As soon as I got home, my neighbor suddenly said, “There’s a man screaming in your house every day, he’s driving everyone crazy.” But how is that possible if I live alone? 😱😨
The next day, I decided not to go to work and hid under my bed. And at exactly 11:20, a strange man opened the door with his key—and what he did horrified me. 🫣
As soon as I got home, my neighbor suddenly said, “There’s a man screaming in your house every day, he’s driving everyone crazy.” But how is that possible if I live alone?
When I returned home that afternoon, my neighbor was already waiting for me at the door.
“It’s too noisy in your house during the day,” she said. “There’s a man screaming.”
I was taken aback.
“That’s impossible,” I replied. “No one’s here during the day. I live alone and am always at work.”
She shook her head sharply. “I’ve heard it more than once. Around noon. A man’s voice. I even knocked, but no one answered.”
I tried to smile and said I must have left the TV on. She left, but her words stuck in my head.
When I entered the house, I immediately felt uneasy. I walked through the rooms—everything was in its place, the doors and windows were closed, nothing was missing, no trace of anything. My mind kept telling me everything was fine, but something inside me was clenching.
That night, I barely slept.
In the morning, I made a decision. I called work and said I was sick. At 7:45, I left the house so the neighbors could see me, started the car, drove a few meters, then returned, turned off the engine, and quietly entered through the side door. In the bedroom, I quickly crawled under the bed and pulled the covers up, trying to hide completely.
Time dragged on endlessly. I was beginning to doubt my own sanity when, around 11:20, I heard the front door open.
Footsteps walked down the hallway, calm and familiar, as if they knew this house. Shoes scraped lightly on the floor—the rhythm was strangely familiar.
Footsteps entered the bedroom.
As soon as I returned home, my neighbor suddenly said, “Some man screams in your house every day; he’s driving everyone crazy.” But how could that be, when I live alone?
And then I heard a man’s voice—low, irritated:
“You’ve scattered everything again…”
He said my name.
That voice was all too familiar. And I was horrified, realizing who this mysterious stranger was. 😨😱 Continued in the first comment 👇👇
I learned the truth later, after it was all over.
My landlord came to my house every time I left for work. He had his own keys. He knew my schedule: what time I left, what time I returned. I told him about it myself—casually, out of habit, without thinking.
He didn’t come to steal anything. He didn’t break anything or look for valuables. He simply lived there.
He took off his shoes in the hallway, just like he did at home. He sat on the couch, turned on the TV, ate food from my refrigerator, used the bathroom, and sometimes lay down on my bed.
He knew where everything was because he’d once arranged this furniture and chosen this apartment “for rent.” For him, it remained his territory.
As soon as I returned home, my neighbor suddenly said, “Some man screams in your building every day; he’s had enough of everyone.” But how could that be if I lived alone?
He felt entitled.
Sometimes he talked out loud. He commented on the mess, my habits, the clothes I left on the chair. He was irritated that I “didn’t take care of the apartment properly.” The neighbors heard his voice—that’s why they complained.
He knew my name. He knew my habits. He knew I wouldn’t be back until evening.
He didn’t expect me to hear him first.
When the police took him away, he was genuinely surprised. He said he didn’t see anything wrong with it. After all, it was his apartment. The keys were his. And he was just checking to make sure “everything was okay.”
Since then, I’ve never rented a place without changing the locks on the first day.
