For months, I brushed off strange signs — faint noises at night, misplaced objects, windows ajar — blaming stress and paranoia. Living alone, I convinced myself nothing was wrong until I came home one night to find my living room subtly rearranged. Terrified, I called the police, but they found no signs of forced entry. One officer asked if I’d hired anyone recently, and I remembered Rainer — the quiet contractor who installed windows and asked odd questions about my schedule.

Following police advice, I installed security cameras. Days later, at 3:12 a.m., I received a motion alert. I watched in horror as a man calmly descended from the attic, drank from my fridge, and disappeared back upstairs. Police returned and discovered blankets, food, a burner phone, and even my missing clothes — hidden in the attic. He hadn’t just broken in. He’d been living there for six months, moving around as I slept.

Worse still, his burner phone contained hundreds of surveillance photos taken before I even hired him. His real name was Ellis Druen — a convicted stalker using stolen identities to target women. He was arrested and charged with stalking, unlawful surveillance, and more. Even with him behind bars, the trauma lingered — I couldn’t sleep at home for weeks, and every creak in the house became a trigger.

Eventually, I reclaimed my space with new locks, fresh paint, and Mozzie — a protective rescue dog. I connected with my neighbors, including a sharp-eyed retired teacher who now watches over me. But the hardest part wasn’t fixing the house — it was learning to trust my instincts again. Because what I dismissed as paranoia was survival instinct. And listening to it, even late, saved my life.