"I found an online hate page related to a teacher.
The students were talking about killing her, burning her house down, and other immature middle school reactions to receiving homework.
A friend and I reported the page, and the students were suspended. Somehow my name got out, and for awhile, I was called a rat and a terrible person. It stung for a while since I knew a few of the people, but I later realized that if they were that mean they didn't deserve my attention."
"My father became an addict when I was 12 years old. After growing up watching him stumble all over the place and cause problems, I decided he was not going to ruin my life.
When I turned 16, I told my father that if he wanted help with his problem, he could call and leave a voicemail and I would do everything I could to help him. Other than that, I didn't want to speak with him until he started making the right choices.
When I turned 18, he was still using illegal substances. One night I was watching the news and saw that there was a hit-and-run accident in which a lady was killed. After they gave a description of the car, I knew it sounded like my father's car. So I rode to his house to find his car had a shattered window, missing side mirror, dents to the hood, and a cracked headlight. I knew at the moment I had to turn my father in.
So I called up a buddy of mine, who was a cop, and he reported to the unit who was going to investigate it. Come to find out, it was him and that lady he killed pushed her daughter out of the way resulting in her death. I know I did the right thing by turning him in because he killed an innocent person to feed a habit that destroyed my family. Now that habit has destroyed another one.
Once my family found out I was the one who turned him in, they disowned me. It was only his side which I wasn't close to. But it still stings knowing I did something that was right and family still holds that grudge."
"I was coming home from work one night in the company work truck and witnessed a hit-and-run.
I was sitting at a red light on a six-lane road with three lanes for each side of traffic. I was in the far left lane, with the offender in the lane to my right. When the light turned green, he jetted to about a half car-length ahead of me. Then I noticed him starting to swerve into my lane, so I backed off. I let him get about four or five car lengths ahead of me when I noticed him swerve a little more into my lane before cutting across all three lanes into the far right lane. That was when I noticed the shadows in front of his headlights. He slammed on his brakes for a second and my stomach immediately tied into knots as I saw a figure go flying to the curb. Then the driver jetted off again and turned right onto a side road. I didn't have much time to react. I thought to myself, 'Do I stop and help the guy, or do I chase down this idiot?'
Given that this all happened next to a large, well-lit gas station, I noticed that people there had seen the event and were rushing to the gentleman's aid, so I chose the latter, as no one was pursuing him. I figured that he was about to get away scot-free, and I couldn't have that. Given the data I had to go on, I chased down the idiot down the side streets. I caught up with him and got a good description of the vehicle, as well as the tags. Then I decided (since this happened in the south) that I should back off and return to the scene to check on the guy that got hit.
When I got back, highway patrol was already there, and EMS arrived moments later. I gave all my information to the officers and apologized for having to speed to catch him. The officer told me that I did the right thing, and thanked me for having the forethought to get the information for them to catch the suspect.
Luckily, I dodged a negative result, but just barely. I had planned on calling into work the next day, as the adrenaline from the event kept me from sleeping all night. I figured, they'll probably call me a hero and let me have the day off, then I remembered who I work for. I had to keep it a secret because my company is so 'by the book', that, had I stopped to perform CPR on the guy, that they would have called me a hero. However, my choice to chase the offender in the company work vehicle, while speeding no less, would have ended up with me being terminated. Messed up world we live in."
"On a recent Fourth of July, my friend's band had a gig in a dive-bar in Brooklyn.
My friend asked me to do sound for him, so screw it, right? The performance area is in the back with a bar, pool table, everything a dive could need in the front.
While ordering a drink, a real wiry-looking fellow is raising his voice to the female bartender. Figuring that this is par for the course at such a hole in the wall place, most of the bar ignores the guy until 'Thwack!' He open palm smack across her face. Oh my gosh! The guy says some choice words to her, then exits quickly. Like a hero, I follow.
I tailed him for a good 15 blocks, wave down a cop and tell them what happened. They stop him and find a bunch of illegal substances on him. They throw him in the back of the car and, somehow, I end up in the front seat as a 'witness', then drive back to the bar with cops.
The bartender doesn't want to press charges because the guy was a regular, so he's free to go.
