SOMEONE KNEW MY ROUTINE BETTER THAN I DID

For months, I ignored strange signs—odd noises, misplaced items, open windows—blaming stress. Living alone, I dismissed my fears until I found my living room rearranged. Police found no break-in evidence but asked about recent hires. I recalled Rainer, a contractor who asked odd questions. I installed security cameras, and soon, a 3:12 a.m. alert showed a man emerging from my attic, eating my food, and retreating upstairs. Police discovered blankets, food, a burner phone, and my missing clothes in the attic. He’d been living there for six months, moving while I slept. The phone revealed hundreds of surveillance photos predating his hire. His real name was Ellis

Druen, a convicted stalker using stolen identities. He was arrested for stalking and unlawful surveillance. The trauma lingered; I couldn’t sleep at home for weeks, haunted by every creak. I reclaimed my space with new locks, paint, and a rescue dog, Mozzie. I bonded with neighbors, including a vigilant retired teacher. The hardest part was trusting my instincts again—dismissing them as paranoia nearly cost me. Listening, even late, saved my life.