A few months ago, there was a guy who used to jump over my walls and spy on me. He even masturbated at my porch, sometimes, as he was seeing me study late at night, through my window shutters. Sometimes, he knocked on my windows and whispered things that he would like to do with me. I had curtains put on my windows and contracted a home surveillance service. I have an old bitch at home, but she never alarmed me of his presence. We tried to catch him a few times, but he always ran before we had the chance.
Last month, he was finally caught. Our neighbors went rogue and spanked him before the police arrived. In the morning after, I learned that he has been released without even being reported.
It turns out he wasn't a typical creepy psychopath guy. He was a drug addicted. He worked with constructions, was married and used to steal things to sustain his addiction. For some reason, he became obsessed with me and masturbating in my porch.
Why am I telling this? Because I read this book just after he was arrested and I had new fences installed. I was beginning to get used with a more secure life, and no longer preoccupied over every little noise that I heard at night. Talk about an ill timing! Reading about a guy who used to persecute, torture and kill women to obtain sexual pleasure is way more disturbing when you are a victim of a "creepy guy" yourself.
I know that my persecutor was nothing next to Zodiac, but at that time I was fearing that he would take some sort of revenge on me for being arrested or spanked. (In fact, I still do.) When I was reading this book late at night (Because I couldn't leave it! It's so addictive!) I came back to being troubled by every single little noise. I even had my cat sleeping in my bed because cats have a better hearing than humans. (I know, a little pathetic.)That's how I discovered True Crime is much more disturbing than plain horror books
like Stephen King's. And I chose the worst time possible to nourish my interest on serial killers.