life doesn't
[9:01] Speaker 1: mean they're out of your reach. My name's Samantha Greer,
[9:05] Speaker 1: but everyone calls me Sam. I'm 26. Four months ago,
[9:10] Speaker 1: I left a man who made me question the shape
[9:12] Speaker 1: of my own mind. His name was Cameron, and if
[9:15] Speaker 1: you met him, you'd probably like him. He was easy
[9:18] Speaker 1: like that. wore sawdust on his jeans and quoted Vonnegut
[9:22] Speaker 1: like it meant something. People at parties thought he was charming.
[9:26] Speaker 1: I did too at first. What they didn't see were
[9:28] Speaker 1: the nights he turned quiet and cold because I didn't
[9:31] Speaker 1: text back fast enough. Or the fights that started over nothing.
[9:35] Speaker 1: My tone, my clothes, my smile at a stranger. They
[9:40] Speaker 1: didn't hear him pacing in the hallway, breathing like he
[9:42] Speaker 1: was holding back something dangerous. They didn't hear the click
[9:47] Speaker 1: of the bathroom lock when he trapped me inside after
[9:49] Speaker 1: accusing me of cheating because I didn't answer the door
[9:51] Speaker 1: fast enough. That was the night I left. I packed
[9:57] Speaker 1: three bags, took the tip money I'd stashed in an
[10:00] Speaker 1: old shoe box, and moved across Garland to a studio
[10:03] Speaker 1: above a laundromat. It wasn't much, but it had locks
[10:07] Speaker 1: that were mine and no one yelling in the next room.
[10:10] Speaker 1: I started working nights at the Applebee's off Beltline Road.
[10:14] Speaker 1: Not glamorous, but I liked the rhythm, the kitchen noise,
[10:18] Speaker 1: the busyness. It kept my hands moving and my head quiet.
[10:22] Speaker 1: By the end of September, I started to breathe again.
[10:25] Speaker 1: Started laughing at dumb customer stories, letting people call me
[10:28] Speaker 1: Sam again like it didn't hurt. I told myself he
[10:31] Speaker 1: was done with me. I believed that until the Friday
[10:34] Speaker 1: it rained. Late night, we got a DoorDash order minutes
[10:38] Speaker 1: before closing. Just fries and a brownie bite. Nothing weird.
[10:43] Speaker 1: But I glanced at the receipt, and my stomach dropped.
[10:47] Speaker 1: The customer name? Can be. And scrawled in messy pen
[10:52] Speaker 1: at the bottom. You still look good in black. That night,
[10:56] Speaker 1: I was wearing my black hoodie. The one I used
[10:59] Speaker 1: to wear around the apartment. The one I hadn't posted
[11:01] Speaker 1: a single picture in. That was the moment I knew
[11:04] Speaker 1: he'd found me. I didn't tell anyone right away. Not
[11:08] Speaker 1: even Marcus, my manager. What could I say? Hey, I
[11:13] Speaker 1: think my psycho ex is stalking me again. Can I
[11:15] Speaker 1: leave early? Felt like I'd be dismissed or pitied. or worse,
[11:20] Speaker 1: not believed. So I smiled, cleaned the bar area, and
[11:24] Speaker 1: kept moving. But I could feel the tension crawling up
[11:28] Speaker 1: my spine like cold water. That sick kind of awareness
[11:31] Speaker 1: that you're being watched, even when you can't see it.
[11:35] Speaker 1: Marcus offered to walk me out. I said no. I
[11:39] Speaker 1: don't know why. Maybe pride. Maybe denial. Maybe I just
[11:45] Speaker 1: wanted to pretend I still had control over something. It
[11:49] Speaker 1: was still raining when I left. That thin Texas drizzle
[11:52] Speaker 1: that never quite stops. My car was in the back lot,
[11:56] Speaker 1: tucked near the dumpster like always. As I walked, I
[12:00] Speaker 1: caught sight of headlights behind me. Gray Honda Accord. I
[12:04] Speaker 1: noticed because it wasn't parked. It was just idling. I
[12:08] Speaker 1: kept walking, but my eyes stayed locked in the side
[12:11] Speaker 1: view mirror. The car turned out behind me. I turned right.
[12:16] Speaker 1: So did he. Left onto my street. He followed. Down
[12:20] Speaker 1: the alley behind my building, a shortcut no one uses
[12:23] Speaker 1: unless they live there. I pulled into my spot and
[12:26] Speaker 1: slammed the door. I turned around. The car was gone.
[12:30] Speaker 1: Just gone. No taillights, no engine sound, nothing. I stood
[12:35] Speaker 1: there a second too long before sprinting up the stairs
[12:37] Speaker 1: and locking myself in. I didn't sleep. I sat on
[12:41] Speaker 1: my kitchen floor with my back against the fridge, phone
[12:44] Speaker 1: in one hand, the pepper spray my cousin sent me
[12:46] Speaker 1: in the other. That Sunday, Someone sent flowers to the
[12:50] Speaker 1: front counter at work, big white lilies and a note.
[12:53] Speaker 1: We should talk. You owe me that. See? That phrase,
[12:59] Speaker 1: you owe me that, was what he used to say
[13:01] Speaker 1: after every fight, when he wanted to make me feel
[13:04] Speaker 1: like the villain. I thought I was done playing that role. Apparently,
[13:09] Speaker 1: he didn't. I finally filed a report. The cop was polite,
[13:14] Speaker 1: but distracted. Young guy, maybe mid-twenties. He took notes, asked
[13:20] Speaker 1: if I had evidence. I gave him the receipt, the
[13:23] Speaker 1: flower note. He nodded, handed me a pamphlet and said,
[13:27] Speaker 1: if anything escalates, call us again. Escalates. I wanted to scream.
[13:32] Speaker 1: How much more did it need to escalate? I changed
[13:35] Speaker 1: my locks that night, added a chain bolt, bought a
[13:39] Speaker 1: door camera on credit. I even started parking farther from
[13:42] Speaker 1: the dumpster, but I couldn't stop working nights. I needed
[13:45] Speaker 1: the money. That Friday, I was on trash duty. It
[13:49] Speaker 1: was nearly midnight and we'd just closed. The back door
[13:52] Speaker 1: has a loud push bar and clank, so when I
[13:55] Speaker 1: opened it, the noise filled the alley. I stepped out
[13:58] Speaker 1: with the bin and immediately stopped. There was someone crouched
[14:02] Speaker 1: behind the dumpster, just squatting there, like an animal. He
[14:07] Speaker 1: wasn't doing anything, just watching. I couldn't see his face,
[14:11] Speaker 1: just the shape of him still and waiting. I screamed.
[14:15] Speaker 1: He bolted. Marcus and two line cooks came running. I
[14:19] Speaker 1: was shaking, pointing, barely forming words. We checked the cameras
[14:23] Speaker 1: the next day. The guy had been back there for
[14:26] Speaker 1: 37 minutes before I came out, just waiting. Police reviewed
[14:30] Speaker 1: the footage, nodded like they saw this every day, but
[14:33] Speaker 1: no license plate, no clear face, no arrest, no direct threat,
[14:39] Speaker 1: they said, no contact. But he was there, waiting for me,
[14:45] Speaker 1: like he always would be, I left town after that,
[14:49] Speaker 1: packed a duffel bag, and went to Fort Worth to
[14:51] Speaker 1: stay with my cousin Kara. She didn't ask many questions.
[14:56] Speaker 1: She didn't need to. She just gave me space and
[14:59] Speaker 1: made tea at night and left the porch light on.
