u/Sea_Illustrator5310

After having been single for the first three years of college, I wanted to dip my toes in the dating scene. I installed Tinder and swiped right until my thumb turned purple.

Excitedly, I got a match fairly quickly. Her name was Bella. She was a petite, 21 year old woman with sandy blonde hair and dimples that made me melt on the spot. According to her profile, she went to the same university as me and she was a junior in college.

After some back and forth between the two of us, she surprisingly invited me to a party in the wealthier part of town. She said she knew some friends who were going to be throwing an absolute thrasher and wanted to bring a date.

I agreed immediately.

We chatted some more and I agreed to pick her up at 10pm. The plans were set. Beaming, I threw my phone on my bed and fist pumped the air.

That was far easier than I could have imagined.

Later that night, I picked her up. I fully expected her to be a catfish but lo and behold, as I approached her address, she was already standing on the curb, smiling and waving excitedly. She was wearing a beautiful sweater and stylish pants that fit her curves well. 

If I’m honest, the outfit she wore kind of made her look older than I initially pictured, almost like a soccer mom, but that’s neither here nor there. She got in my car and we headed toward the party.

As my car rolled up to the address of the party, my jaw dropped in awe. The house was massive and had the appearance of a souped-up grandiose mansion. I asked Bella if this was actually the house and she nodded emphatically. 

On the way to the door, I was in shock at how fancy the yard and exterior was. It truly looked like an establishment owned by a multimillionaire. Strangely, though, there were only a handful of other cars parked in front of the house, despite the loud volume indicating there were far more people inside.

As we got closer to the house, my estimates were right. In the windows, I could see probably over a hundred people dancing and partying inside, while music emanated from the interior. 

As soon as Bella and I came in through the door, however, it felt like everyone in the house froze for a brief second. I’m not exaggerating when I say it looked like every single pair of eyes in that house were on Bella and I just for a moment. Then, as if I had imagined it all, the party resumed and everyone continued dancing as if nothing had happened at all.

I noticed immediately that something wasn’t right, however. These people, who I assumed to be college students, all looked to be in their late 30’s to 40’s. I couldn’t tell if there was a single college student in sight. Much like Bella, they were all dressed as if they were all attending a book club instead of a late-night weekend thrasher.

When I whispered my observation to Bella, she just brushed it off immediately, saying they were probably just all upperclassmen. I suppose she had a point and we made our way to the drinks to loosen up.

As I approached the drinking station, I turned around and realized Bella was nowhere in sight. I texted her asking where she was while I took my first sip of spiked fruit punch. 

While I was standing there, I could have sworn I kept catching people staring in my direction in my periphery, but they shifted their eyes as soon as I turned my head.

I was starting to get seriously disturbed and a knot formed in my stomach as I waded through the crowd trying to look for Bella. 

Eventually, I made my way near the back of the house and found a hallway that wasn’t occupied with clumps of people.

Walking down the hall, I read BATHROOM on a sign and followed it. “Great, just the breath of air I need,” I muttered to myself.

I sat on the sink replaying the oddities of the party in my head when I heard a knock at the door. I yelled “Occupied,” but the guy on the other side of the door insisted he had to use the bathroom. I reluctantly opened the door and to my surprise, the guy was the first person who actually looked like a college student. 

He was young, tall, and was actually dressed like the people I’d been accustomed to seeing across campus during my time at college.

Before he could close the door to the bathroom, I stopped him and asked if he picked up on the strange vibe at the party as well. 

He smirked for a second before leaning in and dropping his voice to an almost imperceptible whisper:

“Take a look around. Do these people really look like college students to you?”

I let out a sigh of relief, as if my concerns had finally been recognized by another person. Before I could say anything, he kept whispering:

“You came here with a girl, right? How old did she say she was?”

Confused as to how he knew I had a date, I said “I met this girl off of Tinder earlier today, she said she was 21.”

The guy laughed under his breath. “Typical. Well, if it isn’t obvious already, she isn’t who she says she is.” Then a pause, before he finally whispered once more:

“Hey man, do what you want, but if I were you, I’d say get out of here sooner rather than later.”

And with that, he shut the door before the hallway became dark and silent once again.

I had heard enough. I quickly made my way to the door, feeling everyone’s eyes on me like daggers. Just as I was about to leave, I heard my name being shouted by a person I could only guess to be Bella.

I didn’t stop to see.

I closed the door behind me and jogged back to my car. I peeled out and started driving back home. Something ate at me though.

On my way home, I drove back to the address I picked Bella up at. Curiously, as I pulled up, an older couple had just arrived home and they were walking to their door. I don’t know what possessed me to do this, but I rolled my window down and shouted a question I already knew the answer to:

"Excuse me sir, do you have a daughter named Bella?”

