There is a man in my neighborhood who confesses his darkest secrets to me when he’s drunk

I never get drunk less than I did in college. There were a few years where I don’t think I was ever sober. Even though I have a ways to go before I’m 30, I’m over that point in life. I still like to enjoy a few drinks, but it’s definitely not the rampaging I did when I was younger.<br><br>As my drinking has slowed, it seems like I’m more able to see people without the beer goggles. Or maybe I just have more time to think about my interactions with others.<br><br>I saw a change in one of my neighbors in particular. He was a friendly guy who I would usually run into at the bar (my house does not have a backyard, and there is no living room) a few times a week. In addition to hitting on the bartender, he always talked with me. He was always a bit of a creep, but as time went on, I started to notice that he would get more predatory when he was drunk. It wasn’t unusual for him to get a bit drunk, but since he always had a girlfriend in hand, I wasn’t too worried.<br><br>He was a bit of a troublemaker, always touching women without consent, talking shit about the women he was in a relationship with, and always trying to turn conversations sexual. He was an absolute creep, and I found myself avoiding the places and times I would normally see him.<br><br>And then his GF broke up with him. It was big news around the neighborhood, mostly because she left him over the fact that he got too rough with her for her taste.<br><br>I don’t know if it was weird, or maybe I was going through a bad time myself, but after she dumped him, he really started to go after me. He was constantly flirting with me, and almost always had a drink in hand. It was really easy to avoid him, because I only had to be around him when I wanted to go to the bar.<br><br>I started making friends with the other regulars at the bar, and I made sure to let them know if I was uncomfortable with his presence around me.<br><br>One night he was being unusually forward with me. He was talking about how he would like to “piss in my mouth” and calling me a “slut” in a way I am sure he meant as a compliment. I tried to ignore him, but he kept coming back.<br><br>The incident was really weird, mostly because he was so drunk, and the music was so loud. He wandered over to me, looking at me lustfully, and spilled a drink on me. Then, he pretended it was pee, and laughed as he rubbed it all over my front.<br><br>I had had enough. I told him to leave me alone, and I walked over to my friends to get away from him. When he came near me, they would yell at him, and tell him to back off.<br><br>One of my friends walked me home that night, and I was grateful for it. I felt really uncomfortable around him after that, and I started to avoid the bar.<br><br>Then, a few days after the “pissing” incident, I was walking home from the grocery store. He was walking the other way, and as we passed each other, he called me a slut.<br><br>I was so angry, and something inside of me snapped. I heard the words coming out of my mouth before I realized what I was saying.<br><br>“I’m not a slut.” I said, “But you’re a murderer.”<br><br>He stopped dead in his tracks, and I kept walking without looking back. When I was in my house, I peeked out the window, and he was still just standing there, crying.<br><br>I don’t think he understood what I said, but I don’t really care. <br><br>I used to have a crush on a man who was often at the bar, but not as often as my creepy neighbor. I still talked to him when he was around, and we would “study” together inside my house sometimes. He was always respectful, and I never felt uncomfortable.<br><br>He and I never hooked up, but he did tell me some secrets that I wish I didn’t know.<br><br>At the time, I thought the information would help me navigate a situation where my crush on him would be reciprocated. He was a few years older than me, and he was the quiet, brooding type. He was very attractive, and I liked listening to him talk.<br><br>One night, when he and I were alone in the living room at the bar, he told me that if he got the opportunity, he would probably kill my neighbor. He said he didn’t think there was anyone he would rather see dead, and that he was sure it would be a world without him if given the chance.<br><br>Then, one night we were drinking together at my house, and he told me that he used to work as a hitman. He said he would get calls in the middle of the day or night, and he would have to get up and leave right away. He said that he was a very calculating man, who never acted on emotion, but rather on logic. He said that his work as a hitman was exciting at first, but it quickly became boring, and he realized it wasn’t something he wanted to spend his life on.<br><br>I wasn’t sure I believed him, but when he told me about his past as a hitman, I realized that he was what I now understand to be a psychopath. He was totally emotionless when he talked about killing people. It didn’t seem to bother him at all, and he seemed not to understand why I was so shocked.<br><br>I kind of stopped talking to him after that. I still saw him around, but I never went out of my way to interact with him.<br><br>After that night when I told my creepy neighbor that he was a murderer, I didn’t see him for a while. I started going to the bar again, and he wasn’t there. Sometimes, I think about him calling me a bitch in front of a bunch of people, and I think he might have gotten into some trouble.<br><br>I saw him again a few weeks ago. He didn’t look very good. He was pale and thin, and extremely drunk at the bar. As I watched him, I didn’t see any of the creepiness I had seen when he was disrespecting women before. He almost looked dejected, and I wondered what had happened to him.<br><br>Then, he saw me, and he tapped me on the shoulder. He didn’t seem threatening, so I turned to him, and we talked.<br><br>He told me that he had been having trouble sleeping. He said he keeps hearing footsteps and having nightmares. He said that he is always afraid.<br><br>I thought back to the night I told him that the man from the bar used to be a hitman. I thought back to all the times he called me a slut, and touched me without my consent.<br><br>I felt a little bad for him, but I mostly just felt glad that the streets were a little bit safer. I don’t think that my crush ever got my hint, but I’m also not too worried about it. He’s a monster either way, and I’m not going to lose any sleep over him.<br><br>He is definitely one of the people I would never want to meet again.