Waited until nightfall to get into bed, only to find a man already in it.

I'm certain the man I've described in this post was a serial killer.<br><br>This happened to me several years ago in a residential sharehouse I was living in in Sydney, Australia. I had returned home from work about 5:30PM, hung out in the lounge for a little while, chatted with my flatmates, and then headed to my bedroom at about 7:30PM to prepare for work the next day.<br><br>Upon entering my room, I immediately noticed something out of the ordinary. First of all, the drawers weren't in the correct order - the ones I kept at the front were now stacked behind the others. It was a bit strange, but I thought maybe I had changed it one day and then forgotten, despite the fact that I don't think I'd ever changed that in my life. There was also all of these weird scratches carved into a picture frame on my desk, that I had gotten from my grandmother. All of these weird red scratches were across the surface of the frame, and I had no idea how they had gotten there. There were also scuffs on the floor in front of my wardrobe that seemed new. I really don't know why I was so nonchalant about all of this at the time, but I guess my brain just wasn't registering the obvious signs. I knew in the back of my head that something was wrong with all of these things, but I didn't let my brain go to the obvious answer of a stranger being in my room.<br><br>I sat on my bed and opened up my laptop, ready to chill for a little while before nightfall. I had always been afraid of nightfall, and would always avoid being in my room alone at night, so was waiting for everyone in the household to go to bed so that I could have someone else in the house with me while I slept. <br><br>I'm not sure what exactly made me look under my bed that night. It might have been some sort of gut feeling, but I slowly leant forward, and then reached down to the ground to look under the bed. All I saw at first was my shoes, but then, I noticed two eyes looking back at me. <br><br>His head was positioned in the centre of the bed, with his body folded in half at the hips - his upper body at the front, and his legs at the back. His head was directly under my pillow, and he was starring right back at me with big, round, wide open eyes that were locked onto mine. I froze in fear, my head tilted down, looking at him. My body couldn't move, and my brain was just frozen in shock. He didn't say anything, and neither did I. All I could hear was him breathing really heavily, and I could see his chest moving up and down as he took these deep breaths. There was a cardboard box blocking my way to the door, which I assumed he had placed there, to stop me from escaping.<br><br>Eventually, after what felt like a lifetime, he slowly started to crawl out from under the bed, and my body instinctively reacted, as I slowly stood up, walked backwards, and placed my hands on the door handle. As I started to open the door to leave the room, he jumped to his feet, started running towards me, and put his full body weight onto the door, forcing it to shut, and trapping me inside the room.<br><br>I was shaking with fear at this point, and trying to force the door back open and get out of the room. My flatmates had heard my struggle, and one of them walked up the hallway and politely knocked on the door to try and find out what was going on. The man immediately jumped back off the door, and allowed me to open it. The man was standing just behind me as I answered the door, and my flatmate said "who the fuck is this?" to which I responded "I don't fucking know".<br><br>He then turned around to face my flatmate, and slowly started to walk towards him. He made his way all the way down the hallway, past my bedroom door, past the main bedroom door, and out the front door of the house, without saying a single word. Once he was out of the house, myself and my flatmates frantically searched the house, to try and figure out just where in the fuck he had been hiding. We searched high and low, opened up every cabinet, lifted up all the mattresses, even looked inside the pantry, but we couldn't find him anywhere, until we went into the main bedroom.<br><br>He was hiding in the main bedroom wardrobe, and was able to squeeze himself inside it. He was the only person who knew exactly where we were in the house, as he had been hiding and listening to us for the entire time as we searched for him. I just don't know how someone is able to physically fold themselves up into a wardrobe, but he was able to do it. We called the police, and they searched the entire house - including the roof, the backyard, every room in the house. He was nowhere to be found. They said they couldn't stay there all night, and told us that if we were really concerned for our safety, then maybe we should just go and stay with a friend. <br><br>That night, I slept on the floor of my flatmate's room, with a big glass bottle of gin under my bed, which I had found in the cupboard under the stairs that led to the backyard. I don't even drink gin, but I thought that I might need it as a weapon. I was terrified. The next morning, we received a call from the police, telling us that they had found him. A day later, the police came to our house, and arrested him. He was charged with stalking and harassment, and was banned from our street for the rest of his life. The laws in Australia regarding stalking and harassment aren't really as strict as they should be. My flatmates told me that he was only given a fine, and released back into the public. <br><br>The reason I believe he was a serial killer is because the police told us that his real name wasn't the name he had given us, and that we didn't want to know his real name because we might just see it in the newspaper one day. I haven't heard anything yet, but it's been several years since I last heard anything about it. I can't seem to find him online, and I'm not even sure what his real name is, as I'm not even sure if the police ever told us.<br><br>&#x200B;