So I'm dazed and in the bar, trying to make sense of it all. This short lady then goes, 'Oh there's the snitch!' pointing at me. She says, 'You know what we do to snitches?' from a good 10 feet away. She and some other bar patron show me their knives and say, 'Stick around and find out!'
I did not stick around."
"I stopped an incident of domestic violence by calling 911 when I came upon it in my apartment hallway.
The assailant had the victim on the ground and was beating and biting him in the face. The assailant fled when I showed up but returned shortly later while I was helping the victim get to safety. He strangled, beat me, and broke several of my bones in the process - in full sight of the victim.
The victim refused to cooperate with the police, refused to let the paramedics into the building and lied when questioned, saying that I provoked the attack by picking a fight with the guy. The victim and the assailant got back together as soon as the assailant was released on bail, and they were allowed to remain in the building.
Because the victim lied, I lost my apartment, was disqualified from the Victim's of Crime Compensation program offered by my state, no lawyer would take me as a client, and my involvement in the incident was completely stricken from the assailant's court proceedings. He committed five felony offenses, but that was busted down to one single misdemeanor count once the victim began lying to prosecutors. The prosecutors did not bother to contact me. This was on top of me almost losing my job due to my injuries, and the thousands of dollars of debt I went into due to medical expenses.
The assailant was sentenced to 30 days in jail and a four-hour seminar on why it's bad to hit people and bite their faces off. He never had to pay a dime in compensation toward my medical, court or relocation expenses, something that is supposed to be a mandatory imposition during sentencing in violent crime cases."
"My best friend (at the time) could have been more accurately described as my sister. She was a straight A, outgoing, bubbly, all around amazing person. We spent every day together, and I never thought for a second that she wouldn't be a huge part of my life for the rest of my days.
Everything changed drastically when she met a guy 14 years her senior, at the gym she went to. Her confidence with men wasn't very high, and as a result, she was the perfect victim. Her personality changed drastically. I saw her less and less. I chalked it up to her being in a new relationship and let her have her time without interfering. However, when I did see her at work or in class, she wasn't her same bubbly self anymore. She was quiet and distracted and not at all the sister I knew.
An example of her change in personality: When she called me asking for money after a couple months because she needed cash and couldn't get to the bank in time (she had over $10,000 the last I knew) I didn't hesitate to help her out, especially since as far as I knew, she had the money and could pay me back. Of course, I never saw that money again and as a college student, that's rough. At work, her appearance was in a downward spiral. We worked in an office, and she began showing up dirty, in jeans and hoodies, and would not even work. She would constantly walk out to argue on the phone with this guy, especially when she got her paycheck.
Fast forward a bit, she continued this downward spiral and fast. Then I see them - the track marks on her arms. Suddenly, the last few months all clicked. A couple days later, I found she'd stolen money from my purse. It was the last straw, so I called her father and brother to explain the situation in hopes that they'd help. They didn't believe me and argued that I needed proof. They told her what I had said and she grew very angry with me, basically told me to screw off, and stopped talking to me. I tried talking to her family once more, but they didn't really accept it, again. The guy she was seeing was living in their house, and her father could have gotten rid of him at any time.
Well, input emotional roller coaster here, and fast forward some more. She has a baby now, but from what I've heard, she has gone through rehab, and the baby is ok. Her family thanked me over a year later because they'd realized what I'd said was true. I haven't spoken to her, nor she to me. The last time I talked to her, I expressed how hurt I still was, and she flipped out on me. So in the end, although I did the right thing by telling her family to get her help, I still lost the one person I thought would be in my life even after everyone else had gone."
"One of my best friends was the best man at my wedding, and my wife's best friend was her bridesmaid. Long story short, she falls in love with my best man (she was in a depression, and in a desperate need of attention and could have fallen in love with a door handle), my friend had a crazy girlfriend and was happy to leave her.
Fast forward five years later, they are living together and she wants a kid, he doesn't. Then one day, she gets pregnant and turns from a funny girl to a crazy psycho. Just after the baby girl is born, she hurts her and keeps going to the doctors to check if everything is ok. She makes sure that she gets all the exams possible.
Before the baby's first birthday, she had already spent a few days in the hospital for nothing. She got her blood tested a few times, two colonoscopies, camera in the stomach, etc. And in the meantime, she was explaining everything to my wife. So I threatened her to have her reported but my wife said it would be a bad thing.