[15:02] Speaker 1: Being there helped. I stopped checking over my shoulder every
[15:05] Speaker 1: time a car slowed down. Stopped flinching when my phone buzzed.
[15:10] Speaker 1: After two weeks I came back. Stronger. Smarter. I had
[15:14] Speaker 1: a stun gun now. I wore it in my apron.
[15:17] Speaker 1: I knew every car in the Applebee's lot, every regular's face.
[15:21] Speaker 1: I didn't take shortcuts, didn't work alone in the back.
[15:26] Speaker 1: Then one Thursday, a man came in around 10.45, sat
[15:29] Speaker 1: at the bar, mid-30s, wore a jacket even though it
[15:32] Speaker 1: was hot, ordered fries, didn't look at the menu. When
[15:37] Speaker 1: I walked past, he looked up and smiled. Not a
[15:41] Speaker 1: creepy smile, just calm, too calm, like he already knew me.
[15:47] Speaker 1: My legs locked up. It wasn't Cameron. Not exactly. The
[15:51] Speaker 1: face was different. But the look. That still, patient, unblinking stare.
[15:56] Speaker 1: Was the same. I told Marcus I had a stomach ache.
[16:00] Speaker 1: He let me clock out early. I didn't cry in
[16:02] Speaker 1: the car. I just sat in silence. Engine running. Hands
[16:06] Speaker 1: on the wheel. Waiting for the panic to go back
[16:08] Speaker 1: into its cage. Now I live three counties away. New
[16:12] Speaker 1: job at a diner that closes at nine. No social media.
[16:17] Speaker 1: New phone number. New apartment with no forwarding address. No
[16:21] Speaker 1: one knows where I am unless I want them to.
[16:24] Speaker 1: Some days I feel normal. Other days I walk through
[16:28] Speaker 1: the grocery store and feel someone's eyes follow me. And
[16:31] Speaker 1: I have to remind myself. It's probably not him. But
[16:35] Speaker 1: it could be. The worst part isn't that I'm scared
[16:38] Speaker 1: of Cameron. The worst part is that I can't trust
[16:41] Speaker 1: my own peace. It always feels temporary. Like a silence
[16:46] Speaker 1: before something breaks. He may never come back. Or maybe
[16:51] Speaker 1: he's already here. In a parking lot, behind a gas pump,
[16:55] Speaker 1: across from me on the bus. Watching. Some people don't
[16:59] Speaker 1: want closure. They want control. And when you take that
[17:04] Speaker 1: control back, they don't just vanish. So protect your space.
[17:09] Speaker 1: Don't wait for proof that your fear is real. If
[17:12] Speaker 1: it feels wrong, that's reason enough. Your safety isn't owed.
[17:17] Speaker 1: It's yours. Always. I never liked working Sundays. There was
[17:26] Speaker 1: something off about that stretch between midnight and close. Fewer guests,
[17:31] Speaker 1: fewer lights outside, just a kind of silence that didn't
[17:34] Speaker 1: feel peaceful. More like waiting. I'd only been working night
[17:38] Speaker 1: shifts at the Maplewood Applebee's for about a month. Just
[17:41] Speaker 1: long enough to know which regulars would tip and which
[17:44] Speaker 1: ones came in just to sit and sip soda for
[17:46] Speaker 1: an hour. I kept to myself mostly. I was 20.
[17:51] Speaker 1: Living with my mom again since she got sick. Pancreatic cancer.
[17:56] Speaker 1: Stage 3. That kind of news messes with your priorities
[17:59] Speaker 1: real fast. Film school got put on hold. I picked
[18:03] Speaker 1: up the job to help cover bills and distract myself
[18:06] Speaker 1: from the stuff I couldn't fix. That Sunday night felt
[18:09] Speaker 1: normal enough. Two football guys closed out at midnight. One
[18:14] Speaker 1: older couple tipped me in quarters. The kitchen started shutting
[18:17] Speaker 1: down by 1.15. My manager Carla was running inventory in
[18:21] Speaker 1: the back and I was left at the host stand
[18:23] Speaker 1: with a wet rag and a lukewarm cup of coffee.
[18:26] Speaker 1: It was 1.42 a.m. when the door opened. Technically, we
[18:30] Speaker 1: locked them at 1.45. But this guy didn't walk in
[18:33] Speaker 1: like someone catching last call. He pushed through the vestibule slowly,
[18:38] Speaker 1: dragging one foot slightly like it was too heavy. long coat, unshaven,
[18:45] Speaker 1: eyes sunk into his face like he hadn't blinked in hours.
[18:48] Speaker 1: He looked hollow. Hey, I said, trying to sound casual.
[18:55] Speaker 1: Kitchen's closed, but I can get you water or coffee
[18:57] Speaker 1: if you want. He didn't answer, just stared at me.
[19:01] Speaker 1: Then real soft, like he was warning me, not asking
[19:05] Speaker 1: for help, he mumbled, something's coming. I blinked. Sorry. He
[19:11] Speaker 1: nodded slowly, head jerking like it hurt. It doesn't like doors.
[19:16] Speaker 1: That's all he said. I poured him a glass of
[19:19] Speaker 1: water anyway and set it down at the bar. He
[19:22] Speaker 1: didn't touch it, just sat on the second stool from
[19:24] Speaker 1: the end, the one no one ever picked, and started
[19:27] Speaker 1: whispering to himself, hands shaking under the counter. I figured
[19:31] Speaker 1: he was high, or sick, or both. But I kept
[19:36] Speaker 1: catching him glancing over at the walk-in cooler like something
[19:39] Speaker 1: inside was watching him back. The walk-in cooler made a
[19:42] Speaker 1: front's weird AF. Keeps saying stuff like don't open doors. Carla,
[19:42] Speaker 1: low clicking noise, just the compressor kicking in like always.
[19:45] Speaker 1: be right there. Grabbed the safe bag first. I stepped
[19:47] Speaker 1: But when it happened, the guy flinched so hard he
[19:49] Speaker 1: nearly I texted Carla in the back. Me. Guy out
[20:12] Speaker 1: into the back for maybe a minute. When I came back,
[20:15] Speaker 1: he was staring straight at the front door, lips barely moving.
[20:18] Speaker 1: He whispered to himself like a broken record. Eyes in
[20:22] Speaker 1: the ice machine, they watch when it's cold. Sir, I said,
[20:26] Speaker 1: keeping my voice level. You okay? He didn't respond. Just
[20:31] Speaker 1: rubbed his hands like he was trying to get something
[20:33] Speaker 1: off them. His nails were cracked. one finger wrapped in
[20:37] Speaker 1: a napkin like he'd been bleeding earlier. Carla came out
[20:41] Speaker 1: a few minutes later, saw him, and gave me the look,
[20:44] Speaker 1: the one managers give when they're trying to figure out
[20:47] Speaker 1: whether to ask someone to leave or call security. She
[20:50] Speaker 1: walked behind the bar. Sir, we're closing now. He looked
[20:55] Speaker 1: at her, finally. His eyes weren't threatening, just empty, like
[21:02] Speaker 1: all the panic was internal and pressing out from inside
[21:05] Speaker 1: his skull. Don't open the back door, he whispered. Okay,
[21:10] Speaker 1: she said slowly. But we do need you to head
[21:13] Speaker 1: out for the night. He stood, didn't speak again. Just
[21:18] Speaker 1: turned and walked to the door, dragging that foot behind him.
