You’re Next
It was in high school, and we’d been dating for about three months. When I ended things, I tried taking her to a public place so she couldn’t make a scene. However, I made the mistake of driving her there. She sensed it coming, and wouldn’t get out of the car.
We talked it through, she cried, begged, and did everything she could to deny it was over. I’d been on both ends of breakups before, and I knew pretty well how to handle them. And yet, it became painfully obvious I wasn’t going to accomplish anything.
I drove her to her home and tried rationally to convince her it was over. She continued to argue and plead, and after perhaps 30 minutes in her driveway, I lost it and began yelling for her to get out of the car. That just made it worse. She locked the door, refastened her seat belt, and stayed put.
After another 10 minutes of sheer yelling at the top of my lungs, she finally caved and left. A few days and quite a bit of gossip later, I opened my locker to find a marble notebook inside. I opened the notebook to find essentially a diary, except that every entry is written to me.
There was a note imploring me to read everything so that I would “understand.” It was full of weird, borderline psychotic writing…until it got to the end. In the end, there were a few entries that had been hastily written to make it look as though she had come to terms with everything.
There were a few other things, but the craziest was when she came to my neighborhood at night to leave a couple of potatoes on my car drawn to look like people. They were smashed, and there was a note saying, “You’re next.” But that’s the gist of it. Story credit: Reddit / Dr_ChimRichalds