So I invite my friend and tell him what his girlfriend is doing to his child without him noticing. First of all, he was totally in a shock, and couldn't believe it, and apologized for his girlfriend. Since that moment, he and his girlfriend stopped talking to my wife and I and kept hurting their child."
"Freshman year, there was a rumor going around at school that some girl I knew had been 'stalking' someone.
From what I heard, she made a MySpace account pretending to be some guy. Let's call this guy 'Gavin'. I heard she had a huge crush on him. Gavin was very popular, and this girl went from being ignored to getting bullied by students and some teachers. This girl was in the seventh grade and Gavin was a senior.
When I heard about it, I asked the girl if it was true. She said it wasn't and explained to me how she had been framed. I believed her and befriended her. She had even told me that Gavin didn't pay much attention to the rumor and apologized to her for everyone's behavior. But of course, everyone kept bullying her.
One day, I found her crying. She told me some guys (let's call them Tony and Joey) made her cry by calling her names and telling her to harm herself. They were 16 years old and this girl was 12 years old. I had already hated those two guys, but when I found out what they said to her, it made me hate them even more. After that, I began looking out for her more often. I told everyone in my gym class to drop it and stopped some senior girls from hurting her.
No one knew we were friends because we were in different grades and only had one class together. One day, everyone found that out and when I was confronted, I said, 'Look, guys, this girl has feelings. What you guys did was ridiculous and telling her to hurt herself, disgusts me. I think she's a sweet girl and it's not fair that you are all making her seem like a horrible person. I'm going to keep talking to her and I don't care what any of you people think.'
As a result, a lot of people stopped talking to me. Does that bother me? Nope. I could care less about those people. From what I've been told, Tony and Joey apologized to her. I still hate them though. Also, I don't regret standing up for her and being her friend."
"When I was in college, I briefly went insane and dated a football player. We went to a frat party and he downed a full bottle before demanding that I sleep with him.
Well, because I had a clear mind, I had different ideas. He became angry, pulled out his car keys, then tried to climb (blind idiot) into his car so he could 'find some women that would get with him' or something equally as charming.
I couldn't let him drive while he was out of it and kill himself or others, so I did my best to wrestle the keys out of this giant football player's hands. He came at me, trying to tackle me when he tripped and bounced his face off the curb. The 'smack' was awful, but he got up. I hid his keys, then walked him back to his room. I called a nurse, and when she arrived, I went back to my dorm room to remove the blood.
I was woken up by heavy pounding on the door. I opened it to find two cops who were there to question me and arrest me for grievous bodily harm. I had to go to the police station and explain that, no, I did not beat the life out of him. That would have been as likely as an earthworm killing a crow. I told them what happened and where they could find the hidden keys.
Apparently, his eye socket and nose were broken from hitting the curb. The nurse took him to the hospital, the coach was called, and somebody needed to be blamed. I was the easiest target. I had to speak to the cops a couple more times to verify, in fact, that I had neither the inclination nor the ability to break a man's face in.
He was a Division II player, so I should hope he couldn't be beaten up by a very skinny woman studying computer science."
"My grandmother died from a very slow progression of cancer when I was almost 10 years old. My dad had built her a dream home when the news broke that she had cancer, and although divorcing my mother was a reason to leave the house, he actually moved in with her about four years before the divorce. He took care of her, paid some of the bills, (she still wanted to work until she was physically unable) and did so much for her.
My dad has two other brothers, Steve and Brent. My grandmother never favored any of them, and although Steve lived down south, (we live in Alaska) he would still come up on birthdays and she was always happy to see all of her sons.
Brent has two children that I grew up with, and one of them I went through high school with. He looks a lot like me, more than my actual brother does, and both of my cousins were my best friends. There was a huge family connection here, on both generations before she passed away. We would come together for Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, and a lot of other holidays, and have huge family dinners. The adults would let the kids run around and do what they wanted and would sit in the family room drinking wine and talking about things we were too old to understand, but there was always laughter and connection.