[21:22] Speaker 1: He didn't push it open right away, just stood with
[21:24] Speaker 1: one hand on the glass. Then he left. No incident,
[21:29] Speaker 1: no yelling. Just... gone. It was 2.08 when I started
[21:34] Speaker 1: closing the register. I looked over at the bar. The
[21:38] Speaker 1: water glass was still full. Stool still turned slightly from
[21:42] Speaker 1: where he'd sat. Carla was already back in the kitchen
[21:46] Speaker 1: by then, counting inventory and grumbling about the fryer being
[21:49] Speaker 1: cleaned wrong. I was sweeping under the bar when I
[21:52] Speaker 1: realized something. I never heard the door shut behind him.
[21:57] Speaker 1: I walked over, checked the vestibule. Nothing. No one outside.
[22:02] Speaker 1: I looked out at the parking lot. Empty. No cars.
[22:06] Speaker 1: No movement. Just the soft orange hue of the overhead
[22:09] Speaker 1: street lamps. Humid air. Stillness. I pulled up the security feed. 2.06 AM.
[22:17] Speaker 1: There he was, sitting at the bar. 2.07. He stood. 2.08. Nothing.
[22:24] Speaker 1: No footage of him walking out. Not even a shadow.
[22:27] Speaker 1: Just gone. I called Carla over. She watched the playback twice.
[22:32] Speaker 1: Then again. That's not possible, she muttered. We checked the
[22:37] Speaker 1: back door. Locked. No alarm triggered. I half laughed. Maybe
[22:43] Speaker 1: the cameras glitched, but the feeling in my gut wasn't amused.
[22:47] Speaker 1: The next morning, I was sitting on the curb outside
[22:50] Speaker 1: Applebee's with a Red Bull when Natalie, one of the
[22:53] Speaker 1: other night servers, pulled up. I told her what happened,
[22:57] Speaker 1: just as a weird story to pass the time. But
[23:00] Speaker 1: as I spoke, I watched the blood drain from her face. What?
[23:06] Speaker 1: I asked. She hesitated. You're joking, right? Second stool from
[23:12] Speaker 1: the end? Yeah. Wearing a long coat? Yeah. Dragging his foot?
[23:19] Speaker 1: My mouth went dry. Yeah. Natalie didn't blink. That happened
[23:25] Speaker 1: two years ago. Same shift, same night. Bartender at the
[23:28] Speaker 1: time told me about it. Said a guy came in
[23:31] Speaker 1: mumbling stuff about doors and vanishing from the cameras. They
[23:35] Speaker 1: thought he imagined it. The manager got fired for being
[23:38] Speaker 1: drunk that night. Come on. I'm serious. Said he left
[23:43] Speaker 1: a note the second time too. Forked into the wall
[23:45] Speaker 1: behind the dumpster. Now she had my full attention. That
[23:49] Speaker 1: night I volunteered to take out the trash. Don't ask
[23:52] Speaker 1: me why. Maybe I didn't want to feel scared. Maybe
[23:56] Speaker 1: I wanted to prove something. The door was already cracked
[23:59] Speaker 1: open when I got there. And pinned to the wall
[24:02] Speaker 1: with a bent fork was a receipt. scrawled on the
[24:05] Speaker 1: back in shaky handwriting. Eyes in the ice machine. I
[24:10] Speaker 1: haven't taken the trash out alone since. Some nights I
[24:13] Speaker 1: even stay in my car a minute before going inside,
[24:16] Speaker 1: staring at the back exit like I'm waiting for something
[24:19] Speaker 1: to move. I don't talk about that night much anymore,
[24:23] Speaker 1: mostly because people either laugh or nod awkwardly like they
[24:26] Speaker 1: don't know what to say. But Natalie doesn't laugh. She
[24:30] Speaker 1: works day shifts now, so do I. We never got
[24:33] Speaker 1: a name for him, no license plate, nothing in the system,
[24:39] Speaker 1: no trace on the cameras, just that stool, that moment
[24:43] Speaker 1: and that receipt. I think about what he said. It
[24:47] Speaker 1: doesn't like doors. Was he paranoid on something suffering or
[24:53] Speaker 1: was he a warning? Some things you don't explain. You
[24:57] Speaker 1: just remember. And sometimes when I walk past the cooler
[25:01] Speaker 1: or dump a new bag of ice into the machine,
[25:03] Speaker 1: I catch myself staring a little too long. Not because
[25:07] Speaker 1: I see anything. But because I want to be sure
[25:10] Speaker 1: I don't. Some fears don't come with explanations. Whether they're real, imagined,
[25:16] Speaker 1: or something in between. How we respond to fear is
[25:19] Speaker 1: what keeps us safe. Listen when the world whispers. Even
[25:24] Speaker 1: if no one else hears it. Some people find peace
[25:30] Speaker 1: in routine. Me? I find numbness. and for a while
[25:34] Speaker 1: that was exactly what I needed. After everything with Kyle,
[25:38] Speaker 1: the screaming matches, the paranoia, the slow grind of love
[25:42] Speaker 1: turned into surveillance, I came back to Kansas City with
[25:45] Speaker 1: no plan except start over. Somewhere. Somehow. That somewhere turned
[25:52] Speaker 1: out to be an Applebee's tucked near a strip of
[25:55] Speaker 1: tire shops and a payday loan office on West 39th.
[25:59] Speaker 1: The closing shift needed a hostess. and I needed the
[26:01] Speaker 1: kind of job where no one cared what you were
[26:03] Speaker 1: running from, just that you showed up, clocked in, and
[26:07] Speaker 1: didn't steal from the tip pool. I got used to
[26:11] Speaker 1: walking out late, the blacktop parking lot stretching wide under
[26:15] Speaker 1: dim pole lights, always buzzing with insects. I'd lock up,
[26:19] Speaker 1: toss my apron in the backseat, and drive home to
[26:22] Speaker 1: a cheap studio apartment above a laundromat. It wasn't glamorous,
[26:26] Speaker 1: but it was quiet, at least until that Thursday night.
[26:29] Speaker 1: It had been raining all evening, Not hard, just steady
[26:33] Speaker 1: and cold, making everything feel heavier. I was wiping down
[26:37] Speaker 1: the host stand when I noticed him. Outside, near the dumpster,
[26:41] Speaker 1: leaning against one of the poles. Tall, scruffy beard, hoodie
[26:45] Speaker 1: pulled low. Just... standing there. Not smoking. Not pacing. Just watching.
[26:53] Speaker 1: His face wasn't clear, but I knew he was facing us.
[26:56] Speaker 1: Facing me. Hey, I said to Mike, our shift lead.
[27:01] Speaker 1: There's a guy by the dumpster. Mike barely looked up
[27:04] Speaker 1: from his drawer count. Probably an Uber or something. He's
[27:08] Speaker 1: not moving, just standing there. Mike shrugged. We're locking up
[27:12] Speaker 1: in ten anyway. I wanted to argue, but what was
[27:16] Speaker 1: I gonna say? Some guy is looking at me weird.
[27:20] Speaker 1: Can you walk me to my car like it's middle school?
[27:23] Speaker 1: So I kept my mouth shut. 12.25 hit. I grabbed
[27:28] Speaker 1: my coat, clocked out, and headed into the rain. My
[27:32] Speaker 1: car sat third from the left. I unlocked it with
[27:36] Speaker 1: the fob head down, footsteps squishing across the wet lot.
[27:39] Speaker 1: I looked up just before I reached the door. He
[27:42] Speaker 1: was standing across from my car. Just... there. No umbrella.