Confused, the older man made his way to my car with his wife, before telling me—to no surprise of my own—that he and his wife had no kids.

I asked them if they had ever seen a woman who matched the description of Bella, describing her appearance and outfit. 

To my surprise, they mentioned seeing a woman who matched that description identically, standing outside of their house waiting for a car almost weekly. They had just assumed she lived around the area and that was their designated meet-up point, given that their house was on a corner. 

After hearing that, I quietly thanked them and drove back home. No radio. Just silent with my own thoughts. 

I can’t help but think I avoided something potentially fatal, and if it weren’t for that young guy outside the bathroom, I’m not sure I’d be typing this story right now.

One thing is for certain: I’m never using Tinder again.

I awoke from my bad dream and knew instantly something was wrong.

I turned on the lights and sprinted to my son's room.

Strangely, there he was, sleeping peacefully in his cobalt blue sheets, under his fuzzy space blanket. In my dream, my son had been captured. Kidnapped straight out of my hands and gone like the wind.

It seemed I was wrong once again. My nightmares had become more and more visceral recently and I contemplated seeking help. It was the same dream every time:

My son would cry "daddy" and by the time I rushed into his room, he was gone. Just like that.

I groggily shuffled back to my room, disappointed that my mental state had gotten the best of me, when I heard a faint noise, almost imperceptible to the human ear.

I froze, realizing what it was instantly.

"Daddy," my son whispered.

Before my brain could process what was happening, my legs were moving in the direction of my son's room. I lunged inside and, to my relief, there he was. Sleeping peacefully once again.

My eyes snapped awake suddenly. That didn't make sense. If my son was in bed, then who made that sound?

Before I could react, I heard the faint plead of my son's voice yet again.

But standing in his room, I clocked immediately where the sound came from.

My eyes slowly drifted downward where they landed on the space below my son's bed.

I gasped softly when I realized what I was looking at.

My son, pale as a ghost, was crouched under his bed, trembling in fear. I bent down cautiously before listening to my son speak the last words I'd ever hear:

"Help me Daddy, someone's in my bed."

I awoke from my bad dream and knew instantly something was wrong.

I turned on the lights and sprinted to my son's room.

Strangely, there he was, sleeping peacefully in his cobalt blue sheets, under his fuzzy space blanket. In my dream, my son had been captured. Kidnapped straight out of my hands and gone like the wind.

It seemed I was wrong once again. My nightmares had become more and more visceral recently and I contemplated seeking help. It was the same dream every time:

My son would cry "daddy" and by the time I rushed into his room, he was gone. Just like that.

I groggily shuffled back to my room, disappointed that my mental state had gotten the best of me, when I heard a faint noise, almost imperceptible to the human ear.

I froze, realizing what it was instantly.

"Daddy," my son whispered.

Before my brain could process what was happening, my legs were moving in the direction of my son's room. I lunged inside and, to my relief, there he was. Sleeping peacefully once again.

My eyes snapped awake suddenly. That didn't make sense. If my son was in bed, then who made that sound?

Before I could react, I heard the faint plead of my son's voice yet again.

But standing in his room, I clocked immediately where the sound came from.

My eyes slowly drifted downward where they landed on the space below my son's bed.

I gasped softly when I realized what I was looking at.

My son, pale as a ghost, was crouched under his bed, trembling in fear. I bent down cautiously before listening to my son speak the last words I'd ever hear:

"Help me Daddy, someone's in my bed."

It had been a long day. After 8 hours of grueling work, I wanted nothing more than to sit on my sofa and enjoy a relaxing night watching TV.

Driving home, my head was clear and my focus was solely on getting back safely and in a timely manner. The missus was waiting for me.

Unfortunately, I wouldn’t be so lucky.

On the final stretch down a quiet wooded road, red and blue colors protruded the pitch black night sky. I sighed as I pulled over slowly, with the police closing in on my rickety old minivan. 

As the police approached, a bead of sweat dripped down my forehead. I had always been nervous around law enforcement, and being pulled over in the dead of night never meant anything good.

The officer introduced himself, and hit me with the cliche line: 

“Do you know how fast you were going?” before asking for my license and registration.

I put on my gentlest smile, and handed my information over and he stopped for a moment, peering suspiciously in my direction. He looked around, and with no cars in sight, asked me what I was doing out on this deserted road at this time of night.

I politely responded, concisely stating I was just heading home after a long day’s work. His eyes narrowed suspiciously and told me it wasn’t safe driving these roads this late. 

