My story is not something I talk about with anyone but it has been eating me up inside that I wanted to share it on this forum in hopes that it reaffirms you to not take anything for granted.
My name is Lisa and I am a woman in my 50s and am married to my secondary school sweetheart. We have 3 children together: Bogdan, Elena and David.
At the time of this story, we lived in a detached two story house in Sofia, Bulgaria after moving there from Montana. My husband got a job in Sofia so we moved there. The neighborhood wasn’t as safe as the other neighborhoods, but it was the best we could afford for to rent at the time. I later found work at a gas station during night shift as we needed the extra money. Our children’s education and well-being was our first priority.
At the gas station I worked out, it was a well-known one with a yellow shell for a logo, the pumps are pre-paid after 8pm, and this one was a quieter suburban station, so we tend to get more drive-offs due to this.
This night, there was no one for about 45 minutes since the last customer. I read a book while listening to the radio, until suddenly I see headlights. An old pickup truck pulls up to a pump. I can’t exactly make out the person sitting in the car, but they just sit there, with no intention of getting out of the truck.
I get on the PA and say: You need to pay at the counter before you can fill up. No one gets out of the truck. I repeat myself over the PA system. Who ever was in the truck did not want to get out, and it was never turned off. He probably didn’t understand Bulgarian, especially if he was from a bit further away like Hungary, Turkey or somewhere that doesn’t speak a language similar to Bulgarian.
I decided to leave it, going back to my book, occasionally looking over to see that the truck was still there. About 30 minutes later, another set of headlights pulls up. The truck leaves, but not before doing a burnout, with the back-end swinging side to side. He then speeds off out of the station and down the street out of my sight.
When I came home that night, I came home to bed trying not to disturb my husband who was sound asleep. Some hours later, I heard some strange noises coming from outside, kinda like tapping, or light banging, but it wasn’t consistent. My husband didn’t move… the heavy sleeper that he is. I sat up.
Listened a bit more, focusing in on the noise now. It stopped, and being half asleep, I laid back down. Some 15 minutes later or so, I was woken up. I heard the noises again. I decided this time to get up and check everything was okay. I went downstairs, checked around to see if I could find the noise. Nothing occurred again, so I checked the back and front door to make sure they were locked. They were.
When I came back up the stairs, I checked on each of my children. I stood at their doors which were always left open, and in the moonlight, could see they were sleeping peacefully. The last room I went to was David’s room.
He had venetian blinds which were open to let the moonlight in, that were fixed in front of the window, and his window was wide open. This was probably opened for him earlier on as he was probably running around and needed to cool down, I thought, so I walked into David’s room and shut the window. They probably were banging against the wall every time there was a breeze.
I glanced over and panicked so hard. David was not in his bed. As I got closer to him, I realised I freaked myself out as David wasn’t in his usual spot in the bed. The window was open, I heard noises, David wasn’t in his bed, I thought something had happened, maybe that creepy truck I saw at the petrol station that night had something to do with it.
I panicked so hard for what felt like 15 minutes, although it was only for a few moments. I put my hand on the bed and felt Davids leg. I looked behind. He was on the opposite end of his king single bed, blanket covered right below his chin and facing the wall.
I guess the moment of not seeing him there really freaked me out and I had a weird night. It was dark and I was relying on the moonlight to see. That was the scariest night of my life and it’s been some years since then, but I relive it each night.
My children grew up in a loving household, graduated from university and live abroad in Canada. They did so well for themselves, each falling in love, getting married and having beautiful children.
We couldn’t be happier… that is except, for the that night. It is like reliving a nightmare, waking me up each time I managed to fall asleep. David never knew what happened. So happy, always finding the positive in things, doing so well in school and a beloved friend to all.
You see, the next morning, when everyone was downstairs for breakfast in the kitchen, David wasn’t there. We went back upstairs to check on him. When we got there, David was still in the position I saw him in last night, only this time, I saw the blood-soaked blanket, the blue color of his skin.
My husband ripped the blanket off. David’s throat had been slit and the blanket was used to cover him. After an investigation by police, we learned that there were foreign fingerprints on the back door handle, which probably was left unlocked by one of the other children at first, then locked by the killer to quell any suspicions.
Fingerprints were also on David, and they identified that the flowers in the garden outside David’s window were flattened.
The killer was later caught and sentenced, his identity is sealed for HIS protection, but what I can reveal is that the person in the truck and David’s killer are one and the same.