[27:48] Speaker 1: No movement. Just waiting. I stopped dead, keys clenched in
[27:54] Speaker 1: my fist. He was maybe 15 feet away, standing still
[27:57] Speaker 1: like a street lamp. Hoodie soaked through, hands in his pockets. Eyes,
[28:03] Speaker 1: the only thing not shadowed by the hood, locked on me.
[28:06] Speaker 1: I took a half step back. You need help with that?
[28:10] Speaker 1: He asked, voice low and dry. I hadn't said anything,
[28:14] Speaker 1: hadn't dropped anything. There was nothing in my hands. I
[28:18] Speaker 1: cleared my throat. No thanks, I'm good. He didn't move,
[28:23] Speaker 1: just stared. I kept my pace calm and fast. got
[28:27] Speaker 1: in the driver's seat and locked the doors the second
[28:29] Speaker 1: it shut behind me. I started the engine, eyes flicking
[28:32] Speaker 1: to the mirror. He was still there. I reversed fast,
[28:36] Speaker 1: tires slipping a little on the wet asphalt then turned
[28:39] Speaker 1: onto the main road. Hard hammering. No way he could follow.
[28:43] Speaker 1: He wasn't in a car. Right? Then came the thud.
[28:47] Speaker 1: A single, deep thunk from the rear of the car.
[28:50] Speaker 1: Like something dropped hard in the trunk. I nearly drove
[28:53] Speaker 1: onto the curb, what the hell was that? I floored
[28:56] Speaker 1: it across the intersection and pulled into the gas station
[28:59] Speaker 1: just across from the Applebee's. Lights were still on. The
[29:02] Speaker 1: overnight clerk was mopping inside. I parked crooked and ran in.
[29:07] Speaker 1: Someone might be in my trunk, I blurted. I heard
[29:10] Speaker 1: a noise. The guy looked at me like I was unwell.
[29:14] Speaker 1: You want me to look? I nodded. He came out
[29:18] Speaker 1: with me, keys shaking in my hand as I popped
[29:20] Speaker 1: the latch. The trunk opened with a creak. Empty. Just
[29:25] Speaker 1: my apron, an umbrella, and an old hoodie. No signs
[29:28] Speaker 1: of anyone or anything. No scratches, no boot prints. I
[29:32] Speaker 1: felt like a crazy person. Sorry, I muttered. I... I thought...
[29:38] Speaker 1: He nodded, polite but distant. Rain'll mess with your ears sometimes.
[29:42] Speaker 1: I gave a forced laugh, got back in my car
[29:45] Speaker 1: and pulled out. Just nerves, I told myself. Just a
[29:48] Speaker 1: bad week. Bad breakup. Too much caffeine. Too little sleep.
[29:53] Speaker 1: That kind of noise could have been anything. Right? The
[29:57] Speaker 1: rain hadn't let up. I drove slower than usual, both
[30:01] Speaker 1: hands locked on the wheel. I'd just started breathing normally
[30:04] Speaker 1: again when the red light at Jefferson turned yellow. I
[30:08] Speaker 1: coasted to a stop and glanced in the rear view
[30:10] Speaker 1: out of habit. And froze. The man was in my
[30:14] Speaker 1: back seat. I didn't process it all at once. Just
[30:18] Speaker 1: a shape, a hood, a shadowed face. But I knew
[30:22] Speaker 1: it was him. I screamed. My hands jerked the wheel instinctively.
[30:27] Speaker 1: The car lurched left. Tires squealing on the wet pavement
[30:31] Speaker 1: and slammed into something heavy. Metal crunched. Glass popped. Then black.
[30:37] Speaker 1: When I came to, people were outside my window. A
[30:40] Speaker 1: woman was knocking gently on the glass. Another person on
[30:43] Speaker 1: the phone. I blinked. My head throbbed. Airbags had deployed.
[30:48] Speaker 1: The man, I gasped. In the back seat. But when
[30:52] Speaker 1: I turned, it was empty. No one. Not a trace.
[30:56] Speaker 1: Paramedics checked me out. Mild concussions. They took me to
[30:59] Speaker 1: the ER just in case. The officer who showed up
[31:03] Speaker 1: at the crash was kind. Concerned, even. We'll pull your
[31:06] Speaker 1: dash cam, he said. Just to make sure. I nodded.
[31:11] Speaker 1: I wanted to believe I'd imagined it. A stress hallucination.
[31:15] Speaker 1: A trick of the shadows. Something. But when they reviewed
[31:19] Speaker 1: the footage, they confirmed the worst part. No one was
[31:23] Speaker 1: seen entering the car. But the rear passenger door. Slightly
[31:27] Speaker 1: ajar when they found it. They said I must have
[31:30] Speaker 1: hit my head harder than I thought. No intruder. No fingerprints.
[31:37] Speaker 1: Doors lock automatically in that model, so unless someone got
[31:40] Speaker 1: in before you started driving. Which didn't make sense either.
[31:45] Speaker 1: I had locked the car. I remembered doing it. I
[31:49] Speaker 1: left the hospital with a prescription for migraines and a
[31:51] Speaker 1: lingering sense of unreality. The next day I quit my job. Carla,
[31:56] Speaker 1: my manager, tried to talk me out of it. It
[31:59] Speaker 1: was a fluke. Probably a trick of the light. I
[32:03] Speaker 1: didn't argue. I just nodded. I moved in with my
[32:06] Speaker 1: cousin in Prairie Village a week later. Safer neighborhood. Bigger complex.
[32:11] Speaker 1: More lights. And I haven't driven alone at night since.
[32:16] Speaker 1: I got rid of the car eventually. Every time I
[32:18] Speaker 1: sat in it, I felt like I was inviting something
[32:20] Speaker 1: back in. My cousin said it was trauma. That my
[32:24] Speaker 1: brain needed time. Maybe... But even now, sometimes when I'm
[32:29] Speaker 1: riding the bus home after a late shift at my
[32:31] Speaker 1: new job, I catch sight of him again. Not close.
[32:35] Speaker 1: Just standing at a distance. Near a light pole. Or
[32:38] Speaker 1: a bench. Or reflected, just for a second, in the glass.
[32:44] Speaker 1: It's been six months. I've learned how to say no louder.
[32:48] Speaker 1: How to check my locks twice. How to listen to
[32:51] Speaker 1: my gut when something feels off. Even if it makes
[32:53] Speaker 1: me seem rude or paranoid. I still get flashbacks sometimes,
[32:58] Speaker 1: especially on quiet nights. I've had therapists tell me that
[33:02] Speaker 1: the brain holds on to trauma like wet clothes, that
[33:05] Speaker 1: it can take years to dry out. I believe them,
[33:08] Speaker 1: but I also believe what I saw, or didn't see,
[33:12] Speaker 1: or felt. That presence, not just the man but the
[33:16] Speaker 1: silence he brought with him, it stays with me, in mirrors,
[33:20] Speaker 1: in dark windows, in the silence between clicks of the deadbolt.
[33:25] Speaker 1: I used to think horror was something in movies. Things
[33:28] Speaker 1: that go bump in the night. Monsters with faces. But
[33:31] Speaker 1: it's quieter than that. It wears a hoodie. It stands
[33:34] Speaker 1: too still. It waits near the edge of light and
[33:37] Speaker 1: never says why. Some nights, when I turn off the
[33:41] Speaker 1: lights and check my front door, I see something out
[33:44] Speaker 1: on the sidewalk. Not always a person, but always watching.