He leaned in, and with a concerned look on his face, told me that there was a recent report of a group of people faking gruesome injuries to get drivers to stop, and as soon as they exit their vehicle, they’d be attacked. Luckily, the man just barely got away, but not without a critical stabbing injury to his leg.

Bewildered, I thanked the officer and promised to keep an extra careful watch on the roads the rest of the way home. The officer smiled and told me he just had to run my plate, then I could be on my way.

I quickly responded, telling him to do whatever he needed to do, but I did mention that my wife and I would be taking our new boat out onto the lake this weekend, and since he was so nice, I invited him to tag along. 

With this, the officer responded with a goofy grin and told me how much he appreciated my offer. After that, he told me to just get on out of here and stay safe on the rest of my drive back.

He drove off without another word.

As the officer’s car faded into the distance, I let out a long sigh of relief.

I opened the center console, where a large hunting knife was stored, still dripping with crimson red blood. My right eye twitched in frustration as I thought back to how close I got to finishing the kill on the lucky man just hours before.

I finished driving three miles down the road before pulling off to the side once again and putting my car in park.

I made my way to the back of the car and opened the rear door, revealing the dead body of a woman covered in stab wounds.

She hadn’t been so lucky.

“One for two. Could have been worse,” I muttered, before disposing of the body in my pre-dug hole, 6 feet deep.

As I drove home in my new car, I couldn’t help but smile at how easy life had been after escaping the insane asylum just a week ago. 

It’s surprising how far a fake smile and good acting can take you.

It had been a long day. After 8 hours of grueling work, I wanted nothing more than to sit on my sofa and enjoy a relaxing night watching TV.

Driving home, my head was clear and my focus was solely on getting back safely and in a timely manner. The missus was waiting for me.

Unfortunately, I wouldn’t be so lucky.

On the final stretch down a quiet wooded road, red and blue colors protruded the pitch black night sky. I sighed as I pulled over slowly, with the police closing in on my rickety old minivan. 

As the police approached, a bead of sweat dripped down my forehead. I had always been nervous around law enforcement, and being pulled over in the dead of night never meant anything good.

The officer introduced himself, and hit me with the cliche line: 

“Do you know how fast you were going?” before asking for my license and registration.

I put on my gentlest smile, and handed my information over and he stopped for a moment, peering suspiciously in my direction. He looked around, and with no cars in sight, asked me what I was doing out on this deserted road at this time of night.

I politely responded, concisely stating I was just heading home after a long day’s work. His eyes narrowed suspiciously and told me it wasn’t safe driving these roads this late. 

He leaned in, and with a concerned look on his face, told me that there was a recent report of a group of people faking gruesome injuries to get drivers to stop, and as soon as they exit their vehicle, they’d be attacked. Luckily, the man just barely got away, but not without a critical stabbing injury to his leg.

Bewildered, I thanked the officer and promised to keep an extra careful watch on the roads the rest of the way home. The officer smiled and told me he just had to run my plate, then I could be on my way.

I quickly responded, telling him to do whatever he needed to do, but I did mention that my wife and I would be taking our new boat out onto the lake this weekend, and since he was so nice, I invited him to tag along. 

With this, the officer responded with a goofy grin and told me how much he appreciated my offer. After that, he told me to just get on out of here and stay safe on the rest of my drive back.

He drove off without another word.

As the officer’s car faded into the distance, I let out a long sigh of relief.

I opened the center console, where a large hunting knife was stored, still dripping with crimson red blood. My right eye twitched in frustration as I thought back to how close I got to finishing the kill on the lucky man just hours before.

I finished driving three miles down the road before pulling off to the side once again and putting my car in park.

I made my way to the back of the car and opened the rear door, revealing the dead body of a woman covered in stab wounds.

She hadn’t been so lucky.

“One for two. Could have been worse,” I muttered, before disposing of the body in my pre-dug hole, 6 feet deep.

As I drove home in my new car, I couldn’t help but smile at how easy life had been after escaping the insane asylum just a week ago. 

It’s surprising how far a fake smile and good acting can take you.

After having been single for the first three years of college, I wanted to dip my toes in the dating scene. I installed Tinder and swiped right until my thumb turned purple.

Excitedly, I got a match fairly quickly. Her name was Bella. She was a petite, 21 year old woman with sandy blonde hair and dimples that made me melt on the spot. According to her profile, she went to the same university as me and she was a junior in college.

After some back and forth between the two of us, she surprisingly invited me to a party in the wealthier part of town. She said she knew some friends who were going to be throwing an absolute thrasher and wanted to bring a date.

I agreed immediately.

We chatted some more and I agreed to pick her up at 10pm. The plans were set. Beaming, I threw my phone on my bed and fist pumped the air.

That was far easier than I could have imagined.

