What’s the Most Shocking Announcement Your School Ever Made?

There was no going out with friends unless they knew exactly where I was. I had to text them every hour.

It sucked, but I understood why. The security cameras at home picked up someone in our yard twice that week.

It was too dark to see clearly, but the build looked right. Then Britney from my support group came to me with something scary.

She said a new guy had joined their online trauma forum. He called himself “Survivor No More.”

His story sounded exactly like Alvin’s: abusive dad, running away, girlfriend who betrayed him. But in his version, the girlfriend was the villain who ruined his life for no reason.

Mapping the Obsession

He was getting lots of sympathy from other members who didn’t know the real story. Some were even offering to help him get justice.

Britney had screenshotted everything before blocking him. I took it all to the detective again.

He said they were taking it seriously. Now this was escalating from a violation of probation to potential stalking charges.

They were working with other departments to track him down. His dad was still in prison, so at least we didn’t have to worry about both of them.

But Alvin had learned a lot from his dad about how to intimidate people. He knew how to make them feel watched and unsafe without technically doing anything illegal—until showing up at school, anyway.

My counselor suggested I write him a letter, not to send, just to get my feelings out. I wrote ten pages about how betrayed I felt.

I wrote about how he turned his pain into my pain. I wrote about how I’d loved him and wanted to help him, but he’d made that impossible.

I burned it in the backyard fire pit and watched the smoke rise up and disappear. It felt good, like releasing something heavy I’d been carrying.

Mom made hot chocolate and we sat outside until the fire died down. The next Monday, Cameron messaged me again, this time with a photo from inside the treatment facility.

It showed Alvin’s room with maps on the wall. There were red circles around my house, my school, and places I went regularly.

He circled the coffee shop where I studied, the park where I jogged, and the movie theater where I worked weekends. Cameron said they’d found it after Alvin left and reported it to staff.

But by then he was already gone. The facility had dropped the ball big time, not watching him closer.

That’s when my parents made the decision. We were staying with my aunt in the next state until they caught him.

I didn’t want to run away like some scared little kid. But the maps changed everything.

He’d been planning this for who knows how long, studying my routines. I packed a bag and we left that night.

I told the school I had a family emergency. Only my closest friends knew the truth.

The support group would have to manage without me for a while. My aunt lived in a gated community with security guards and cameras everywhere.

It felt like overkill, but also kind of safe. I did my schoolwork online and video called into support group meetings.

Life felt weirdly normal and completely wrong at the same time. It was like I was in witness protection or something.

Every time a car drove by too slow or someone looked at me too long at the grocery store, my heart would race. I hated that he’d made me so paranoid.

Two weeks into our stay, the detective called with news. They’d caught him.

He was sleeping in his truck in a parking garage one town over from mine. He had a notebook full of my schedule and photos of me he’d taken with a long-lens camera.

There were hundreds of them. There were photos of me at school, at work, and even through my bedroom window.

They also found a knife and rope in his truck. He said they were for camping, but nobody believed that.

He was being held without bail. We went home the next day, but things felt different.

The house didn’t feel as safe anymore. I kept checking the locks and looking out windows.

My parents understood. Dad installed an alarm system to go with the cameras.

Mom signed me up for self-defense classes. This wasn’t because we thought Alvin would get out, but because feeling prepared helped with the fear.

The instructor said I was a natural. Turns out all that anger had to go somewhere.

The new charges were serious: stalking, violation of probation, and possession of weapons. His lawyer tried to play the abuse card again, but the judge wasn’t having it.

He said Alvin had been given a second chance and thrown it away. The photos especially creeped everyone out.

Some were from before he ran away the first time. He’d been watching me for months without me knowing, following me around town and learning my patterns.

The detective said it was one of the worst stalking cases he’d seen. This time I didn’t go to court.

My victim impact statement was read by the prosecutor instead. I wrote about how he’d stolen my sense of safety.