[33:48] Speaker 1: Trust your instincts. When your body whispers something's wrong, don't
[33:53] Speaker 1: silence it with politeness or doubt. Fear doesn't always lie,
[33:57] Speaker 1: and some doors once opened don't close clean. I've always
[34:05] Speaker 1: liked the night shift. There's a rhythm to it, the
[34:08] Speaker 1: hum of the fryer, the buzz of close-down orders, the
[34:11] Speaker 1: late chatter of couples nursing half-empty drinks. It's chaos, but
[34:16] Speaker 1: it's my chaos. I'm 21, half a year into culinary school,
[34:21] Speaker 1: working here to pay rent and help my mom with
[34:23] Speaker 1: bills since her layoff last spring. It isn't glamorous, but
[34:27] Speaker 1: it pays for college and keeps food on the table.
[34:30] Speaker 1: I close the kitchen line with Javier and Cass almost
[34:33] Speaker 1: every Saturday. Javier's been cooking longer than I've been alive. Structured, disciplined,
[34:39] Speaker 1: the kind of guy who taught me real knife skills.
[34:42] Speaker 1: Cass is the noble waitress. Sharp tongue, big heart. Always
[34:48] Speaker 1: ready to laugh at my jokes, even when they're half-baked.
[34:53] Speaker 1: On this night... We closed at 12.15am. The final table stood, paid,
[34:59] Speaker 1: and left quietly. We dimmed the lights, locked the front doors,
[35:04] Speaker 1: and put on music. Cass was cleaning soda syrup off
[35:07] Speaker 1: the decaf nozzle near the back exit while Javier prepped
[35:10] Speaker 1: pans for mop-up. I was on floors. Then the motion
[35:14] Speaker 1: sensor light outside flickered to life. Nice late-night admirer, I joked,
[35:20] Speaker 1: heading toward the corner camera monitor. I squinted. A man
[35:24] Speaker 1: was pacing just outside the back door, too tall to
[35:27] Speaker 1: be astray. Javier shrugged it off. Probably just waiting for
[35:32] Speaker 1: a ride. But Cass stopped cleaning and stared. The guy
[35:36] Speaker 1: didn't loiter politely. He prowled. I watched him raise his
[35:40] Speaker 1: head and glance sideways like he was sizing up our
[35:43] Speaker 1: window view. He didn't knock. Didn't call out. Just watched.
[35:49] Speaker 1: Cass whispered, tension in her voice. Something's off. I didn't
[35:54] Speaker 1: know what, but everything started to feel too quiet. Ten
[35:57] Speaker 1: minutes later, the lights flickered in the hallway. Then the
[36:00] Speaker 1: back door rattled, like someone wiggling a doorknob. Cass nearly
[36:05] Speaker 1: dropped her rag. He's trying it. I grabbed a broomstick
[36:09] Speaker 1: by reflex. Javier paused, then silently locked the walk-in freezer
[36:14] Speaker 1: door behind him. The front entrance alarm chimed despite the
[36:17] Speaker 1: locked doors, our next alarm being set to lock automatically.
[36:22] Speaker 1: No one opened the door. No one left, yet the
[36:24] Speaker 1: alarm kept chirping. Floor's slick, Javier muttered, but we knew
[36:29] Speaker 1: he meant something else. We crouched behind prep tables. Then
[36:34] Speaker 1: we heard boots, wet leather squish, on the kitchen's tiled floor.
[36:39] Speaker 1: Lights flickered again, plunging us into rhythmic darkness. Music cut out.
[36:44] Speaker 1: One second later, footsteps by the soda machine, then silence.
[36:48] Speaker 1: Cass whimpered. My hands were sweating despite the chill. Then,
[36:52] Speaker 1: Out of the dark, a figure emerged. Tall guy. Ski mask.
[36:57] Speaker 1: Full stop mask. No words. Long coat. In one hand,
[37:02] Speaker 1: a machete. He strode like walking sun rays cut. Cass screamed,
[37:07] Speaker 1: high and desperate. Javier grabbed a fryer basket, tight grip
[37:11] Speaker 1: on the handle. He didn't shout, just moved forward to block.
[37:15] Speaker 1: I swung the broomstick like a batter. He lunged. I
[37:18] Speaker 1: saw the glint of metal in low light. I yanked
[37:21] Speaker 1: at Cass and Javier, shouting, Freezer! We flipped the big door.
[37:25] Speaker 1: Steel clang drowned out our fear and shoved inside. I
[37:28] Speaker 1: slammed it shut behind us while Javier pressed the handle down.
[37:32] Speaker 1: Inside was cold and silent. We squeezed against the back wall.
[37:36] Speaker 1: Smoke rolled under the door. Thick, chemical smelling, burning off
[37:40] Speaker 1: our breath. Cass gasped, choking. Javier held his arm around her.
[37:45] Speaker 1: We listened. Footsteps. Laughter. The machete hit steel. Clang, clang. Insistent.
[37:52] Speaker 1: He jammed a foot in. Acid hissed inside from the smoke.
[37:56] Speaker 1: Cass had tears but whispered, What now? I slid along
[38:00] Speaker 1: the wall. Emergency extinguisher box flicked in the light. I
[38:04] Speaker 1: yanked at it. Nailed the latch with my heel. The
[38:07] Speaker 1: silver canister dropped into my hand like it had been
[38:09] Speaker 1: waiting for us. Smoke made my eyes burn. My fingers
[38:13] Speaker 1: shook on the release lever. Then, we heard him breathing outside.
[38:19] Speaker 1: He stepped back and the banging stopped. He started splashing
[38:22] Speaker 1: something across the floor. Mopped flame sounds. Then a click.
[38:27] Speaker 1: A lit bucket or liquid ignition. The freezer door vibrated
[38:31] Speaker 1: under smoke pressure. I didn't wait. I slammed the freezer
[38:35] Speaker 1: door open and sprinted into the hall with Javier close behind.
[38:39] Speaker 1: I twisted the extinguisher handle. Great white cloud burst onto flames,
[38:44] Speaker 1: choking the fire to the floor. He staggered back into
[38:47] Speaker 1: the smoky hallway. I swung the extinguisher right at his shoulder.
[38:51] Speaker 1: No aim, pure fear. He stumbled and crashed into a rack.
[38:55] Speaker 1: Javier yelled, Get out! We bolted past him, Cass coughing
[38:59] Speaker 1: behind us. He staggered but didn't chase. We spilled out
[39:03] Speaker 1: through the back entrance. Police sirens came up fast. We
[39:06] Speaker 1: spilled into the parking lot. Fire trucks pulled forward. Inside
[39:10] Speaker 1: the building was chaos. Smoke-dented walls, scorched mop, grease footprints.
[39:15] Speaker 1: The smell of melted rubber. We watched them lift away
[39:19] Speaker 1: the hooded figure. We never saw his face. No clear image.
[39:24] Speaker 1: No weapon collected. He disappeared like mist. I didn't come
[39:29] Speaker 1: back the next day. day. Cass transferred after two days
[39:32] Speaker 1: of therapy. Javier went back to cooking school and never returned.
[39:37] Speaker 1: I quit. My hands still tremble near metal lids and
[39:40] Speaker 1: fryer baskets. The Applebees moved to closing at 11pm and
[39:44] Speaker 1: hired two security guards. The night shift feels different. Shadowed now.
[39:49] Speaker 1: whispered rumors and rattles. For me, I can't step near
[39:53] Speaker 1: a back door without my skin crawling. My mom asked
[39:57] Speaker 1: if I'm okay. I nod, but nightmares follow me. I
[40:01] Speaker 1: jump at smoke alarms. I flinch when I close lockers
[40:05] Speaker 1: too forcefully. I avoid late aisles and grocery stores, but
[40:09] Speaker 1: I survived. We all did. Preparation buys precious seconds, but
[40:13] Speaker 1: courage keeps you moving. Ordinary nights can turn violent in
[40:18] Speaker 1: an instant. Trust the feelings that rise faster than logic.
