Lindsay Cameron of Brooklyn, New York, shared this frightening personal experience with Pop Culture Tragic.
This past November I woke up at 5:03 in the morning and there was a man standing next to my bed.
I had just fallen asleep probably thirty minutes prior so when I opened my eyes and saw a man with a low blue led flashlight it took me a second.
Did I bring someone home? Am I drunk? Where am I?
I gasped and sat up really quickly.
The guy turned toward me slightly startled. But composed. He was very Still.
He stood there, I think waiting to see if I would react. Or how I would react.
This past November I woke up at 5:03 in the morning and there was a man standing next to my bed.
I had just fallen asleep probably thirty minutes prior so when I opened my eyes and saw a man with a low blue led flashlight it took me a second.
Did I bring someone home? Am I drunk? Where am I?
I gasped and sat up really quickly.
The guy turned toward me slightly startled. But composed. He was very Still.
He stood there, I think waiting to see if I would react. Or how I would react.
It was so quick and yet all happening in slow motion.
I just said. " what are you doing?!"
And just like that he turned and left.
I think it took me another 30 seconds of bewilderment.
I started saying " what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck" out loud to myself. I wasn't sure what just happened.
I turned the lights on and went to look down the hall. The front door was dead bolted.
Did I imagine it?
I live on the ground floor apt. My kitchen is on the back yard.
I texted an ex who lives near by and works late in the bar world and just said, " I think someone was just in my apt"
To which he responded with a call back and a what the hell are you talking about. I just said again, " I think someone was here, I mean, there was. I don't know. I'm freaking out"
I sat in my bedroom just sitting at the edge of my bed, holding my phone in my hands. Just kind of looking at it. And then at the hall. And then the phone. And then the hall.
I didn't get a weapon. I didn't close my bedroom door even.
I sat. With my hands on my lap.
My ex showed up in about ten minutes. He searched the yard and building. The kitchen window was propped open.
I did not leave the window propped open.
There were clear fingerprints on all my windows. He tried two of the four of the back windows before getting one open.
There was a very clear streak. Just like there would be if you are trying to push up a dirty dusty window.
The detectives were very happy. "These are great."
Pro tip: Don't clean the outside of your windows.
His prints were not in the system, though. He was a new criminal. I asked if they thought it was strange that he didn't wear gloves? I thought maybe the fingerprints were mine.
They said: "Criminals are stupid. They make mistakes. They get caught."
I guess that makes sense.
They seemed sure he was escalating and would be caught soon. There had been other burglaries in the neighborhood.
Through open fire escapes. And yards. They said it's likely he lives near by.
I've lived here ten years.
My mother screamed! You could have been Raped!! Or killed!!
Yes mother. I know.
The what ifs run through my mind.
What if I had been sleeping naked passed out drunk sprawled on the bed?
That's a pretty typical Ending of a night.
What if the guy I was seeing was there and reacted more aggressively?
What if he had a weapon and used it?
What if I jumped up in the dark and scared him?
What if he had spoken to me?
I'm really glad he never said anything.
Two months later he was arrested in another precinct with two other guys for another burglary. With a gun.
I haven't gotten his name yet. Or his age or background. Or how long he is gonna serve.
He's a new criminal.
A small petty criminal.
No one has gotten hurt, yet.
I wonder if prison will change him. I wonder if I ever walked past him on the street.
I actually never had trouble falling asleep afterwards. I kept the lights on though. I still like to keep the lights on.
As a woman who lives alone it's always a fear in the back of your mind that someone would break in. That your sanctuary could be violated.
It's strange how your brain reacts when you are in it.
It's surreal. Fight or flight.
I just blanked.
My aunt was murdered two summers ago by her boyfriend whom she was going to leave.
He strangled her with a telephone cord.
In Florida of all places.
He called her best friend in Maryland right after it happened and said he killed her. The friend called the cops and he was caught pretty quickly. His name is burned into my brain.
