I’m not really sure how to feel about the events that have transpired over the past week. I suppose I feel some anger, but the two emotions that have been claiming dominance have been despair and fear. This situation has gotten too big for me to handle on my own, yet I have nowhere else to turn.
I met my former friend ten years ago, when I was a sophomore in high school. Her name was Melinda. She had transferred to my school that year, and she was very socially awkward. Her being in the grade below mine, the only class we shared was band, which was the last period of the day. A few weeks into the school year, I decided to befriend her. I had noticed her lack of friends, and I suppose I pitied her a little.
Melinda and I became fast friends, and for months I would regularly decline invitations from others in my group to spend time with her. I enjoyed spending time with her, even though she had continued in her shy state so far into our friendship. One day, seemingly without cause, she began to come out of her shell. I found that the reason she wore so many chunky bracelets was not because of a peculiar sense of fashion, but because she was hiding cuts and scars. I discovered that she was, in fact, emotionally unstable. Being the immature teenager that I was, I decided that her baggage was too much for me to handle. While I didn’t cut ties with Melinda completely, I put a considerable amount of distance between us, never spending time outside of a school sponsored setting.
I wasn’t a very good friend.
We continued in this state until I graduated high school. I had enlisted in the military, and I lost touch with many people I had been close with, including Melinda. I don’t think I even afforded her much more than a passing reminiscent thought during my first two years of service. My excuse for this that I made to myself was that I was far too busy. I had spent eight months in training alone, not to mention my new “important” responsibility of ensuring new student Marines were checked into the unit and that their personal and financial information was correct in MCTFS. I had no time for trivial friendships anymore.
I was a bad friend.
I should mention that throughout this time I kept the same phone number that I had when I left. My father, God bless him, was kind enough to continue paying my phone bill so that I could set money aside for when I found myself a husband and wanted to buy our first house. So I suppose it wasn’t a huge shock when Melinda’s name accompanied a text one day into my third year of my enlistment.
I’m bored
It was random and completely out of the blue. Amused, I sent a text back.
Was this meant for me?
And then nothing. I heard nothing from her for almost another year, shortly before the end of my enlistment. Then, another text came through.
Can we talk?
At that moment all of the guilt I should have been feeling for nearly five years hit me like a ton of bricks. I had abandoned this poor, lonely girl who had had such trouble making even a single friend when she was finally brave enough to confide in me what was probably her darkest secret.
I was a terrible friend.
But I decided to make it up to her. I called her, and in a rush it was like time had stood still in our relationship. We talked for hours, catching each other up on each others’ lives. She was on her last year of college, majoring in history. I had finally gotten a divorce from my husband who somehow managed to convince the monitor to grant him orders to Okinawa so he could be stationed with and bang my former Administration School roommate. Both of our spirits were up by the time our conversation wound down. We began to give our farewells when Melinda said
Please don’t forget me.
We quickly said goodbye after that, and after I hung up I cried. I can’t say for certain how long I cried, but the next thing I knew it was 5 o’clock in the morning. Worried that I would be late for the beginning of my last week at work, I got up in a hurry and ran the shower. As soon as I was finished, I grabbed my phone to put on some music to get ready to. What I was greeted by was a series of text messages that made my skin crawl.
1:23 am: Amy? Can we talk?
1:40 am: Please? It’s important.
1:51 am: Please call me.
1:52 am: Please call me.
1:53 am: Please call me.
1:54 am: Please call me.
1:55 am: PLEASE call me.
2:00 am: Don’t do this to me again.
2:05 am: I can’t take it if you’re going to ignore me again.
2:06 am: Don’t ignore me.
2:07 am: Don’t ignore me.
2:08 am: Don’t ignore me.
2:09 am: Don’t ignore me.
2:10 am: BITCH DON’T IGNORE ME!
2:20 am: The bracelets won’t cover what I’ve done now.
3:00 am: Haha! Gotcha! Just kidding! I’ll ttyl!
That afternoon I called my dad to let him know he could cancel my line. I told him that I wanted to be completely independent, and he told me that he was proud of me for being so mature. I felt guilty. I wasn’t mature at all. I just wanted to change my number so Melinda wouldn’t contact me anymore.
After changing my number I blocked her from all forms of social media. I wanted no part in her craziness. I had enough drama with my life in dealing with the aftermath of my divorce, and I just couldn’t carry anyone else’s baggage than my own.
Last week I was browsing my Facebook and doing what we all do from time to time when we’re bored: I looked up old friends to see how they were doing. I perused for some time until it was near time to go to bed. My husband and my 2-year-old son had been asleep for a few hours, and I figured it was time for me to do the same. Before I closed my browser, I saw something that caught my eye. It was the profile picture of an old high school friend of mine.
Melinda was in it.
I became morbidly curious, and ended up friending the old high school buddy. I just wanted to see what, if any, connection she had with Melinda. Honestly, I was surprised she had any friends at all! I didn’t expect a response until at least the next day, but I received a notification within minutes that they had accepted my friend request. A little snooping revealed that Melinda was in a romantic relationship with this woman, and from their pictures it looked like their life together was a very happy one.
I wanted to congratulate Melinda, but there was no way I was going to give her access to my phone number. So I unblocked her from Facebook. As I went to click on her profile, I got a message.
And another.
And another.
And another still.
And they all said the same thing.
Your son is beautiful.
I had to wait 24 hours before I could block her again, and the messages kept coming. I told my husband what was happening when he woke up the next morning, and there was no hesitation in calling the police. I made a report, and I was advised not to block her until they could find out where she was posting from (she had no personally identifiable information on her Facebook page to give them a clue as to how to contact her, and neither did her girlfriend).
A day later I was informed by the investigator that they had attempted to trace her IP address, and that there was some peculiar behavior going on with the messages. Each message was sent from the same account, but from different IP addresses. Stranger still, each IP address could be traced to different towns around the Midwest.
And the messaged came still. Though, according to the investigator, the pattern was becoming slightly disturbing. It seems as though the location of the messages are travelling from town to town, across the Midwest and closer to the eastern seaboard, which is the region I live in.
She knows I have a family. She knows I have a son. And all evidence is suggesting that she’s coming this way. While I have no impression that she’s ever hurt anyone before, she is scaring me to death. …And yet, I feel sad for her. All she ever wanted was for me to be a good friend to her, and I have failed. Multiple times. Miserably.
I think I’ll send my family to Michigan to stay with my parents for a little while. At least until after Melinda gets here. I can’t ignore her anymore.
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Credits to: poop_squirrel
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