After she passed, she left most of her things to my father. He had built her house, so she left it to him. He had also built a lot of the furniture for her, so she left him that as well. The only thing he actually asked for out of the will was our Great-Great-Grandfather's grandfather clock (go figure) but wasn't surprised that she had left him all of it, seeing as he was actually the only one who cared for her the entirety of her sickness and passing.
After that, the family exploded. Both of his brothers called him out as 'trying to be the favorite', and while they sat together to sort out the funeral proceedings, they couldn't even be in the same room as each other. My dad, when I would visit my cousins, would actually park a block away from Brent's house, and drop me off there. He would wait if I had any things I needed to get, it was that bad.
During the funeral, my father and uncles were so mad at each other, that when the reverend asked if anyone wanted to say anything, no one stood. It was actually a pretty large funeral, with about 100 to 120 people present, so when no one stood up, I went up and spoke. I had never spoken at a funeral before and didn't have anything planned to say or anything, but my nine-year-old self still felt like there was something needed to be said.
Grandma Bonnie was one of the most dearly beloved family members I could ever have the privilege to have known and loved. She was the best grandma any kid could have ever had. I didn't know she was sick for a long time, so only now do I know that she would cook for us, read for us, play board games with us, teach us fun things and play with us outside, at the same time she was in a lot of pain. I cared for her very much, as much as the rest of our family would. I wish I was older to have understood and been able to help her in any way that I could, but I wasn't.
My dad, on the other hand, was a lot older than I was, and was always there for her. She loved her sons, and my dad was no better than any of them. I just wish that they would stop fighting.
After the funeral, my uncles wouldn't look at me. My dad was very proud. My cousins were crying, but they all gave me a hug. It would be the last time I would see them for about two or three years.
My father's side of the family is completely split. They all hate each other, but at least my cousins and I don't. My uncle treats me extremely well every time I come over, and ever since coming to terms with everything has always been very proud of me.
But the fact remains; because my father was seen as 'the favorite,' I'll never be able to spend time with my favorite side of my family. I've never spent enough time with them, and I've only seen my uncle Steve three or four times. He has a really cool daughter, although the last time I saw her was when my grandma passed, so this was 10 years ago, and I've never seen her family since. I don't even remember her name at this point. I just wish something as trivial as taking care of someone wouldn't lead to a complete split in a very close family. I really miss it, but I don't resent what my father did, nor what I said."
"My mom, Shannon, was accused of both stealing and overfilling medications to Bill, her grandfather, before he died. He was like a father to her, and she would never have done anything of the sort.
Initially, she had moved into the house next door (which they owned, and charged her rent to live in) just to help out with her grandma, Betty, who had suffered a stroke. She recovered rather quickly, though words were tricky sometimes for months afterward, she didn't have any of the normally seen paralysis. Bill was still running his business when she moved in, but within a few months, his health declined and he needed the care. He had to have his bladder removed due to cancer.
Shannon handled everything from handling their finances, ordering medications, taking them to doctor appointments, taking Betty shopping, literally everything they needed help with. She'd go over at least twice a week to help change Bill's urostomy bag because it came loose in the middle of the night.
Unfortunately, they started developing some minor dementia and became increasingly paranoid. Shannon's mom, Bill and Betty's daughter, Gaytha, refused to acknowledge these issues. However, she was happy to use them to convince them that Shannon was stealing from them, overfilling Bill with his medication when he was getting close to death, and stealing medication (ironic considering of the three daughters, Shannon was the least likely to steal their medication as the other two addicts).
Eventually, shortly before Bill's death, Gaytha got her wish and sneakily arranged to be given power of attorney over Bill and Betty. Shannon washed her hands of the situation and moved out, and Gaytha moved out of her house and into the one neighboring Bill and Betty's, using their money to upgrade several of the problems with it and never paying a dime in rent to them.
She went to work, switching their property to her name. At one point, she attempted to put a small parcel of land Bill had bought in her favorite grandchild's name, but family backlash and his own refusal (he's not a jerk, and knew what she was doing) ended that.
It's a good thing for Shannon, though, as she gets to be granddaughter again and not stress, overdoing everything for them. And after getting all the property into her name, Gaytha quickly realized how much of a pain in the butt it was, so she just took over. She went from being a non-working, complaining at everything do-nothing, to essentially having a 24/7 job in caring for her parents."