[40:25] Speaker 1: If you've ever worked a bar shift at a chain restaurant,
[40:27] Speaker 1: you know Sunday's drag. Tips are slow, guests are half asleep,
[40:32] Speaker 1: and closing feels like walking uphill in molasses. That night
[40:36] Speaker 1: it was just me. I was covering for Marcus, who
[40:39] Speaker 1: called out sick. No big deal. I've worked Applebee's long
[40:44] Speaker 1: enough to know how to close solo. The last table
[40:46] Speaker 1: left around 11.15 p.m. two older ladies who split a
[40:50] Speaker 1: margarita and tipped me in quarters. I didn't complain. I
[40:55] Speaker 1: just wiped down the bar, stacked glasses, and started counting
[40:58] Speaker 1: the till. I remember tucking my purse under the bar,
[41:02] Speaker 1: same spot every shift. It's wedged in near the mini-fridge,
[41:05] Speaker 1: hidden enough where guests can't see. Inside was my wallet,
[41:09] Speaker 1: some cash, and my ID badge for clinicals. I'm a
[41:12] Speaker 1: nurse in training at Valencia College, and every dollar counts.
[41:16] Speaker 1: I've got loans climbing faster than I can mop sticky floors.
[41:20] Speaker 1: I closed out the register, locked the front doors, and
[41:23] Speaker 1: went to grab my bag. That's when I realized my
[41:25] Speaker 1: wallet was gone. I checked the locker, the break room,
[41:30] Speaker 1: even behind the microwave. Nothing. I wasn't panicked at first.
[41:35] Speaker 1: I thought maybe I was just tired or clumsy. But
[41:39] Speaker 1: my gut? It said otherwise. I texted Danny, who usually
[41:44] Speaker 1: closed with me. You touched my stuff last shift. She replied,
[41:50] Speaker 1: Nah girl, I don't even open that fridge unless I'm
[41:52] Speaker 1: dying of thirst. The feeling of being watched crawled over me,
[41:57] Speaker 1: but I didn't see anyone outside. I double-checked all doors.
[42:01] Speaker 1: Still locked. The place was silent. I stood by the bar,
[42:06] Speaker 1: staring at the fridge door, wondering if I was losing it.
[42:10] Speaker 1: Then my phone buzzed. The screen lit up with a
[42:13] Speaker 1: number I didn't know. I almost ignored it. Then, curiosity won.
[42:19] Speaker 1: Want your wallet back? $ 200. Come alone. No cops. Attached
[42:25] Speaker 1: was a photo. It was my ID. On the bar countertop.
[42:29] Speaker 1: Taken inside the restaurant. From the angle of the shot,
[42:33] Speaker 1: it looked like whoever took the photo had been standing
[42:35] Speaker 1: right where I was standing minutes ago. My heart dropped.
[42:40] Speaker 1: This wasn't some prank. Someone had been in there. Or maybe...
[42:45] Speaker 1: Still was. I grabbed a flashlight from the hostess stand
[42:49] Speaker 1: and backed into the office, locking the door behind me.
[42:52] Speaker 1: I dialed Danny and put her on speaker. What? What happened?
[42:56] Speaker 1: She asked, voice instantly alert. I read her the message.
[43:01] Speaker 1: She swore, told me to call the cops, but I couldn't.
[43:04] Speaker 1: Something in me, a mix of pride and adrenaline, told
[43:08] Speaker 1: me this wasn't just about the money. I felt like
[43:10] Speaker 1: I was being tested. Watched. Then came the second message.
[43:15] Speaker 1: Ping sent. Eight minute walk. Red van. Come alone. A
[43:20] Speaker 1: GPS link loaded. An abandoned parking lot behind an old
[43:24] Speaker 1: tire shop. Two blocks east. I should have called 911. Instead,
[43:29] Speaker 1: I told Danny. Stay on the line. I'll be quick. Vanessa,
[43:34] Speaker 1: don't you dare. Wait for someone. This isn't worth it.
[43:37] Speaker 1: But I was already grabbing my hoodie and heading out
[43:39] Speaker 1: the side door. Flashlight in one hand. Pepper spray clipped
[43:43] Speaker 1: to my pocket. The lot looked exactly like the kind
[43:46] Speaker 1: of place you'd warn your kid never to walk into.
[43:49] Speaker 1: Cracked pavement, broken lights, a rusted chain fence barely keeping
[43:54] Speaker 1: out the overgrowth. I saw the red van before I
[43:57] Speaker 1: got there, parked at an angle. Old, dented, half covered
[44:01] Speaker 1: in pine needles. My chest thumped harder with every step.
[44:05] Speaker 1: Another message pinged, behind the red van. No punctuation, no flare,
[44:10] Speaker 1: just cold, flat words. Danny, I see the van. I'm walking,
[44:16] Speaker 1: I whispered. Vanessa, don't do this, she begged. As I
[44:20] Speaker 1: rounded the back corner, I looked down the row of cars. Empty.
[44:25] Speaker 1: No movement. But the van's door was open slightly. Ajar
[44:28] Speaker 1: just enough. And then I heard it. An engine. A
[44:32] Speaker 1: second car pulled into the lot. Fast. No headlights. Tinted windows.
[44:38] Speaker 1: It stopped behind me. Doors clicked open. My breath caught.
[44:42] Speaker 1: I bolted. Footsteps chased me. I dropped my flashlight. My
[44:46] Speaker 1: pepper spray flew out of my pocket. Panic swallowed me.
[44:49] Speaker 1: Danny was screaming, but I barely heard her. A man's
[44:52] Speaker 1: voice called out low. You shouldn't run. Another figure stepped out.
[44:57] Speaker 1: Gloved hands, hoodie pulled tight. I caught a gleam in
[45:00] Speaker 1: his hand. Something metal. I didn't wait to see what
[45:04] Speaker 1: it was. The main road felt like miles away, but
[45:07] Speaker 1: I ran like something primal had taken over. I cut
[45:10] Speaker 1: through bushes. scraped my arm on a chain link fence
[45:13] Speaker 1: and almost slipped in the wet grass. Just as I
[45:16] Speaker 1: hit the sidewalk, headlights blinded me. A city bus. I
[45:21] Speaker 1: waved both arms, shouting. The driver slowed, clearly unsure if
[45:26] Speaker 1: I was a threat or not. The doors hissed open. Please,
[45:30] Speaker 1: I begged breathless. Please let me on. He nodded me inside.
[45:36] Speaker 1: I turned back just in time to see the black
[45:38] Speaker 1: car make a wide U-turn and disappear into the next block.
[45:42] Speaker 1: I collapsed into the first seat, heart pounding, eyes stinging.
[45:46] Speaker 1: Danny was still on the line. You alive? Barely, I whispered.
[45:51] Speaker 1: I think I was about to be robbed, or worse.
[45:55] Speaker 1: I didn't sleep that night. Every car engine I heard
[45:58] Speaker 1: outside made my skin crawl. The next morning, I arrived
[46:02] Speaker 1: at Applebee's early to open. The manager beat me there
[46:05] Speaker 1: and pointed to the back door. There was something slid
[46:08] Speaker 1: under it, he said confused. It was my wallet. What?
