Evan seemed like the perfect guy when we first met. He was charming, kind, and had a golden retriever named Buddy who quickly became my favorite part of visiting his apartment. His place was modern and tidy, but there was one thing that always stood out—a locked room at the end of the hallway. At first, I didn’t think much of it, but Buddy’s strange behavior around the door made me curious. He would sniff, paw, and whine at it every time I stayed over.
One day, while Evan was in the shower, I couldn’t resist my curiosity. I walked over to the locked door and reached for the doorknob. Just as I touched it, Evan’s voice thundered from the bathroom, telling me to stay away. His reaction was sharp, but he quickly explained it was just a cluttered storage room. Still, something felt off.
Then, one Friday, Buddy’s behavior became even more urgent. I noticed the door wasn’t fully locked, and despite my hesitation, I decided to open it. What I found inside was horrifying. The room wasn’t filled with storage boxes—it was covered in photos of different women, some taken without their knowledge. And in the middle of it all was a picture of me, taken from across the street without my consent.
Before I could fully grasp what I was seeing, Evan appeared behind me, his calm voice sending shivers down my spine. “You weren’t supposed to see this,” he said. Terrified, I grabbed Buddy and ran out of the apartment, straight to my car. I blocked Evan’s number and reported everything to the police.
In the weeks that followed, I couldn’t stop thinking about Buddy. His instincts had warned me about something I couldn’t see, and in a way, he saved me. This experience taught me the importance of trusting my gut, setting boundaries, and paying attention to the subtle signs that are often easy to overlook.
