A few months ago, a man moved into the house across from mine. On the very first day, I noticed something strange: he set up a telescope by his window — and it was pointed directly at my bedroom.

A few days later, he knocked on my door and introduced himself. But instead of a polite greeting, the first thing he said was: “You’re worth going to jail for.”
My blood froze. I immediately slammed the door shut, but he just stood there, persistent, until I opened the door again just to warn him never to step inside. He stared at me, smiled, and walked away — without saying another word.

When I ran upstairs, the telescope was still pointed at my room. I tried to wash off the fear in the shower, but I couldn’t sleep at all that night. Every sound made me shudder.

The next morning, I went to the police. I explained everything, hoping they would take me seriously. But instead, they said things like, “Are you sure you’re not imagining this?” and “Owning a telescope isn’t illegal.” Even that chilling comment of his was dismissed as “just a tasteless joke.”
I went home completely disheartened.

A few days later, things got worse. One night while I was changing clothes, I saw his shadow behind the telescope again — only this time, he wasn’t just watching. He was doing something to himself.
When I looked directly at him, he didn’t stop. If anything, he seemed more excited. I ran to the bathroom and dry-heaved. I didn’t sleep a wink that night.

The next morning, I went to the police again, dark circles under my eyes from lack of sleep. I told them everything, including how my ex had stalked me before, hoping they’d understand the danger. But all they said was, “If you’re that worried, maybe you should move,” or “Just buy some heavier curtains.”

That’s when I realized: if I didn’t protect myself, no one would.

Then he started leaving gifts at my door — flowers, chocolates, even a book I had once mentioned at a café.
Eventually, he brought them in person and asked me out. I kept saying no, but things spiraled. One time, he handed me a small white box and said proudly, “I found these two together, so I kept them together forever.”
Inside were two frogs sewn together. I felt sick and had to rush to the bathroom to throw up.

But he didn’t stop. He kept watching through the telescope, kept knocking on my door, kept leaving gifts.
I decided to act. I made a plan to pretend to befriend him so I could gather evidence. One day, when my brother was visiting, I invited Joseph (that’s his name) over for coffee — just in case something happened.
When he stepped inside and said, “Your bedroom looks even better up close,” I knew for sure he’d been watching me.

The next week, he invited me over to his apartment to watch a movie. When he picked Silence of the Lambs as the first film, I felt a deep sense of dread.
During the movie, he kept glancing at me with empty eyes, like he wanted to consume me. And the strangest part: he never let me into his bedroom. The door was always locked.

One time, I pretended I needed to use the bathroom and tried to go in, but he grabbed my arm and squeezed it tightly. I was terrified. He laughed it off, saying the toilet was broken.

I knew: that room held a secret. And I had to get inside.

That night, I brought wine. During the movie, I secretly slipped a sleeping pill into his glass.
He started saying vulgar things, trying to touch me. But eventually, he passed out. My heart pounded as I opened his wallet and found the key to the locked bedroom.

My hands trembled as I unlocked the door. What I saw inside made my blood run cold: the entire room was a horrifying shrine — to me.
Hundreds of photos taken without my knowledge: at cafés, on the street, in my apartment. Even missing personal items. There were pictures of me sleeping.

I took photos of everything, then quietly left.

The next day, I brought the evidence to the police. This time, they couldn’t ignore me.
One of the officers who had previously dismissed my concerns looked down and said, “We failed to protect you. Thank you for your courage.”

Joseph was arrested that day. Turns out, he had a prior record of stalking an ex-girlfriend.
As he was handcuffed and taken away, he looked at me like I had betrayed him. But all I felt was relief.