[46:11] Speaker 1: No cash, but every card, every receipt, even my sticky
[46:15] Speaker 1: note that said, remember to breathe was untouched. Police took
[46:20] Speaker 1: a report, said the area had been hit by a
[46:22] Speaker 1: few late night crimes. Follow the worker patterns. Someone watches,
[46:27] Speaker 1: waits and strikes once you're alone. I switched to mornings
[46:31] Speaker 1: that week, changed my route home, bought a personal alarm
[46:34] Speaker 1: and stopped leaving my purse in the open. But I
[46:37] Speaker 1: still think about that night, about the photo, the voice.
[46:41] Speaker 1: That empty van. And how close I came to... I
[46:45] Speaker 1: don't even know. Now. I check every door twice. And
[46:50] Speaker 1: I don't answer texts from numbers I don't know. Ever again.
[46:54] Speaker 1: Sometimes the trap isn't baited with greed. It's baited with
[46:58] Speaker 1: your routine. Don't assume you're safe just because you're familiar
[47:02] Speaker 1: with your surroundings. Predators watch patterns. Break yours before someone
[47:07] Speaker 1: else does. I joined Applebee's for the routine. After 11
[47:14] Speaker 1: years in the military, I wanted quiet, structured, low pressure.
[47:19] Speaker 1: The job fit. I closed most shifts solo, locked up
[47:23] Speaker 1: past midnight, and walked through empty parking lots under distant streetlights.
[47:27] Speaker 1: It was predictable and safe. Or so I thought. Sand
[47:32] Speaker 1: Hollow Road is lined with shuttered stores and strip malls
[47:35] Speaker 1: after dark. You almost forget people live here until someone
[47:38] Speaker 1: walks in with purpose. That Thursday started like any other.
[47:43] Speaker 1: I cashed out the younger crew, double-checked the beer cooler,
[47:46] Speaker 1: and dimmed the lights by 11.50 p.m. The silence settled
[47:50] Speaker 1: in easy. Then the door buzzer buzzed. I looked up.
[47:53] Speaker 1: A tall man in a long black coat stood by
[47:56] Speaker 1: the door. No hurry, no greeting. Just that odd stillness
[48:00] Speaker 1: in his stance. Table for one, I asked, keys jangling
[48:04] Speaker 1: in my hand. He nodded, sliding into table nine by
[48:08] Speaker 1: the window. I walked away, steroid cleaning near the bar,
[48:13] Speaker 1: ignoring the sense of being watched. He didn't order food,
[48:17] Speaker 1: just water. No cold brew, no menu, just a slow
[48:21] Speaker 1: sip here and there. I cleared nearby tables, counted empties,
[48:25] Speaker 1: kept glancing at him. He stared out at the lot,
[48:28] Speaker 1: face impassive, black eyes so deep they swallowed the whites.
[48:33] Speaker 1: We locked by midnight. So why was he still here
[48:36] Speaker 1: at 12.15? Sir, I said, wiping my hands on a towel.
[48:41] Speaker 1: We close in ten minutes. He didn't look at me.
[48:45] Speaker 1: Voice quiet, he said. I just need a seat. Been
[48:49] Speaker 1: walking a long time. A lie or the truth? I
[48:53] Speaker 1: couldn't tell. I thought about asking for ID, about telling
[48:57] Speaker 1: him we really were closing. But something in his tone
[49:00] Speaker 1: kept me from snapping. Okay, I said. But that's it.
[49:05] Speaker 1: He turned slowly. You know this place runs in loops, right? Huh?
[49:10] Speaker 1: Excuse me? The only movement he made was adjusting the glass.
[49:14] Speaker 1: The place resets when you leave. You notice but you
[49:17] Speaker 1: still step back in. I laughed. You sound like someone
[49:22] Speaker 1: who reads too much philosophy. His reply was a nod.
[49:26] Speaker 1: He sat in silence after that. I forced myself to
[49:30] Speaker 1: focus on cleaning, but my eyes kept drifting. Then something clicked.
[49:35] Speaker 1: His voice. It rang a bell. Three nights ago. Midnight.
[49:41] Speaker 1: That voice. But I black out at close. I only
[49:45] Speaker 1: remember the alarm, not faces. Only lights swirling out. My
[49:49] Speaker 1: head hurt. Could I be imagining this? I poured another
[49:53] Speaker 1: pitcher in the kitchen just to distract myself. I returned
[49:57] Speaker 1: to the dining room, heart pounding. Table nine was empty,
[50:00] Speaker 1: the water glass gone. No coat, no man, nothing. I
[50:05] Speaker 1: locked eyes on the window by the door, first thought
[50:07] Speaker 1: he walked out. Then... He was there, facing the window, frozen.
[50:13] Speaker 1: Couldn't tell if it was him, or a reflection stretched
[50:16] Speaker 1: by glass. My phone buzzed in my pocket. Unknown number.
[50:21] Speaker 1: It resets when you notice it. My stomach sank. I
[50:25] Speaker 1: dropped the phone, heavy in my hand, and stared at
[50:27] Speaker 1: the booth. We locked doors. It's 1230. This isn't normal.
[50:34] Speaker 1: I looked up and nearly jumped out of my skin.
[50:36] Speaker 1: My reflection stared back at me from the glass. Same uniform,
[50:40] Speaker 1: same tired face. Except I wasn't behind the counter. I
[50:44] Speaker 1: was in the parking lot. My breath froze. Am I
[50:48] Speaker 1: seeing things? The lights above flickered. I stepped back, bumping
[50:53] Speaker 1: a table. The floor felt... wrong. Unstable, like wet cement.
[50:59] Speaker 1: I swallowed hard. The man was back at table nine,
[51:02] Speaker 1: coat on, head forward, water gone. A small smirk. You'll
[51:07] Speaker 1: forget again. He said softly. But I'll still be here.
[51:13] Speaker 1: My legs trembled. I backed into the hallway, hands pressed
[51:16] Speaker 1: to the cool tiles. I splashed water on my face
[51:20] Speaker 1: in the bathroom, gasping for sanity. When I looked up,
[51:23] Speaker 1: mirror empty. No water, no face, just a silent fluorescent hum.
[51:29] Speaker 1: I backed into the dining room again. He was there,
[51:32] Speaker 1: sipping water, unmoved, unhurried. I pulled my phone out. Tried
[51:38] Speaker 1: to find the unknown number. Nothing. No missed call. No trace.
[51:43] Speaker 1: I felt tears sting my eyes. Confusion worse than fear.
[51:47] Speaker 1: My mind was slipping. He spoke again. Look at the clock. 12.32 a.m.
[51:54] Speaker 1: I'll be here when you clock out every night, you'll remember,
[51:57] Speaker 1: then forget, and you'll come back. I closed early that night.
[52:01] Speaker 1: I printed my badge slip, left keys and badge on
[52:04] Speaker 1: the counter. and walked out at 12.45 with heart pounding.
[52:08] Speaker 1: I didn't look back at table 9, didn't stop at
[52:11] Speaker 1: the front desk. I haven't gone back since. I drive
[52:14] Speaker 1: by every Thursday still. The lights are on at 12.30 now.
[52:19] Speaker 1: Staff finishes by then. I watch the empty lot, the
[52:22] Speaker 1: strip mall. Pawn shop shutter angled in the neon glow.
[52:27] Speaker 1: Sometimes I see me, standing at the door, waiting. I
[52:31] Speaker 1: still check every reflection, windows, TV's, even spoons, around midnight.