Later that night, I picked her up. I fully expected her to be a catfish but lo and behold, as I approached her address, she was already standing on the curb, smiling and waving excitedly. She was wearing a beautiful sweater and stylish pants that fit her curves well. 

If I’m honest, the outfit she wore kind of made her look older than I initially pictured, almost like a soccer mom, but that’s neither here nor there. She got in my car and we headed toward the party.

As my car rolled up to the address of the party, my jaw dropped in awe. The house was massive and had the appearance of a souped-up grandiose mansion. I asked Bella if this was actually the house and she nodded emphatically. 

On the way to the door, I was in shock at how fancy the yard and exterior was. It truly looked like an establishment owned by a multimillionaire. Strangely, though, there were only a handful of other cars parked in front of the house, despite the loud volume indicating there were far more people inside.

As we got closer to the house, my estimates were right. In the windows, I could see probably over a hundred people dancing and partying inside, while music emanated from the interior. 

As soon as Bella and I came in through the door, however, it felt like everyone in the house froze for a brief second. I’m not exaggerating when I say it looked like every single pair of eyes in that house were on Bella and I just for a moment. Then, as if I had imagined it all, the party resumed and everyone continued dancing as if nothing had happened at all.

I noticed immediately that something wasn’t right, however. These people, who I assumed to be college students, all looked to be in their late 30’s to 40’s. I couldn’t tell if there was a single college student in sight. Much like Bella, they were all dressed as if they were all attending a book club instead of a late-night weekend thrasher.

When I whispered my observation to Bella, she just brushed it off immediately, saying they were probably just all upperclassmen. I suppose she had a point and we made our way to the drinks to loosen up.

As I approached the drinking station, I turned around and realized Bella was nowhere in sight. I texted her asking where she was while I took my first sip of spiked fruit punch. 

While I was standing there, I could have sworn I kept catching people staring in my direction in my periphery, but they shifted their eyes as soon as I turned my head.

I was starting to get seriously disturbed and a knot formed in my stomach as I waded through the crowd trying to look for Bella. 

Eventually, I made my way near the back of the house and found a hallway that wasn’t occupied with clumps of people.

Walking down the hall, I read BATHROOM on a sign and followed it. “Great, just the breath of air I need,” I muttered to myself.

I sat on the sink replaying the oddities of the party in my head when I heard a knock at the door. I yelled “Occupied,” but the guy on the other side of the door insisted he had to use the bathroom. I reluctantly opened the door and to my surprise, the guy was the first person who actually looked like a college student. 

He was young, tall, and was actually dressed like the people I’d been accustomed to seeing across campus during my time at college.

Before he could close the door to the bathroom, I stopped him and asked if he picked up on the strange vibe at the party as well. 

He smirked for a second before leaning in and dropping his voice to an almost imperceptible whisper:

“Take a look around. Do these people really look like college students to you?”

I let out a sigh of relief, as if my concerns had finally been recognized by another person. Before I could say anything, he kept whispering:

“You came here with a girl, right? How old did she say she was?”

Confused as to how he knew I had a date, I said “I met this girl off of Tinder earlier today, she said she was 21.”

The guy laughed under his breath. “Typical. Well, if it isn’t obvious already, she isn’t who she says she is.” Then a pause, before he finally whispered once more:

“Hey man, do what you want, but if I were you, I’d say get out of here sooner rather than later.”

And with that, he shut the door before the hallway became dark and silent once again.

I had heard enough. I quickly made my way to the door, feeling everyone’s eyes on me like daggers. Just as I was about to leave, I heard my name being shouted by a person I could only guess to be Bella.

I didn’t stop to see.

I closed the door behind me and jogged back to my car. I peeled out and started driving back home. Something ate at me though.

On my way home, I drove back to the address I picked Bella up at. Curiously, as I pulled up, an older couple had just arrived home and they were walking to their door. I don’t know what possessed me to do this, but I rolled my window down and shouted a question I already knew the answer to:

"Excuse me sir, do you have a daughter named Bella?”

Confused, the older man made his way to my car with his wife, before telling me—to no surprise of my own—that he and his wife had no kids.

I asked them if they had ever seen a woman who matched the description of Bella, describing her appearance and outfit. 

To my surprise, they mentioned seeing a woman who matched that description identically, standing outside of their house waiting for a car almost weekly. They had just assumed she lived around the area and that was her designated meet-up point, given that their house was on a corner. 

After hearing that, I quietly thanked them and drove back home. No radio. Just silent with my own thoughts. 

I can’t help but think I avoided something potentially fatal, and if it weren’t for that young guy outside the bathroom, I’m not sure I’d be typing this story right now.

One thing is for certain: I’m never using Tinder again.