I think the fascination with murder. And with the victims who do survive. And with all the fucked in between, for me, it's the same reason why I always cry when I watch movies on a plane. Whether it's national geographic or the latest Kate Hudson rom com.
It's actually feeling how small you really are.
It's the fragility of life.
And at any moment...
Stay safe out there. Don't get murdered.
Lindsay Cameron moved to New York in 2001 for college and has been there, in the now very "hip" Williamsburg, Brooklyn, for ten years bartending. She grew up in the suburbs of Baltimore which are so much scarier.
Have you had a scary experience you'd like to share with us? You could see it right here!
I just said. " what are you doing?!"
And just like that he turned and left.
I think it took me another 30 seconds of bewilderment.
I started saying " what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck" out loud to myself. I wasn't sure what just happened.
I turned the lights on and went to look down the hall. The front door was dead bolted.
Did I imagine it?
I live on the ground floor apt. My kitchen is on the back yard.
I texted an ex who lives near by and works late in the bar world and just said, " I think someone was just in my apt"
To which he responded with a call back and a what the hell are you talking about. I just said again, " I think someone was here, I mean, there was. I don't know. I'm freaking out"
I sat in my bedroom just sitting at the edge of my bed, holding my phone in my hands. Just kind of looking at it. And then at the hall. And then the phone. And then the hall.
I didn't get a weapon. I didn't close my bedroom door even.
I sat. With my hands on my lap.
My ex showed up in about ten minutes. He searched the yard and building. The kitchen window was propped open.
I did not leave the window propped open.
There were clear fingerprints on all my windows. He tried two of the four of the back windows before getting one open.
There was a very clear streak. Just like there would be if you are trying to push up a dirty dusty window.
The detectives were very happy. "These are great."
Pro tip: Don't clean the outside of your windows.
His prints were not in the system, though. He was a new criminal. I asked if they thought it was strange that he didn't wear gloves? I thought maybe the fingerprints were mine.
They said: "Criminals are stupid. They make mistakes. They get caught."
I guess that makes sense.
They seemed sure he was escalating and would be caught soon. There had been other burglaries in the neighborhood.
Through open fire escapes. And yards. They said it's likely he lives near by.
I've lived here ten years.
My mother screamed! You could have been Raped!! Or killed!!
Yes mother. I know.
The what ifs run through my mind.
What if I had been sleeping naked passed out drunk sprawled on the bed?
That's a pretty typical Ending of a night.
What if the guy I was seeing was there and reacted more aggressively?
What if he had a weapon and used it?
What if I jumped up in the dark and scared him?
What if he had spoken to me?
I'm really glad he never said anything.
Two months later he was arrested in another precinct with two other guys for another burglary. With a gun.
I haven't gotten his name yet. Or his age or background. Or how long he is gonna serve.
He's a new criminal.
A small petty criminal.
No one has gotten hurt, yet.
I wonder if prison will change him. I wonder if I ever walked past him on the street.
I actually never had trouble falling asleep afterwards. I kept the lights on though. I still like to keep the lights on.
As a woman who lives alone it's always a fear in the back of your mind that someone would break in. That your sanctuary could be violated.
It's strange how your brain reacts when you are in it.
It's surreal. Fight or flight.
I just blanked.
My aunt was murdered two summers ago by her boyfriend whom she was going to leave.
He strangled her with a telephone cord.
In Florida of all places.
He called her best friend in Maryland right after it happened and said he killed her. The friend called the cops and he was caught pretty quickly. His name is burned into my brain.
I think the fascination with murder. And with the victims who do survive. And with all the fucked in between, for me, it's the same reason why I always cry when I watch movies on a plane. Whether it's national geographic or the latest Kate Hudson rom com.
It's actually feeling how small you really are.
It's the fragility of life.
And at any moment...
Stay safe out there. Don't get murdered.
Lindsay Cameron moved to New York in 2001 for college and has been there, in the now very "hip" Williamsburg, Brooklyn, for ten years bartending. She grew up in the suburbs of Baltimore which are so much scarier.
Have you had a scary experience you'd like to share with us? You could see it right here!
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