[52:37] Speaker 1: I refuse assignments that put me on late shifts. Sometimes
[52:41] Speaker 1: nights feel broken, as though Midwestern time ceased here. But
[52:45] Speaker 1: the real lesson isn't about ghosts. It's about control. Sometimes
[52:51] Speaker 1: we're haunted by ourselves, the doubts we bury, the routines
[52:54] Speaker 1: we follow. Don't ignore the voices that echo after the
[52:58] Speaker 1: lights go out. Awareness is more than seeing. It's remembering
[53:03] Speaker 1: who you are, Every time you walk in, and every
[53:06] Speaker 1: time you walk out. People say Omaha's quiet. Safe, they
[53:14] Speaker 1: call it. The kind of place where you leave your
[53:17] Speaker 1: car unlocked and know your neighbors by name. And sure,
[53:20] Speaker 1: compared to the mess I left behind at school, the parties,
[53:23] Speaker 1: the noise, the chaos, this place felt calm. But quiet
[53:28] Speaker 1: doesn't mean safe. Sometimes quiet means no one's watching when
[53:32] Speaker 1: something goes wrong. I moved back home at 23, dropped
[53:36] Speaker 1: out two states away, broke, tired, and not ready to
[53:40] Speaker 1: explain to anyone what I'd really gone through. I told
[53:44] Speaker 1: my parents I just needed a fresh start, and they
[53:46] Speaker 1: believed me. To pay rent on the basement apartment I
[53:50] Speaker 1: found near Grover Street, I picked up night shifts at
[53:52] Speaker 1: the local Applebee's. Not my dream job, but it got
[53:56] Speaker 1: me through. I worked mostly closings, cleaning, inventory, locking up
[54:02] Speaker 1: past midnight, And yeah, I walked to the back employee
[54:05] Speaker 1: lot alone most nights. But it was only a short walk.
[54:10] Speaker 1: Omaha didn't scare me. At least not yet. I remember
[54:14] Speaker 1: the night it started because it was stupidly normal. Nothing dramatic.
[54:18] Speaker 1: The bar cleared out early. I stayed late helping Darnell
[54:21] Speaker 1: count liquor bottles because he hates doing it alone. We
[54:24] Speaker 1: laughed about a guy who ordered five orders of boneless
[54:27] Speaker 1: wings and tipped four bucks. Regular night. It was 1210
[54:32] Speaker 1: when I finally clocked out. The hallway behind the kitchen
[54:35] Speaker 1: opened into a dim alleyway. Always smelled like grease and
[54:39] Speaker 1: dumpster runoff. I remember thinking I should have just parked
[54:42] Speaker 1: on the street instead of in the back. That's when
[54:45] Speaker 1: I saw it. A black sedan, parked two spots from mine.
[54:49] Speaker 1: No lights. No engine. Just... sitting. I paused. Maybe someone
[54:56] Speaker 1: was waiting. Maybe it was just a rideshare. I mean,
[55:00] Speaker 1: it's a restaurant. People get picked up all the time.
[55:04] Speaker 1: But as I walked to my car and unlocked it,
[55:06] Speaker 1: the black sedan flashed its headlights once. Then again. Not long.
[55:11] Speaker 1: Not dramatic. But just enough to say, I see you.
[55:17] Speaker 1: I got in quick. Locked the doors. Started the engine
[55:20] Speaker 1: and pulled out. The car didn't move. Not until I
[55:23] Speaker 1: turned the corner. And then, there it was. In my
[55:28] Speaker 1: rear view. I didn't panic. Not yet. I told myself,
[55:33] Speaker 1: Maybe they just live that way. Maybe it's nothing. Don't spiral, Rachel.
[55:38] Speaker 1: But when I turned off onto 120th, not a main road,
[55:42] Speaker 1: not the direct way to anywhere, the headlights behind me followed.
[55:46] Speaker 1: Same speed, same distance, no pressure. I tried the roundabout,
[55:51] Speaker 1: took the long way through a residential loop full of
[55:53] Speaker 1: cul-de-sacs and speed bumps. The car stuck with me. Never
[55:57] Speaker 1: got close, never backed off. Just... Floated behind like a
[56:01] Speaker 1: shadow that knew exactly how far to stay without setting
[56:04] Speaker 1: off alarm bells. I pulled into a gas station two
[56:08] Speaker 1: blocks from my apartment. It was well lit with cameras
[56:11] Speaker 1: and a car wash bay. Felt safer than my dark
[56:14] Speaker 1: parking garage. I parked near the front, under the big
[56:18] Speaker 1: canopy lights, engine still running. That car. Pulled in too.
[56:24] Speaker 1: Not next to me. Across the lot. Shadowed corner. Far
[56:28] Speaker 1: enough to pretend like it wasn't weird. but close enough
[56:31] Speaker 1: I could see the shape of a man in the
[56:33] Speaker 1: driver's seat. He didn't get out. Just sat there. Lights on.
[56:38] Speaker 1: Engine humming. I called my brother. No answer. He worked
[56:42] Speaker 1: late shifts sometimes, so I figured I'd try again. My
[56:45] Speaker 1: phone buzzed right after. Unknown number. Didn't answer. Just stared
[56:49] Speaker 1: at the message preview. You left your lights on. Want
[56:53] Speaker 1: me to turn them off for you? My stomach turned
[56:56] Speaker 1: to stone. I looked up. My headlights were still on.
[57:00] Speaker 1: which meant whoever messaged me could see me right now.
[57:05] Speaker 1: I drove straight home. No stops. No turns. I didn't
[57:08] Speaker 1: even look in the mirror. Not because I wasn't scared,
[57:11] Speaker 1: but because I was terrified of what I might see
[57:13] Speaker 1: following me again. My apartment had a garage underneath. Low ceiling.
[57:18] Speaker 1: Barely three stalls wide. When I pulled in, I held
[57:21] Speaker 1: the door clicker so tight my thumb went numb. The
[57:24] Speaker 1: gate rattled closed behind me with a slow, chugging sound
[57:27] Speaker 1: like it didn't really want to help. I ran upstairs.
[57:30] Speaker 1: Two locks. Chain. I double-checked both. Then I paced. My
[57:35] Speaker 1: heart felt too fast for my chest. I called my
[57:38] Speaker 1: brother again. No answer. My hands were shaking so hard
[57:42] Speaker 1: I could barely type out a message. Ten minutes later,
[57:45] Speaker 1: knock at the door. I froze. Not hard. Just a
[57:48] Speaker 1: soft tap-tap, like someone was trying not to wake the neighbors.
[57:53] Speaker 1: I didn't move. Held my breath. Waited. Eventually, whoever it
[57:58] Speaker 1: was left. When the cops arrived, yes, I called them.
[58:02] Speaker 1: The car was gone. No trace in the alley. But
[58:05] Speaker 1: they did find something. A crumpled receipt tucked under my
[58:08] Speaker 1: windshield wiper. It was from Applebee's. From that night. On
[58:12] Speaker 1: the back, scribbled in pen, I liked your earrings. That
[58:16] Speaker 1: night I'd worn my little moon-shaped hoops. Small, subtle. Barely
[58:21] Speaker 1: peeked out from under my hair. No customers had mentioned them.
[58:25] Speaker 1: Which meant one thing. Whoever left that note worked there
[58:31] Speaker 1: I didn't sleep that night. I laid on my couch
[58:34] Speaker 1: with the TV volume low and every light in the
[58:36] Speaker 1: apartment on. When morning came, I called in, told Marcus
[58:41] Speaker 1: I couldn't come to work. He asked why, and I
[58:44] Speaker 1: told him the truth.

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