Let's Not Meet~ Reddit Horror Stories

My Dad Almost Sacrificed Himself For Me

"Shut up." I said, "What happened?"

"That fucker STABBED ME!"

So I dialed 911, and relayed our address and reason for emergency. Operator told us to keep applying pressure to the wound on my father's lower back. My dad is a true champ. Even though the sidewalk was just one big puddle of blood—gross—he stayed on his feet until someone thought to run and get him a chair.

I ran back and forth along the walkways to get the police and show them the house that George lived in. And then I ran back and forth to get the paramedics. They were so cold and so, so agonizingly slow. They walked calmly and I wanted to scream at them to RUN!! MY DAD COULD BE BLEEDING OUT! DON'T YOU CARE! (I learned later that they don't run because if they let adrenaline kick in, mistakes can happen.)

They shoved Caleb out of the way because he refused to let go of my dad's wound and got him packed into the ambulance. I was about to jump on when police stopped me and told me that I had to stay so I could give my statement. My dad shouted at me to call his boss, and I remembered all his allergies and whatnot for the paramedics. God, 2 years later and all these details have been burned into my brain.

I gave my statement to the police. Then they made me sit outside the complex on the sidewalk for 2-3 hours. They kept me updated on my dad. Once I had called his boss, my boss, and answered my stepmom's message, that's when I allowed myself to break down. It felt like I cried for forever. One of the cops was nice enough to go into my house and grab my cigarettes and a bottle of water for me. He stayed with me the entire time to make sure I didn't run off or something, but he was very nice. He offered to let me sit in his cruiser a few times to get away from the cold.

George was waiting in his apartment when they came. When they took him out to where I was (and there were 14 cop cars! 14!) he still kept trying to stare at me. I stared right back and felt such hatred that I have never in my life felt. I wanted to go over there and murder him. My babysitting cop looked over and saw that George was staring, so he used his flashlight to keep George from being able to look at me.

Once it was all over, I was allowed to go back to my house where I waited for information about my dad.

I gathered the story from my neighbors while he was in the hospital for 9 days. He had shouted at George to "leave his daughter alone", and George had shouted back at him while I was in the house, totally unaware. George said something along the lines of "come tell me that to my face like a man". So my dad hopped over the porch and waltzed up to him.

The creep had been waiting with a 12 inch blade held to the side of his leg. He struck out with his empty hand, and then got my dad in the back with the knife. It missed his kidney very, very narrowly. Traveled up and punctured his lung and damaged his diaphragm. My dad didn't realize he had been stabbed at first. He got George into a headlock and pummeled the shit out of him, thinking the dude had just punched him in the kidney. George dropped the knife, rolled in the grass, and picked up another knife he had been hiding and stabbed my dad again, this time in the upper back. This wound was much more shallow but still required stitches later.

At this point, Shell came outside and screamed to my dad that he was bleeding. He took off his shirt, got pissed, and threw it at George. At that point, the neighborhood stalker put his hands up and went into his apartment.

The blood stayed on the pavement until about noon the next day, when my neighbors kindly washed it off for me. I still have pictures in my email of it, as well as my dad's injuries. My dad spent more time in the hospital in critical condition than George spent being held in jail. I feel like it was my fault. I've been addressing that in therapy, but I still feel awful about it all like my dad had to fight my own battle for me.

Throughout the week while I was on my porch or just outside I had so many women come up to me. They all told me to thank my dad for them. They had all been terrorized by George at some point, and now they were certain he would be away for good. Several poor women had had George stalk them up to their apartment door and pull his pants down, demanding sex. I can't believe the cops "couldn't do anything".

One of those days one of my neighbors came up to me to tell me that the police (and neighbors) had searched the complex and found that George had stashed many knives all over the place. Buried in gardens, stuck behind trees, under his doormat. I shudder to think that he might have planned to one day grab one of his targets and do something far more sinister than stare.

George was declared guilty for battery with a deadly weapon, but the attempted murder charge was dropped. He was out of prison by Christmas on good behavior or whatever, but my dad and I have a lifelong restraining order against him. He has never tried to come after me, so I can only hope that he's terrified of my dad.

I wish I could tell you guys that I took self-defense classes and learned to fight the way my dad can, but I'm still a pussy who can't even slap a spider so... there's that. My dad is doing alright now. He's just had his third surgery on Tuesday trying to repair the damage done to him internally. We're hoping that this will be his last, and his quality of life will vastly improve. I probably owe my life to my dad. If he hadn't fought George for me, maybe I would have been the first victim George stabbed.

George? Let's not meet again.